Legionary

Chapter 18

Brutus leapt backwards under the swipe of the wooden sword and then dropped to his left side to steady his fall. Like a locust, Pavo hopped forward and rested his sword in Brutus’ ribs.

‘Surrender?’ Pavo chirped. Now this was being alive!

A gust of afternoon air coated them both in a red dust and Brutus glared up at him, his face boiling in a scarlet fury. Pavo gulped at the bloodshot eyes of the centurion, before the craggy face broke down into a heaving cackle.

‘You nippy little bugger! I knew I could teach you a trick or two. Here, give me a hand up,’ he grunted, offering his tree trunk forearm. Pavo reached out — and felt Brutus’ sword in his chest before he even knew he had made a mistake.

Brutus pulled him in so the two were face to face. ‘The men you will fight will be dirty buggers; they’ll try every trick in the book to open you up and spill your guts.’ Brutus pulled him closer. ‘So heed my words, don’t ever be nice to anyone with a sword in their hand. Not even me.’ With that, Brutus released his grip.

Pavo closed his eyes and shook his head. ‘You’re right. I’d be skewered by the likes of Spurius by now.’

‘That arrogant little turd? You know enough to pummel the shit out of him now. He’s a decent lad who’s got problems, but he needs to be taught a lesson, I reckon. The trick for you is to get him on his own, without that grunt of his trailing him around — that Festus one is pure animal, stone cold — slice your throat for a follis.’

Pavo shot a glance down at his own body — still gangly despite the training. Brutus shook his head.

‘Forget all the muscle bollocks; he’s had the same training as you. The only edge he ever had on you was sheer bloody arrogance and the ability to fight dirty. And that’s what I’m telling you that you have to do. Kick him in the balls and make him thank you for it before he even thinks about attacking you.’

Pavo laughed. ‘Actually, I’ve had a bit of practice at that recently.’

‘I heard about you lowering Zosimus’ chances of having children. Top soldier he is, and I’d doubt my chances against him on the battlefield, but the man’s a lumbering fool whenever he visits The Boar. He got what was coming to him.’

‘So he isn’t out to find me and break my neck then?’ Pavo asked.

‘He doesn’t even remember who kicked him in the nuts! All of his friends do, but they won’t tell him,’ Brutus waved his hand dismissively. ‘They find it hilarious!’

‘I might venture back to the inn sometime soon then,’ Pavo mused.

‘Why are you so keen to go back to that hovel anyway? It’s got to be the wine or…a woman?’ Brutus jibed.

Pavo’s eyes widened as he tried to think of a way out of the subject, when out of nowhere a shout rang round the yard.

‘He’s after the one with the big tits!’

Brutus and Pavo looked up. Sura, swinging his sword, swaggered towards them, chuffed with his timely entrance.

‘The barmaid? Ah, a fine choice, well known to the Claudia,’ Brutus mused.

‘And to me,’ Sura added casually.

Pavo felt a burning in his chest. He made to stand up and retort, when the centurion slung his training sword round to point at him.

‘Two against one it is!’ Brutus roared and then winked at Sura, who reached into his scabbard with a grin.

Pavo rolled his eyes and then flicked to battle mode. He kept his eye on Sura who threw his sword from hand to hand, while tracking Brutus with darting glances as the centurion darted around behind him.

‘See that patch of horse shit over there, Sura?’ Pavo quipped. ‘You’ll be wearing it!’

Sura let out an exaggerated hoot of laughter. ‘Nah, because you’ll be eating it.’

‘Listen to the gladiators, eh?’ Brutus chuckled. ‘Couple of sheep-shaggers!’

Pavo grinned as he realised they were both off guard. He let his legs buckle under him, and pivoted on the spot, bringing his wooden sword hacking into the hamstrings of Brutus. Pavo’s sword spun from his hand, tumbling across the yard behind Sura, while the centurion unleashed a howl of pain and toppled to the sand, hugging his legs.

‘Twice in a day? You’re on latrines for life, lad!’ he cursed through gritted teeth.

‘Ha!’ Pavo chirped. Then he turned to Sura; his friend stood, stunned.

Pavo glanced at his empty hands and then at Sura — his friend was in no mood for mercy. He gulped back his doubts and stalked forward.

‘All right,’ Sura chuckled, tossing his sword from hand to hand. ‘Come on then, I’ll try and not leave you with too many bruises — might need you fit to come and collect me after I spend the night humping Felicia.’

Pavo skipped and slowed towards his friend, until they were almost within touching distance. Sura ducked to the right, going for the kill on Pavo’s left. Pavo ducked outside of the would-be blow. As the wooden blade scraped across his skin, he cupped his hands together and brought them crashing down on top of Sura’s outstretched arm. The sword toppled from his hand, and Sura stumbled to the ground with a howl and then a flurry of swearing.

‘Another kill.’ He calmly stated, inspecting his fingernails.

‘What in Hades have you been teaching him, Brutus?’ Sura moaned.

‘Brutus?’ The decked centurion roared. ‘It’s sir, you little runt!’

‘Sorry, sir,’ Sura added sheepishly. ‘Fancy teaching me some of that,’ he coughed, standing up. ‘I much preferred it when he fought like a pregnant donkey.’