got up into a flurry of blows. He tried to stay away and fend off the worst of them, but Fulvio was all over him, thumping fists into his stomach and kidneys from all angles, chopping him to pieces, and when the pain made him hunch, catching Marcus with swift uppercuts to the head, rocking him back. He fell again and lay there, his chest heaving painfully. He tasted blood in his mouth and his left eye was swelling shut under the assault of Fulvio's straight right.
This time he rose and took three quick steps backwards to give him time to compose himself. Fulvio came with him remorselessly, moving his head and body from side to side as he looked for the best place to hit. The man resembled a snake about to bite and Marcus knew the next time he went down he was unlikely to get up. Anger flooded him and he ducked the first punch on sheer reflexes, batting the follow-through away with his arm. He felt Fulvio's forearm slide under his fingers and suddenly gripped the wrist. His right fist came into the man's stomach with all the power of his shoulders behind it and he was rewarded with a slight whoosh of pain.
Still holding the arm, he tried to repeat the punch, but Fulvio brought his left over and clipped him hard on the jaw. The world went black and he fell down, barely feeling the hard, wooden boards underneath him. His legs seemed to have lost all strength and he could only manage to get himself up onto all fours, panting like a beast.
Fulvio waved a glove at him to get up, still unsatisfied. Marcus looked down at the floor and wondered if he should. Blood dribbled from between his lips and he watched it spatter into a small pool.
Ah well, he thought. One more try.
This time Fulvio didn't rush him. He was grinning again and beckoned with his hands for Marcus to come on. Marcus tightened his jaw. He was going to put the man on his back one more time if it killed him. He imagined each of Fulvio's fists held a dagger, so that any contact would mean death. He felt his spirits rise. He knew how to fight with swords and knives, so why was this so different? He let himself sway a little, wanting Fulvio to come in. Most of his knife training had revolved around counter-strikes and he wanted the boxer to throw another punch. Fulvio quickly lost patience and came in fast, fists bobbing.
Marcus watched the fists and when one exploded towards him, he blocked, lifting it with his forearm and counter-punched into Fulvio's abdomen. Fulvio grunted and the left came over the top again in reflex, but this time Marcus dropped his head and the blow skidded over him, leaving Fulvio open for a split second. Marcus hammered everything into a straight left stopper, wishing it were his right. Fulvio's head rocked back and, when it came level, the right was ready and Marcus smacked it into the boxer's broken nose again. Fulvio took a sudden seat and fresh blood poured from his battered nose.
Before Marcus could feel any pleasure, the man leapt up and poured out a string of blows, seeming to move twice as fast as he had before. Marcus went down after the first two and caught two more as he fell. This time he didn't get up and didn't hear the cheers or the horn as Marius nodded to end the match.
Fulvio raised his hands in triumph and Marius ruefully signalled the first fifty of the hundred gold coins to be given back to the men. They gathered together in a momentary huddle and then, when silence had fallen, one of them offered the bag back to Marius.
‘We'll let the win ride for the next one, sir, if you're willing,’ he said.
Marius grimaced in mock horror, but nodded and said he would cover the bet. The men cheered again.
Marcus woke up as Tubruk threw a cup of wine in his face.
‘Did I win?’ he said through smashed lips.
Tubruk chuckled and wiped some of the blood and wine off his face.
‘Not even close, but you were still astonishing. You shouldn't have been able to touch him.’
‘Touched him properly though,’ he mumbled, smiling and wincing as his lips cracked. ‘Knocked him on his arse.’
Marcus looked around for somewhere to spit and, finding nothing handy, swallowed a gummy mixture of phlegm and blood.
Every part of him hurt, worse than it had when he'd been tied up by Suetonius years before. He wondered if he'd be as good-looking when he'd healed, but his thoughts were interrupted by Fulvio coming over, taking off his gloves as he walked.
‘Good fight. I had three gold pieces on me, myself. You're very fast – in a few years, you could be seriously dangerous.’
Marcus nodded and put out his hand. Fulvio looked at it and then shook it briefly and walked back to the men, who cheered him all over again.
‘Take the cloth and keep dabbing as the blood drips,’ Tubruk continued cheerfully. ‘You'll need stitches over your eye. We'll have to cut it to get the swelling down as well.’
‘Not yet. I'll watch Gaius first.’
‘Of course.’ Tubruk walked away, still chuckling, and Marcus squinted at him through his one good eye.
Gaius clenched his fists and waited for Tubruk to reach him. His opponent had already taken the floor and was limbering up, stretching his muscular shoulders and legs.
‘He's a big brute,’ he muttered as Tubruk came alongside.
‘True, but he's not a boxer. You have a reasonable chance against this one, as long as you don't get in the way of one of his big punches. He'll put you out like snuffing a candle if he catches you. Stay back and use your feet to move around him.’
Gaius looked at him quizzically. ‘Anything else?’
‘If you can, punch him in the testicles. He'll watch for it, but it isn't strictly speaking against the rules.’
‘Tubruk, you do not have the heart of a decent man.’
‘No, I have the heart of a slave and a gladiator. I have two gold pieces on you for this one and I want to win.’
‘Did you bet on Marcus?’ he asked.
‘Of course not. Unlike Marius, I don't throw money away.’
Marius came to the centre and signalled for silence once again.
‘After that disappointing loss, the money rides on the next bout. Decidus and Gaius, take your marks. Same rules. When you hear the horn, begin.’ He waited until both stood eyeing each other and walked to the wall, folding his great arms over his chest.
As the horn sounded, Gaius stepped in and slammed his fist up into Decidus' throat. The bigger man gave out a choked groan and raised both his hands to his neck, in agony. Gaius threw a scything uppercut that caught Decidus on the chin. He went down onto his knees and then toppled forward, his eyes glassy and blank. Gaius walked slowly back to his stool and sat down. He smiled silently and Renius, watching, remembered the same smile on a younger boy's face as he'd lifted him from the icy waters of a river pool. Renius nodded sharply in approval, his eyes bright, but Gaius did not see it.
The silence roared for a second, then the men released the breath they'd been holding and a rabble of voices broke out – mostly questions and spiced with a few choice swearwords as they realised the bets were all lost.
Marius walked over to the prostrate figure and felt his neck for a second. Silence fell again. Finally, he nodded.
‘His heart beats. He'll live. Should have kept his chin down.’
The
