It took several matches before I finally saw Ignatius step out onto the sand. His figure was imposing beneath his armor and helmet. If Saturnia were here, she'd make a joke to tease me, although Praxedes seemed to have taken the lead on that.
"Everyone, look. It's Max's man." Praxedes elbowed me with a sly grin. “Although I think he cut way too close to the muscle. That'll make him bleed easily.”
"Alright, enough." I punched her in the arm. "More like the idiot I'm tempted to fight. Half the time I wish I could face him out there instead."
He raised his fist into the air. The crowd roared in anticipation and I cheered along.
"I thought you didn't like him," Ursus said, resting a heavy elbow on my shoulder.
"Is that what you think of me?” I snorted. “I don't hate him enough to hope he loses. Besides, he's part of the ludus, so of course I'm going to cheer him on."
The answering grin was devious as he winked his hazel eyes. "Well, then. I look forward to hearing you chant my name next time. And it doesn't have to be as a fan. Unlike everyone else here, I do have my own place." He made a pointed look at Praxedes.
I rolled my eyes and continued watching the fight. Ignatius was a provocator, a fighter type that only challenged each other. Their fights usually ended up fueling rivalries between the different ludi. However, he didn't have the status yet to issue challenges himself; he could only accept or refuse the ones that others issued him.
"This is what. His third real fight?" Corvus asked. "Who's he up against?"
Flavia tucked a tuft of hair behind her ear, but it sprung loose. "Program said Flaustus from Ludus Matutinus."
I recognized the name. "He's had nearly four years in the arena already. Ignatius must've accepted for a reason."
"The reason is your father, Max."
“Huh?”
Ursus crossed his burly arms. "Tiber advised him not to take it, but he was insistent. He'll do anything to impress Felix."
“Oh.”
My eyes darted back to Ignatius and I bit my lip uncertainly. The plumes stood proudly on each side. There was no crest on it, however, and the face shield and neck swooped down lower than on other gladiator types. A greave protected his forward standing leg to provide a wall of armor with his shield. His sword arm was equally padded with a manica and a chest plate covered the top half of his torso. As a provocator, he the most heavily armored.
Meaning this fight would probably be long and grueling as they slugged it out.
I studied his opponent again. There was a swagger to Faustus's walk and most of the crowd cheered his name. It was a tough atmosphere for an underdog to overcome.
"You know how he fights much better than I. What do you guys think?"
"Of course he's going to win." Praxedes lifted her chin. "Why would we ever say otherwise and bet against our own? He was trained by Felix, after all. You'll see how he fights soon enough."
I smiled sheepishly. "Of course."
The sound of their swords banging on their shields signaled the start of the match. They circled each other slowly, clashing their shields to test each other and look for an opening. For some reason, it reminded me of the bears challenging each other earlier.
The two of them scuffled back and forth, exchanging blows. Sand and dust drifted in the air. Punishing blows rained down against the other's armor and shield, trying to break through. At one point, the judge called for a short break. They stepped apart, dropping their weapons to shake out their arms and catch their breath. Several performers came out to entertain the crowd while the gladiators rallied themselves.
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"He's holding off well, although he's mostly on the defensive. But I also noticed Faustus is tiring a little more quickly." Corvus continued to watch him carefully.
When the break was over, Ignatius came out more aggressively this time. The shield was used just as much—if not more—than the gladius, attempting to hook his opponent's for an opening.
Then the energy shifted.
Maybe Faustus could tell Ignatius picked up on the flagging energy. Or maybe he decided they'd played around long enough. Either way, it was clear he wanted the match to end. And he wanted it to end in that instant. The gladiator threw his entire weight as he bashed his shield against his opponent.
Ignatius staggered back, getting battered again before he could recover. He lashed out, but Faustus just leaned into it, limiting the range of attack. It became a full-on brawl of grunts clashing metal, and punches. They disengaged eventually and Ignatius created more space by shoving his shield against his opponent's.
"Stercus," I muttered.
Blood coated his shoulder and torso from multiple cuts. But still he stood, even bouncing on his toes as he gestured to Faustus to come back for more.
His opponent turned away, raising his gladius and shield to incite the crowd to cheer louder for him. It wasn't lost on me that it gave him a brief break before he whirled back in.
Their shields collided together again. Ignatius hooked the outside of his opponent's. Faustus pushed his wide to counteract.
And suddenly it became clear why Ignatius took the challenge. He was left handed. And Faustus was having trouble countering the moment Ignatius began using it to his advantage. Pushing the shield wide was a mistake. Because it left the chest wide open.
Ignatius lifted his leg up and kicked the other gladiator's ribcage. Faustus stumbled away, still pulled by the hooked shield. Then Ignatius shoved the shield one last time. He abandoned it to spin around and extend his sword, stopping with the tip of his blade pressing into Faustus's exposed back.
The man dropped his weapon in surrender and the fight was over.
"Who knew he had that move in him," Urus mused. "Being able to adapt like that in a fight—he'll go far as a gladiator."
I sighed in relief. What had I been worried about? The crowd's favor had shifted and they began shouted Ignatius's name, excited by the upset. He tore of his helmet to lift it in the air, a triumphant grin splitting his face.
The next fight began when a realization hit me. "Did Quintus say anything about the omens?" I blurted out. I never got to hear his response yesterday.
"He said it wasn't entirely favorable, but not much beyond that."
I sat up in surprise. "What?"
Corvus met my eyes. "It's not the first time. But all it seems to do is make his fighting more unpredictable."
Cheers sprang up around us again as the fight in the arena ended. Standing up, I moved to lean against the stone wall, deep in thought. I couldn't remember the last time I'd seen Quintus lose a fight.
Movement rustled beside me and I turned to see Flavia. She didn't speak but her shoulder brushed against mine as she looked out on the arena. I smiled at what I could only assume was her silent reassurance.
The next contestants emerged from the depths of the amphitheater. First was a murmillo, heavily armored with a large shield, accompanied by a hoplomachus with a spear and shield. This was a gladiator styled after the Graeci, both precursors and enemies to our ancestors. Apart from a loincloth, the armor was limited to greaves reaching his thighs and his striking arm. The helmet was probably my favorite, though, with the rounded eye slits and nose guard.
Quintus and his partner appeared too. And as he walked across the sands, the crowd went wild—especially the women.
"Huh. They really do go wild for the thraeces," Praxedes said. “It's probably the tattoos, right?”
"Maybe I should get some. They'll love me even more. Don't you agree, Max?"
I smirked. "You'd be simply too dangerous inside and outside of the arena, Urs. They'd have to call in some legionaries to deal with you...and they might just fall for you too."
"And you? Would you fall for me?"
I felt a blush creep up at the incessant flirting and I snorted to cover the reaction. The man was far too smooth, sometimes, but it was nearly overbearing right then.
"Bread!" Flavia warned suddenly
He ducked, looking around suspiciously, but there was nothing there. The twins looked at each other before bursting out into laughter. I met Flavia's gaze with a giggle of my own: she was far too devious sometimes.
The thraeces represented another former enemy of the Romans and the origin of the sica. The small shields had a griffin painted on them, the same animal symbol I'd seen on Quintus's skin. It was a fierce creature. I could imagine the sword being modeled after it like a curved talon. A tall, trailing crest stood on their helmets. And like the hoplomachus, they were lightly armored to move fast.
The two sets of opponents faced each other. Before the judge could even finish announcing the start, they launched into the fight.
Bread!
