Bane’s mouth was dry. The door opened and he walked into the sunlight. The noise of the crowd was thunderous. Eleven thousand people were crammed into the stands. Bane halted, and scanned the crowd. He had never seen so many people in one place, and for a moment he was awed by the multitude. The Gath had come in their thousands to watch a Rigante fight a warrior from Stone. Bane drew in a deep breath. The sky above was clear and blue, and there was no breeze. Bane started to walk once more towards the elevated section containing Persis Albitane and his guests. The Gladiators’ Gate at the eastern end of the arena opened and Falco stepped out. Bane did not look at him, but kept his eyes on the small group of men in the Owner’s Enclosure.
Persis was sitting alongside a thin man in a purple robe, and ranged about them were their guests, the rulers of Goriasa. There were several men in full armour, and Bane took these to be the officers of the garrison. The magistrate, Hulius, was there, and several children were clustered by the front rail. Bane found their presence to be distasteful. Children should not watch while men fought and died.
Putting such thoughts from his mind he approached the Enclosure, and waited for Falco to join him.
Then the two men raised their swords in salute to the guests, and Bane spoke the words Rage had taught him. ‘Those who are about to die salute you!’ He turned to Falco and offered his hand. The man from Palantes shook it. Then they turned away, walked back to the centre of the arena and waited. Persis rose and signalled the trumpeters. Three notes pealed out.
The crowd erupted. Falco attacked. For a single heartbeat Bane did not react, then he parried wildly, spinning away from the ferocious onslaught. Their blades met, again and again. As Rage had predicted, fighting a left-hander was more than difficult, and Bane felt clumsy and uncoordinated.
Screening out the baying of the crowd he focused on his opponent. Falco moved well, always in balance. He was fast, and confident, and Bane was hard pressed to hold him at bay. A part of his mind was filled with gratitude for the training Rage had put him through, for, without it, he would have been dead in moments.
They fought furiously for some while. Neither drew blood in the opening exchanges, as they sought to read each other’s moves. Rage had told Bane, over and over again, that a duel was like a dance. It had its own rhythms. Falco dropped his right shoulder and lunged. Bane parried. Falco’s right foot lashed out, hooking behind Bane’s heel and tripping him. Bane hit the ground hard. Falco rushed in. Bane rolled, his opponent’s gladius striking the sand. Bane scrambled to his feet. Blocking another thrust Bane’s fist lashed out, striking Falco full in the face and hurling him back. Bane charged – and almost died. Falco, recovering quickly, stabbed out. Bane swayed to his right, slashing his own sword swiftly downwards. The blade clanged against Falco’s bronze wrist guard. Falco threw a punch into Bane’s belly, and the two men backed away from each other and began to circle.
Bane leapt in, sending a vicious cut towards Falco’s throat. Falco swayed away, his gladius licking out and cutting the top of Bane’s shoulder. Blood sprayed from the wound, and once more the crowd erupted.
‘The beginning of the end,’ said Falco. ‘I have played with you long enough, savage.’
The Stone gladiator now attacked with renewed frenzy, his sword-work dazzling. Bane stayed cool, blocking every attack, waiting for his moment. Falco’s right shoulder dropped. Bane brought his hands together, transferring his gladius to his left. Falco lunged. Bane parried it with his wrist guard. In that fraction of a heartbeat Falco registered the move that would kill him. His eyes widened in terror. The gladius now in Bane’s left hand plunged into Falco’s unprotected belly, and up through his heart. Falco sagged against his killer. Bane pushed him away, dragging his gladius clear.
Even as Falco hit the sand slaves came running to remove the body and clear away the blood.