The recruit watched numbly as his opponent stampeded towards him in a lumbering gait, stunned by the way he had shaken off his injury. The horse tails at the back of his helmet flapped wildly. His legs wobbled. Britomaris almost lost his footing and stopped. He looked around in a daze at the crowd, as if noticing them for the first time. Growling as he tried to shake his head clear, the barbarian made a renewed charge towards Pavo. He dominated Pavo’s line of vision, blocking out the arena floor and the cries from the galleries baying for blood as the spear tip rushed at him. Drawing closer to Pavo now, the barbarian raised the spear over his head parallel to his right shoulder and prepared to make a final downward thrust with the iron spike attached to the base of the shaft. But his movements had become sluggish and uncoordinated. Slow enough for Pavo to read. The menacing spike snapped Pavo out of his shock. With a drop of his left shoulder he feinted a half-step to the right and then thrust his sword upwards. A crude look of horror briefly flashed across the face of the barbarian as he realised too late that by attacking overhead he had left his torso fatally exposed. He plunged his spear uselessly into the sand and Pavo struck him in the groin.

Britomaris froze. Pavo ripped the sword across, the weapon making a tearing sound as if splitting open a sack of grain. The blade diced up the barbarian’s bowels and severed his femoral artery. Blood fountained out of the wound as Pavo withdrew his sword and collapsed on the ground. Ten thousand people rose to their feet around the Julian plaza, watching Britomaris. The barbarian was rooted to the spot and looked down dumbly at the blood spraying his feet. He stood defiantly for a few moments longer and ripped off his helmet, his eyes rolling into the backs of his sockets as he gasped for air. His face had turned pale, and he was shivering and foaming at the mouth. He looked feverish. His legs buckled. Then Britomaris collapsed onto the sand with a colossal thud.

Salty sweat dripped from Pavo’s brow into his eyes, blurring his vision. He tasted blood in his mouth. His heartbeat pulsed violently, the veins on his neck throbbing and echoing inside his head. Pavo could hear the ghoulish whimpers coming from Britomaris as he bled out on the sand, his helmet by his feet, vomit oozing from his slackened mouth.

There was a moment’s silence. Then the crowd broke into rapturous cheers. Pavo picked himself off the ground. He was so weary it took every last ounce of strength to stand tall. He wiped the sweat from his eyes.