“He’s full of it,” said Achilleus.

“Hey!” John was yelling again. “Gay boy? You coming out to play?”

Achilleus sniffed, stepped away from the crowd, and swung his own spear through a couple of gentle arcs.

“Ready,” he said, and strolled casually into the center of the yard. He moved gracefully, like an athlete. Still holding it back. Unlike John, who was pulsating with wired-up energy, his head bobbing, his muscles jittery.

“I’ve never fought a gay before,” he said, and spat at Achilleus’s feet.

“What’s with all the insults?” said Achilleus.

“Oh, sorry,” said John. “Am I upsetting you, darling?”

“If you fancy me, why don’t you just say?” said Achilleus affably.

“That the best you got?” said John.

“It’s all you deserve, loser. Now, are you going to talk, or are you gonna fight?”

David pushed forward from behind his line of guards, chin up, a snooty expression on his pale freckled face.

“When I give the word, the fight will begin,” he said. “And let’s not forget that this contest will decide what—”

But Achilleus and John weren’t listening. Before David had finished speaking, they ran at each other, roaring, spears at the ready.

54

Wait!” David shouted. He was wasting his breath. John and Achilleus clashed together, their spears thudding into one another’s shields.

Achilleus looked at John’s spear. It was undamaged. The tip of his own weapon, however, had broken off. He had sharpened it too much. He wasn’t used to fighting someone with a shield. No matter. It would still do some damage if he made contact.

One – nothing to John, though.

He didn’t have long to think about this as John launched a furious attack; evidently he had the same idea as Mick—go in hard and get it over quick.

He ran at Achilleus, driving him back with a series of short, powerful thrusts. Achilleus used his shield to block the assault. He soon found that he didn’t have the muscles for it. Holding it up used a lot of energy. He held on, and in the end he saw a gap and managed to get in a counterstrike. Jabbing beneath John’s shield at his legs. John saw it coming and skipped out of the way, but it broke his rhythm, and he stopped his assault. Achilleus grabbed the breathing space and moved away, dancing around the ring, loosening his muscles. He had tensed up under John’s attack and needed to work off any cramps before they took hold.

The attack had given John some encouragement. He strutted around the ring with a sneer on his face.

“Had enough, batty boy?”