Gladiator: Vengeance by Simon Scarrow Page A

I will give you a show this evening. And a lesson. This is what happens to those who choose to confront Procrustes. Leuctra is my town. Mine. I will crush anyone who forgets that. Now let’s begin the lesson, shall we?’
    He strode towards Festus and then slowed as he came withintwo sword lengths. Marcus saw them size each other up, then Festus stepped forward and extended his arm, touching the end of his training sword against that of his opponent. Procrustes held his weapon firmly and then, with an easy twist of his forearm, he thrust Festus’s sword away. Caesar’s bodyguard came on without hesitation and feinted and stabbed at the Greek, but Procrustes easily blocked each thrust with a speed and dexterity that, while not graceful, was perfectly effective and demonstrated an excellent technique. Marcus knew that his comrade would need every ounce of his skill and experience. ‘Your friend is a fool,’ a voice hissed close by and Marcus turned to see a middle-aged lady swathed in a black cloak. There were streaks of grey in her dark hair and her eyes appeared sunken. ‘Procrustes will break every bone in his body before the fight is over.’
    ‘How do you know?’
    She turned to him with a piercing gaze and her lips trembled. ‘Because that’s what the monster did to my son when he refused to pay protection money on his market stall. He died a few days later.’
    Marcus was silent for a moment before he responded softly. ‘I’m sorry.’
    ‘Save your grief for your friend.’
    Marcus turned back to the fight. ‘Festus can handle himself well enough.’
    ‘Then, if there’s any justice, he will humiliate Procrustes.’
    Festus fell back a few paces to open a gap between them and the Greek gang leader sneered. ‘Had enough already? Then it’s my turn.’
    He stepped forward in a slight crouch, well poised on his feet, and made a swift series of feints and genuine thrusts at his Roman opponent. The sharp crack of wood on wood echoed around the square and the crowd, which had been silent, began to mutter and let out gasps as Festus easily defended himself.
    ‘Come on, Procrustes!’ one of his thugs bellowed. ‘Beat his brains out!’
    The Greek paused and called back. ‘When I’m ready. I want to play with the scum first.’
    Lupus cupped a hand to his mouth and cried out. ‘Get him, Festus! I know you can do it!’
    Those in the crowd looked at him in surprise and the woman nudged Marcus. ‘I’d shut that young man up if I were you. If you want to save him a hiding once Procrustes has defeated your friend.’
    Marcus took a deep breath and shouted. ‘Go on, Festus! Cut him down to size!’
    ‘Your funeral,’ said the woman.
    Procrustes went forward again, mixing a few brutal cuts into his attacks. Festus nimbly dodged aside to parry the blows away and the Greek drew back again, breathing heavily.
    ‘You’re good, Roman. I’ll give you that. Best I’ve fought in a while. You’re fast with a blade, but there’s no real strength there.’
    Festus smiled thinly. ‘Think so? Then maybe you’re in for a surprise.’
    He leapt forward and struck out at the Greek’s head. Procrustes instinctively threw up his sword arm to block the blow. Then Festus turned his blade and sent it down. Instantly, Marcus knew he had timed it too early and Procrustes punched his arm out to parry the redirected blow. Then, incredibly, Festus flipped his wrist again and the flat of the sword smacked into the side of the Greek’s head.
    The crowd let out a cry of surprise as Procrustes staggered back, desperately warding off more attacks, training swords clattering against each other as they moved across the open space. Festus landed another blow, on the gang leader’s left wrist, and he let out a roar of pain and anger as he snatched his arm back.
    ‘Hit him again, Roman!’ the lady cried shrilly, waving her bony fist. Her cry was taken up by a few others in the crowd,and the thugs backing Procrustes craned their