He had killed before, at Trebia, and had trained against many skilled combatants in single combat, but he knew that a legionnaire’s strength wasn’t in one-on-one battle, but in a group: a century, cohort or a legion. The Numidian, on the other hand, had no quarrel about facing Gaius in lone combat. Still, an unwelcome and unfamiliar fear ran up from his stomach and spilled over him like a sickness.
Clearing his head, Gaius tried to bring himself into focus, not thinking about the man’s obvious size, his scars, or the madness that stared at him in the man’s bloodshot eyes.
“I wasn’t planning on dying this day. I’m just letting you know,” Gaius said with the best and bravest grin he could muster. It seemed to work as the over-confident warrior rushed, attacking first.
Gaius moved to his right as the Numidian struck high.
Easily, the man rebounded from his first failed attack and came at Gaius with the same determination, countering with a wide horizontal swing that he must have hoped would throw the younger Roman off balance, but Gaius, to even his surprise, kept pace with the older man. He had done this so many times, both in practice and war that his reactions were second nature.
Parrying one blow, Gaius instantly felt the dominant vibration run through his hands, up to his arms and into his chest, where his heart beat furiously. The dark-skinned man was powerful, but he lacked form and proper control.
The larger and heavier sword hit Gaius’ smaller gladius time and time again, but each time, he was wearing himself down as he was confident in his strength.
Gaius wished he hadn’t, but he couldn’t help but scream in pain as a wayward sword blow finally struck home, as the tip of the Numidians blade sliced just under his shoulder garment.
Blood drizzled down from the open wound as the Numidian couldn’t help but laugh, as he said something that Gaius assumed was mocking in his native tongue.
Gaius ignored the sensation of his blood running down his arm, as well as the Numidian’s mocking as squared himself for more savage blows.
Think, Gaius. You’ve faced bigger men than this one before, Gaius thought to himself. He was no small man himself, but there had been others larger than he during his training with the Sixth, men like his now dead friend Agrippa.
The Numidian attack again, yelling at the top of his lungs as he swung for Gaius’ head, however, the blow came up short as the younger Roman dove out of the blade’s path, and quickly rose back to his feet.
Gaius kept his distance from the Numidian who attacked once more, but again, Gaius failed to meet his challenge as the man swung with the force to bring down a tree.
The Numidian screamed, yelling something fowl as his frustration was painted over his face.
Gaius smiled as he began to understand that this man had a short temper, and had difficulty controlling it. He wanted a proper fight, to prove he was stronger and better than his Roman opponent. However, war wasn’t fair, as Hannibal had proven already, so Gaius played the part as he grinned wide, making sure to keep easy distance from the Numidian.
“Come now, old man, can’t you keep up?” Gaius mocked, which the Numidian seemed to understand, at least the meaning from Gaius’ amused tone.
The Numidian rushed forward with his sword held over his head, screaming with rage as he brought the blade down. Again, however, Gaius moved from the man’s path.
Seeing an opening, Gaius struck quickly. The wound he caused was superficial, as he drew a line of red across the flat of the Numidian’s back.
“You are too slow. You should have stayed in Africa and fought men of equal value as yourself, my friend.” Gaius felt odd speaking as he was. It wasn’t in his nature so rude, but his tactic seemed to be doing its trick. With the hot summer’s sun overhead, and the heavy sword in the Numidian’s hand, he was beginning to sweat buckets as he struggled with each new attack, as his reactions lessened.
Again, with another murderous roar, the Numidian lunged forward, but this time the man’s fatigue was getting the better of him as his speed was drastically reduced. It was hot, and while Gaius was weighed down by his armor, he wasn’t as bothered by the dry air.
As the dark-skinned warrior was sweating profusely, his grip on his sword loosened, held lower with each attack. His chest heaved with considerable effort, yet stood, refusing to withdraw his and fight on the defensive, to conserve energy.
Gaius saw his opportunity.
“You come to my land, my country, and bring war,” Gaius yelled as he moved closer, waiting for his opening. “Why, to murder my people in a war not of our making? Your people are cowards, and will one-day face judgment for the lives you have taken!”
The man did not like what he was hearing, obviously, to some degree he understood what Gaius was saying as sounded repeatedly what seemed like the same word, none of which Gaius understood. It did not matter, regardless; Gaius was done with this fight.
As the heavy Numidian sword came crashing down, striking the earth with a savage blow, driving nearly a full foot into the soft soil, Gaius dodged a moment earlier as the blade came rushing past him. He danced around his opponent and saw his opening: the Numidian’s exposed ribcage, where Gaius drove all twenty-four inches of his sword into the Numidian’s chest.
The Numidian screamed in agony, baring his teeth like a caged beast as Gaius’ sword was quickly withdrawn from his torso.
The man tried to strike at Gaius with what remaining strength he had left, but again, the Roman easily ducked under the counterattack.
Dark crimson blood poured out from the wound, which the man’s hastily tried to cover with his freed hand. Gaius had missed the heart, which he had been aiming for, but the angle prevented him from dealing a quick blow. No matter, his opponent was done, both knew it.
The Numidian began to stagger as his color turned a ghostly shade of choky blue. An artery had been severed, that much Gaius knew as his opponent seemed to be no longer aware of where he was standing.
For a moment, as the man dropped his sword, Gaius thought about leaving him as he stood — let the man bleed out. However, he could not bring himself to do so.
Moving carefully toward the Numidian, Gaius aimed the tip of his sword for his opponent’s throat. Slowly, but effectively he drove his sword into the man’s gullet. The act was easy as the Numidian’s eyes opened wide.
The Numidian’s eyes rolled back into his head as he tumbled over, his body twitching violently for several long seconds, before finally he was still.
Gaius breathed deeply as he stared down at the man he killed. He felt nothing, to his own surprise. It was not like Trebia, as he had been horrified by battle and seeing his brothers floating down the icy river. He had done as he had been trained. He bested a superior foe in combat, but he felt no joy in the act, or pity for the man.
A moment later four Roman riders trotted up behind Gaius, happy to see the two dead warriors at his feet. Right away, they congratulated him as the leapt down from their horses, wanting to hear the details. Gaius, however, said nothing beyond ordering his men to mount and ride back to their patrol. A moment later, looking down at the men he’d killed, Gaius pondered the action a moment longer, as he wondered if these men left anyone to their name, far from the foreign soil they had invaded.
It did not matter Gaius decided. He was content to let them rot in the sun, and be eaten by the birds then to ponder these men’s lives a moment longer.
As the sun moved over the horizon, Gaius and twenty of his men, all of them tired from a weeklong patrol, safeguarding the supply-lines, were finally in sight of the Roman camp, much to their relief.
The consul army had been moving from day-to-day, tracking Hannibal and his forces for weeks. At the moment, they seemed to have cornered him near the town of Cannae, which Gaius knew had to be a bad sign for Rome, as the town hosed an important supply depot.