‘Well done!’ she cried. ‘You’re through.’
‘Just about,’ he replied, feeling his cheeks glow. He was so relieved she hadn’t shouted out to him in front of the other archers.
‘You can do it. I know you can!’
The other two girls shouted encouragements too, then all three set off back towards the crowd. Indavara waved a thank-you and walked on.
He had never met anyone who smiled so much. Sanari was nineteen — a bit younger than him — and worked for the army administrator two doors down. She had first spoken to Indavara while he was doing his exercises in the back garden and she’d been hanging out washing. Corbulo reckoned she was too chubby and that it wasn’t a girl’s place to talk over a wall to a stranger but Indavara didn’t mind any of that. They had taken a few walks since then, and he’d told her he would buy her the biggest bunch of flowers in Bostra if he won.
Shaking his head to dispel such distractions, he reached the target and plucked out the arrows. One had hit the shaft of another and was no longer usable but the rest were fine. Careful not to touch the flights, he walked back along the range. Unable to spot Sanari, he found himself looking at the images carved into the pale stone of the spine. Most of the carvings showed racing chariots and athletic contests. One, however, showed two gladiators standing toe to toe, swords raised. Indavara looked away and hurried on.
It’s different. You have nothing to fear now. You are free.
He told himself these things a lot. Often at night; when he awoke and thought he was back in his cell beneath the arena at Pietas Julia. If he wanted to get back to sleep he would have to go to a window or door so that he could see something — reassure himself he really wasn’t there.
He felt sweat form under his arms; and as he approached the tables he thought again about walking straight out through the gate.
No. He couldn’t let himself down like that in front of Sanari. He wanted to beat Eclectis. And he wanted to beat the fear.
He didn’t even listen to the comedian’s last few japes; he was busy examining the arrows, selecting for the next round. Once Eclectis and the other man were ready too, Taenaris turned the hourglass over and the second round commenced.
Indavara got off to another poor start — three whites — but he forced himself not to look at either the spine or the crowd. He imagined the range as a tunnel down which the arrows would fly, straight into the eye. Of the next seven shots, five hit red. He finished shortly after Eclectis, who had registered precisely the same score. The third man was slower and needed two reds from his last two arrows to equal the others. He managed only whites and uttered a stream of imaginative curses as he took a seat in the front row.
For the next break, Taenaris had recruited a juggler and a pair of acrobats. Feeling rather calmer, Indavara even left the table and watched their alternating routines, which drew cheers and whoops from the crowd. Spying some frantically waving hands, he spotted Sanari and her friends and summoned a smile. He was grateful, but he really wished Simo or Corbulo were there.
Eclectis sidled up to him, running his hands through his shiny mane of hair. ‘Now we can get down to the real fight, eh, big man?’
Indavara did not reply.
‘Nothing new to you, I’m guessing.’
Indavara watched the juggler, pretending not to listen.
‘All those scars. Never seen so many on such a young man. Too young to have got them all in the army, so I’m guessing maybe you’re used to contests of a different kind.’
Indavara tried desperately not to react.
‘Thought so,’ continued Eclectis. ‘So you should be used to all this. The sand, the heat, the noise. Except you look a bit nervy to me, big man — have done since you got here. So I’m thinking maybe you haven’t been back in a contest like this for a while. And now it’s starting to get to you a bit.’
‘You think you’re the only one who notices things?’ Indavara replied, trying to keep his voice steady. ‘Four times I’ve seen you compete and not once before did I see you try to put someone else off. You must be worried.’
He returned to the table. There was one easy way to shut Eclectis up and he wanted it now more than ever.
‘We come to the final round,’ announced Taenaris. ‘Sixty-four are now two and only one man can walk away from here victorious.’
Indavara realised he had forgotten his prayers. He reached down and touched the little figurine of Fortuna nestling behind his belt.
Dear Fortuna, goddess most high, make my hand steady, make my aim true.
‘Eclectis and Indavara will take turns with their ten arrows,’ continued Taenaris. ‘When both are finished, we will have our champion. In the event of a tie we move into “sudden death”. Are the competitors ready?’
Indavara nodded. When Taenaris didn’t continue, he glanced left.
Eclectis was facing the crowd, bow held casually in one hand. ‘I am sometimes known as the Hawk, because of my unerring eye. It seems only fair that our new friend has his own title. I suggest the Maid — because he likes to take things from the table!’
Eclectis’s acolytes weren’t the only ones to laugh. Face glowing once more, Indavara kept his back to the crowd, eyes locked on the target. As the noise faded, a high-pitched voice yelled a response: ‘And now he will take your prize!’
The auxiliaries’ attempts to shout Sanari down were drowned out by the noise from the rest of the crowd. It took several efforts by Taenaris to restore order.
‘As the competitor with the highest total score, Eclectis wins the right to choose who shall loose first.’
Smirking, Eclectis jabbed his bow towards his rival.
Indavara started well, the first arrow landing only an inch or two above the red. The smile finally off his face, Eclectis matched it.
Though there was noise after each arrow hit the target, the crowd remained respectful as every man took his turn. By staying focused on the imaginary tunnel, Indavara found he became calmer and calmer. Both he and Eclectis had struck red with their second shot and hit white only twice more with their next six arrows.
At this point, Taenaris broke in: ‘A tie, with only two shots left!’
Most of the crowd was now standing. Taenaris held up a hand to Eclectis and Indavara; the bookmakers wanted time to register a last few wagers.
Eclectis took a couple of steps towards Indavara. He smiled for the benefit of anyone watching and kept his voice low. ‘Seeing as you got out alive, I’m thinking you must have been quite a killer. That right, big man?’
Indavara just wanted to get on with it.
‘Always wondered what it must be like,’ continued the Egyptian. ‘Standing over some poor bastard with a blade in your hand, waiting for the decision. Feel good, did it?’
Images flashed into Indavara’s mind. So many men. All hurt, all bloodied, all lying in the sand.
The betting was over. Taenaris addressed the competitors. ‘Indavara will loose first.’
Eclectis was already back at his table, the picture of innocence.
Indavara nocked the arrow. He raised the bow and pulled the string back. A thick bead of sweat dropped onto his right eyelid. He shook it off and adjusted his aim.
Feel good, did it?
That rush of relief, the glow of victory? Oh yes. Once the decision had been made you just got on with it. Didn’t even think about it. Just did what you had to. The guilt came later.
Indavara gulped, lowered the bow, took a breath.
A few murmurs from the crowd.
He adjusted his feet slightly, raised the bow once more. He closed his left eye.