Chapter Thirteen #3
The men listening began to shake their heads with uncertainty. Clegg watched the heads bob side to side as he halted his pacing, looking out over the chamber of men.
“Axel will tell you who you are to fight and how you are to fight,” he said.
“Some of you will be in the iusto bouts, while one of you will be in a primus bout. Weapons and armor will be brought out for those of you in the iusto bouts and you may make your selections of protection. But the primus bout will offer no protection, only fists and blunt weapons.”
The men began to look at each other, apprehension on their faces. In the cold, moldering chamber with its stone walls and stone benches, fear was beginning to breed. But how each man handled his fear would separate him from the rest.
And that’s exactly how Clegg had planned it.
“Remember our dictum,” he said. “Hominibus Gloria—in men, there is honor. Fight honorably and win. Fight dishonorably and I will waste no more time on you.”
Without further delay, he turned to Axel, who had a piece of parchment in his hands with the list of those who had been drawn to fight.
“We have many great lords who have come tonight, so there will be only five novice matches,” Axel said loudly. “When I call your name, step forward. Nansen!”
A tall, slender man separated himself from the crowd and came forward. Axel continued.
“Erik, Phillip, Hugh.”
Three more men separated themselves and stepped forward, leaving about thirty other men standing there, waiting for the last name to be called. No one wanted to hear their name spoken in that heavy Teutonic accent, but the last name finally came forth with the subtlety of a hammer blow.
“Cam.”
Twenty-nine men breathed a sigh of relief as Cam moved away from Galan, heading to the rear of the chamber where Axel, Clegg, and the other four men were standing.
He could see the looks of sympathy as he moved through the group but his gaze was fixed on Axel; he was feeling a great deal of apprehension but unwilling to show it.
He wanted Axel and Clegg to think he was brave.
But it was all for show.
Axel’s bright blue eyes fixed on him for a moment before glancing down at the parchment he held.
“I have your matches here,” he said to the five men standing around him.
“Nansen, you will fight the man known as Big Sword. Erik, you have drawn Krister White Eyes. Phillip, you shall fight Eskill the Sickly, but do not let his name fool you. He is not sickly. And Hugh, you have drawn a warrior known as Red Beard. It is red because it is bloody so often.”
That comment saw Hugh’s dark eyes widen. He wasn’t a very big man, pale, with black hair and a nervous manner. Cam was in the process of feeling rather sorry for the man when Axel addressed him.
“Cam, you are the only one who drew the primus position,” he said. “You will be fighting a man we call The Beast. I will counsel you on how to approach him.”
The Beast.
Cam had been feeling sorry for the other novices when he should have bloody well been feeling sorry for himself.
He remembered what Galan had told him—they wouldn’t let the novices become seriously injured.
But fighting someone called The Beast had Cam rethinking everything he’d ever considered about the Ludus Caledonia.
He hadn’t come here to lose teeth or limbs.
God, he was terrified.
As men began to bring in the armor and protection for the other four men to choose from, Cam realized he didn’t get the benefit of any of that. As he stood there and scratched his head, wondering if he should just start running, Axel came up beside him.
“We call him The Beast because he is all strength, no intelligence,” he said in a surprising show of humanity from a man who came across as cold as winter.
“He can rip a man’s head off, but he cannot think beyond that.
A fight with The Beast is a fight of wits, and I know you have that gift.
I have seen it. You will have to rely on that tonight if you are to survive the bout. ”
Cam appeared concerned. “Is he allowed tae kill me, then?”
Axel shook his head. “Nay,” he said. “But this will be a fight. It will not be called because you have a bloody nose. You are expected to fight until you can fight no more or until one of you hits the ground. Is that understood?”
Cam was liking this situation less and less. “It is,” he said. “What are the rules? A fight with fists usually has no rules.”
Axel shook his head. “You are correct,” he said. “There are no rules. But if I were you, I would figure out very quickly how I can bring The Beast down. Once a man falls, he cannot get back up again and you would be declared the winner.”
Cam regarded Axel for a moment. “If ye were fighting the man, how would ye bring him down?”
Axel smiled thinly. “Take him down any way you can,” he said. “You managed it with Luther.”
Cam could see there was a hint in that statement: go for the eyes. That was exactly what he did to Luther, but he had to get close to the man in order to do that. He’d have to get close to The Beast in order to do the same.
No… he wasn’t looking forward to this at all.
God help me.