Chapter Fourteen
It was a bleak, frosted winter morning that Brody found himself fighting in.
If one could call it fighting. It was fighting like he’d never done in his life.
Repetitive exercises took the instinct out of a battle.
Being expected to take a blow and not defend oneself had him frustrated.
For the fighting Brody had done his entire life, he’d depended on an innate sense of self-preservation coupled with moves his father had taught him.
He could use a short sword and a mace better than most, but all he was given for training at the Ludus Caledonia was a rudis, or a small but sturdy wooden sword.
He hated the damned thing.
His forty-three days at “The Cal” had been nothing as he’d expected.
He was back to the bearded, unhappy man he’d been during his days in Edinburgh.
For the first week, the novicius did nothing but run up and down the hills surrounding the Ludus Caledonia.
That had transitioned into running with the rudis and a heavy wooden shield before they were finally taken into the arena to begin training with other training groups.
Brody was in Cam’s troop, and Cam was assisted by a big Englishman named Galan.
One of the first exercises Cam and Galan had them do was fighting against a palus, or a post. Brody thought it was all ridiculously stupid, but he went along with it, much to Cam’s amusement.
Cam seemed to know exactly what he was thinking but he never chastised him.
He encouraged him and spoke to him of tactics and blind spots, things Brody already knew about.
At least, he knew most of it. There were a few things Cam taught him that he’d never heard of before.
Cam may not have chastised him for his know-it-all attitude, but a big brute with piercing blue eyes did.
Axel was his name.
Axel von Rossau was from Saxony and he’d been Clegg’s Ianista, or manager, for many years. Axel was tough but fair, at least when he was feeling particularly benevolent, but Brody’s frustration at the slow pace of the training had him paying more attention to Brody than most of the other recruits.
As Brody found out, that wasn’t a good thing.
On this icy morning, the four novicius troops were in the arena and Brody was coming to wonder why. There weren’t normally more than two troops in the arena at any one time and, as he soon found out, they’d all been gathered for a purpose.
They were going to use what they had learned – against each other.
It was an exercise of sorts, to pit men from different troops against one another to see what they’d learned.
Each troop was standing in a corner of the arena, watching the bouts that were going on in the middle.
Four, six men at a time went at it. All men were eager fighters, but some were better than others.
Rumor had it that there were fights that night and the trainers were looking to see if there were any novicius who might be ready to fight in a preliminary bout.
Then, it became Brody’s turn.
But he wasn’t pitted against any novicius.
For him, Axel brought out a warrior that had been with the Ludus Caledonia for a few years.
The man was a tertiarius, a fighter at the top of the proverbial food chain.
These were men who fought for money and prestige, hoping a great lord would offer them a position.
They were ruthless.
Brody didn’t know the man, but he’d seen him around the complex. As Axel called forth the fighters, including Brody, Cam quickly took him aside.
“The man ye’re tae fight against is the one the call The Eagle,” he said. “He’s been part of the fight guild for years, but he’s been at one of Clegg’s other guilds, the Ludus Hadrian. We havena seen him at The Cal until recently.”
Brody glanced at his opponent. “He’s short.”
Cam shook his head. “Dunna let his stature fool ye,” he said. “He’s shorter than ye are, but he packs a punch. Axel is pairing the two of ye because he thinks yer pride will prevent ye from making a truly great fighter.”
Brody looked at him curiously. “What do ye mean?”
“Because ye believe training is beneath ye,” Cam said.
“We’ve all seen it. That’s why Axel wants tae pair ye with The Eagle so he can cut ye down tae size.
Underestimating him is the worst thing ye can do.
They call him The Eagle for a reason; he’ll come at ye like a bird of prey and it’ll be over before ye realize what happened.
He likes tae use leverage against his opponents, so watch out for him getting too close tae ye. He’ll destroy ye if he can.”
Brody shook his head confidently. “He’ll not destroy me.”
Cam could hear the man’s pride and he wanted to shake him. “Listen tae me,” he said, hazard in his tone. “I had pride when I came tae The Cal, too, and it nearly got me killed. Know when a man is trying tae help ye, Brody – there’s a reason why they call Titus Stewart ’The Eagle’.”
Brody simply nodded to appease Cam, but he had no intention of showing any caution in the face of a man who was shorter than him by a few inches. Brody was quite tall, about four inches over six feet, and this man was probably three or four inches shorter.
Enough that Brody considered him inferior.
Axel was motioning to him and he moved away from Cam, taking his wooden rudis with him and his shield.
He was going to clip The Eagle’s wings and be done with it.
As Brody approached, he looked over his opponent from head to toe.
The man was wearing leather breeches, boots, and nothing more.
Absolutely nothing more and given the icy winter conditions, it was ludicrous.
He was quite muscular, however, a fine specimen of male form, but Brody didn’t give that any consideration.
So what if he had muscles; Brody had them, too.
And he intended to use them.
So far, the fights that morning had involved groups, but as Brody came to a halt several feet away from his opponent, Axel waved off the other combatants who were gathering to fight.
It was clear that this row was going to be a two-man event.
He stepped between the pair, motioning them closer to one another, which they did so reluctantly.
“Titus,” he said in his heavy Germanic accent. “Meet the Highland Protector. At least, that is what he told us he used to be called. Mayhap you can put that name to the test.”
Titus grinned, but it was without humor. “Gladly.”
Brody sensed a distinct challenge and it raised his hackles. “Eagles dunna live very long,” he said, running his finger along the edge of his dull wooden sword. “And they tend to eat the leavings of other animals. They’re scavengers.”
Axel had to bite off a guffaw as he stepped back from the pair. Titus’ smile turned genuine. “Indeed, they are,” he said. “And they pick the bones of their enemies.”
“Of which, I am sure, they have many.”
“Mayhap they do. But eagles always come out on top. Shall we?”
“At yer pleasure.”
When it became clear that the giant ego was about to go up against the immovable pride, Axel spoke before the battle could commence.
“Since these are friendly bouts, no intentionally cutting a man down or drawing blood,” he said pointedly.
“Avoid injuring each other if you can. First man who falls to the ground is the loser.”
The words weren’t completely out of Axel’s mouth before Titus was flying at Brody. Literally. Brody saw legs going up in the air and he took a powerful kick to the head before he could raise his arms to defend himself.
The lights went out.
*
Brody wasn’t quite sure how long he’d been staring at the stone ceiling.
In fact, he wasn’t even sure how he got here.
Suddenly, he sat bolt upright, realizing he was in the holding area that was next to the arena.
It was a massive chamber cut into the side of the hill and it was where the competitors gathered before the fights, cool caverns that reeked of smoke and sweaty bodies.
But the swift motion of sitting up quickly had the world rocking and someone was pulling him back down to the bench he was laying on.
“Lie back,” a woman said. “Ye’ve got a nasty lump on yer head, so lie still.”
Looking up, he saw a beautiful woman with red curls tied at the nape of her neck and skin like cream. She was holding a cold compress against his head.
He blinked.
“What happened?”
The woman lifted the compress and wrung it out in a bowl. “Ye tangled with The Eagle,” she said. “Do ye not remember?”
He thought a moment before realization dawned. “Christ,” he muttered. “I remember… something. What did he do?”
“He kicked ye in the head.”
Brody thought on that for a moment. Then, he started to laugh, ironic and embarrassed laughter when he realized he’d been made a fool of. All of that confidence he’d displayed had cost him. A hand went up, feeling the bump on the side of his head.
He’d never felt so stupid in his entire life.
“Cam warned me,” he said. “I suppose I should have listened tae him.”
“Aye, ye should have,” the woman said. “My husband is usually right about such things.”
“Ye’re Cam’s wife?”
“My name is Isadora.”
In all the weeks he’d been here, he’d never met his trainer’s wife. She never came around the men, which was probably wise considering how pretty she was. Brody sighed heavily, wincing when she put the cold compress back on.
“Well,” he said. “’Tis a hard lesson learned. I should have paid closer attention.”
“Tae who? My husband or The Eagle?”
“Both.”
Isadora fought off a smile. “If it’s any consolation, Titus was punished for doing what he did.”
He looked at her curiously. “He was?”
“Aye,” she said. “From what I understand, he dinna wait for Axel tae signal the beginning of the fight. He went off on his own before anyone told him tae and caught ye off guard.”
Brody lay there a moment longer, trying to remember the details of what had happened and being unable to. He remembered listening to the big Saxon speak on the rules of the engagement but nothing after that.
The Eagle had a hard strike.