Chapter Thirteen #2
Isadora knew that, but she was verging on telling him why she wanted him to do well. She wanted him to impress her father so he would see that Cam was the warrior they’d been looking for.
But she stopped short. She’d only just found the man; she didn’t want to throw too much at him all at once. Today was their reunion, but tomorrow would bring another day.
There was time for him to impress her father.
Time enough to ensure that Niall Keith knew that Cam Netherton was exactly what they needed.
Isadora would make sure of it.
*
You will have a bout tonight.
Soon after Isadora had departed to return to her brothers, a man bearing stew and bread came to relay the message.
Cam was told to remain in his tiny cottage in the warriors’ encampment until further notice, and once he was fed and rested, still more men came to usher him out of his cottage along with other novicius.
They were all corralled into a holding chamber that was part of the arena, out of sight and off to the north.
The chamber was massive, built partially into the side of a hill, with stone benches and big stone columns that held up the ceiling.
There was an iron grate for a door, and small windows so they could see out into the holding yard beyond.
That yard was connected to the larger arena floor and it was where some of the more advanced warriors practiced.
Torches had been lit by the dozens, lighting up the yard against the night that had descended.
Since Cam really didn’t know any of the other novicius trainees he was grouped with, he stood over by the window, watching more men coming into the yard, some of whom were heavily armored. He watched them curiously.
“Is this your first public combat?”
Cam turned to see a muscular man, about his age, wearing a long tunic, leather breeches, and shoes.
“Aye,” he said, returning his attention to the window. “I was only just told I was expected tae fight tonight.”
The man wandered up beside him, also looking out the window. He eyed some of the armored men, grunting.
“Tertiarius,” he muttered. “They are going to test us.”
Cam looked at him curiously. “What are tertiarius?”
The man met his gaze. “You do not know?”
“Nay.”
“How long have you been here?”
“I’ve counted out sixty-two days.”
“And what have you been told about this place?”
Cam shrugged. “Enough tae survive, I suppose. What else is there?”
The man smiled without humor. “What is your name, lad?”
“Cam.”
“Cam, I am Galan,” he said. “Galan de Lara. My family is from the Welsh Marches. And you?”
Cam lifted his shoulder. “Scotland,” he said. “I suppose ye couldna tell by my accent.”
Galan stared at him a moment, perhaps wondering if that was some kind of insult. Deciding that it was an attempt at humor, he grinned. “I suppose not.”
“I have been trying tae make myself sound like a Sassenach. Is it working?”
“It is not.”
It was Cam’s turn to smile. Galan studied him a moment, perhaps a bit more closely. “I think I like you, Highlander,” he said. Then, he gestured out of the window. “Since this is your first time with the publico certamine, I will explain how this will work.”
“Publico certamine?”
“Public combat. You know, the games that men wager on. That is why you are here.” Galan leaned up against the stone, looking to the yard beyond the window.
“Those men out there are seasoned warriors. They are looking to win a purse tonight or, better still, to find a lord who will accept their fealty.”
Cam peered into the flickering light at the men milling about. “Then they’ve been here a long time.”
“Long enough,” Galan said. “But nothing trains a man faster than an actual fight. They will not allow novicius to be badly injured, but they want to see how you react in a combat situation.”
The more Cam thought about what was to happen, the more nervous he became. “We are not trained tae fight at all,” he said. “None of us much knows what we are doing. And now we are expected tae fight against… against those men?”
Galan nodded.
It was a rapid education for Cam. He supposed if he’d let himself become friends with the other men, he might have been told, but this was the first time he’d heard any of this.
Perhaps a friend like Galan was good to have, after all.
“I am grateful that ye told me this,” he said. “I’ve not had much contact with the other trainees.”
“Who is your trainer?”
“Wendell.”
“Ah,” Galan said. “He is arrogant.”
“Then it is not only me that thinks so.”
Galan snorted. “Nay,” he said. “My trainer is Milo. He is a little better than Wendell. I think he is more patient. Luther is the other trainer. He usually has the men who have been here the longest. He is a fair man.”
“What of the Saxon? Axel?”
“He is fair, also. But do not cross him. He can and will kill you.”
“Ye’ve seen this?”
“Unfortunately.”
As Cam pondered Axel the killer, they began to notice that more men were gathering in the arena, lingering at the edge of the lists and looking down upon the warriors who were milling about in the yard.
As he observed the gamblers in the lists, someone emitted a piercing whistle.
Everyone turned to see Axel, followed by Clegg, entering the chamber from a heavy oak door toward the back of the room.
The men gathered around.
Clegg, dressed in an elegant cream-colored robe with tanned leather strips around the neckline and sleeves, stepped forward to look at the group of recruits. He was followed by a pair of very big dogs. They followed him closely as he paced a little, inspecting the men before him.
“You have been informed that you are to participate in the combat games tonight,” he finally said.
“I realize you’ve not had much preparation for this, but life is full of surprises.
Your instincts will dictate your actions against men much more skilled than you are, which will make for an interesting game.
It will also help you in your training.”
Cam glanced at Galan, both of them realizing that this “sudden” decision to have the novices participate was not on a whim. It was planned. Galan simply shook his head in disgust as Clegg continued.
“The good news is that not all of you are participating,” he said.
“Only some of you have been drawn to fight. Your names have been randomly selected, as have the names of your opponents. I will say this only once, so you will listen—you will fight as best you are able. You will not run. Any man showing cowardice shall be dismissed from the Ludus Caledonia. I do not train cowards. Is this in any way unclear?”