Swords Around the Throne Read Free

them! I could have said: Don’t attack Rome... Now look at them!’
    But the two Frankish chiefs appeared defiant still. One, Ascaricus, hung his head so his hair covered his face, but his lean muscles were hard as he gripped the post behind him. The other Frank, Merogaisus, was a huge man, his yellow hair and beard dirty and matted but his eyes glaring. His body was striped with blood from a recent whipping. As he felt the hatred of the crowd he began shouting back at them, straining at his chains.
    â€˜What’s he saying?’ Nigrinus asked Hrocus.
    â€˜He’s saying,’ the king replied, ‘that he wants to be armed. Give me a weapon, Roman dogs. Let me fight and die like a man... ’
    Abruptly the noise from the crowd shifted to a cheer and a growing chant. Nigrinus glanced away from the bound captives, and saw two bears emerging from the gates at either end of the arena. They were monstrous beasts, scarred veterans of the Treveris arena, and the crowd knew them well.
    â€˜ UL-TOR! UL-TOR! ’ the crowd near the southern gate chanted.
    â€˜ OMI-CI-DA! OMI-CI-DA! ’ those in the northern stalls chanted back.
    So it was a contest, Nigrinus realised – which bear would kill his victim first? Already he could see some of the spectators making bets, gauging the odds – was the man-slaying Omicida the fittest champion, or the avenging Ultor?
    The first kill came quickly, and those betting on Omicida lost out. The other bear, Ultor, dropped into a loping run; with unnerving speed it closed with the bound victim. Before Ascaricus of the Cherusci could even scream, the bear had reared up, bellowing, and smashed one paw across his chest. The victim was punched back against the post; then the bear lunged forward, throwing its full weight against him. The post gave way, toppling over and dragging the bound man with it – he was dead before he hit the sand, with the bear’s massive gouging jaws clamped around his face.
    â€˜ UL-TOR! UL-TOR! ’ the crowd in the southern stands chanted.
    Nigrinus looked back at Hrocus. The king sat with a woeful grimace, his beard in his fist. Another throw of the dice, Nigrinus thought, and it could easily have been Hrocus down there, chained to a post, getting his skull crushed by Ultor the bear.
    How strange the turns of fate, Nigrinus thought as he stared in queasy fascination at the scene in the arena. Hrocus was born a king, his father was a king before him. Nigrinus’s own father had been born a slave. Now Nigrinus himself was climbing the ladder of imperial offices, his power growing with every passing year, while Hrocus declined and did not even know it. Was it just fate? No, Nigrinus thought. It was more than that. He knew how the game was played, and men like Hrocus did not.
    A sudden movement caught his eye – the crowd saw it too, and a gasp and a yell came from the stalls. Merogaisus, the second Frankish chief, had managed to break the fastening of the chain that secured him to the post. Roaring, he was heaving and dragging at the post itself, trying to wrench it from the ground. The bear Omicida idled closer, head swinging, drool glistening around its jaws.
    With a straining heave, the Frankish chief ripped the heavy post up out of the ground. He lashed the chain around it, then lifted it above his head and brandished it at the packed tiers of seats all around him.
    â€˜And now things become interesting,’ Nigrinus said quietly.
    The bear Omicida was already closing in. Merogaisus cried out in defiance, hefting the ten-foot baulk of wood and chain like an ironbound club. He swung, and the chain came loose and flailed at the bear’s head. The crowd in the stalls was hushed, expectant, many of them on their feet. Nigrinus could see the flicker of bets being laid. Man against beast.
    Swinging his lump of wood and iron, Merogaisus had driven the first bear back. But now Ultor had picked up his scent, and come