Read Online Fists of Iron: Barbarian of Rome Chronicles Volume Two by Nick Morris - Free Book Online
Authors: Nick Morris
Tags: Fiction
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man be?” Gordeo enquired, focusing his attention on Clodian.
“This is Clodian, the son of Gaius Caesilius Ralla,” said Belua.
“The son of our much respected magistrate is very welcome to our humble ludus ,” said Gordeo, bowing elaborately.
Clodian responded with a slight bow in return.
“How is the Dacian progressing?” Gordeo enquired, straight to business as usual.
“His progress is satisfactory,” Strabo interjected, before Belua could answer.
Belua could feel himself bristle but said nothing.
“He’s won all his matches but he needs to learn to finish his opponents, and his style is crude and needs a lot of work,” Strabo continued. “But, don’t worry, I have some new methods in mind that will help him improve.”
“I see,” said Gordeo, slowly stroking his chin between thumb and forefinger.
“And, what do you say?” he asked.
Belua cleared his throat and spat as if to purge a nasty taste from his mouth.
“Horse–shit!” he replied. He sensed that Gordeo was beginning to feel uneasy, sweat appearing in great blotches under the arms of the garish robe he wore. Not surprising, he’s knows me well enough.
“Please go on,” said Gordeo.
“True, the Dacian’s style is ugly, but it’s effective. He is very strong and doesn’t cut easily. His time in the mines clearly proves that he is durable, and, he has a trait that will no doubt aid him.”He paused, allowing his words to sink in. “He likes to inflict pain. That is why he doesn’t finish his opponents quickly. My advice would be to provide him with a tougher test, and then you will see his real worth.”
“Thank you, enlightening as always,” said Gordeo.
Strabo’s face had turned red. Belua cared little for his feelings.
Gordeo spoke into the silence that followed.
“Can I not entice you to spend more time at the ludus , Belua? Your expertise is sorely missed.”
“Not for what you pay me,” he replied, wearing a wry smile.
“It’s true that I cannot match what a magistrate would privately pay. After all, the imperial coffers are not bottomless.”
“We all get by as best we can. And, no doubt you have a little silver put aside for retirement too.” Belua took no offence at the procurator’s jibe, familiar with Gordeo’s astuteness where money was concerned.
“A little Belua, a little,” Gordeo replied. “But, now I have business to attend too and must take my leave of you. Good day to you doctores , and to you, young Clodian.
He watched the procurator walk away, his ample bulk swaying like a ship. Strabo met his eye, flashing him a dark look before re-joining the practising gladiators.
“You dislike him, don’t you?” stated Clodian.
He’d almost forgotten the youth’s presence.
“Who?”
“You know who I refer to.”
“Yes, I do,” he confessed, facing the youth.
“Does he bother you?”
“Fuck him,” said Belua.
“That is a no then,” said the youth grinning.
Belua tried hard not to smile. “Time to see my old friend, Neo. He’s the ludus ’
physician. It will be rare event if you can make that miserable bastard smile too.”
“A physician,” the youth’s face lit up. “Excellent!”
“But, first some refreshment. I have a good Falerian in my quarters that is calling my name.”
“Just water for me,” said Clodian. “The memory of the wedding feast is still fresh in my mind…and stomach.” He mimicked a retching motion.
“Very wise,” said Belua, pointing him in the direction of his quarters, “I’ll drink for the both of us.”
The infirmary was small and very clean. Rows of surgical instruments were placed neatly on the multiple shelves that covered three of the four walls; on which were placed neatly ordered surgical instruments, rolls of clean dressings and jars containing various salves and tinctures. The fourth wall had a large shuttered window that provided ample light, alongside which was a life-size map of the human body with the skin
“This is Clodian, the son of Gaius Caesilius Ralla,” said Belua.
“The son of our much respected magistrate is very welcome to our humble ludus ,” said Gordeo, bowing elaborately.
Clodian responded with a slight bow in return.
“How is the Dacian progressing?” Gordeo enquired, straight to business as usual.
“His progress is satisfactory,” Strabo interjected, before Belua could answer.
Belua could feel himself bristle but said nothing.
“He’s won all his matches but he needs to learn to finish his opponents, and his style is crude and needs a lot of work,” Strabo continued. “But, don’t worry, I have some new methods in mind that will help him improve.”
“I see,” said Gordeo, slowly stroking his chin between thumb and forefinger.
“And, what do you say?” he asked.
Belua cleared his throat and spat as if to purge a nasty taste from his mouth.
“Horse–shit!” he replied. He sensed that Gordeo was beginning to feel uneasy, sweat appearing in great blotches under the arms of the garish robe he wore. Not surprising, he’s knows me well enough.
“Please go on,” said Gordeo.
“True, the Dacian’s style is ugly, but it’s effective. He is very strong and doesn’t cut easily. His time in the mines clearly proves that he is durable, and, he has a trait that will no doubt aid him.”He paused, allowing his words to sink in. “He likes to inflict pain. That is why he doesn’t finish his opponents quickly. My advice would be to provide him with a tougher test, and then you will see his real worth.”
“Thank you, enlightening as always,” said Gordeo.
Strabo’s face had turned red. Belua cared little for his feelings.
Gordeo spoke into the silence that followed.
“Can I not entice you to spend more time at the ludus , Belua? Your expertise is sorely missed.”
“Not for what you pay me,” he replied, wearing a wry smile.
“It’s true that I cannot match what a magistrate would privately pay. After all, the imperial coffers are not bottomless.”
“We all get by as best we can. And, no doubt you have a little silver put aside for retirement too.” Belua took no offence at the procurator’s jibe, familiar with Gordeo’s astuteness where money was concerned.
“A little Belua, a little,” Gordeo replied. “But, now I have business to attend too and must take my leave of you. Good day to you doctores , and to you, young Clodian.
He watched the procurator walk away, his ample bulk swaying like a ship. Strabo met his eye, flashing him a dark look before re-joining the practising gladiators.
“You dislike him, don’t you?” stated Clodian.
He’d almost forgotten the youth’s presence.
“Who?”
“You know who I refer to.”
“Yes, I do,” he confessed, facing the youth.
“Does he bother you?”
“Fuck him,” said Belua.
“That is a no then,” said the youth grinning.
Belua tried hard not to smile. “Time to see my old friend, Neo. He’s the ludus ’
physician. It will be rare event if you can make that miserable bastard smile too.”
“A physician,” the youth’s face lit up. “Excellent!”
“But, first some refreshment. I have a good Falerian in my quarters that is calling my name.”
“Just water for me,” said Clodian. “The memory of the wedding feast is still fresh in my mind…and stomach.” He mimicked a retching motion.
“Very wise,” said Belua, pointing him in the direction of his quarters, “I’ll drink for the both of us.”
The infirmary was small and very clean. Rows of surgical instruments were placed neatly on the multiple shelves that covered three of the four walls; on which were placed neatly ordered surgical instruments, rolls of clean dressings and jars containing various salves and tinctures. The fourth wall had a large shuttered window that provided ample light, alongside which was a life-size map of the human body with the skin
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