All hurt, all bloodied, all lying in the sand.
The betting was over. Taenaris addressed the competitors. ‘Indavara will loose first.’
Eclectis was already back at his table, the picture of innocence.
Indavara nocked the arrow. He raised the bow and pulled the string back. A thick bead of sweat dropped onto his right eyelid. He shook it off and adjusted his aim.
Feel good, did it?
That rush of relief, the glow of victory? Oh yes. Once the decision had been made you just got on with it. Didn’t even think about it. Just did what you had to. The guilt came later.
Indavara gulped, lowered the bow, took a breath.
A few murmurs from the crowd.
He adjusted his feet slightly, raised the bow once more. He closed his left eye.
A single image returned: that poor bastard who had just lain there; his slimy, smelly guts hanging out of him, crying like a child.
Mama, Mama, Mama.
Complaints rang out from the crowd, demanding he hurry up. Taenaris tried to silence them but the shouts continued.
Indavara tried to shut it all out. He drew back, exhaled, let go.
A white. A bad white, close to the target’s edge. At least he hadn’t missed.
Mild applause.
Eclectis, calm as ever, went through his smooth routine and let fly. A red.
The crowd erupted.
Indavara took a drink. Eclectis was two points ahead. Only red would do. He picked up the arrow and readied himself.
Sanari waited for a gap in the shouts. ‘You can do it, Indavara! You can do it!’
I can. I can. It’s all in the past. I am free
.
He closed the eye, exhaled.
Mama, Mama, Mama.
He noticed something moving in front of him. The iron point of the arrow was trembling. Worse, his arm was starting to shake from the effort of holding the string.
He blinked and looked at the target once more; repeated his routine, let go.
High. So high in fact that the arrow struck the top edge, spun several times in the air, then landed in the sand.
The auxiliaries were already celebrating. Indavara put a hand to his head, suddenly dizzy. The moment passed. He looked up at the bright blue sky and suddenly the thoughts and images were gone. He couldn’t believe he’d let the bastard get to him like that.
Eclectis put his bow down then turned to the crowd, arms high, lapping up the acclaim.
Indavara threw his bow onto the table and walked towards him, fists clenched.
Eclectis yelled back at his supporters, ‘Just another year! Just another year!’
Sensing that their attention had shifted, he turned and grinned at Indavara. ‘No hard feelings.’
‘This’ll feel pretty hard.’
The head-butt struck Eclectis just above his nose and knocked him clean off his feet. Indavara barely noticed the spike of pain and when his eyes cleared the Egyptian was lying in the sand, mouth hanging open.
Then came the shouts. The auxiliaries charged off the benches, knocking several people over. One man was ahead of the pack. As he drew his knife, his trailing leg caught the clerk’s table and he hit the ground three yards away.
Indavara ran.
III
Cassius stood over the desk, gazing down at the piles of paper. He was determined not to let the unpleasant incident with Pontius affect him. Calvinus’s vote of confidence had given him a boost and he intended to repay the gesture. Provincial governors were generally an ambitious, manipulative bunch – mostly senators in the making – but, owing perhaps to his advancing years, Calvinus seemed like a decent, thoughtful man. Cassius admired his commitment to Arabia and its people. Here was a leader in the tradition of the Republic – a man more committed to Rome than himself. It was hard not to contrast him with Cassius’s commander in the Service – the ruthless, underhand Abascantius – though he was just as dedicated in his own way. Cassius hadn’t heard anything from his superior since being assigned to Bostra, which was fine with him.
After a bit of rummaging he found the list of informers Verecundus had left. Rolled up with the
The betting was over. Taenaris addressed the competitors. ‘Indavara will loose first.’
Eclectis was already back at his table, the picture of innocence.
Indavara nocked the arrow. He raised the bow and pulled the string back. A thick bead of sweat dropped onto his right eyelid. He shook it off and adjusted his aim.
Feel good, did it?
That rush of relief, the glow of victory? Oh yes. Once the decision had been made you just got on with it. Didn’t even think about it. Just did what you had to. The guilt came later.
Indavara gulped, lowered the bow, took a breath.
A few murmurs from the crowd.
He adjusted his feet slightly, raised the bow once more. He closed his left eye.
A single image returned: that poor bastard who had just lain there; his slimy, smelly guts hanging out of him, crying like a child.
Mama, Mama, Mama.
Complaints rang out from the crowd, demanding he hurry up. Taenaris tried to silence them but the shouts continued.
Indavara tried to shut it all out. He drew back, exhaled, let go.
A white. A bad white, close to the target’s edge. At least he hadn’t missed.
Mild applause.
Eclectis, calm as ever, went through his smooth routine and let fly. A red.
The crowd erupted.
Indavara took a drink. Eclectis was two points ahead. Only red would do. He picked up the arrow and readied himself.
Sanari waited for a gap in the shouts. ‘You can do it, Indavara! You can do it!’
I can. I can. It’s all in the past. I am free
.
He closed the eye, exhaled.
Mama, Mama, Mama.
He noticed something moving in front of him. The iron point of the arrow was trembling. Worse, his arm was starting to shake from the effort of holding the string.
He blinked and looked at the target once more; repeated his routine, let go.
High. So high in fact that the arrow struck the top edge, spun several times in the air, then landed in the sand.
The auxiliaries were already celebrating. Indavara put a hand to his head, suddenly dizzy. The moment passed. He looked up at the bright blue sky and suddenly the thoughts and images were gone. He couldn’t believe he’d let the bastard get to him like that.
Eclectis put his bow down then turned to the crowd, arms high, lapping up the acclaim.
Indavara threw his bow onto the table and walked towards him, fists clenched.
Eclectis yelled back at his supporters, ‘Just another year! Just another year!’
Sensing that their attention had shifted, he turned and grinned at Indavara. ‘No hard feelings.’
‘This’ll feel pretty hard.’
The head-butt struck Eclectis just above his nose and knocked him clean off his feet. Indavara barely noticed the spike of pain and when his eyes cleared the Egyptian was lying in the sand, mouth hanging open.
Then came the shouts. The auxiliaries charged off the benches, knocking several people over. One man was ahead of the pack. As he drew his knife, his trailing leg caught the clerk’s table and he hit the ground three yards away.
Indavara ran.
III
Cassius stood over the desk, gazing down at the piles of paper. He was determined not to let the unpleasant incident with Pontius affect him. Calvinus’s vote of confidence had given him a boost and he intended to repay the gesture. Provincial governors were generally an ambitious, manipulative bunch – mostly senators in the making – but, owing perhaps to his advancing years, Calvinus seemed like a decent, thoughtful man. Cassius admired his commitment to Arabia and its people. Here was a leader in the tradition of the Republic – a man more committed to Rome than himself. It was hard not to contrast him with Cassius’s commander in the Service – the ruthless, underhand Abascantius – though he was just as dedicated in his own way. Cassius hadn’t heard anything from his superior since being assigned to Bostra, which was fine with him.
After a bit of rummaging he found the list of informers Verecundus had left. Rolled up with the
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