The First Blade of Ostia by Duncan M. Hamilton Page A

heart race and realised that he was holding his breath as he tracked every move Amero’s opponent made, watching for any of the traits that they had identified in training and worked so hard to take advantage of.
    Eventually Bryn spotted one; Amero did also. He thrust low, angling his blade up, trying to weave it past his opponent’s defence. Banda was good though; too good to be taken in so quickly. He parried and moved back, allowing Amero to seize the initiative and dictate the next few clashes of blades.
    Unable to find a way through, Amero dropped back to catch his breath. He appeared to be fitter than Banda, which was the only advantage that Bryn was able to identify. Giving his opponent any opportunity to rest was a mistake.
    Amero lashed forward with sudden speed that Bryn had rarely seen from him, catching Banda still enjoying the breather. He was unable to defend against it, and Amero’s sword struck home on the left side of his chest.
    ‘Still too bloody flashy,’ Bautisto said, louder than was appropriate for the otherwise subdued environment.
    Bryn hoped that Amero was too far away to have heard it.
    The duellists both returned to their respective sides of the black mark and took their guard. Amero was visibly more relaxed having scored his first touch, but Bryn was curious to see how his opponent reacted to having conceded a point to an arena novice.
    As soon as the bout restarted, Banda fired in two quick thrusts, both striking at Amero’s sword and both intended as a challenge rather than attacking swordplay. Amero was playing a clever game though, and would not be baited by it. Cunning had always been a strength of his swordplay.
    They circled one another for what seemed like an age. Bryn could feel the tension build in the audience. From the mutters he had heard when Amero first walked out onto the sand, it was obvious that he was expected to fail. It was also obvious that there were many sitting in the arena that would have delighted in seeing it happen. It was probably the only reason they were there.
    Banda exploded into motion. After so long a lull in the fighting, everyone in the audience was caught off guard. As was Amero. He made a valiant attempt to defend but he was driven back across the arena floor struggling to keep up with the deluge of steel.
    Bryn felt his heart leap each time Banda struck. He sighed with relief when Amero managed to get one of his blades in the way. The emotional turmoil was almost too much to bear. Bryn wanted to jump to his feet to shout out in support of his friend, but he knew it wasn’t appropriate in that arena and might result in him being thrown out. He wouldn’t have cared were it not for the fact that he was there as part of Amero’s entourage, and it would reflect badly on him, rather than Bryn.
    As each one of his attacks was foiled, Banda followed in with a second and then a third. The intensity of the exchange was showing on both men, their gasps audible and unrestrained. Loud and overly emotive swordplay was considered crude and it would only be overlooked in the most extreme of circumstances; nobody took any notice of it now.
    Eventually the inevitable happened; Amero was too slow, his opponent too fast. The previously restrained audience sighed in unison as Amero conceded a touch. Banda returned to the black mark without a pause, a look of satisfaction on his face. Amero’s face was a picture of frustration as he followed, his head down. There was nothing more that he could have done; he had been thrown into deep water and it would be a challenge for him to stay afloat. Bryn could see that Amero was rattled by losing the point.
    The Master of Arms reset them and Banda, buoyed by his success in the previous point, came at Amero right away. Amero’s face was set with grim determination and Bryn found himself wondering if he would have been able to beat this opponent.
    Amero showed true class fending off the attacks, working at his limit just to hold