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We carried, lifted, dragged or rolled out of the way the disabled Vedians in the roadbed, making sure that not one was killed, we somehow got the travelling carriage turned round, no small feat in that narrow space; we readjusted the litter-poles, Tanno climbed in, Hirnio and Murmex and I mounted, Tanno's extra litter bearers led my farmers' horses and mules and we set off on our retreat, my nine tenants, even with two of them half scalped, forming a rearguard of entirely competent bludgeoners; certainly they must have impressed the Vedians as adequate, for no face so much as showed at a doorway until we were clear of the village and my tenants remounted.
While Murmex was gone he viewed more fencing by young aspirants matched against accredited Palace-school trainers. When Murmex returned he had him matched with the best of these tiros. But, almost at once, he called to the lanista: "Save that novice! Murmex will kill him, even with that lath sword, if you don't separate them."
Customarily, while Palus flourished, each day began with beast-fights, the noon pause was filled in by exhibitions of athletes, acrobats, jugglers, trained animals and such like, and the surprise; then the gladiatorial shows lasted from early afternoon till an hour before sunset. Palus and Murmex appeared about mid-afternoon and were matched against the victors in the earlier fights.
Agathemer, light built as he was, had wrenched a bludgeon from some Vedian and was wielding it not ineffectually. Hirnio was doing his part in the fighting like a gentleman and an expert. But Murmex and Tanno chiefly caught my eye. It was wonderful to see Tanno fight. Every swing of his pole cracked on a skull. Men fell about him by twos and threes, one on the other.
They made a wonderful picture as the lanistae placed them and stepped back: Murmex, burly, stocky, heavy of build, thick-set, massive, with vast girth of chest and bull-neck, his neatly-fitting plated gauntlet, huge on his big right hand, his big plated boots planted solidly on the sand, his polished helmet, the great expanse of his silvered shield, his silvered kilt-strap-scales and silvered greave-boots brilliant in the cool late light; opposite him Palus, tall, lithe, graceful, slim, agile, all in gleaming gold, helmet, corselet, shield, kilt, greave-boots and all.
Before Galen, before even the lanistae could reach the two, Murmex died. Palus staggered to his feet and put up his gory hand to his yellow curls, with a convincingly agonized gesture of grief and horror. He uttered some words, I heard his voice, but not the words. Folk say he said: "I have killed the only match I had on earth, the second-best fighter earth ever saw."
"It seems to me," Hirnio again addressed Murmex, "that not only your father was a Nersian, but also Pacideianus and that I have heard that he also was living in retirement at Nersae." "He is yet," rejoined Murmex, laconically. "Then you know him?" Hirnio queried. "My mother," said Murmex, "is his sister."
He viewed every show of gladiators, every day of racing, almost every combat and every race. The day after the spectacular games for Murmex and his more spectacular cremation, the eighth day before the Kalends of January, was nominally the last racing day of the year. The weather was fair and mild.
In particular, every corner had a laborious presentation of Murmex Lucro, the most popular gladiator in Rome. Almost equally frequent were presentments of Agilius Septentrio, the celebrated pantomimist; and of Palus, champion charioteer.
Murmex therefore passed in with me and took up a position in the lower part of the Audience Hall, where I could send a page to summon him if my plans worked out as I hoped. We were early and the vast public throne-room almost empty. Tanno joined me after I had stood but a short time and not long afterwards the Emperor entered, just as a fair crowd of senators had assembled.
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