As the games let out, there was a crush of people at all of the exits, all trying to leave. Hugh looked down at the exit and saw someone pushing to get in.
“Excuse me, I’ll be right back,” said Hugh.
“No rush,” said Walker, “I have to leave last, as per tradition.”
Hugh managed to find his way to the exit he saw from above, and he even found the man pushing through everyone. As Hugh made his way through the crowd, people recognized him and cheered his name. Many reached out to touch him, while many more just stared as he waded through everyone. He finally reached the man trying to get in, and he recognized him. It was the man who was begging at the statue.
Hugh positioned himself in front of the beggar and cleared a path for him. When they had made it through to where it wasn’t so tightly packed, the Hugh turned to the beggar.
“Did you forget something inside?” Hugh asked.
“To be honest,” said the beggar, “I don’t want to be inside.”
Hugh looked at his quizzically. “The games are already over, you’re too late, I’m sorry.”
“Don’t worry,” said the beggar. “I’m actually right on time.” He smiled and joined those exiting. Hugh stood there a bit longer, then went to rejoin the twins and the Chancellor.
When he got there, everyone was discussing the fights, sometimes mentioning his match and looking over at him expectantly. He just sat quietly, trying not to make eye contact with anyone. As the last people were leaving, everyone in the Chancellor’s box began to exit, as well.
The dinner was extravagant, with two long tables set with meats, fruits, cheeses, nuts, and heaping piles of rice. The dwarf went straight for the ham, while the giant loaded up on fruits and nuts before adding a thin strip from a leg of lamb. Hugh just wandered about, and sat down next to the twins without take anything.
“Did you see the plates?” the dwarf asked Hugh.
“Yeah, I’m not hungry.”
“You can eat off my plate, if you want anything,” the giant said.
Hugh nodded and just sort of stared at nothing in particular. Thoughts flashed through his mind… horns being blown, men screaming, flashes of fear in their faces, the taste of sweat and splattered blood on his lips, the desperation in their voice as they said, “No, please,” the surprise in their eyes as he dispatched them…
Everything around Hugh seemed to go on in fast motion. The smell of the food disgusted him. All of the people around him laughed, shouted, chewed with their mouths open, then laughed some more. They almost looked like pigs at a trough.
Hugh stood up, perhaps too abruptly. A few people turned to look at him, though most just glanced over and continued what they were doing.
“You okay?” asked the dwarf, looking up at him.
“I need some fresh air,” said Hugh. “I’m going to step outside for a bit.”
“Do you want some company?” asked the giant.
“It’s okay, I’m fine. I just… I need to think, and…”
“I understand,” said the giant, grabbing his hand. “You know where to find us when you’re ready.”
Hugh smiled at her and squeezed her hand in his before letting go.
“Here,” said the dwarf, handing him some bread and ham, “Just in case your appetite returns while you’re out.”
Outside, Hugh couldn’t just stand around, so he began pacing, which seemed odd to him, so he took a stroll. He decided he would just go down one of the roads, then when he felt better he could just turn around and head back, which should keep him from getting lost.
As he walked through the streets, he saw a man with no legs holding out a bowl, begging. Hugh leaned down and put the bread and ham into it. “Thank you!” the man said. “That looks delicious.”
“I’m glad you’ll enjoy it,” said Hugh.
Further down the road, Hugh saw an old man hobbling through the streets, making slow progress. Hugh came up to him and asked, “Want me to carry you somewhere? It wouldn’t be an inconvenience at all.”
The man looked him up and down. “Well, I suppose. My hip is in great pain, so be careful.”
Hugh gently swept him up in his arms and carried him where he directed. It was just over a block away, and when he knocked on the door, a young woman opened it. Hugh slowly set the man down and waved goodbye. The old man thanked Hugh and went inside with his wide-eyed daughter.
Further down the road, he saw someone lying on the side of the street. He knelt down and shook him. Hugh felt his skin, and it was cold. He slowly roll his body over to reveal a strained, gape mouthed expression. The man was dead. Hugh looked in either direction down the street and saw no one. He looked at the body again, a man he had never known, and he wept. He hugged it close to him and cried, rocking forward and back, kneeling in the street at night.
Hugh picked the body up and ran. He didn’t know where he was going, he just had to take the body somewhere, anywhere but the street, alone and neglected. Before long, he was at a fountain that looked familiar. He stopped, set the body down, and splashed water on his face.
“Couldn’t get enough killing done in the ring, huh?”
Hugh turned around and saw… no one. He scanned all around him, though he was sure he had heard the voice behind him. All he saw was a tree.
“Tell me, are you born a killer, or do you have to learn how to do it?”
Hugh squinted into the night. It was almost as if the tree was talking to him.
“Come on, I know you can talk. You talked just fine earlier.” Out from behind the tree walked a man who slowly approached him.
“It’s you,” said Hugh, recognizing him as the one who begged from a statue and who earlier wanted to enter the arena as it was letting out, only to leave again.
“Yes, I’ve always been me, or at least I have been for as long as I can remember. But seriously, I want to know, how does one become a killer?”
Hugh looked down at the body. “I didn’t kill this man, he was dead in the street when I found him.”
“So why are you running with his body through the night?”
Hugh took a deep breath. “I was just at a party, and I saw a hungry man, so I fed him. Then, I saw an old crippled man, so I carried him home. But then… I found this man dead in the road, and… I couldn’t stand to think of him just rotting in the gutter.” Hugh began crying again.
“Hold it together, man. I hear you killed twenty men today, and here you are crying over…” he looked down closely at the body, “Ha, over a petty thief and consummate rascal. This bastard has groped just about every respectable lady who ever set foot in the market place. Even if you did kill him, they might give you a damn medal.”
The man walked up next to Hugh and put his arm around him. “Come on, let’s go sit down under the tree, I’m sure you’ll feel better soon.”
“I’m Hugh, by the way.”
The man stuck his hand out to shake, which Hugh reciprocated. “I’m Theoson, the wisest man in the world.” Theoson smiled. “You look skeptical.”
“I just… I only know you from doing two things, and I thought you were insane.”
“I am the only vessel of sanity on this great sea of madness, my boy. Come, let’s sit down and chat.”
They both sat down in a grassy patch under the tree.
“Why did you do those things?” asked Hugh.
“Oh, I have my reasons,” said Theoson.
“I want to know them,” Hugh said.
“I’m a teacher,” said Theoson, “And I only teach those who have given up everything.”
“I have nothing,” said Hugh.
Theoson’s eyes opened wide. “Really?”
“I have the clothes on my back, and another, dirty set in my room. I suppose I could give up some swords or spears that I’ve been working on, though they may not be mine to give.”
“Ah,” said Theoson, “So you have a room?”
“Well, I don’t own it,” Hugh said. “It’s being let to me for… I guess for my services.”
“As a killer?”
Hugh looked down. “I suppose so.”
Theoson stuck out his staff and lifted Hugh’s chin with it.
“Since you have basically nothing, I will teach you the basics. Your first lesson is: go over to that statue and beg for food and money until you have learned.”
Hugh just stared at him.
“What are you waiting for, a horn to blow? Get your ass up and get over there!”
Hugh got up, almost startled, and walked up to the fountain. He tried not to look at the dead man lying nearby. He stepped into the water and approached the statue. He looked back at Theoson.
“Don’t look at me, I don’t have anything to give you. Ask the statue.”
Hugh coughed a little, put his hands out, and asked, “May I have some food?”
Nothing happened. Hugh looked back again.
“Don’t tell me you gave up already!” Theoson said.
Hugh asked again, and again, and again. He begged for something to eat, for some money, for bread, for coin, for meat…
“Meat?” Theoson called out. “You think beggars eat meat? What kind of fool are you?”
Hugh tried to ignore Theoson’s criticisms. He asked some more, with varying levels of enthusiasm, for quite a while. Finally, Hugh sighed and said, “This is pointless.”
“I begged that statue for food and money for days on end. Do you know what I learned?” asked Theoson.
“That you’re insane?”
“No, Hugh, I assure you, I’m quite sane. I just possess a nearly incomprehensible kind of sanity.” Theoson walked over to Hugh and stepped into the fountain with him. “This statue will teach you a lesson you will never forget. Now, keep asking until the sun comes up. I’m going to get some sleep.”
Theoson went over to the tree and lay down against some roots. “I better hear you begging when I wake up, or so help me I will crack you upside the head with my staff. And may the Divas save you if I find out you fell asleep.”
Hugh stood there, his feet and shins cold in the water, begging at the statue for hours, until finally, morning broke. Theoson woke up, sauntered over, and got into the fountain once more. Hugh had begun asking in a long, continuous, repeated pattern. He barely registered Theoson’s presence next to him.
Theoson put a single berry into Hugh outstretched hands. Hugh looked at it, then at Theoson, then he ate it.
“That,” said Theoson, “That was practice for dealing with rejection.”
Hugh looked at Theoson. “So… why did you want to get into the arena?”
Theoson slapped Hugh on the back. “It was just practice for going against the crowd. That would be an easy lesson, especially for you.” Theoson got out of the fountain and walked over to his tree and leaned against it. “Go on, get out of here and get some sleep. You’re no good to me tired.”
To be continued…
Monday, August 6, 2012
Sunday, August 5, 2012
The Several Adventures of Hugh, Part 14
At the top of the ramp, Hugh could see most of the arena floor through a wrought iron gate. The announcer shouted the names and crimes of the prisoners.
All twenty were men. Thirteen of them were murderers, four were rapists who killed their victims, one was a serial arsonist who had started fires that killed dozens, and one was a soldier who was caught spying, and who was responsible for the slaughter of an entire legion in their camp at night as they slept.
“And the man who will send them to the icy depths of Hel… is no man at all, but a cyclops from a far off land, here to dole out justice for your approval. People of Polity, please welcome, Hugh Mungous.”
The squire looked at Hugh. “You last name is seriously ‘Mungous?’”
Hugh nodded.
“Alright, Hugh Mungous, are you ready?”
Hugh nodded once more.
“When you’re done, look for me. I’ll wave my arms in case you get disoriented during the fight. You’ll exit back through this door.” The squire turned a key and swung the gate open. “Now, get out there, you huge bastard.” Hugh ducked down and walked at a slow pace through the gate, and the squire locked it behind him.
Hugh continued to walk to the middle of the floor. The crowd cheered, gasped, whistled, woohooed, and shouted. When Hugh got to about where he thought was the center, he stopped. The drums also stopped, and the crowd grew quiet. There was a loud horn, and a gate in front of Hugh opened.
A dirty, bearded man came running out, completely naked. At first, he ran right at Hugh, but he quickly turned off. Hugh walked to close the distance. The man hugged the wall and kept moving, but Hugh continued walking towards where the prisoner was moving, not where he was. After a few more seconds, Hugh had closed the gap to within ten feet. With his back to the wall, the man tried to run to Hugh’s right.
Hugh slid his grip on the poleaxe to near its butt, and swung it in a wide arc at the man’s legs. The axe head made contact with his ankle, and he fell face first into the dirt. The man rolled over on his back and tried to scoot away, but Hugh closed in on him, adjusted his grip, and stabbed him under his jaw up into his skull. The man spit blood, and Hugh withdrew his weapon.
Another horn blew, and a gate opened far behind Hugh, on the other side of the arena. This man stayed where he was, struggling at the gate he was pushed from. Hugh was upon him quickly, and he turned to run far too late. Hugh used the hook to catch his leg, tripping him. As he was standing up, Hugh swung the poleaxe down into his back. The man fell motionless, and Hugh put his foot on the man’s hip to wrench the axe head out of his spine and ribcage.
The third horn rang out. A nearby gate opened and the man ran right at Hugh. Hugh stood there, watching him approach. As he got near, Hugh swung the butt of the spear up, hitting him in the jaw, snapping his head back. His legs kept moving forward, and he fell hard into his back. Hugh took a few steps forward and gave him two quick stabs, one on either side of his chest.
The fourth horn trumpeted, and a man limped out, looked at Hugh, and slowly hobbled in the other direction. This man was older, and he seemed barely able to move. Hugh walked up to him and swung the axe at his neck. It sliced deep, and the man slunk forward, the axe head lodged over halfway through. Hugh choked up on the pole and kicked the man off.
The fifth horn blared, and the man released came from a gate right behind Hugh. The man ran right at Hugh, who swung his shield at him. He connected with the man’s forehead, causing him to stagger and wobble on his feet. Hugh stepped into him and smashed the broad side of his shield into his face, knocking him over. Hugh stood over him, his face turned to the side, convulsing. Hugh lifted the spear high in the air, pointed up, and smashed the butt into the man’s temple, splattering a bit of blood onto his shins.
The sixth horn was heard, and a gate opened on the far side. The man tried to keep away from Hugh, but again, he was unsuccessful, meeting his end with an axe blade to the left side of his face.
The seventh, eighth, ninth, and tenth horns signified similar circumstances, of men running about, and Hugh effortlessly mowing them down. The man who came out at the eleventh horn had his skull crushed under Hugh’s foot. The twelfth horn introduced a man who was tripped up and chopped right in the middle of his forehead.
The thirteenth horn brought in a man who tried to dodge Hugh’s swing, but who ended up taking a hard chop to his shoulder, nearly severing his arm. As he desperately shuffled away, his arm dangled uselessly, and he ended up run through while groveling against a closed gate.
The fourteenth horn bellowed and a man came out, looking nervous and confused. He stood staring at Hugh as he brought the axe head home between the man’s neck and shoulder. Hugh had trouble dislodging his weapon.
When the fifteenth horn blasted, Hugh’s spear was still not free. The man did not approach, so Hugh methodically removed his sword from the leather wrapping, swung it in the air a few times to acquaint himself with the balance of it, and advanced on the prisoner. He slashed the man’s chest, then in one fluid motion brought the blade back around and slashed his neck. The man kept standing, grabbing his throat as blood poured out around his hand. Hugh thumped him between the eyes with the pommel of his sword, causing him to fall over.
The sixteenth horn sounded, and the man was large. He ran to the body of the thirteenth man and desperately pulled at his arm. He tore it free, held it by the wrist, and approached Hugh, who bent his knees low and peered out over his shield. When the prisoner was close, Hugh swung and the man easily dodged it and hit Hugh’s sword hand with the arm.
The man then kicked Hugh in the knee, who showed no sign of the blow even registering. Hugh stepped into him with his shield and pushed hard, knocking him back. The man maintained his balanced and began circling Hugh. He swung the arm, which Hugh blocked with his shield. He swung the arm again, and again, each time being blocked by Hugh. The man feigned a swing, causing Hugh to flinch, and the man ducked low before burying his shoulder into Hugh’s gut.
Hugh didn’t budge, and he kneed the man in the stomach before hitting him on the back of his head with pommel of his sword. Hugh stepped back, but the man still didn’t fall. He steadied himself with his hands and stood back up. Hugh back pedaled with his shield raised. Hugh adjusted his shield, and the man shook his head a few times, trying to gain composure. He screamed and ran at Hugh, the arm raised high above his head.
Hugh had removed his arm from the shield grips, and he now gripped it by its edge. He hurled it like a discus at the man, who was hit right in the sternum. He dropped immediately to his knees, the arm falling to the ground as he grabbed his stomach with both hands, struggling to breathe. Hugh took a few deep breaths before walking forward. Hugh drew his sword back, and the man looked up before quickly grabbing sand and throwing it up at Hugh.
Hugh closed his eye and shielded his face with his free hand. He swung blind and connected with something. He looked, and the sword had sliced from the forehead of his left side to his right cheek. A diagonal line of blood grew wider by the second, and he fell over.
The seventeenth horn burst through the roars of the audience, and Hugh retrieved his shield. He stood panting for a bit, and the prisoner gawked at the carnage around him. Hugh approached him and the man put up his hands in protest. Hugh slashed some of his fingers off his hand, then proceeded to open every artery in his neck.
The eighteenth horn announced another entry, and he ran with one good leg towards Hugh. Hugh stood with his arms at his side and watched the man approached. He was small, reaching only to Hugh’s waist. Hugh watched as the man slammed into him, then proceeded to grip his leg and bite. Hugh pounded him in the head with the pommel of his sword until he let go. When he lunged at his leg again, Hugh stepped back and swiped down, slashing a bit of his head.
A small flap of his scalp flopped over, but he scurried away on his hands and knees, only to stand and charge once more. Hugh stepped forward and kicked him square in the chest, planting his foot there and bringing it down on his ribcage as he fell back. Hugh leaned in close, put the sword nearly at the hilt to his neck, and slashed the full length of blade. The man’s tongue stuck out and his eyes went wide.
The nineteenth horn went off, and the man moved slowly away from Hugh. The man kept looking back at Hugh, but he didn’t look afraid, he just kept moving, seemingly faster and faster. The distance between them grew, and the man was nearly at the wall. He now sprinted, as if he was perfectly unhurt, and Hugh turned to cut him off. The crowd began to react strangely, with many people shouting and pointing at Hugh. He stopped and looked up into the stands. Suddenly, his back really hurt.
Hugh turned to see the large prisoner holding the poleaxe. His back stung horribly.
The man swung and Hugh deflected, shattering his shield. Hugh’s arm stung from the sheer force of it. The man stabbed at Hugh’s head, and he dodged it while grabbing the pole right below the axe. Hugh bent low and placed the spear head almost on the ground, then stomped on the pole. He managed to splinter it, maintaining control of the spearhead.
The man swung his part of the shaft, which was over a meter long, hitting Hugh in his sword hand. He dropped the sword, but managed to slice the man’s arm a bit with the spear head, which was left with a handle no longer than a foot.
They faced off again, each sizing up the other. The sword lay on the ground between them, neither one closer to it than the other. Hugh looked around for the second man, who was cowering on the far side of the arena. The large prisoner feigned diving for the sword twice, with Hugh not budging. Finally, the prisoner stepped in and swung at Hugh’s knee with the pole. Hugh grabbed it with his bare hand and brought the axe down in the middle of the shaft, not breaking it but freeing it from the man’s grasp.
The prisoner pivoted and dove for the sword, but Hugh was too close. His foot came down hard on his arm, which barely had time to grab the handle. Hugh dropped his weapons, took his opponent’s head in both his hands, and spun it completely around so that his body lay chest down and his head was face up. He picked up the spear head and sword, moved toward the other man like nothing had happened, and he buried the point of the sear directly into the heart of his screaming, terrified victim.
Finally, the twentieth horn resounded through the arena. Out stepped a man, who calmly walked towards Hugh, who stood where he was, allowing the man to approach. There was no fear in this prisoner’s face, no anger, just a look of calm.
“We do what must be done,” said the prisoner.
“Yes, we do,” said Hugh.
“And we all pay for our crimes.”
“One can only hope,” Hugh said.
“Give me the death I deserve.”
“Turn around,” said Hugh. “If I strike you neck first, you won’t feel a thing.”
The man gave him a slight bow. “Good bye.” He turned around and stood perfectly upright.
Hugh held his sword out at arm’s length, lined it up with the man’s neck, wound up, and lopped his head clean off. The body crumbled in a pile and the head rolled a ways before coming to rest face down.
Hugh stood, waiting, but there were no more horns. He looked around and saw his squire waving frantically at him. Hugh jogged off the arena floor to deafening applause.
“Wow,” said the squire. “That was one hell of a performance.”
“My back,” said Hugh. “I got stabbed in the back.”
“Let’s take a look.” The squire helped him remove his armor. He used a rag to wipe the blood away to locate the wound. “There it is.”
“How bad is it?”
“It’s nothing,” said the squire. “I’ve cut myself worse chopping vegetables. Here.” The squire reached into his satchel and took out a glass vial. “This will stop the blood and help it heal. It won’t do anything for the pain, does it hurt?”
“I guess a little,” Hugh said. “It’s hard to tell.”
“Come on,” the squire said. “Let’s clear the area.”
They walked down the ramp and through another gate. Hugh removed all of his armor and stood there in just his pants. “Where’s my shirt?” he asked.
“Probably still in the armory, unless some fan has already gotten to it.”
“What?”
“I’m kidding, no one took your shirt.” They walked back to the armory, Hugh carrying his armor, sword and the broken spear. When they arrived, Hugh located his shirt, had his back bandaged up, cleaned his weapons, and made his way to the Chancellor’s viewing box.
There, he found the twins, who ran up to him, asking about his injuries and congratulating him.
“Everyone up here seemed really impressed,” said the giant.
“It was crazy when that guy got up and stabbed you with the poleaxe,” said the dwarf. “I wanted to jump down there so bad and kick his ass.”
Hugh just smiled.
“Everyone here said he was a highly trained soldier,” said the giant. “I was so worried about you.”
“Lemme see where he stabbed you,” the dwarf said.
Hugh turned around and lifted his shirt. The dwarf peaked under the bandage. “Ah, it doesn’t look that bad.”
“I think it’s deeper than it looks,” said Hugh.
“Naw, see,” the dwarf stuck his finger into the wound. “It’s not even two knuckles deep.”
Hugh winced. The giant smacked the dwarf on the back of his head.
Walker came up to Hugh. “That was the most dramatic Zombie Match I’ve seen in years, literally years. It was probably the most exciting one I ever saw where the executioner survived. Usually it’s only that interesting if a prisoner wins his freedom, but there was so much back and forth with the soldier… I’m telling you, there are trained gladiators who can’t put on a show that entertaining.”
“Great,” said Hugh, “How did the new weapons go over?”
“No one was surprised when that shield shattered like glass. Everyone in this city knows an axe will neutralize a shield, and a heavy axe will reduce a shield to splinters.”
“It was a poorly made shield,” said Hugh. “I should talk to your carpenter about reinforcing the edges and curving the face a little. There’s also got to be a better wood to use, because that shield was far too light.”
“Well, no one in this city really makes or uses shields. Our gladiators tend to rely on heavy metal gauntlets and arm guards to fulfill the function of blocking with the weak arm,” said Walker. “Let’s watch the last two fights and then we can retire to the banquet I have prepared for us.”
Hugh took a seat but he didn’t watch the fights. He mostly looked around at the crowd, watching them foam at the mouth with rage, and at other times go red in the face screaming. Occasionally, he would look down at his hand. Sometimes he just closed his eyes and imagined he was somewhere else, that he wasn’t surrounded by people yelling at the top of their lungs.
To be continued…
All twenty were men. Thirteen of them were murderers, four were rapists who killed their victims, one was a serial arsonist who had started fires that killed dozens, and one was a soldier who was caught spying, and who was responsible for the slaughter of an entire legion in their camp at night as they slept.
“And the man who will send them to the icy depths of Hel… is no man at all, but a cyclops from a far off land, here to dole out justice for your approval. People of Polity, please welcome, Hugh Mungous.”
The squire looked at Hugh. “You last name is seriously ‘Mungous?’”
Hugh nodded.
“Alright, Hugh Mungous, are you ready?”
Hugh nodded once more.
“When you’re done, look for me. I’ll wave my arms in case you get disoriented during the fight. You’ll exit back through this door.” The squire turned a key and swung the gate open. “Now, get out there, you huge bastard.” Hugh ducked down and walked at a slow pace through the gate, and the squire locked it behind him.
Hugh continued to walk to the middle of the floor. The crowd cheered, gasped, whistled, woohooed, and shouted. When Hugh got to about where he thought was the center, he stopped. The drums also stopped, and the crowd grew quiet. There was a loud horn, and a gate in front of Hugh opened.
A dirty, bearded man came running out, completely naked. At first, he ran right at Hugh, but he quickly turned off. Hugh walked to close the distance. The man hugged the wall and kept moving, but Hugh continued walking towards where the prisoner was moving, not where he was. After a few more seconds, Hugh had closed the gap to within ten feet. With his back to the wall, the man tried to run to Hugh’s right.
Hugh slid his grip on the poleaxe to near its butt, and swung it in a wide arc at the man’s legs. The axe head made contact with his ankle, and he fell face first into the dirt. The man rolled over on his back and tried to scoot away, but Hugh closed in on him, adjusted his grip, and stabbed him under his jaw up into his skull. The man spit blood, and Hugh withdrew his weapon.
Another horn blew, and a gate opened far behind Hugh, on the other side of the arena. This man stayed where he was, struggling at the gate he was pushed from. Hugh was upon him quickly, and he turned to run far too late. Hugh used the hook to catch his leg, tripping him. As he was standing up, Hugh swung the poleaxe down into his back. The man fell motionless, and Hugh put his foot on the man’s hip to wrench the axe head out of his spine and ribcage.
The third horn rang out. A nearby gate opened and the man ran right at Hugh. Hugh stood there, watching him approach. As he got near, Hugh swung the butt of the spear up, hitting him in the jaw, snapping his head back. His legs kept moving forward, and he fell hard into his back. Hugh took a few steps forward and gave him two quick stabs, one on either side of his chest.
The fourth horn trumpeted, and a man limped out, looked at Hugh, and slowly hobbled in the other direction. This man was older, and he seemed barely able to move. Hugh walked up to him and swung the axe at his neck. It sliced deep, and the man slunk forward, the axe head lodged over halfway through. Hugh choked up on the pole and kicked the man off.
The fifth horn blared, and the man released came from a gate right behind Hugh. The man ran right at Hugh, who swung his shield at him. He connected with the man’s forehead, causing him to stagger and wobble on his feet. Hugh stepped into him and smashed the broad side of his shield into his face, knocking him over. Hugh stood over him, his face turned to the side, convulsing. Hugh lifted the spear high in the air, pointed up, and smashed the butt into the man’s temple, splattering a bit of blood onto his shins.
The sixth horn was heard, and a gate opened on the far side. The man tried to keep away from Hugh, but again, he was unsuccessful, meeting his end with an axe blade to the left side of his face.
The seventh, eighth, ninth, and tenth horns signified similar circumstances, of men running about, and Hugh effortlessly mowing them down. The man who came out at the eleventh horn had his skull crushed under Hugh’s foot. The twelfth horn introduced a man who was tripped up and chopped right in the middle of his forehead.
The thirteenth horn brought in a man who tried to dodge Hugh’s swing, but who ended up taking a hard chop to his shoulder, nearly severing his arm. As he desperately shuffled away, his arm dangled uselessly, and he ended up run through while groveling against a closed gate.
The fourteenth horn bellowed and a man came out, looking nervous and confused. He stood staring at Hugh as he brought the axe head home between the man’s neck and shoulder. Hugh had trouble dislodging his weapon.
When the fifteenth horn blasted, Hugh’s spear was still not free. The man did not approach, so Hugh methodically removed his sword from the leather wrapping, swung it in the air a few times to acquaint himself with the balance of it, and advanced on the prisoner. He slashed the man’s chest, then in one fluid motion brought the blade back around and slashed his neck. The man kept standing, grabbing his throat as blood poured out around his hand. Hugh thumped him between the eyes with the pommel of his sword, causing him to fall over.
The sixteenth horn sounded, and the man was large. He ran to the body of the thirteenth man and desperately pulled at his arm. He tore it free, held it by the wrist, and approached Hugh, who bent his knees low and peered out over his shield. When the prisoner was close, Hugh swung and the man easily dodged it and hit Hugh’s sword hand with the arm.
The man then kicked Hugh in the knee, who showed no sign of the blow even registering. Hugh stepped into him with his shield and pushed hard, knocking him back. The man maintained his balanced and began circling Hugh. He swung the arm, which Hugh blocked with his shield. He swung the arm again, and again, each time being blocked by Hugh. The man feigned a swing, causing Hugh to flinch, and the man ducked low before burying his shoulder into Hugh’s gut.
Hugh didn’t budge, and he kneed the man in the stomach before hitting him on the back of his head with pommel of his sword. Hugh stepped back, but the man still didn’t fall. He steadied himself with his hands and stood back up. Hugh back pedaled with his shield raised. Hugh adjusted his shield, and the man shook his head a few times, trying to gain composure. He screamed and ran at Hugh, the arm raised high above his head.
Hugh had removed his arm from the shield grips, and he now gripped it by its edge. He hurled it like a discus at the man, who was hit right in the sternum. He dropped immediately to his knees, the arm falling to the ground as he grabbed his stomach with both hands, struggling to breathe. Hugh took a few deep breaths before walking forward. Hugh drew his sword back, and the man looked up before quickly grabbing sand and throwing it up at Hugh.
Hugh closed his eye and shielded his face with his free hand. He swung blind and connected with something. He looked, and the sword had sliced from the forehead of his left side to his right cheek. A diagonal line of blood grew wider by the second, and he fell over.
The seventeenth horn burst through the roars of the audience, and Hugh retrieved his shield. He stood panting for a bit, and the prisoner gawked at the carnage around him. Hugh approached him and the man put up his hands in protest. Hugh slashed some of his fingers off his hand, then proceeded to open every artery in his neck.
The eighteenth horn announced another entry, and he ran with one good leg towards Hugh. Hugh stood with his arms at his side and watched the man approached. He was small, reaching only to Hugh’s waist. Hugh watched as the man slammed into him, then proceeded to grip his leg and bite. Hugh pounded him in the head with the pommel of his sword until he let go. When he lunged at his leg again, Hugh stepped back and swiped down, slashing a bit of his head.
A small flap of his scalp flopped over, but he scurried away on his hands and knees, only to stand and charge once more. Hugh stepped forward and kicked him square in the chest, planting his foot there and bringing it down on his ribcage as he fell back. Hugh leaned in close, put the sword nearly at the hilt to his neck, and slashed the full length of blade. The man’s tongue stuck out and his eyes went wide.
The nineteenth horn went off, and the man moved slowly away from Hugh. The man kept looking back at Hugh, but he didn’t look afraid, he just kept moving, seemingly faster and faster. The distance between them grew, and the man was nearly at the wall. He now sprinted, as if he was perfectly unhurt, and Hugh turned to cut him off. The crowd began to react strangely, with many people shouting and pointing at Hugh. He stopped and looked up into the stands. Suddenly, his back really hurt.
Hugh turned to see the large prisoner holding the poleaxe. His back stung horribly.
The man swung and Hugh deflected, shattering his shield. Hugh’s arm stung from the sheer force of it. The man stabbed at Hugh’s head, and he dodged it while grabbing the pole right below the axe. Hugh bent low and placed the spear head almost on the ground, then stomped on the pole. He managed to splinter it, maintaining control of the spearhead.
The man swung his part of the shaft, which was over a meter long, hitting Hugh in his sword hand. He dropped the sword, but managed to slice the man’s arm a bit with the spear head, which was left with a handle no longer than a foot.
They faced off again, each sizing up the other. The sword lay on the ground between them, neither one closer to it than the other. Hugh looked around for the second man, who was cowering on the far side of the arena. The large prisoner feigned diving for the sword twice, with Hugh not budging. Finally, the prisoner stepped in and swung at Hugh’s knee with the pole. Hugh grabbed it with his bare hand and brought the axe down in the middle of the shaft, not breaking it but freeing it from the man’s grasp.
The prisoner pivoted and dove for the sword, but Hugh was too close. His foot came down hard on his arm, which barely had time to grab the handle. Hugh dropped his weapons, took his opponent’s head in both his hands, and spun it completely around so that his body lay chest down and his head was face up. He picked up the spear head and sword, moved toward the other man like nothing had happened, and he buried the point of the sear directly into the heart of his screaming, terrified victim.
Finally, the twentieth horn resounded through the arena. Out stepped a man, who calmly walked towards Hugh, who stood where he was, allowing the man to approach. There was no fear in this prisoner’s face, no anger, just a look of calm.
“We do what must be done,” said the prisoner.
“Yes, we do,” said Hugh.
“And we all pay for our crimes.”
“One can only hope,” Hugh said.
“Give me the death I deserve.”
“Turn around,” said Hugh. “If I strike you neck first, you won’t feel a thing.”
The man gave him a slight bow. “Good bye.” He turned around and stood perfectly upright.
Hugh held his sword out at arm’s length, lined it up with the man’s neck, wound up, and lopped his head clean off. The body crumbled in a pile and the head rolled a ways before coming to rest face down.
Hugh stood, waiting, but there were no more horns. He looked around and saw his squire waving frantically at him. Hugh jogged off the arena floor to deafening applause.
“Wow,” said the squire. “That was one hell of a performance.”
“My back,” said Hugh. “I got stabbed in the back.”
“Let’s take a look.” The squire helped him remove his armor. He used a rag to wipe the blood away to locate the wound. “There it is.”
“How bad is it?”
“It’s nothing,” said the squire. “I’ve cut myself worse chopping vegetables. Here.” The squire reached into his satchel and took out a glass vial. “This will stop the blood and help it heal. It won’t do anything for the pain, does it hurt?”
“I guess a little,” Hugh said. “It’s hard to tell.”
“Come on,” the squire said. “Let’s clear the area.”
They walked down the ramp and through another gate. Hugh removed all of his armor and stood there in just his pants. “Where’s my shirt?” he asked.
“Probably still in the armory, unless some fan has already gotten to it.”
“What?”
“I’m kidding, no one took your shirt.” They walked back to the armory, Hugh carrying his armor, sword and the broken spear. When they arrived, Hugh located his shirt, had his back bandaged up, cleaned his weapons, and made his way to the Chancellor’s viewing box.
There, he found the twins, who ran up to him, asking about his injuries and congratulating him.
“Everyone up here seemed really impressed,” said the giant.
“It was crazy when that guy got up and stabbed you with the poleaxe,” said the dwarf. “I wanted to jump down there so bad and kick his ass.”
Hugh just smiled.
“Everyone here said he was a highly trained soldier,” said the giant. “I was so worried about you.”
“Lemme see where he stabbed you,” the dwarf said.
Hugh turned around and lifted his shirt. The dwarf peaked under the bandage. “Ah, it doesn’t look that bad.”
“I think it’s deeper than it looks,” said Hugh.
“Naw, see,” the dwarf stuck his finger into the wound. “It’s not even two knuckles deep.”
Hugh winced. The giant smacked the dwarf on the back of his head.
Walker came up to Hugh. “That was the most dramatic Zombie Match I’ve seen in years, literally years. It was probably the most exciting one I ever saw where the executioner survived. Usually it’s only that interesting if a prisoner wins his freedom, but there was so much back and forth with the soldier… I’m telling you, there are trained gladiators who can’t put on a show that entertaining.”
“Great,” said Hugh, “How did the new weapons go over?”
“No one was surprised when that shield shattered like glass. Everyone in this city knows an axe will neutralize a shield, and a heavy axe will reduce a shield to splinters.”
“It was a poorly made shield,” said Hugh. “I should talk to your carpenter about reinforcing the edges and curving the face a little. There’s also got to be a better wood to use, because that shield was far too light.”
“Well, no one in this city really makes or uses shields. Our gladiators tend to rely on heavy metal gauntlets and arm guards to fulfill the function of blocking with the weak arm,” said Walker. “Let’s watch the last two fights and then we can retire to the banquet I have prepared for us.”
Hugh took a seat but he didn’t watch the fights. He mostly looked around at the crowd, watching them foam at the mouth with rage, and at other times go red in the face screaming. Occasionally, he would look down at his hand. Sometimes he just closed his eyes and imagined he was somewhere else, that he wasn’t surrounded by people yelling at the top of their lungs.
To be continued…
Saturday, August 4, 2012
Saturday Reflection August 4th, 2012
It’s funny to me how some people assume that because I’m joking, I’m not being serious, as if the two must be mutually exclusive.
The Several Adventures of Hugh, Part 13
After eating, the Hugh and the twins went to the Chancellery. Inside, Walker was talking to a large group of people huddled around him. He smiled and nodded when he saw them enter. He said a few more things, excused himself, and came over to them.
“I take it liger hunting was no challenge?” asked Walker.
“I don’t think it was worth going. It was less like hunting and more like selecting a spice from the shelf,” said the giant.
“I must confess,” said Walker, “You didn’t have to do it. I mean, it had to be done, but I could have sent just about anyone. I was trying to keep you two out of the city. Your fight is stirring quite a bit of controversy among those who know the true nature of it. I’m selling it as ‘Kane vs. Lang, a battle of sibling rivalry,’ but most people won’t know it’s between a man and woman until you step out for the fight. I think that’s the best way to do it.”
The three of them looked around at each other.
“You have to understand,” said Walker, “People here think of women as… more genteel creatures. I think letting them see that a woman can fight may change some minds… though it will also rub some people the wrong way.
“I think if we spring it on people as a surprise, it will happen and people will come around to the idea after the fact. If we warned people it would be happening… people would make snap judgments before the fight even began, and we’d be lucky if it wasn’t blocked from occurring. But what’s important now is getting you guys prepared.” Walker called someone over and gave him instructions to take them to the arena.
The three of them followed the man through the streets to an enormous stone building.
“This is the Imperium, the larger of our two arenas. It seats up to around 40,000 people, and it fits more if everyone stands, like today. There might be over 50,000 people watching when you fight.”
They approached a large archway with a line of guards in front of it. The guards moved aside as they approached and passed by. Torches and lamps provide a little light in the dark hallways. The smell of sweat and damp mold hang thicker and thicker in the air the deeper they walk. The soft rumble of a crowd began to grow and grow, the hallway ahead got lighter and lighter, until finally they were looking out over a large oval arena floor surrounded by shouting fans.
“So that’s what it looks like up here,” said the man leading them. “I’ll take you down to the armory and we’ll get you all set up, then we’ll have you seated in the Chancellor’s viewing box until you’re called for.”
They walked back through a series of hallways, went down a few sets of stairs, walked through even more hallways, and they entered a room with weapon and armor racks full of equipment lining every wall.
“Kane and Lang, this is where you’ll wait before your fight, though obviously you won’t need to be outfitted. From here, they lead you to your respective entrances. Hugh, this is where you’ll obviously equip yourself. Your weapons are already there.” He pointed to a rack with a length of red ribbon tied around it. Both swords, both spears, and three shields were resting next to a suit of leather armor.
Hugh walked over to it and picked up the second sword he made. He inspected it closely, stepped back, and swung it hard. He nodded and noticed that they had sharpened the flat end of the sword. He shook his head… oh well, it wouldn’t damage the sword to have a sharpened edge that would never be used to cut.
He put the sword back and looked at the spears a bit before picking up the armor.
“They used your measurements from the tailor,” said the guide. “Feel free to try it on.”
“No, I’m sure it’s fine,” said Hugh. He stood there a bit more, looking it all over. “Go on to the box without me, I don’t want to watch any of it. I’ll go up to watch the twins, then I’ll wait down here.”
“As you wish,” said the guide. He led the twins off.
Hugh picked up the spear with the axe head. He gripped it at various points, then looked at the butt of the spear, wishing he had fashioned a counter weight. He set it back, and picked up the first, single-blade spear. He gave a few quick thrusts, handled the head gingerly in his hands a bit, then he put it back on the rack.
After looking at the three shields there, he settled on the single, equilateral triangle shaped one. He picked it up, and he knew immediately it was weak. The wood was too thin, and upon inspecting the handles, it looked like they had been fastened by someone who never used a shield in their life. Hugh set it back and found someone to ask for some tools.
Before long, he had made a few adjustments so that the shield could be reasonably used, but he was thankful that there was no chance of his life depending on it deflecting a real weapon blow. He wasn’t sure it would even stop an arrow. Before he had time to inspect his armor, the twins came down. The guide led Hugh up to the box for viewing.
The last fight hadn’t ended when they got up there. A man with a giant warhammer chased another man around the arena for a bit, before the hammer-wielding combatant managed to corner his opponent in an alcove on the outskirts of the arena floor. Spectators above the action leaned far over the side to watch as the hammer came down repeatedly on the cowering loser.
The winner held his hammer high and paraded around the arena as the crowd went wild. He exited the floor and two people dragged the lifeless body of the loser away.
A hand rested on Hugh’s shoulder. He turned to see Walker. “This is a big moment,” he said. “I hope you’re as excited as I am.”
Hugh tried not to look worried. “I guess.”
A man came out to the middle of the floor and announced the presence of the Chancellor, which drew loud applause. He then announced Kane, who entered the floor from the far end. Then Lang was announced, and Hugh struggle to see over the edge of the wall below to watch her enter. When Hugh saw her, he realized she was naked. Hugh looked again and saw the dwarf was also nude.
The announcer left the floor, and the twins ran at each other. The dwarf tried to punch his sister, but he missed and she drove her shoulder right into him at a full run, pushing him back, though he stayed standing. They grappled for a bit, the giant pushing the dwarf back for the most part. The dwarf stomped on his sister’s foot, but she remained unfazed. He tried to stomp on her foot again and she moved it and swept his anchor leg.
They tumbled to the ground, still holding onto each other, with the giant on top. The dwarf tried to roll, but the giant kept him pinned. Hugh looked over at Walker, who was laughing with a few other people.
The giant had the dwarf pinned, and before long she had one of his hand under her knee and she began punching him repeatedly in the face. He jerked violently on the ground, trying desperately to buck her off of him. He freed his hand from under her knee and he grabbed her hair. The crowd booed.
The move succeeded in allowing the dwarf to get out from under her, and he was on his feet first. He ran at her swinging, but she blocked his punch, then blocked another. She tried to kick him, but he grabbed her foot. She hopped a few times, trying to keep her balance, while the dwarf twister her foot. She tried to jump and kick him with her free leg, but he let go and backed out of the way.
Now on the ground, she crawled backwards quickly through the dirt as the dwarf took a second to catch his breath before jumping at her on the ground. Though he was on top of her, she managed to wrap her legs around his waist. She continuously grabbed at his wrists to keep her brother from striking her, and he struggled to wrestle his wrists free to get a few punches in.
She managed to get a hold of one of his hands, and it appeared that she had begun bending fingers, because he screamed and began hitting her furiously with his free hand. He went from his knees to standing up, her legs still locked around his waist. He used his free hand now to grab the wrist of his own hand, which she still held tight, and he raised her high above him. He then dropped forward and slammed her into the ground. She did not let go.
Instead, she aggressively twisted her body to gain leverage, and released one of her legs from around his waist, swung it over his head, and she now straddled the arm she was holding. She extended herself and pulled. The dwarf screamed so loud you could hear him over the crowd. He pulled his arm straight and kept bending it back until he yelled, “Stop,” and she let go.
The crowd was a mix of applause and jeers. The dwarf sat up and hung his head, rotating his sore arm and bending he elbow. The giant helped him up, they both waved in all directions, then they jogged to an exit. Walker looked over at Hugh.
“A good show, perhaps a little quick, but you couldn’t have asked for a better outcome. I think she shocked a lot of people tonight.”
“Not me,” said Hugh. “She’s always won about half of the time.”
Walker chuckled. “I should have asked before I placed my bet on her. I never would have bet on a coin toss.”
The man who led them to the arena tapped Hugh on the shoulder. “It’s time.”
Hugh was first fitted with a sort of thick, quilted, cloth poncho which was secured around his waist with a belt. The leather armor went on over that, and it fit Hugh pretty well. The helmet was too small, and after trying many others, he decided not to wear one at all. He was about to pick up the leaf-bladed spear when he heard someone behind him say, “No.”
He turned to see Herbert.
“I just came down to congratulate you on your designs. They are more than I could have hoped for, and your pole ax is going to revolutionize our army. I need you to use that one.”
Hugh picked it up, checked the edge, and asked for a whet stone. He ground the ax blade a few times, touched it again, and grabbed the triangle shield.
“Don’t forget the sword,” said Herbet.
“Where am I going to put it with no scabbard?” asked Hugh.
Herbert called over two boys, who took the sword, wrapped it in leather, fastened a small strap around it, and ran a belt through the strap. Hugh looked at it, opened and reclosed the buckle on the securing strap, then slung the whole thing over his shoulder, letting the wrapped sword hang against his back. He adjusted it so that the handle was just over his shoulder.
Hugh nodded to Herbert, who nodded back and walked off. The two boys opened a gate and motioned for Hugh, who went through and looked down a long hallway. He looked back to the boys.
“Just go to the end, turn left, and your squire will be waiting with your instructions,” said one of the boys.
Hugh breathed deep and walked down the hallway slowly. Just after the turn was another gate with a teen-aged boy in leather leaning against it. He was chewing on a piece of straw.
“Hugh?” he asked.
Hugh nodded.
“Okay, here’s the deal. After the match before yours is finished, we’re going to go through this gate, up that ramp over there, then wait at the final gate for your name to be called, which will be after all the condemned and their crimes are listed. It will take forever, so if you want to warm up, do it then, not now. Then, your name will be called, and, I’ll ask if you’re ready. You affirm that you are, and I’ll unlock the gate. Make your way to the center of the arena. The announcer will leave, then you’ll hear drums.
“There will be twenty, but you don’t have to worry about counting, because a horn will be blown before each prisoner is released into the arena. When the horns stop blowing, you can relax. Most of them will run from you, so what you want to do is walk them into an alcove with a gate. We starve them, but you can definitely tire out quickly trying to chase people who are running for their lives. If they run for too long and the crowd starts to turn, archers will shoot them, but it will still be your job to finish them off.
“Other than that… I’m told you have never seen one of these before?”
“No, I haven’t,” said Hugh.
“Well, these guys go free if they kill you. Some of them will put up a fight. One of them is huge… not huge like you, but huge for a person. You’re free to use any means necessary, as are they, so look out for them throwing dirt or using sharpened shards of pottery they may have picked up and kept hidden.”
“Okay, thanks.”
The squire nodded. “You’ll do fine. I’ve done this for three years now, and only two people in your position ever lost in that time. And both of them were nothing compared to you. When did you eat last?”
“Around midday,” said Hugh.
The squire nodded again. “Good call, never smart to eat before going in there. You don’t want a cramp after the third guy.”
“Why is it called a Zombie Match?”
“Well, they used to beat the prisoners mercilessly, so they would limp around the arena, often with broken arms and large bruises. It got kind of boring, so they started injuring them less and less beforehand. Now, they usually get some solid blows from a mace to the knees and ankles to keep them from running at full speed, but they’re mostly just starved so they’re weakened. Plus, I guess people think of them as ‘the walking dead,’ since their execution is inevitable.”
“I guess that makes sense,” said Hugh.
“Do they have gladiator matches where you’re from?” asked the squire.
“No, we kill because we need to, not because we want to.”
“But you kill criminals, right?”
“I guess,” said Hugh.
“So, how do you kill a criminal who is condemned to die?”
“I’ve never had to do it, but I guess… I guess I would hang them or something, maybe behead them quickly.”
The squire shook his head and spit. “What a waste. Where’s the fun in that?”
Hugh looked at him and blinked a few times.
“I mean, they have to die, right? Why not make a big show of it, to make an example of them, so people know what happens if you break the law, and so that their death can give something back to the community?”
“How is this giving back to the community?” asked Hugh.
“It’s entertainment, and it provides jobs for all kinds of people, least of all me, but also the food venders, security, animal handlers, people who makes weapons and armor… it’s an entire industry. A lot of people’s livelihoods rely on this.”
“But… if they weren’t doing this, which is kind of awful, if you ask me… they would be doing something else, maybe something meaningful and worthwhile.”
“Worthwhile,” the squire repeated. He laughed. “If I wasn’t here, doing something I genuinely love, I would be at the docks loading boxes and jars in and out of ships. I would be paid less, and the work would be hard. It wouldn’t be worthwhile at all.”
“Those are your only two options?” asked Hugh.
“I’m no artisan. I don’t have any skills or education. I’m not a big strong guy like you, either. If I could be a soldier, I would, but I’m way too small. Maybe I could be a steward on a ship or something, but I don’t have any real future outside of this arena. After I get too old for this, I’ll probably work to maintain this place, keeping the gates oiled, the floors swept, the weapons sharp, the animals fed, the all the shit and bodies removed… maybe if I’m lucky, I can be the announcer one day… but these will probably be the best years of my life, the time I’ll look back on and think, ‘I did something worthwhile.’”
Hugh leaned heavily on his spear. “I hope I didn’t insult you,” he said. “I just… you’re so young, you can do anything.”
“I can do anything, huh?”
“Well,” said Hugh, “You may have to work at it.”
“If I could do anything, I’d like to piss wine and shit gold. How do I work towards that?”
A clang rings out in the distance. Two people walk towards them down the ramp. As they get closer, Hugh sees that they are dragging someone behind them, who is leaving an intermittent trail of blood in their wake.
The squire opened the gate and after they passed, he walked through it. Hugh followed.
To be continued…
“I take it liger hunting was no challenge?” asked Walker.
“I don’t think it was worth going. It was less like hunting and more like selecting a spice from the shelf,” said the giant.
“I must confess,” said Walker, “You didn’t have to do it. I mean, it had to be done, but I could have sent just about anyone. I was trying to keep you two out of the city. Your fight is stirring quite a bit of controversy among those who know the true nature of it. I’m selling it as ‘Kane vs. Lang, a battle of sibling rivalry,’ but most people won’t know it’s between a man and woman until you step out for the fight. I think that’s the best way to do it.”
The three of them looked around at each other.
“You have to understand,” said Walker, “People here think of women as… more genteel creatures. I think letting them see that a woman can fight may change some minds… though it will also rub some people the wrong way.
“I think if we spring it on people as a surprise, it will happen and people will come around to the idea after the fact. If we warned people it would be happening… people would make snap judgments before the fight even began, and we’d be lucky if it wasn’t blocked from occurring. But what’s important now is getting you guys prepared.” Walker called someone over and gave him instructions to take them to the arena.
The three of them followed the man through the streets to an enormous stone building.
“This is the Imperium, the larger of our two arenas. It seats up to around 40,000 people, and it fits more if everyone stands, like today. There might be over 50,000 people watching when you fight.”
They approached a large archway with a line of guards in front of it. The guards moved aside as they approached and passed by. Torches and lamps provide a little light in the dark hallways. The smell of sweat and damp mold hang thicker and thicker in the air the deeper they walk. The soft rumble of a crowd began to grow and grow, the hallway ahead got lighter and lighter, until finally they were looking out over a large oval arena floor surrounded by shouting fans.
“So that’s what it looks like up here,” said the man leading them. “I’ll take you down to the armory and we’ll get you all set up, then we’ll have you seated in the Chancellor’s viewing box until you’re called for.”
They walked back through a series of hallways, went down a few sets of stairs, walked through even more hallways, and they entered a room with weapon and armor racks full of equipment lining every wall.
“Kane and Lang, this is where you’ll wait before your fight, though obviously you won’t need to be outfitted. From here, they lead you to your respective entrances. Hugh, this is where you’ll obviously equip yourself. Your weapons are already there.” He pointed to a rack with a length of red ribbon tied around it. Both swords, both spears, and three shields were resting next to a suit of leather armor.
Hugh walked over to it and picked up the second sword he made. He inspected it closely, stepped back, and swung it hard. He nodded and noticed that they had sharpened the flat end of the sword. He shook his head… oh well, it wouldn’t damage the sword to have a sharpened edge that would never be used to cut.
He put the sword back and looked at the spears a bit before picking up the armor.
“They used your measurements from the tailor,” said the guide. “Feel free to try it on.”
“No, I’m sure it’s fine,” said Hugh. He stood there a bit more, looking it all over. “Go on to the box without me, I don’t want to watch any of it. I’ll go up to watch the twins, then I’ll wait down here.”
“As you wish,” said the guide. He led the twins off.
Hugh picked up the spear with the axe head. He gripped it at various points, then looked at the butt of the spear, wishing he had fashioned a counter weight. He set it back, and picked up the first, single-blade spear. He gave a few quick thrusts, handled the head gingerly in his hands a bit, then he put it back on the rack.
After looking at the three shields there, he settled on the single, equilateral triangle shaped one. He picked it up, and he knew immediately it was weak. The wood was too thin, and upon inspecting the handles, it looked like they had been fastened by someone who never used a shield in their life. Hugh set it back and found someone to ask for some tools.
Before long, he had made a few adjustments so that the shield could be reasonably used, but he was thankful that there was no chance of his life depending on it deflecting a real weapon blow. He wasn’t sure it would even stop an arrow. Before he had time to inspect his armor, the twins came down. The guide led Hugh up to the box for viewing.
The last fight hadn’t ended when they got up there. A man with a giant warhammer chased another man around the arena for a bit, before the hammer-wielding combatant managed to corner his opponent in an alcove on the outskirts of the arena floor. Spectators above the action leaned far over the side to watch as the hammer came down repeatedly on the cowering loser.
The winner held his hammer high and paraded around the arena as the crowd went wild. He exited the floor and two people dragged the lifeless body of the loser away.
A hand rested on Hugh’s shoulder. He turned to see Walker. “This is a big moment,” he said. “I hope you’re as excited as I am.”
Hugh tried not to look worried. “I guess.”
A man came out to the middle of the floor and announced the presence of the Chancellor, which drew loud applause. He then announced Kane, who entered the floor from the far end. Then Lang was announced, and Hugh struggle to see over the edge of the wall below to watch her enter. When Hugh saw her, he realized she was naked. Hugh looked again and saw the dwarf was also nude.
The announcer left the floor, and the twins ran at each other. The dwarf tried to punch his sister, but he missed and she drove her shoulder right into him at a full run, pushing him back, though he stayed standing. They grappled for a bit, the giant pushing the dwarf back for the most part. The dwarf stomped on his sister’s foot, but she remained unfazed. He tried to stomp on her foot again and she moved it and swept his anchor leg.
They tumbled to the ground, still holding onto each other, with the giant on top. The dwarf tried to roll, but the giant kept him pinned. Hugh looked over at Walker, who was laughing with a few other people.
The giant had the dwarf pinned, and before long she had one of his hand under her knee and she began punching him repeatedly in the face. He jerked violently on the ground, trying desperately to buck her off of him. He freed his hand from under her knee and he grabbed her hair. The crowd booed.
The move succeeded in allowing the dwarf to get out from under her, and he was on his feet first. He ran at her swinging, but she blocked his punch, then blocked another. She tried to kick him, but he grabbed her foot. She hopped a few times, trying to keep her balance, while the dwarf twister her foot. She tried to jump and kick him with her free leg, but he let go and backed out of the way.
Now on the ground, she crawled backwards quickly through the dirt as the dwarf took a second to catch his breath before jumping at her on the ground. Though he was on top of her, she managed to wrap her legs around his waist. She continuously grabbed at his wrists to keep her brother from striking her, and he struggled to wrestle his wrists free to get a few punches in.
She managed to get a hold of one of his hands, and it appeared that she had begun bending fingers, because he screamed and began hitting her furiously with his free hand. He went from his knees to standing up, her legs still locked around his waist. He used his free hand now to grab the wrist of his own hand, which she still held tight, and he raised her high above him. He then dropped forward and slammed her into the ground. She did not let go.
Instead, she aggressively twisted her body to gain leverage, and released one of her legs from around his waist, swung it over his head, and she now straddled the arm she was holding. She extended herself and pulled. The dwarf screamed so loud you could hear him over the crowd. He pulled his arm straight and kept bending it back until he yelled, “Stop,” and she let go.
The crowd was a mix of applause and jeers. The dwarf sat up and hung his head, rotating his sore arm and bending he elbow. The giant helped him up, they both waved in all directions, then they jogged to an exit. Walker looked over at Hugh.
“A good show, perhaps a little quick, but you couldn’t have asked for a better outcome. I think she shocked a lot of people tonight.”
“Not me,” said Hugh. “She’s always won about half of the time.”
Walker chuckled. “I should have asked before I placed my bet on her. I never would have bet on a coin toss.”
The man who led them to the arena tapped Hugh on the shoulder. “It’s time.”
Hugh was first fitted with a sort of thick, quilted, cloth poncho which was secured around his waist with a belt. The leather armor went on over that, and it fit Hugh pretty well. The helmet was too small, and after trying many others, he decided not to wear one at all. He was about to pick up the leaf-bladed spear when he heard someone behind him say, “No.”
He turned to see Herbert.
“I just came down to congratulate you on your designs. They are more than I could have hoped for, and your pole ax is going to revolutionize our army. I need you to use that one.”
Hugh picked it up, checked the edge, and asked for a whet stone. He ground the ax blade a few times, touched it again, and grabbed the triangle shield.
“Don’t forget the sword,” said Herbet.
“Where am I going to put it with no scabbard?” asked Hugh.
Herbert called over two boys, who took the sword, wrapped it in leather, fastened a small strap around it, and ran a belt through the strap. Hugh looked at it, opened and reclosed the buckle on the securing strap, then slung the whole thing over his shoulder, letting the wrapped sword hang against his back. He adjusted it so that the handle was just over his shoulder.
Hugh nodded to Herbert, who nodded back and walked off. The two boys opened a gate and motioned for Hugh, who went through and looked down a long hallway. He looked back to the boys.
“Just go to the end, turn left, and your squire will be waiting with your instructions,” said one of the boys.
Hugh breathed deep and walked down the hallway slowly. Just after the turn was another gate with a teen-aged boy in leather leaning against it. He was chewing on a piece of straw.
“Hugh?” he asked.
Hugh nodded.
“Okay, here’s the deal. After the match before yours is finished, we’re going to go through this gate, up that ramp over there, then wait at the final gate for your name to be called, which will be after all the condemned and their crimes are listed. It will take forever, so if you want to warm up, do it then, not now. Then, your name will be called, and, I’ll ask if you’re ready. You affirm that you are, and I’ll unlock the gate. Make your way to the center of the arena. The announcer will leave, then you’ll hear drums.
“There will be twenty, but you don’t have to worry about counting, because a horn will be blown before each prisoner is released into the arena. When the horns stop blowing, you can relax. Most of them will run from you, so what you want to do is walk them into an alcove with a gate. We starve them, but you can definitely tire out quickly trying to chase people who are running for their lives. If they run for too long and the crowd starts to turn, archers will shoot them, but it will still be your job to finish them off.
“Other than that… I’m told you have never seen one of these before?”
“No, I haven’t,” said Hugh.
“Well, these guys go free if they kill you. Some of them will put up a fight. One of them is huge… not huge like you, but huge for a person. You’re free to use any means necessary, as are they, so look out for them throwing dirt or using sharpened shards of pottery they may have picked up and kept hidden.”
“Okay, thanks.”
The squire nodded. “You’ll do fine. I’ve done this for three years now, and only two people in your position ever lost in that time. And both of them were nothing compared to you. When did you eat last?”
“Around midday,” said Hugh.
The squire nodded again. “Good call, never smart to eat before going in there. You don’t want a cramp after the third guy.”
“Why is it called a Zombie Match?”
“Well, they used to beat the prisoners mercilessly, so they would limp around the arena, often with broken arms and large bruises. It got kind of boring, so they started injuring them less and less beforehand. Now, they usually get some solid blows from a mace to the knees and ankles to keep them from running at full speed, but they’re mostly just starved so they’re weakened. Plus, I guess people think of them as ‘the walking dead,’ since their execution is inevitable.”
“I guess that makes sense,” said Hugh.
“Do they have gladiator matches where you’re from?” asked the squire.
“No, we kill because we need to, not because we want to.”
“But you kill criminals, right?”
“I guess,” said Hugh.
“So, how do you kill a criminal who is condemned to die?”
“I’ve never had to do it, but I guess… I guess I would hang them or something, maybe behead them quickly.”
The squire shook his head and spit. “What a waste. Where’s the fun in that?”
Hugh looked at him and blinked a few times.
“I mean, they have to die, right? Why not make a big show of it, to make an example of them, so people know what happens if you break the law, and so that their death can give something back to the community?”
“How is this giving back to the community?” asked Hugh.
“It’s entertainment, and it provides jobs for all kinds of people, least of all me, but also the food venders, security, animal handlers, people who makes weapons and armor… it’s an entire industry. A lot of people’s livelihoods rely on this.”
“But… if they weren’t doing this, which is kind of awful, if you ask me… they would be doing something else, maybe something meaningful and worthwhile.”
“Worthwhile,” the squire repeated. He laughed. “If I wasn’t here, doing something I genuinely love, I would be at the docks loading boxes and jars in and out of ships. I would be paid less, and the work would be hard. It wouldn’t be worthwhile at all.”
“Those are your only two options?” asked Hugh.
“I’m no artisan. I don’t have any skills or education. I’m not a big strong guy like you, either. If I could be a soldier, I would, but I’m way too small. Maybe I could be a steward on a ship or something, but I don’t have any real future outside of this arena. After I get too old for this, I’ll probably work to maintain this place, keeping the gates oiled, the floors swept, the weapons sharp, the animals fed, the all the shit and bodies removed… maybe if I’m lucky, I can be the announcer one day… but these will probably be the best years of my life, the time I’ll look back on and think, ‘I did something worthwhile.’”
Hugh leaned heavily on his spear. “I hope I didn’t insult you,” he said. “I just… you’re so young, you can do anything.”
“I can do anything, huh?”
“Well,” said Hugh, “You may have to work at it.”
“If I could do anything, I’d like to piss wine and shit gold. How do I work towards that?”
A clang rings out in the distance. Two people walk towards them down the ramp. As they get closer, Hugh sees that they are dragging someone behind them, who is leaving an intermittent trail of blood in their wake.
The squire opened the gate and after they passed, he walked through it. Hugh followed.
To be continued…
Friday, August 3, 2012
Conservative Chickenshits
I grew up in Indiana, which is a relatively conservative place. They don’t want no damn federal govmint tellin’ them what they can or can’t do.
That was a mantra I heard all the time and I mean constantly. All. The. Fucking. Live. Long. Day.
It seemed odd to me, because the federal government had never tried to stop me from doing anything I wanted to do. The government I hated wasn’t in Washington, D.C. The government I hated was in Indianapolis and my own town of Carmel.
Take, for instance, my first semi-adult experience with the government: getting my driver’s license. I must share with you the dumbest law ever written. In Indiana, you cannot get your driver’s license until you are sixteen years old… and one month. I am not shitting you. There is no reason to do that except to fuck with someone. So already, if the federal government wanted to standardize driver’s license requirements, I would be all on board with the Feds, not the psychos where I lived.
Another strange phenomena was the litany of local hand-wringing whenever something other than a Church or Wal-Mart wanted to build in the town. There were local “scandals” anytime an adult book store or head shop wanted a permit. We were all expected to accept the fact that porn and bongs were bad for the community.
So imagine my surprise when a bunch of conservative pussies got their panties in a bunch over a couple city mayors being anything but welcoming of an organization that openly donates to hate groups (and that is how history will remember those who oppose gay marriage, which is something to consider).
Suddenly, I’m expected to believe there’s some freedom in the Constitution that prevents local city officials from deciding what businesses are appropriate for their localities. And the funny part is, these conservative whiners are often the same tight-asses who protest the introduction of anything liberal in their community.
Conservatives have a long, illustrious history of denying people permits and working the system in order to frustrate perverts and hippies. Hell, it’s not even new for liberal leaders either. Whether it’s conservatives fighting against fun or liberals fighting against Wal-Mart’s low, low prices (now with 50% more child labor!), there are countless precedents going back to the founding fathers of communities running unwanted elements out of town.
I mean come on, there are counties in America that are dry. Honestly consider that. There are individual communities that are allowed by law to still be living like it was the damn 1930s.
It’s not about “freedom,” it’s about bigotry. It’s about conservatives rallying around those who hate the same people they hate, because that’s what bigots have always done: they get together in big groups and hate the same thing together, usually over a meal.
That was a mantra I heard all the time and I mean constantly. All. The. Fucking. Live. Long. Day.
It seemed odd to me, because the federal government had never tried to stop me from doing anything I wanted to do. The government I hated wasn’t in Washington, D.C. The government I hated was in Indianapolis and my own town of Carmel.
Take, for instance, my first semi-adult experience with the government: getting my driver’s license. I must share with you the dumbest law ever written. In Indiana, you cannot get your driver’s license until you are sixteen years old… and one month. I am not shitting you. There is no reason to do that except to fuck with someone. So already, if the federal government wanted to standardize driver’s license requirements, I would be all on board with the Feds, not the psychos where I lived.
Another strange phenomena was the litany of local hand-wringing whenever something other than a Church or Wal-Mart wanted to build in the town. There were local “scandals” anytime an adult book store or head shop wanted a permit. We were all expected to accept the fact that porn and bongs were bad for the community.
So imagine my surprise when a bunch of conservative pussies got their panties in a bunch over a couple city mayors being anything but welcoming of an organization that openly donates to hate groups (and that is how history will remember those who oppose gay marriage, which is something to consider).
Suddenly, I’m expected to believe there’s some freedom in the Constitution that prevents local city officials from deciding what businesses are appropriate for their localities. And the funny part is, these conservative whiners are often the same tight-asses who protest the introduction of anything liberal in their community.
Conservatives have a long, illustrious history of denying people permits and working the system in order to frustrate perverts and hippies. Hell, it’s not even new for liberal leaders either. Whether it’s conservatives fighting against fun or liberals fighting against Wal-Mart’s low, low prices (now with 50% more child labor!), there are countless precedents going back to the founding fathers of communities running unwanted elements out of town.
I mean come on, there are counties in America that are dry. Honestly consider that. There are individual communities that are allowed by law to still be living like it was the damn 1930s.
It’s not about “freedom,” it’s about bigotry. It’s about conservatives rallying around those who hate the same people they hate, because that’s what bigots have always done: they get together in big groups and hate the same thing together, usually over a meal.
The Several Adventures of Hugh, Part 12
A guard accompanied Hugh to the docks, where he met up with Herbert. They talked for hours about military strategy, with Hugh sharing all he knew about weaponry and Herbert explaining what he would be facing. The invaders primarily rode horses, and most of the troops would be cavalry. Nearly all of their non-mounted forces were support troops with bows, slings, and javelins. There would be no light or heavy infantry.
“I keep hearing reports from the frontlines about how the enemy ‘does not fight with honor,’” said Herbert. “I have tried to explain to our commanders that honor goes to the victor. We just don’t have the tools to fight mounted archers who fire upon our troops and then retreat when we attempt to engage them.”
“Don’t you have ranged support?” asked Hugh.
“We have some of the best archers in the world, but they do not good firing at disorganized, irregular waves of mounted troops who can fire on them. Stationary lines of archers are no match for their tactics. They also have better bows than we do.”
“So set up a line of shielded infantry with spears in front of or around the archers,” said Hugh.
Herbert thought for a few seconds. “That was the plan, one of them anyway. So clearly that is your preference. My biggest worry is that it takes discipline to properly utilize shields. I don’t know how hard it will be to get our troops to stand their ground behind a shield, without being tempted to charge and chase or turn and retreat.”
“What else are you considering?”
“It has been suggested that we commission suits of armor for a special contingent of heavily armored archers. Since the enemy utilizes very light armor, we should win a slow war of attrition, since we can produce more arrows.”
“Anything else?” asked Hugh.
“We have dozens of plans, really. We could send our fleet off to make landing near their home, which can buy us some time if they send their soldiers back to defend themselves. That’s already underway, but we could commit to full-scale invasion of their towns, though we have no specific strategy at the moment. Many are calling for a wall to be built around the city, though even if we started today, it would either not be finished by the time we need it, or it would be a rushed job.”
Hugh thought for a bit. “How about you combine the wall idea with the shield idea,” he said.
“What?”
“You say your soldiers won’t stand behind a shield… will they stand behind a wall?”
“I guess,” said Herbert.
“What if we build long sections of light wooden palisades that could be lifted and carried by your infantry. They could move the walls as needed, forming lines or closed formations. It would be like a moving fortress on the battlefield.”
“I’ll add it to the pile,” Herbert said. “I like that idea more than shields, because I don’t think the soldiers will reject it outright without even trying it. They may like the idea of a ‘moving fortress.’”
“Is there some reason you can’t match them horse for horse?” asked Hugh.
“We have half the horses they have, and we have no one who can reliably ride and shoot they way they do.”
“Well, it just seems like if you have some horse archers of your own, you could partially give chase, since your horses can rest behind your lines, then after a few hit and run waves, you can overtake them with fresh cavalry.”
“It’s not that simple,” said Herbert. “It’s not easy to shoot from a galloping horse. It’s a skill the invaders have practiced since birth. They shoot better while aiming behind them as they run away than our best hunters do aiming straight ahead. If we institute training today, it will take months, if not years, to even develop the techniques and equipment to pull it off. We’ve considered heavily armored cavalry, but ultimately heavy cavalry can’t keep up with their horses, which are already bigger, stronger, and faster than our own native bloodlines.”
Herbert stood up and walked over to a window overlooking the docks. “Ultimately,” he said, “It doesn’t matter what gimmick we can come up with. We have to come to terms with the shortcomings of our military tactics. It was effective against our old enemies, but we need to adapt to the impending threat. We’ve traditionally used two axes per man, with only light leather armor. We’ve relied on our light cavalry to flank the enemy and mow down archers or skirmishers that would have harangued our axmen.
“We’ve done the same thing for hundreds of years, and as those around us changed, we stayed the same. Now, as we face the same opposition that forced our ancient enemies to change, we’re stuck adopting the same tactics that our people have mocked for generations. It seems almost impossible to get our people to abandon their tradition, but we can’t just run behind horses while swinging axes.
“What I need is a few shield designs. It’s less important that the shield shape be effective, and more important that it look like no other shield. If we can introduce a type of shield that is our own, it’s less likely to be rejected.
“I also need spears. Spears are the only weapon our infantry can rely on against a mounted opponent. I leave it up to you to determine the specifics, but I want them to be long. I need a weapon that can be used before their horsemen are actually upon our men.
“And finally, I need some swords, but not for the troops. As much as I would like the troops to adopt swords, it may be asking too much. What I need is a sword you can use effectively in the arena and which can be used by our cavalry. Your height should lend to a style of downward slashing motions, and that’s what I need for my cavalry. If I can implement swords in the cavalry, it will set the stage for a complete conversion from axe to sword later down the road.”
Hugh nodded. “Who am I working with?”
Herbert and Hugh walked through the barracks to a workshop in the bar corner of the complex. Hugh met the young man who would be working the bellows for him, who was named Verne. Hugh immediately set to work inspecting various ingots of metal, speaking with the other two smiths who were present, and inspecting the furnace.
Before long, Hugh had donned a leather apron and Verne was working the bellows. Hugh decided to start with swords, since he would need to test it out before he used it in two days. Hugh chose an ingot recommended to him by one of the smiths, and he set to heating and hammering. By later that night, he had mostly shaped the blade. He stayed up all night, with an ever cycling series of help from around the workshop taking shifts at the bellows.
By morning, the sword was all but finished. It had a deep curve to it, and was roughly the length of an arm (a normal arm, not Hugh’s). Hugh sent it off to a hilter, who would hand it off to a grinder.
“Can I get something to eat?” Hugh asked one of the smiths.
A while later, someone brought him bead fried in bacon grease.
Hugh picked another ingot, this one slightly larger, and set about making another sword, similar to the first. This one had the same curve, but Hugh reverse tapered it, so that the blade was thin at the hilt and got thicker all the way to the base. The blade had no point, and ended in a dull, flat edge.
Verne looked at the sword as Hugh was inspecting it late on the afternoon of the second day. “Why did you make it so fat at the end?” asked Verne.
“It will be used by someone tall like me or someone on a horse, so it will be swung in a sweeping motion. The extra weight at tip will make it swing like an axe and give it extra force.”
Verne nodded. “And why is it curved?”
“Well, for some of the same reasons an axe blade is curved. If you’re planning to swing the weapon, you want a curved edge. It will concentrate the force no matter what part of the weapon you hit them with, and it makes it easier to just slash-and-drag the blade, so you can move on quickly to a new target. It’s really for cavalry, but if this one turns out better than the other, I’ll be using it.”
He sent this sword off to the other crafters.
“Why don’t we take a break,” said Verne. “I don’t think anyone will hold it against you if you take the night off after making two swords in two days.”
Hugh shrugged. “Sure, I’m up for a break. What is there to do around here?”
Verne shook his head. “Well, for one thing, there have been amazing arena events going on for the past two days, and I missed them all.”
“I don’t want to hold you back, but I don’t think I want to see people dying.”
“You know what you might like?” asked Verne. “They have plays being performed at the theaters. I can show you the way, then I’ll head off to the games.”
Hugh agreed. They walked a few blocks, and when they arrived, Hugh entered the theater and took a seat. He came in during the middle of a performance, and he wasn’t able to understand what was happening. By the end, a lot of people were dead, and there was singing. Some people got up and left, and the actors made their exits. After a bit, another play began.
The story was hard for Hugh to follow, even from the beginning. As best as he could tell, a father tried to kill his son, but his mother saved him and hid him. Then, the boy grew up and met the father, only he didn’t know it was his father, and the boy killed him because the father was a serious jerk. Then the boy defeated a monster, became the king, married the old queen, and it turns out his mother was the queen.
Hugh shook his head to himself at the end. Why is everyone always related? he thought.
As the audience moved about after the performance, many lingered for the next show. Hugh leaned back on the seating behind him, and before he knew it, he was fast asleep. He woke up to someone shaking him.
“The shows are over, you should go home.”
Hugh blinked a few times and looked around. “Sorry about that,” he said. “I really needed some sleep.”
“It’s no problem at all, sir,” said the old man, smiling. “Take your time. The theater grounds are public space, I just thought you might want to go home to avoid the riff raff who spend the night here. You wouldn’t want to wake up and be missing that.” The man pointed at the medallion around Hugh’s neck.
Hugh nodded and thanked the man, then slowly made his way home. Every now and then, a roar of applause would rise up in the distance. He assumed it was coming from one of the arenas. He cringed at the thought of it. Violence is such a messy thing. Violence is something one does because there is no other choice, not something to be celebrated and cheered, let alone to be done solely to be celebrated and cheered.
When he got back to the workshop, the first sword he had completed was finished. He held it in his hand. The grip was a bit small for his taste, but he held it, swung it, and felt the weight of it. He tested the spring of the sword by bending it a bit against an anvil. It was a great piece of steel he had to work with, and the sword turned out nearly exactly as he wanted… all except the grip.
Hugh found another smith and asked for another strip of leather to be wrapped around the handle to suit his larger hand. Hugh found an apprentice to work the bellows and began forging spear heads. After selecting a small slab of iron, he hammered it into a long, leaf-shaped blade. He tempered it, hardened the point, and had it sent off to be sharpened and have a shaft added. Hugh recommended a pole length between two and three times as long as the apprentice was tall.
Hugh immediately went to work on another spear head. This one he modeled on an axe, with a round, solid spike poking out past the blade of the axe and a hook on the opposing side of the axe blade that curved towards the user.
He handed off the second spearhead to the other crafters, then worked on drawing up designs for shields. He outlined every possible shape he had ever heard considered for a shield, coming up for over two dozen. He handed them off to a carpenter with instructions to give to a tanner after he was done. Hugh went to sleep just before the sun came up.
Hugh was awoken by the giant, smiling over him. The dwarf was standing behind her. Hugh hugged her.
The twins told him about how boring the hunt was, how the dogs did most of the work, and how sore their thighs and back were from horseback riding. “Sometimes it was like being in a jar that was being shaken up,” said the dwarf.
Hugh told them about his promise to appear in the arena. The twins told him about their plans to fight each other.
“What?” Hugh asked.
“They have non-lethal gladiator battles,” said the giant. “They have mule matches, bear matches, and lion matches. The mule matches allow only kicking, the bear matches are anything-goes unarmed fights that end when someone gives up, and only lion matches are done with weapons to the death.”
“And we fight all the time, so the least we can do is make a little money doing it,” said the dwarf.
“You’re being paid?” asked Hugh.
“Of course, aren’t you?” asked the dwarf.
“No, I’m doing it for other reasons, I guess,” said Hugh. “I have to be honest, I’m not looking forward to it.”
“I wish I got to kill unarmed people with a sword,” said the dwarf.
Hugh sat up and smacked him on the head. “I raised you better than that.”
The giant smiled. “Come on, let’s go get something to eat.”
To be continued…
“I keep hearing reports from the frontlines about how the enemy ‘does not fight with honor,’” said Herbert. “I have tried to explain to our commanders that honor goes to the victor. We just don’t have the tools to fight mounted archers who fire upon our troops and then retreat when we attempt to engage them.”
“Don’t you have ranged support?” asked Hugh.
“We have some of the best archers in the world, but they do not good firing at disorganized, irregular waves of mounted troops who can fire on them. Stationary lines of archers are no match for their tactics. They also have better bows than we do.”
“So set up a line of shielded infantry with spears in front of or around the archers,” said Hugh.
Herbert thought for a few seconds. “That was the plan, one of them anyway. So clearly that is your preference. My biggest worry is that it takes discipline to properly utilize shields. I don’t know how hard it will be to get our troops to stand their ground behind a shield, without being tempted to charge and chase or turn and retreat.”
“What else are you considering?”
“It has been suggested that we commission suits of armor for a special contingent of heavily armored archers. Since the enemy utilizes very light armor, we should win a slow war of attrition, since we can produce more arrows.”
“Anything else?” asked Hugh.
“We have dozens of plans, really. We could send our fleet off to make landing near their home, which can buy us some time if they send their soldiers back to defend themselves. That’s already underway, but we could commit to full-scale invasion of their towns, though we have no specific strategy at the moment. Many are calling for a wall to be built around the city, though even if we started today, it would either not be finished by the time we need it, or it would be a rushed job.”
Hugh thought for a bit. “How about you combine the wall idea with the shield idea,” he said.
“What?”
“You say your soldiers won’t stand behind a shield… will they stand behind a wall?”
“I guess,” said Herbert.
“What if we build long sections of light wooden palisades that could be lifted and carried by your infantry. They could move the walls as needed, forming lines or closed formations. It would be like a moving fortress on the battlefield.”
“I’ll add it to the pile,” Herbert said. “I like that idea more than shields, because I don’t think the soldiers will reject it outright without even trying it. They may like the idea of a ‘moving fortress.’”
“Is there some reason you can’t match them horse for horse?” asked Hugh.
“We have half the horses they have, and we have no one who can reliably ride and shoot they way they do.”
“Well, it just seems like if you have some horse archers of your own, you could partially give chase, since your horses can rest behind your lines, then after a few hit and run waves, you can overtake them with fresh cavalry.”
“It’s not that simple,” said Herbert. “It’s not easy to shoot from a galloping horse. It’s a skill the invaders have practiced since birth. They shoot better while aiming behind them as they run away than our best hunters do aiming straight ahead. If we institute training today, it will take months, if not years, to even develop the techniques and equipment to pull it off. We’ve considered heavily armored cavalry, but ultimately heavy cavalry can’t keep up with their horses, which are already bigger, stronger, and faster than our own native bloodlines.”
Herbert stood up and walked over to a window overlooking the docks. “Ultimately,” he said, “It doesn’t matter what gimmick we can come up with. We have to come to terms with the shortcomings of our military tactics. It was effective against our old enemies, but we need to adapt to the impending threat. We’ve traditionally used two axes per man, with only light leather armor. We’ve relied on our light cavalry to flank the enemy and mow down archers or skirmishers that would have harangued our axmen.
“We’ve done the same thing for hundreds of years, and as those around us changed, we stayed the same. Now, as we face the same opposition that forced our ancient enemies to change, we’re stuck adopting the same tactics that our people have mocked for generations. It seems almost impossible to get our people to abandon their tradition, but we can’t just run behind horses while swinging axes.
“What I need is a few shield designs. It’s less important that the shield shape be effective, and more important that it look like no other shield. If we can introduce a type of shield that is our own, it’s less likely to be rejected.
“I also need spears. Spears are the only weapon our infantry can rely on against a mounted opponent. I leave it up to you to determine the specifics, but I want them to be long. I need a weapon that can be used before their horsemen are actually upon our men.
“And finally, I need some swords, but not for the troops. As much as I would like the troops to adopt swords, it may be asking too much. What I need is a sword you can use effectively in the arena and which can be used by our cavalry. Your height should lend to a style of downward slashing motions, and that’s what I need for my cavalry. If I can implement swords in the cavalry, it will set the stage for a complete conversion from axe to sword later down the road.”
Hugh nodded. “Who am I working with?”
Herbert and Hugh walked through the barracks to a workshop in the bar corner of the complex. Hugh met the young man who would be working the bellows for him, who was named Verne. Hugh immediately set to work inspecting various ingots of metal, speaking with the other two smiths who were present, and inspecting the furnace.
Before long, Hugh had donned a leather apron and Verne was working the bellows. Hugh decided to start with swords, since he would need to test it out before he used it in two days. Hugh chose an ingot recommended to him by one of the smiths, and he set to heating and hammering. By later that night, he had mostly shaped the blade. He stayed up all night, with an ever cycling series of help from around the workshop taking shifts at the bellows.
By morning, the sword was all but finished. It had a deep curve to it, and was roughly the length of an arm (a normal arm, not Hugh’s). Hugh sent it off to a hilter, who would hand it off to a grinder.
“Can I get something to eat?” Hugh asked one of the smiths.
A while later, someone brought him bead fried in bacon grease.
Hugh picked another ingot, this one slightly larger, and set about making another sword, similar to the first. This one had the same curve, but Hugh reverse tapered it, so that the blade was thin at the hilt and got thicker all the way to the base. The blade had no point, and ended in a dull, flat edge.
Verne looked at the sword as Hugh was inspecting it late on the afternoon of the second day. “Why did you make it so fat at the end?” asked Verne.
“It will be used by someone tall like me or someone on a horse, so it will be swung in a sweeping motion. The extra weight at tip will make it swing like an axe and give it extra force.”
Verne nodded. “And why is it curved?”
“Well, for some of the same reasons an axe blade is curved. If you’re planning to swing the weapon, you want a curved edge. It will concentrate the force no matter what part of the weapon you hit them with, and it makes it easier to just slash-and-drag the blade, so you can move on quickly to a new target. It’s really for cavalry, but if this one turns out better than the other, I’ll be using it.”
He sent this sword off to the other crafters.
“Why don’t we take a break,” said Verne. “I don’t think anyone will hold it against you if you take the night off after making two swords in two days.”
Hugh shrugged. “Sure, I’m up for a break. What is there to do around here?”
Verne shook his head. “Well, for one thing, there have been amazing arena events going on for the past two days, and I missed them all.”
“I don’t want to hold you back, but I don’t think I want to see people dying.”
“You know what you might like?” asked Verne. “They have plays being performed at the theaters. I can show you the way, then I’ll head off to the games.”
Hugh agreed. They walked a few blocks, and when they arrived, Hugh entered the theater and took a seat. He came in during the middle of a performance, and he wasn’t able to understand what was happening. By the end, a lot of people were dead, and there was singing. Some people got up and left, and the actors made their exits. After a bit, another play began.
The story was hard for Hugh to follow, even from the beginning. As best as he could tell, a father tried to kill his son, but his mother saved him and hid him. Then, the boy grew up and met the father, only he didn’t know it was his father, and the boy killed him because the father was a serious jerk. Then the boy defeated a monster, became the king, married the old queen, and it turns out his mother was the queen.
Hugh shook his head to himself at the end. Why is everyone always related? he thought.
As the audience moved about after the performance, many lingered for the next show. Hugh leaned back on the seating behind him, and before he knew it, he was fast asleep. He woke up to someone shaking him.
“The shows are over, you should go home.”
Hugh blinked a few times and looked around. “Sorry about that,” he said. “I really needed some sleep.”
“It’s no problem at all, sir,” said the old man, smiling. “Take your time. The theater grounds are public space, I just thought you might want to go home to avoid the riff raff who spend the night here. You wouldn’t want to wake up and be missing that.” The man pointed at the medallion around Hugh’s neck.
Hugh nodded and thanked the man, then slowly made his way home. Every now and then, a roar of applause would rise up in the distance. He assumed it was coming from one of the arenas. He cringed at the thought of it. Violence is such a messy thing. Violence is something one does because there is no other choice, not something to be celebrated and cheered, let alone to be done solely to be celebrated and cheered.
When he got back to the workshop, the first sword he had completed was finished. He held it in his hand. The grip was a bit small for his taste, but he held it, swung it, and felt the weight of it. He tested the spring of the sword by bending it a bit against an anvil. It was a great piece of steel he had to work with, and the sword turned out nearly exactly as he wanted… all except the grip.
Hugh found another smith and asked for another strip of leather to be wrapped around the handle to suit his larger hand. Hugh found an apprentice to work the bellows and began forging spear heads. After selecting a small slab of iron, he hammered it into a long, leaf-shaped blade. He tempered it, hardened the point, and had it sent off to be sharpened and have a shaft added. Hugh recommended a pole length between two and three times as long as the apprentice was tall.
Hugh immediately went to work on another spear head. This one he modeled on an axe, with a round, solid spike poking out past the blade of the axe and a hook on the opposing side of the axe blade that curved towards the user.
He handed off the second spearhead to the other crafters, then worked on drawing up designs for shields. He outlined every possible shape he had ever heard considered for a shield, coming up for over two dozen. He handed them off to a carpenter with instructions to give to a tanner after he was done. Hugh went to sleep just before the sun came up.
Hugh was awoken by the giant, smiling over him. The dwarf was standing behind her. Hugh hugged her.
The twins told him about how boring the hunt was, how the dogs did most of the work, and how sore their thighs and back were from horseback riding. “Sometimes it was like being in a jar that was being shaken up,” said the dwarf.
Hugh told them about his promise to appear in the arena. The twins told him about their plans to fight each other.
“What?” Hugh asked.
“They have non-lethal gladiator battles,” said the giant. “They have mule matches, bear matches, and lion matches. The mule matches allow only kicking, the bear matches are anything-goes unarmed fights that end when someone gives up, and only lion matches are done with weapons to the death.”
“And we fight all the time, so the least we can do is make a little money doing it,” said the dwarf.
“You’re being paid?” asked Hugh.
“Of course, aren’t you?” asked the dwarf.
“No, I’m doing it for other reasons, I guess,” said Hugh. “I have to be honest, I’m not looking forward to it.”
“I wish I got to kill unarmed people with a sword,” said the dwarf.
Hugh sat up and smacked him on the head. “I raised you better than that.”
The giant smiled. “Come on, let’s go get something to eat.”
To be continued…
Thursday, August 2, 2012
The Several Adventures of Hugh, Part 11
Walker came down the steps to find Herbert and Hugh discussing hunting. Walker stood on the last step as they turned to face him.
“I suppose you know why you’re here?” asked Walker.
“I have a sneaking suspicion,” said Herbert, “And I decline.”
“If you decline, I’ll have your army marching non-stop to the edge of the world and back until you accept.”
“Then I better get started now,” Herbert said, not moving.
“You knew how this was going to play out,” said Walker. “Everyone knew. Even those who cast their vote for you knew.” He walked up to Herbert and stood beside him. “Don’t act like this isn’t an enormous honor. You’ll be the most decorated Vice Marshal in the city’s history.”
“I don’t want your handouts,” Herbert said.
“I know,” Walker said. “You want to earn it.” Walker put his hand on Herbert’s shoulder. “You did earn it. You were a legend in the cavalry, you rose through the officer ranks faster than anyone in recent memory, you’ve won battle after battle, you’ve been paraded through the streets to the adoring cheers of the populace… there’s nothing left for you to accomplish. Just acknowledge that of everyone in the city, you’re the best man for the job.”
“That isn’t for me to decide,” said Herbert.
“No,” Walker said. “You’re most certainly right. It isn’t for you to decide. By right of the vote, it’s for me to decide. And I have decided you will be my Vice Marshal.”
“I will not open myself up to gossip of nepotism.”
“What gossip?” asked Walker. “The only scandal would be if someone other than you were to oversee the city’s armies.”
Herbert had been looking forward this whole time, and now turned his hand to face Walker.
“Tell me I can count on you,” said Walker.
Herbert lowered his head.
“Excellent,” Walker said. “Obviously, you’ll need to familiarize yourself with the naval Admirals.”
Herbert stood looking forward.
“I meant go ahead and do that now,” said Walker. “You’re dismissed, or whatever it is officers say.”
Herbert turned to Walker, gave a little bow, and left.
“He’s wound up tighter than a rope, that one,” Walker said once he was outside, moving to sit down across from Hugh. “Well, I’m going to oversee the move from here on out. Hold onto that insignia. It signifies that you are my guest in the city. Which reminds me, anything you do, I will be held accountable for. Just keep a low profile, help me out a little, and I’ll return the favor. I’ll get you silver or gold citizenship before you know it.”
“I wasn’t planning on staying for very long,” Hugh said.
“Sure you are,” said Walker. “We need to get you a sea burial, right?”
“Actually, we talked to Henry, and we figured out a much simpler solution.”
“Henry?”
“Hank,” said Hugh.
“Ooooh, Hank. You worked it out with Hank?”
“Yeah.”
“Well… Hank is on the level. He knows the golden rule.”
“What’s the golden rule?” asked Hugh.
“Find a way to do it cheaper,” said Walker.
“Oh, the solution is cheap. We just need a boat. We don’t want to wait for a moonless night.”
“We?’
“Yeah, I figured me and the twins would go out as well, to pay our final respects.”
Walker stared at him. “No,” he said. “I can’t let you do that.”
“What?”
“I won’t let you throw your life away,” said Walker.
“I just want to see him off,” said Hugh.
Walker shook his head. “I respect if that is how things are done where you are from,” said Walker, “But here, we do not allow people to throw themselves on the funeral pyre.”
“Oh,” Hugh said. “We’re just taking a boat out into the water to dump his body overboard.”
Walker went from looking intense to looking like he just smelled a fart. “Okay…”
“The twins want to stick around to watch the next sea burial, and then we figured we would get out of your hair and go back home.”
Walker began tapping his finger on his knee. “I see.”
The first of the movers began slowly trudging into the room and up the stairs with furniture.
“What do you want out of life?” Walker asked.
“I never expected life to give me anything,” said Hugh.
“Well,” said Walker. “I guess what I’m asking is… what can your home provide that I cannot?”
Hugh smiled. “Maybe I should be asking you what you want out of me, though I already have my suspicions. If you want to know what my home can provide me, it’s the peace of knowing that I can let my guard down not having to worry about people using me for their own devices.”
“I apologize,” said Walker. “I imagine someone of your size has people underestimating your intelligence quite a lot.”
“What is it about people that they think being big and strong means I have to be weak-minded?”
“Stories, I imagine,” Walker said, “Probably also some element of wishful thinking. No one wants to believe that someone else has it all.”
“Well, I don’t have any depth perception,” said Hugh.
Walker laughed and patted Hugh on the knee. “What I love about you, Hugh, isn’t how strong you are, or how smart you are. I love your honesty. It’s disarmingly refreshing for a man like me. I must hear a dozen people tell me a dozen lies each before I’ve even had breakfast.”
“Why do you surround yourself with liars?” asked Hugh.
“If honest people could get things done, I wouldn’t. As it stands, they’re my liars, and like all liars, they are ruthless. They get things done, and it is that which I respect above all else, even honesty.”
Hugh looked at Walker for a few seconds quietly. “Tell me what you want me to get done for you. The sooner I know, the sooner you can get it and the sooner I can leave.”
“Well, then I am quite embarrassed,” said Walker, “Because I don’t even know. Someone like you doesn’t just walk into the city every day. I’ve never spent much time wondering, ‘What would I do if I had an incredibly strong and talented individual under my employ?’”
“If you have no use for me, why all the hospitality?”
“No, no, no. It’s not that I have no use for you, it’s that I have so many ideas floating around in my head, I don’t know what to do first. And then you just told me upstairs that you are already trained in smithing, and I’ve had all of a few minutes to ponder it over.” Walker stood up and went to the door. He spoke with the guards a bit and came back over to Hugh.
“How would you feel about fighting in the arena?”
“No,” said Hugh. “I don’t kill for pleasure.”
Walker nodded. “I respect that. It’s beneath you, to be honest. But what if I told you there was no risk, and that your performance would be a jumping off point for your service to me?”
“I need to know what sort of service you would ask of me if you want me to participate in blood sports.”
“This city may be going to war soon,” said Walker, “And I think you could make all the difference.”
“I’m not a gladiator, and I’m certainly no mercenary.”
“But that’s just it,” said Walker. “I don’t want to turn you into a solder, I want you to be a general. If you can demonstrate your physical prowess, I can justify giving you an equipment position in the military guard for the city. You’re job wouldn’t be the fight, it would be to work with the city’s guilds to produce the weapons and armor we need for our coming conflict.”
“I don’t understand why I need to kill someone to the roar of a crowd in order to produce arms and armor.”
“My brother informs me that our military is woefully ill-equipped. But here’s the thing… this city has used the ax in warfare since as far back as we have written records. I have been assured that if we march into battle using our current methods, we will be slaughtered. I need you to forge the new style of weaponry we should be using, and by using it with great success in the arena, you can popularize it.” Walker put his hand on Hugh’s shoulder. “I want to make you a legend so that people will do whatever you say. I will have poets singing your praises in the streets.”
“I don’t want to kill anyone,” said Hugh.
“It will be a Zombie Match,” said Walker.
“I’ll be fighting zombies?” asked Hugh.
Walker looked at him funny. “No… obviously not, there’s no such thing as zombies.”
“Right…”
“A Zombie Match is basically a form of execution. We have twenty prisoners, one prisoner is released into the arena, the gladiator dispatches of him, then the next prisoner is released, and it repeats until all twenty prisoners have been killed.”
“What weapons do the prisoners have?” asked Hugh.
“None, of course,” said Walker. “The point isn’t for there to be a fight. The prisoners are often starved and barely able to walk, often wandering around the arena until the gladiator engages them.”
Hugh shook his head. “This sounds horrible.”
“They’re murderers, Hugh. Child rapists. One of the guys kidnapped young women, kept them in a pit in his basement, and when the women begged for something to drink, he would pour a large pot of boiling water on them. Over a dozen girls died in that pit amongst the bones and rotting flesh of his previous victims. None of the men to be killed deserve to live, they deserve a worse fate than the quick death you can give them.”
Hugh shook his head again, though slower this time.
“Hugh, it’s not about the killings.”
“Then why do I have to do it?”
“Okay… it is about the killings,” Walker said, looking clearly strained. “Hugh, the people of this city are stupid. I think you might be smarter than I am, and I can barely stand how ignorant these knuckle-draggers are. I have to act dumb in public just to get them to like me. It’s degrading, and I think it’s having an effect on me, like acting the fool is slowly turning me into one.”
Walker stood up, stepped in front of Hugh, and knelt down. He looked up into Hugh’s eye. “If you don’t help me, I really and truly believe this city won’t be standing by this time next year. All these people around us, as dumb as they are, don’t deserve a slow death through starvation as they are violently sieged for months. The great works of art, the brilliant minds who created them, and all of this commerce which benefits the entire region… it could all be gone in a year if we cannot repel the coming invasion.”
“I was warned from a young age,” said Hugh, “That people would want to use me to cheat the fates. I was warned not to intervene, to walk through life as an observer, not a tinkerer.”
“Fuck the fates,” said Walker. “The fates kill children, loving spouses, great men and women before their time… fate has no reason behind it. The fates are random, and the world is too important to be left to chance.”
Hugh sat there, not moving.
“I know you’re a good person,” Walker said. “Are you honestly telling me that when you see people in need, you just leave them to the mercy of the fates?”
Hugh closed his eye and rubbed his forehead. He looked down to see Walker smile with one corner of his mouth.
“What do I need to do first?” asked Hugh.
To be continued…
“I suppose you know why you’re here?” asked Walker.
“I have a sneaking suspicion,” said Herbert, “And I decline.”
“If you decline, I’ll have your army marching non-stop to the edge of the world and back until you accept.”
“Then I better get started now,” Herbert said, not moving.
“You knew how this was going to play out,” said Walker. “Everyone knew. Even those who cast their vote for you knew.” He walked up to Herbert and stood beside him. “Don’t act like this isn’t an enormous honor. You’ll be the most decorated Vice Marshal in the city’s history.”
“I don’t want your handouts,” Herbert said.
“I know,” Walker said. “You want to earn it.” Walker put his hand on Herbert’s shoulder. “You did earn it. You were a legend in the cavalry, you rose through the officer ranks faster than anyone in recent memory, you’ve won battle after battle, you’ve been paraded through the streets to the adoring cheers of the populace… there’s nothing left for you to accomplish. Just acknowledge that of everyone in the city, you’re the best man for the job.”
“That isn’t for me to decide,” said Herbert.
“No,” Walker said. “You’re most certainly right. It isn’t for you to decide. By right of the vote, it’s for me to decide. And I have decided you will be my Vice Marshal.”
“I will not open myself up to gossip of nepotism.”
“What gossip?” asked Walker. “The only scandal would be if someone other than you were to oversee the city’s armies.”
Herbert had been looking forward this whole time, and now turned his hand to face Walker.
“Tell me I can count on you,” said Walker.
Herbert lowered his head.
“Excellent,” Walker said. “Obviously, you’ll need to familiarize yourself with the naval Admirals.”
Herbert stood looking forward.
“I meant go ahead and do that now,” said Walker. “You’re dismissed, or whatever it is officers say.”
Herbert turned to Walker, gave a little bow, and left.
“He’s wound up tighter than a rope, that one,” Walker said once he was outside, moving to sit down across from Hugh. “Well, I’m going to oversee the move from here on out. Hold onto that insignia. It signifies that you are my guest in the city. Which reminds me, anything you do, I will be held accountable for. Just keep a low profile, help me out a little, and I’ll return the favor. I’ll get you silver or gold citizenship before you know it.”
“I wasn’t planning on staying for very long,” Hugh said.
“Sure you are,” said Walker. “We need to get you a sea burial, right?”
“Actually, we talked to Henry, and we figured out a much simpler solution.”
“Henry?”
“Hank,” said Hugh.
“Ooooh, Hank. You worked it out with Hank?”
“Yeah.”
“Well… Hank is on the level. He knows the golden rule.”
“What’s the golden rule?” asked Hugh.
“Find a way to do it cheaper,” said Walker.
“Oh, the solution is cheap. We just need a boat. We don’t want to wait for a moonless night.”
“We?’
“Yeah, I figured me and the twins would go out as well, to pay our final respects.”
Walker stared at him. “No,” he said. “I can’t let you do that.”
“What?”
“I won’t let you throw your life away,” said Walker.
“I just want to see him off,” said Hugh.
Walker shook his head. “I respect if that is how things are done where you are from,” said Walker, “But here, we do not allow people to throw themselves on the funeral pyre.”
“Oh,” Hugh said. “We’re just taking a boat out into the water to dump his body overboard.”
Walker went from looking intense to looking like he just smelled a fart. “Okay…”
“The twins want to stick around to watch the next sea burial, and then we figured we would get out of your hair and go back home.”
Walker began tapping his finger on his knee. “I see.”
The first of the movers began slowly trudging into the room and up the stairs with furniture.
“What do you want out of life?” Walker asked.
“I never expected life to give me anything,” said Hugh.
“Well,” said Walker. “I guess what I’m asking is… what can your home provide that I cannot?”
Hugh smiled. “Maybe I should be asking you what you want out of me, though I already have my suspicions. If you want to know what my home can provide me, it’s the peace of knowing that I can let my guard down not having to worry about people using me for their own devices.”
“I apologize,” said Walker. “I imagine someone of your size has people underestimating your intelligence quite a lot.”
“What is it about people that they think being big and strong means I have to be weak-minded?”
“Stories, I imagine,” Walker said, “Probably also some element of wishful thinking. No one wants to believe that someone else has it all.”
“Well, I don’t have any depth perception,” said Hugh.
Walker laughed and patted Hugh on the knee. “What I love about you, Hugh, isn’t how strong you are, or how smart you are. I love your honesty. It’s disarmingly refreshing for a man like me. I must hear a dozen people tell me a dozen lies each before I’ve even had breakfast.”
“Why do you surround yourself with liars?” asked Hugh.
“If honest people could get things done, I wouldn’t. As it stands, they’re my liars, and like all liars, they are ruthless. They get things done, and it is that which I respect above all else, even honesty.”
Hugh looked at Walker for a few seconds quietly. “Tell me what you want me to get done for you. The sooner I know, the sooner you can get it and the sooner I can leave.”
“Well, then I am quite embarrassed,” said Walker, “Because I don’t even know. Someone like you doesn’t just walk into the city every day. I’ve never spent much time wondering, ‘What would I do if I had an incredibly strong and talented individual under my employ?’”
“If you have no use for me, why all the hospitality?”
“No, no, no. It’s not that I have no use for you, it’s that I have so many ideas floating around in my head, I don’t know what to do first. And then you just told me upstairs that you are already trained in smithing, and I’ve had all of a few minutes to ponder it over.” Walker stood up and went to the door. He spoke with the guards a bit and came back over to Hugh.
“How would you feel about fighting in the arena?”
“No,” said Hugh. “I don’t kill for pleasure.”
Walker nodded. “I respect that. It’s beneath you, to be honest. But what if I told you there was no risk, and that your performance would be a jumping off point for your service to me?”
“I need to know what sort of service you would ask of me if you want me to participate in blood sports.”
“This city may be going to war soon,” said Walker, “And I think you could make all the difference.”
“I’m not a gladiator, and I’m certainly no mercenary.”
“But that’s just it,” said Walker. “I don’t want to turn you into a solder, I want you to be a general. If you can demonstrate your physical prowess, I can justify giving you an equipment position in the military guard for the city. You’re job wouldn’t be the fight, it would be to work with the city’s guilds to produce the weapons and armor we need for our coming conflict.”
“I don’t understand why I need to kill someone to the roar of a crowd in order to produce arms and armor.”
“My brother informs me that our military is woefully ill-equipped. But here’s the thing… this city has used the ax in warfare since as far back as we have written records. I have been assured that if we march into battle using our current methods, we will be slaughtered. I need you to forge the new style of weaponry we should be using, and by using it with great success in the arena, you can popularize it.” Walker put his hand on Hugh’s shoulder. “I want to make you a legend so that people will do whatever you say. I will have poets singing your praises in the streets.”
“I don’t want to kill anyone,” said Hugh.
“It will be a Zombie Match,” said Walker.
“I’ll be fighting zombies?” asked Hugh.
Walker looked at him funny. “No… obviously not, there’s no such thing as zombies.”
“Right…”
“A Zombie Match is basically a form of execution. We have twenty prisoners, one prisoner is released into the arena, the gladiator dispatches of him, then the next prisoner is released, and it repeats until all twenty prisoners have been killed.”
“What weapons do the prisoners have?” asked Hugh.
“None, of course,” said Walker. “The point isn’t for there to be a fight. The prisoners are often starved and barely able to walk, often wandering around the arena until the gladiator engages them.”
Hugh shook his head. “This sounds horrible.”
“They’re murderers, Hugh. Child rapists. One of the guys kidnapped young women, kept them in a pit in his basement, and when the women begged for something to drink, he would pour a large pot of boiling water on them. Over a dozen girls died in that pit amongst the bones and rotting flesh of his previous victims. None of the men to be killed deserve to live, they deserve a worse fate than the quick death you can give them.”
Hugh shook his head again, though slower this time.
“Hugh, it’s not about the killings.”
“Then why do I have to do it?”
“Okay… it is about the killings,” Walker said, looking clearly strained. “Hugh, the people of this city are stupid. I think you might be smarter than I am, and I can barely stand how ignorant these knuckle-draggers are. I have to act dumb in public just to get them to like me. It’s degrading, and I think it’s having an effect on me, like acting the fool is slowly turning me into one.”
Walker stood up, stepped in front of Hugh, and knelt down. He looked up into Hugh’s eye. “If you don’t help me, I really and truly believe this city won’t be standing by this time next year. All these people around us, as dumb as they are, don’t deserve a slow death through starvation as they are violently sieged for months. The great works of art, the brilliant minds who created them, and all of this commerce which benefits the entire region… it could all be gone in a year if we cannot repel the coming invasion.”
“I was warned from a young age,” said Hugh, “That people would want to use me to cheat the fates. I was warned not to intervene, to walk through life as an observer, not a tinkerer.”
“Fuck the fates,” said Walker. “The fates kill children, loving spouses, great men and women before their time… fate has no reason behind it. The fates are random, and the world is too important to be left to chance.”
Hugh sat there, not moving.
“I know you’re a good person,” Walker said. “Are you honestly telling me that when you see people in need, you just leave them to the mercy of the fates?”
Hugh closed his eye and rubbed his forehead. He looked down to see Walker smile with one corner of his mouth.
“What do I need to do first?” asked Hugh.
To be continued…
Wednesday, August 1, 2012
Prepare Yourself…
… for a whole week (and a day) of brand new installments of “The Several Adventures of Hugh.” Eight new parts will be posted, one per day, starting Thursday, going through next Thursday. This, in addition to all other normal posts.
Also, I think next Monday will see the return of Music Monday. Or perhaps Monday Rule… though at times I feel like there’s already too many rules. Maybe I’ll do a Monday Rule Repeal, and I’ll find a rule that should be done away with (not a rule I made up, of course…).
I also added the posts from July that I did on Down With Decorum to this blog. If a bunch of old posts appeared in your feeds, I apologize. It was a one-time incident, and it wasn’t an error, nor will it happen again in the foreseeable future.
In the meantime, I think I’ll work on an essay about comedy and reading, as well as another “Annoying Crap I See on Facebook.”
Also, I think next Monday will see the return of Music Monday. Or perhaps Monday Rule… though at times I feel like there’s already too many rules. Maybe I’ll do a Monday Rule Repeal, and I’ll find a rule that should be done away with (not a rule I made up, of course…).
I also added the posts from July that I did on Down With Decorum to this blog. If a bunch of old posts appeared in your feeds, I apologize. It was a one-time incident, and it wasn’t an error, nor will it happen again in the foreseeable future.
In the meantime, I think I’ll work on an essay about comedy and reading, as well as another “Annoying Crap I See on Facebook.”
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