Free Total War Rome: Destroy Carthage by David Gibbins Page A

when he was a tribune. He began as a scrawny little wimp just like you, but we soon toughened him up. Let’s see if you’ve got the same mettle.’
    He walked over, grasped Gaius Paullus’ right hand and put the sword hilt in it. He stood back, and the boy held the blade forward, the tip wobbling. For a moment he stood still, and all Fabius could hear was the rasping breathing of the slave, then coughing as he retched again. Gaius Paullus looked away from the slave’s terrified eyes, and then the centurion strode over and ripped open the man’s tunic, revealing the tensed muscles of his abdomen. He turned back to Gaius Paullus, leaning close to him, his face red and contorted. ‘Come on, man,’ he bellowed. ‘What are you waiting for? Drive it right through to the spine. That’ll kill him in a few seconds, but not as quickly as the heart.’
    Gaius Paullus aimed the blade, and stepped forward. The slave struggled, his breathing coming hoarse and fast, and Fabius and Scipio held him upright. The tip of the blade touched the abdomen just above the navel, but the boy’s arm was extended too far forward to give the blade a good thrust; he needed to step closer, but seemed unable to do so. Gaius Paullus looked at Fabius, and in that split second he saw everything: the boy and the man, the fear and the resolve. The centurion snorted with impatience, clasped his right hand over the boy’s hand and pushed him forward, and together they thrust the blade deep into the slave’s body. The man gave a terrible groan and retched again, spattering blood and bile over the spool in his mouth. Gaius Paullus kept his nerve, thrusting harder until the bloody tip emerged from the slave’s back below the ribcage. The man’s legs slumped but his torso and arms remained rigid, as if his body were making a last attempt to resist, a final hold on life that Fabius knew would give way in moments to the throes of death.
    The centurion looked at the others. ‘You see there is no blood yet from the entry wound?’ He turned to the boy. ‘Try to get the sword out.’ Gaius Paullus pulled hard, but was barely able to budge it. The centurion grunted. ‘So far this month I have taught you killer blows, thrusts to the throat and heart that bring instant death. But a thrust to the abdomen where there are walls of muscle is different. The muscles contract around the blade. If you are in battle, you need to be able to get the blade out quickly or you will be killed. You need to twist it, to use your foot. Watch me closely.’
    He pushed Gaius Paullus aside, raised his right foot against the man’s abdomen, grasped the hilt of the sword and twisted it hard, then pulled it out in one clean stroke. Blood gushed from the wound and the slave’s body went limp, his jaws releasing the spool and his head arching backwards, his mouth and eyes wide open. Fabius and Scipio let go and the body fell into the slick of blood and bile that had pooled on the floor, the head hitting the stone hard and cracking open. The centurion clicked his fingers at the two remaining slaves, indicating the body, then pointed at Ennius and Gulussa. ‘You two clean up the mess here. I want this floor spotless when I return. That one wasn’t just a slave. He was a prisoner of war, a former mercenary, and his life was forfeit. All of the new batch of slaves working in the Gladiator School are like that. If any of the rest of you want to practise on one before having a go with the condemned criminals, you don’t need to ask me.’ He wiped his sword blade on the torn piece of the man’s tunic, sheathed it and looked at them. ‘We meet here again an hour before sundown. The prisoners due for execution this month include two young initiates for the Vestal Virgins caught in flagrante delicto with a slave. Gaius Paullus can bring his own sword and show us that he’s learned today’s