Even as he passed through the packed bodies, the familiar strong stench of musky sweat hovering in the air, he could not help his thoughts from wandering. Fifty four? Where had the last thirty six years of his life gone? His body now felt different, slower and faultier, and he could feel the aches of time. Was his wife still alive? His family? Without realizing it he had stepped out into the front row but a stern voice drew him back to the battlefield.

“Metrius! Where have you been?”

Metrius gazed into the face of an old man, he guessed about the same age as he was now, but the warrior before him showed power and authority. There was a grim wisdom in his eyes, like a soldier who had seen many horrors. Dressed naked, like most others, he carried an ornate aspis that had the snarling face of a wolf decorating the front.

Despite the changes, Metrius recognized the man’s face. It was a man who had shown arrogance when he had fallen asleep. The hatred welled up inside.

“Romulus.”

The Roman frowned, “King Romulus, Metrius.” He looked across the battlefield, “You may be my greatest warrior but I’ve killed men for less.” Turning back, his dark gaze locked Metrius’, “Remember that.” Continuing to watch the hero, King Romulus studied the emotions that rippled under Metrius’ skin, “Something bothers you?”

“No.” Replied Metrius, shaking his head. He wouldn’t show weakness to the man who had stolen his wife. The bitterness raged inside him and he fought to hold it down. Maybe later, deep in the confusion of battle, he would have a chance for revenge.

For a while Romulus continued to consider Metrius’ words but then shrugged, “Good. We have a chance to end this battle quickly and you are our weapon. Come.”

Unsure of what to say, and resigning himself to the moment, he followed the King out onto the plain of grass between the two armies, all the while watching as two figures emerged from the other line.

The walk was short but long. The hoplites’ song had fallen quiet and the temporary silence made time slow further. No bird or insect called out as if they knew of the impending deaths and nature itself felt the suspense of battle.

“We settle this one on one.” spoke Romulus, “You defeat this man, their best man, and no other lives will be lost. Their raids will stop and they pay us tribute.”

Metrius didn’t reply, simply gripping his shield and spear tighter as more pressure came upon his shoulders. And he had to labor under its weight whilst he fought. Instead of answering, he gazed out at the two men walking towards them. One was slight and about thirty. He wore the toga of the wealthy and, though he carried a spear in his hand, his posture showed it was merely a symbol. Blond hair that was tied back made thin features look sharper and his skin was stained the familiar tan of the Mediterranean.

Next to him, a slightly larger man stood. With this one, his posture and grip was very much that of a warrior and the scars on his body showed the evidence of battle. Stubble gave a masculine character to his already square jaw and his hair hung long and free to the shoulders. His eyes watched Metrius and never failed to look away. He was the enemy that Metrius would fight.

For my other stories/parts go to:

http://www.xomba.com/short_story_list_metrius_and_others