The Black Stone by Nick Brown Read Free Book Online Page B

ex-auxiliaries. Eclectis, however, was still serving and always brought along dozens of his fellow soldiers.
    ‘Just want to get out there,’ said Indavara.
    ‘My advice – enjoy yourself now. This is as good as your afternoon’s going to get.’
    Eclectis had won the competition for the last three years and it seemed a good proportion of his winnings went on clothes. He was wearing a pale blue tunic decorated with two vertical bands of silver thread. The bands were not solid but composed of a series of miniature arrows arranged nose to tail. His belt buckle was, of course, in the shape of a bow.
    Taenaris had almost finished the preamble. His two assistants came over, their sandaled feet visible under the swinging doors. Eclectis and the local men lined up beside Indavara.
    ‘People of Bostra, please welcome … the competitors!’
    The assistants pulled the doors apart. Eclectis was out first and soon bowing theatrically to the crowd gathered to their left. The surge of clapping and shouting was almost too much for Indavara, who hung back behind the others. He looked forward at the range.
    The four targets had been set up on the crowd’s side of the ‘spine’ – the high, stone structure that formed the centre of the chariot course. Precisely one hundred yards away was the rope from where the competitors would fire their arrows. Taenaris stood there, beaming.
    Indavara glanced at the crowd and noticed a few city sergeants on the front row of benches, clubs laid out on the sand in front of them – ready for any trouble. Lads carrying trays were trotting around, selling palm leaves stuffed with sweet and savoury snacks. There were bookmakers on the move too; each trailed by a clerk clutching a handful of papers or a writing tablet.
    Indavara was glad to be farthest from the crowd. Each competitor had been given a circular table for his equipment. The two others were between Indavara and Eclectis, who was still enjoying the attention too much to worry about actually getting ready. His cronies were already on their feet and shouting his name.
    Indavara checked his gear. His leather case was propped up against the table, on top of which lay his arrows and the bow he had purchased the previous year in Syria. The string was a few weeks old – fresh enough to maintain elasticity but worn in enough to be consistent. The other archers had laughed when they saw he would be taking his arrows from the table. As seasoned auxiliaries they plucked theirs from a quiver on their back or hanging from their belt. Indavara owned one but wasn’t used to it yet; he preferred his own method for now.
    He ran through a few stretches and started to feel better. As he swung his arms to loosen up, Taenaris came over. The Greek was short – barely five feet – and remarkably hirsute, with black hair sprouting above his tunic collar. ‘When they’ve quietened down I’ll introduce you by name. Where are you from again?’
    ‘Er … Antioch.’
    ‘And a bodyguard, yes?’
    ‘Yes.’
    ‘No family name.’
    ‘No.’
    Indavara continued his exercises.
    Taenaris turned to face the crowd. ‘Welcome once more! Welcome all, to the twenty-second annual Bostran archery contest. And a fine one it’s been this year, with competitors from six different provinces, all vying to win the much-coveted Silver Archer, not to mention ten – yes, ten – golden aurei.’
    One of Taenaris’s men held the figurine up to the crowd, then the bag of coins.
    ‘Eclectis has spent half of it already!’ yelled someone. The Egyptian chuckled along with the crowd and Taenaris waited once again for the noise to fade before continuing. ‘First, making his debut this year: the man who set a record-equalling score in the semi-finals – twenty-six points from ten arrows. Hailing from Antioch and currently employed as a bodyguard – I wish I could afford him! – Indavara!’
    Muted applause; mostly from a small group of girls sitting close to the front. Indavara