Disclaimers: as ever.

Thanks for all the reviews.

Warning: some nastiness and violence, but mainly in the first half of this chapter. It perks up towards the end. My promise to Rosesbud still holds: 'nothing beyond repair!'

………………………………………………

Round two kicked off at a gallop.

Sydney, swallowing her fear, cried 'Gee up girl,' and urged forward her steed to greet the enemy. As six men on horseback bore down on them, she hacked her way through the two leaders of the pack, swinging her sword on her right and unseating the aggressor to the left with a well-aimed kick. She then grabbed his broadsword as he tumbled to the ground.

She was now armed on both sides, and spun her weapons menacingly, enticing the enemy on. 'You want it, boys?' she cooed, 'you better come and get it?'

Her whisper to Nigel, as she glanced over her shoulder, betrayed a very different emotion. 'Hang on in there, Nigel. Do you want the other sword?'

Nigel shook his head. 'You handle them better. I'll have number three… and do you really have to flirt with them? They're trying to kill us! '

'And I'm trying to save us…trust me, Nigel.'

The conversation was cut short as a monster-sized gladiator, with his face concealed behind the visor of a featureless metal helmet, came thundering towards them on a mount the size of a shire-horse. In one hand was a beautifully embellished blade, long, curved and more like a mediaeval Saracen-sword than a Roman weapon. In the other, he grasped a crude wooden bludgeon that wouldn't have looked out of place in the hand of Stone Age man.

'Hold on, Nigel!' He assistant clung on desperately as Sydney reared her horse, its front two legs rising majestically in the air. As the animal landed, it's force transferred to the smash of her sword, which shattered the Saracen blade into a thousand pieces.

A smaller being would have been knocked from his horse by the blow, but the sheer strength of the helmeted man held him fast, as his frightened horse whinnied. The crowd cheered. They'd loved the 'move', and now they wanted some blood.

The monster raised his bludgeon, and Sydney met his blow. Unfortunately, it did not take the force of a rearing animal for a man of that size to hit with great might. This time it was Sydney's sword that snapped in two.

Nigel, who was now practically hanging off the other side of the horse for protection, saw Sydney swipe with her other sword in uncharacteristic vain. He did not hesitate. As the thug raised his bludgeon for another blow, Nigel pulled himself over and slashed his dagger straight across the man's side, where his breastplate did not reach.

Nigel recoiled as he saw blood splatter. The crowd cheered and their jeering voices echoed up to the heavens as the big man roared.

It was not a killer blow, but Nigel's help gave Sydney a chance to renew her attack on their assailant with her sword, which the monster almost inadvertently dodged as he swayed in pain. Angered, he raised the bludgeon again. This time, Sydney was not his target. He brought it swinging across before she could react, slamming Nigel in the midriff and sending him flying from the horse.

'Nigel!'

Out of the corner of her eye, Sydney could see him lying on the sand, apparently unmoving. She jabbed with a renewed ferocity at the perpetrator of the crime. Her raw aggression won through as the helmeted monster soon toppled, bloody and defeated, from his ride.

The crowd howled in admiration as Sydney's soul cried out in anguish. She could not help Nigel: no less than six more challengers were descending upon her and the best thing she could think of was to cantor away so he would not be crushed by the pummelling hooves.

Suppressing the onslaught of tears, she raised her sword, and with a guttural scream, she charged once again into the fray.

……………………………………

From the now un-curtained box, Demetrius and Agroitus were enjoying the show, despite carrying on a heated argument.

'You stole her from me! I should have this whole place shut down!'

'You wouldn't,' cackled Demetrius. 'You enjoy it too much! Besides, you never paid a penny for her. She was never really yours.' He leant in confidentially, so even the consul recoiled from the hideous gladiator-owners proximity. 'I, on the other-hand, paid several good denari for the husband, and she came to me willingly…well, sort of.'

'And now the boy's going to be killed and neither of us will be able to tame her! Why on earth did you send him out there with her? I offered you 500 dinari for him!'

Demetrius gave his dark laugh again. 'Ah, but it makes for a fine show, doesn't it? She fights like a wounded vixen defending her cub! I've never seen so much passion in the ring. And I think you're wrong. If he dies, she'll be much more easily broken…'

Agroitus shrugged and pointed to Nigel, lying prone on the sand. 'Is he dead already? Right now he looks even limper than my wife….and you're pretty spineless, aren't you dear?'

Here he nudged a long-suffering woman, her face concealed by a thin fabric veil, whose seat was placed a little back from his own. As usual when watching the games, she had her eyes tightly shut, in denial of the horrors in which her husband revelled.

Now, however, she opened them, to rest her gaze pitifully on her fellow object of scorn. Brimming over with hatred for her spouse, she vowed to make an offering for the poor, young husband of the 'warrior princess' on the altar of her favourite Goddess.

…………………..

Nigel was not dead. He had blacked out briefly with the impact of the blow, and now he lay slumped on his side, his senses consumed by the fireball of pain that ravaged his middle.

He wanted to call out to Sydney, but his breath hitched in his throat as he tried to inhale. His stomach contracted, causing his whole body to jolt, and he feared he was going to be sick. Having had so little food, though, the best he could do was choke.

After a minute the worst of the agony passed. He eased himself over onto his back and levered himself up on his elbows so he could see what was going on.

The action was taking place chiefly over the other side of the ring. Sydney, who had somehow managed to commandeer a long spear and one of those nasty spiked balls on chains, was valiantly swinging and stabbing. Currently, she was holding at bay around a dozen encircling attackers. Nigel knew it was only a matter of time before she was overpowered.

He began to choke again, a process that racked his whole body. This time he noticed that his hand which, never forgetting his manners, he had raised to cover his mouth, was covered with blood.

'Oh God! Not the teeth!' He ran his tongue around his mouth and confirmed that all were present and correct. He then wiped the blood on his tunic and decided it was the least of his worries.

Glancing the other way, Nigel could see that the conduit, through which he had intended to escape, was now a crawl-able couple of metres away. It would be an effort, but he could make it, without even putting any weight on his ankle, which had been done no favours by the fall. But what was the point?

Nigel's thoughts were despondent but clear: 'if Sydney is dying in this hell, what's the point of me surviving it? They'll kill me soon enough and I'm already half-dead…'

A dozen more armed men poured into the arena, dressed in leather tunics and what looked like blue masks. Nigel slumped back onto the ground and waited for the inevitable.

Most of the newcomers ran straight in the direction of Sydney, and Nigel cursed them under his ragged breath. A solitary blue-faced figure, however, stopped in his tracks and scanned the arena. On spotting Nigel, he sprinted towards him.

'This is it…' thought Nigel, but found he could not just lie there to be slaughtered. He curled over onto his side again, covering his head with his arms. The whole world shook as the trembling of his body merged with the thundering vibrations of the arena floor.

Rather than the killer rap, however, a gentle hand enfolded one of his wrists, while another eased him up until his upper body was cradled in a muscular pair of arms.

The face was painted blue – blue??? – but it was still unmistakable.

'Oh, God, Derek! We're going to have to stop meeting like this.' Nigel used the hand that Derek wasn't holding to wipe his face for any traces of tears, and began to cough. 'Can't you turn up in a nice English country pub or something' – cough – 'we could have few pints'- cough – 'why are you blue?'

'SShhh.' Derek, anxiously glancing between Nigel and the scene of the battle, wondered if his friend was delirious. 'It's okay, Nigel, I'm going to get you out of here…'

'You can't! You've got to help Sydney.' He coughed again. 'Why are you blue?'

Derek looked perplexed. He clearly didn't know the answer, which suddenly occurred to Nigel.

'Oh…you're the Ancient Britons!' - cough - 'They went into battle in nothing but blue wode' – cough – 'Does that mean those guys are helping her?'

'Yeah. I think that's the plan. From what I can figure out, Demetrius wants this show to go on all evening, and he can't have her defeated yet.'

'Thank God for the cavalry…' murmured Nigel. 'You'd better get over there and help them.'

Nigel began to cough again, this time at some length. Derek, who had noticed that Nigel's breath was laboured even when he wasn't choking, was increasingly worried about his condition. While Sydney Fox still wielded her sword with vigour he had no intention of leaving Nigel to help her.

'SShhh,' he repeated, hugging Nigel until the fit passed. 'Do you think you can walk, my friend?'

'I can crawl.' Nigel made a concerted effort not to cough again. 'And I'm going to go over there to get the relic…' He pointed to the conduit. 'And you're going to go over there and help Sydney.'

Derek shook his head decisively. 'I won't leave you, Nigel. You're hurt.'

'I'm fine, really. I just took a blow from some Neanderthal with a ruddy great bludgeon and I've not quite got my breath back, yet.' He waved his hand dismissively as he suppressed yet another cough. 'I'll be fine in a minute.'

'Is that your blood on your tunic?'

'No, its mainly soft fruits,' replied Nigel. 'Some of it is blood but it belonged to that same big guy…I bested him you know!' Nigel smirked, and hoped his affected bravado would prevent Derek from noticing him surreptitiously rubbing off more of his own blood from his hand. At the same instant, he caught sight of Sydney again.

'Derek! You've got to go. She needs you!'

As Derek looked over, he could see why Nigel was suddenly more alarmed. Sydney was struggling as hostle warriors closed in around her. She was shouting desperate instructions at the men she'd discovered were helping her, but they were not the arena's best combatants. She needed another good fighter on her side and she needed him now.

Nigel resisted as Derek tried to raise him to his feet.

'Umm, not just yet,' he suggested. 'I'll be okay in a minute…' Nigel clamped his hand over his painful stomach and looked up at Derek pleadingly. 'She needs you Derek… and I'm heading straight through that conduit. Honest. Just go!'

A female scream cut through the air and Derek, although torn in two, obeyed Nigel's wishes.

…………………………………………….

As Derek ran over, Sydney had just performed an impressive back-flip from a standing start in the stirrups of her horse. It was a last ditch attempt to overawe her enemies with her amazing physical prowess.

Landing like a gymnast at the Olympics, she viciously elbowed two attackers who came at her from behind, and exclaimed: 'Derek Lloyd! I was wondering when you were going to turn up.' Noting the blue wode, she added 'I like the make-up!'

'Sydney Fox!' said Derek, cracking the skulls of two floundering axe-men together. 'We meet again. Need some help?'

'Yes. Find Nigel!'

'Found him!' said Derek, drawing a mangy-looking sword and getting down to business.

'And you left him alone?' shouted Sydney accusingly, and then yelled at her men. 'Form a line. Hold together. Do anything!'

She never saw the hurt expression on Derek's face, but heard his mortified words. 'You always think the worst of me, don't you, Sydney? I didn't want to leave Nigel…' He paused as he kicked yet another covert attacker, then added. 'He asked me to help you. He's okay…' Derek hoped he'd concealed the note of uncertainty in his voice. 'He escaped over there.'

Derek indicated with his head, as he engaged in a sword duel. Sydney saw a pair of bare feet disappear up the conduit, and gave a sigh of relief. Nigel must be okay.

'Now, Professor Fox, shall we Ancient Britons defeat the invading Roman legions? Between us we could be a formidable fighting machine?'

Derek had fought his way over to stand at Sydney's back, and they were close enough together to feel each others body-heat and hear the others panting. Their opponents, who had previously sniffed victory, backed off as the two best fighters made their stand together. Sydney's blue-faced band were reinvigorated by the sight.

Sydney gave a humourless laugh that sounded to her enemies as a predatory growl. She hollered newly confident instructions to her men and then beckoned her enemies on: 'Wanna come and get me now, boys?'

At last, this was a battle that she knew she could win.

…………………………………….

As Nigel reached the end of the conduit, he was faced with a dilemma. The opening into the walkway was well over a metre above the ground. He did not fancy another tumble, this time from an even greater height than he had fallen from the horse. Having wriggled through headfirst, he had absolutely no idea how he was going to get down without doing further damage to himself.

He had little time to ponder this problem, as he heard approaching footsteps and a familiar, flabby face puffed around the bend.

'Professor Bluthus!'

'Nigel!' The Oxford Don, who had been snooping around the amphitheatre looking for the Eye, was genuinely surprised: he'd assumed Nigel was dead. Nevertheless, he was not unhappy to see him alive, even if he was, for some curious reason, stuck up a large drainage pipe.

'Nigel! Oh… I was so anxious about you! I came here to look for you.'

'Really?' said Nigel sceptically, but he smiled politely. 'That's most kind. Now you've found me, professor, do you think you could possibly help me down, please?'

'How?' asked Bluthus, disliking any request for physical exertion.

'Well, I don't really want to knock my teeth out on the stone floor - it's an increasing miracle they're all in tact as it is – so would you be so kind as to stop me from falling, please?'

'Hmmmmmm,' rumbled Bluthus. 'I couldn't catch you, Nigel. I might strain my back.'

'Well, what am I supposed to do then?' moaned Nigel, now exasperated. 'Look, I know where the relic is… I assume that's what you're really looking for? If you help me down – please! - we can find it together.'

'Hmmmm!' Bluthus rumbled grumpily, but he helped Nigel all the same, taking his former pupil's weight on his shoulder as he squeezed out of the conduit. He was rather nonplussed when, as soon as he stopped supporting him, Nigel flinched in pain, flopped against the wall, and slipped down until he was sitting on the floor.

Indeed, now Bluthus could see the full physical state of his former undergraduate, he was rather shocked.

'Good heavens, Nigel! What a mess you've made of that tunic I gave you!' When Nigel stared up at him, not quite in disbelief, he added: 'You look even worse that you did at that 9am tutorial the morning after the Junior Common Room Party.'

'I don't feel quite that ill today,' muttered Nigel, not untruthfully. 'Now, if you've finished with the lecture, Professor Bluthus, can we find this relic please? Sydney is fighting for her life in the arena, and an omniscient Eye is not going to do our campaign any harm, is it?'

…………………………………..

In the ring, the tide had turned. Sydney and Derek had rallied their troops, and led a heroic charge against their now dispirited enemies, who were scattering in disarray. Sensing triumph, Sydney remounted her beautiful, white horse and galloped around the edge of the ring. With her sword raised in victory, and her jet-black hair flowing gracefully behind her, she whipped the already frenzied crowd into a collective ecstasy. Only Agroitus and Demetrius remained in their seats, not displeased, but unsure how to deal with this unprecedented success. They could hardly put their thumbs to the floor for such a popular winner.

Derek stood in the centre, his arms raised in the air. He bellowed animatedly in a language that nobody understood: 'Are you not entertained? Are you not entertained?' Despite his subsequent bazaar ravings about being called 'Maximus,' the mob loved him and Derek had rarely felt so exhilarated.

As the atmosphere reached its peak, Sydney pounded over and yelled above the row: 'Enjoying yourself, Derek Lloyd?'

'It's been a blast, Sydney - my adventures with you always are - but we need to….'

'…get out of here?' Sydney completed what she thought was his sentence, although Derek was going to say 'find Nigel.' Still, he assumed the two meant the same thing: Sydney would never leave without her assistant.

'Another battle, then?' The exit from the arena was still blocked by heavily armed by guards.

'No,' said Sydney. 'I've got a better idea.'

She jumped down off the horse, giving its nose a thankful pat, and whistled for the attention of her rejoicing foot-soldiers. She then shouted instructions and they hoisted her and Derek onto their shoulders and carried them back around the ring for a final victory lap.

She gestured wildly at the clamouring audience, entreating them to come down and celebrate with them. As the front rows began to pour into the arena, Derek understood the plan perfectly, and urged them on as well.

Soon, hundreds of partying spectators were surging around them like the sea. The deluge swept the guards before them like driftwood and Derek and Sydney were carried from the arena.

……………..

As they reached the outer walkways, Derek and Sydney had to struggle hard to extract themselves. Once off the shoulders of the crowd, they were foisted together in the crush, their bodies clashing into an inadvertent embrace.

Both were still high on the flow of adrenaline, their breathing deep, and their hearts racing. His sparkling blue eyes met hers.

'It was quite a rush, wasn't it, Sydney?'

'It was…' whispered Sydney. She moistened her lips as they lingered dangerously close to those of the Special Agent. His silly make-up had melted away with the sweat of his exertion. Fresh from the fight, she found him startlingly handsome.

Sydney checked herself, and her lust turned to aggression. 'Trust you to have enjoyed yourself out there, Derek! We have to find Nigel. I still can't believe you just deserted him.'

'That's not fair, Sydney,' came the hurt rejoinder. 'I care about Nigel. He's my friend. And I care about you.'

His arm slipped around her waist as he attempted to guide her through the crowd. His touch renewed her frisson of desire. 'Don't tell me you didn't feel it out there, Sydney,' he said softly. 'The cries of the crowd, the thrill of the battle…' Sydney knew she would be lying if she denied it, so she said nothing and pulled herself away.

'Let's find Nigel, Derek.'

Derek nodded over the head of a couple of joyfully agitated children who had pushed between them. 'Okay. Let's go.'

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