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Ithobaal too badly, Mutt asked. He didn’t care about the silver coin that he would lose.
    The pair fell upon each other like wild beasts. Acco tried to throw his arms around Ithobaal, attempting to crush him, but the Ithobaal was too fast. He ducked under Acco’s swinging arms, swept his own right arm around the his back and flipped him around and over his hip. Acco fell heavily, to a chorus of jeers from Ithobaal’s supporters. Ithobaal’s immediate attempt to land on top of Acco and pin him down, however, was a stunning failure. Acco managed to roll onto his back, and grabbed Ithobaal in a mighty bear hug.
    Mutt watched in astonishment as Ithobaal struggled to break free. Although Ithobaal was much stronger than he was, his efforts still looked like those of an insect trying to free itself from a spider’s web. Ithobaal strained and roared and kicked his legs. All his efforts came to nothing. In frustration, he tried to headbutt Acco. Anticipating the move, Acco twisted and met the blow with his cheekbone — and laughed, tightening his grip.
    ‘Acco’s as strong as an ox!’ cried Aios in delight.
    ‘Clearly,’ growled Mutt, hearing Ithobaal groan.
    A moment later, to great roars from the tribesmen, Ithobaal conceded. He did so with poor grace, barely accepting Acco’s friendly handshake.
    ‘A one-sided contest,’ said Mutt, clapping Aios on the shoulder. ‘Acco is a true champion.’
    ‘He’s also one of the best warriors in the tribe.’
    ‘Look. Another of my soldiers wants to take him on.’ This time it was the biggest man in the phalanx, a simple fellow who went by the nickname of ‘The Bull’. He’d have more chance against Acco, thought Mutt, the wine strengthening his conviction.
    ‘This will be more of a contest,’ said Aios, his eyes glinting. ‘Double or nothing on our last wager?’
    ‘Of course,’ agreed Mutt. His luck might be better now.
    But it wasn’t. Before long, ‘The Bull’ had also been beaten, and after him, one of Mutt’s spearmen who had always claimed that he’d been trained by a Greek wrestler.
    By now, Mutt had lost three coins to Aios. Acco stood in the centre of the circle, bare chested now, covered in sweat. He looked undefeatable, like a statue of a god come to life. No more of Mutt’s men were prepared to fight him.
    ‘Fancy a bout against him yourself?’ asked Aios.
    Mutt snorted. ‘Are you out of your mind? He’d crush me like a beetle.’
    Aios looked around the circle, but the spearmen were all staying put. ‘It seems that there are no further contenders. The Cenomani win this battle, I think.’
    ‘They do. Without doubt,’ replied Mutt. Inside, though, he was feeling sore. Would your warriors stand against my phalanx, he wondered. I’m not so sure. With luck, though, that would never happen. Instead, Devorix and his men would join Hannibal and his army on their quest to defeat Rome.
    ‘Ha!’ cried Aios. ‘The struggle is not over!’
    Mutt couldn’t believe what he was seeing. Ithobaal, ‘The Bull’, and the Greek-trained soldier had all attacked Acco at the same time. Ithobaal had grabbed one arm and ‘The Bull’ another while their comrade did his best to knock Acco’s legs from under him. Shit, Mutt thought. Every Gaul who’s here will join in now. He roared at his men to stop, but there was no way in hell that they could hear. The noise from the entire audience had become deafening.
    ‘I’m sorry,’ he said to Aios. ‘They’ll be disciplined for this.’
    To his surprise, Aios laughed. ‘I like their spirit,’ he cried.
    By now, several tribesmen had advanced into the ring now, clearly intent on helping Acco. Aios moved swiftly, darting between them and the heaving mass that was Acco and his three assailants. He shouted an order, and all but two of the warriors backed off. Aios withdrew to Mutt’s side. ‘It’s a bit more even now, eh?’
    ‘I suppose so,’ replied Mutt, unable to stop himself from chuckling at the