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same time straining his ears for sounds of discreet movement through the trees and bushes. He could hear nothing. Taking a deep breath to calm the sudden flurry of nerves, he unbuckled his belt and pulled off his tunic – clothes would only allow Polites to get an easy grip – and stepped forward.
    Without waiting, Polites lunged at him with arms wide and fingers splayed. Eperitus ducked aside at the last moment, just as the long, heavily-muscled arms closed on the place where he had been standing. Turning on his heel, he punched Polites in the kidneys with all his force, only to cry out in pain as his fist impacted on the hard muscle. Before he could move away, Polites swung his right elbow back into his face, sending him reeling into the hindquarters of the donkey. The animal kicked out, narrowly missing Eperitus’s head, and broke through the circle of cheering Thessalians who had surrounded the fight.
    Arceisius went to follow the donkey, but was pulled back by the short bandit. ‘You’re staying here, lad,’ he snarled, his lip curling to reveal yellow teeth.
    Eperitus wiped the blood from his nose and staggered to his feet, still dazed from the blow to his face. Polites grinned confidently and walked towards him, certain his victory would be swift as he threw his arms wide and lunged again. The ring of onlookers closed towards Eperitus so that, this time, there could be no dodging the wide span of their champion’s immensely strong limbs. Realizing Polites had only one tactic – to crush the life out of him – Eperitus used his quicker reflexes to duck beneath his long reach and thrust his shoulder into the giant’s stomach.
    The force of the blow would have knocked any other man from his feet and sent him toppling into the dust, but to Eperitus’s amazement Polites’s legs held. Then, in desperation, Eperitus thrust upwards, taking Polites’s full weight across his back and lifting him bodily from the ground. Then with a huge effort he stood and threw Polites into the dirt behind him.
    There was a groan of dismay from the bandits, who shuffled back from the sprawling giant. Eperitus spun round, but Polites was already on his hands and knees and preparing to stand. Leaping forward, he swung his foot with as much speed and strength as he could muster into Polites’s exposed genitals. The soft flesh flattened beneath the top of his foot and a moment later a deafening bellow of pain erupted from his opponent’s lungs as he fell forward into the dirt, writhing in agony.
    Eperitus was on him in an instant, thrusting his knee into his spine and hooking his right arm under his chin. He pulled back with all his strength, trying to snap the man’s neck. Whether the other Thessalians would honour their oath if he won, he did not know; he only knew that, unless he killed Polites now, the man would tear him apart. He pulled harder, sensing his opponent weakening as the shouts of the crowd receded into a shocked silence.
    Then Polites placed the palms of his hands down on the earth and, slowly and irresistibly, began to push himself up. Eperitus tightened his grip about his neck and concentrated the weight of his body down through his knee in a desperate effort to keep him pinned to the floor, but the Thessalian’s strength seemed without measure. With a rage-filled roar, Polites thrust himself up and on to his side, pulling Eperitus’s arms away from his neck. The next moment he twisted free and leapt to his feet.
    His supporters exploded back into life. Eperitus, now flat on his back, saw the terrible anger in Polites’s eyes as he reached down and picked him up, lifting him above his head as if he were no more than a child. With a huge grunt, he hurled the Ithacan across the circle of men to land in a heap at the feet of Arceisius.
    For a moment Eperitus’s vision was filled with flashes of light, beyond which the world seemed to be spinning about him in a whirl of faces and trees set against a cloudy sky. His