Argosy, September 1955 — page 96: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

, py ee rs ee Oi ae eS YA ee eee Fe ne ee a ME gk, phe Pe TN ” ” — ee = Sarit pe a 2h To ee Oe ee SR eee Wat oe Pee eS eee ee my ae a3 [o> a et ’ ot Be, et : aha eed 4 i” = Tas » r a> ie = : 94 GERALD KERSH It was bare fist, mind! Except for one which I shall tell you of, that was the hardest fight I ever fought. Because infantry- men—swordsmen—have the habit of leading with the right hand; whereas I, a Scythian early trained as a bowman, have the habit of leading with the left hand and then following with the right. I broke his jaw, that dog of a Goth. But I had been observed by a noble Centution. He had sporting instincts, or whatever you call them. In two shakes, I was out of the army and into the arena, boxing with the caestus—which, as everybody knows, is a strap of heavy cow-hide, studded with brass or iron spikes and knobs. I had a pair called “ the skull-crushers.”” Being pretty strong in the arms and legs, I could handle half a pound of brass on each hand as if it were feathers. What is more, I had learnt my lesson—which had come to me when I fought that Goth—that while the swordsman leads with his right, the bowman leads with his left. I am a bowman, I, Crasnius! Year after year, I fought in the Colosseum. More Roman ladies fell in love with me than would carpet this house. They called me “Invincible”? and ‘‘ Untouchable ’’—because, in boxing, I knew from within myself that he wins who keeps clear. ‘“ Keeps clear?” says you, in view of my busted face. Wait a bit: here is the story... Now, when I was young, I was taught to fight in the Scythian style, with hands and feet—bare fists, bare feet. Later, when they laughed me out of being a barbarian, it was classic Greek style of boxing—ladylike stuff, no tripping, no elbows, no hitting below the belt. This cramped my style. I felt at home in the Roman ring, with a pair of knuckle- dusters, and licence to do what I would with everything but my feet. What, does anybody question this—that with this same. left hand, thrust up and out like a Scythian bowman, caestus on fist, I cracked the skull of the Greek, Kraton? And, with my right hand, did I not batter the one they called the Syrian, so that, for the rest of his life—seven feet tall though he was—he walked in circles? 3 But you ask me, do you, how, in spite of my bragging, I came to get this apology for a face? I shall tell you. It must have been, let me see, fifteen or sixteen years ago. Caesar had wagered ten thousand on me, to beat a barbarian. So we met. In height, weight, girth, and what not, we were well matched. But, in the manner of barbarians—I was made a Roman Citizen, ~ eA ts i Ta ho x " . ee Cw ee fat at ee a) ~ Comicydooks7com)