Argosy, September 1955 — page 97: what you’re looking at

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

ee) ee you know—he had the habit of lashing himself into fighting form by stamping and chanting. You know the kind of stuff, banging his chest—the fool!— ‘ . = 1 a; MEMORY OF A FIGHT 95 Chornie, I, the black one! Man-breaker, bone-breaker, Chornie, widow-maker! Weep, widows of Crasnius, But yet rejoice— Soon you shall be The wives of Chornie... The usual damned nonsense. You used to get it mainly from the Northlanders, who, as I have said, wasted their breath boast- ing, and their energy in wild gestures, before a fight. Mark my words: before a fight, no bobbing and weaving— keep still! You will need, if you are evenly matched, every little bit of breath you throw away shouting. As I was saying, the type of caestus we were wearing then was called ‘‘ the skull-crusher.”” A heavy glove, well studded with brass spikes, and having wide straps to protect the arm as far as the elbow. The old man who was dressing me—that is to say, tying the straps—whispered to me: “ Be careful of that man, master. He has already killed twenty-eight in fair fight, and crippled fifty more.” I said to him: ‘ Shut your toothless mouth ’—he was an old pugilist and therefore, naturally, had no teeth—“ I am Crasnius, and the man against whom Crasnius lifts his left hand the gods forget!” ‘* 'This one, also, is a left-handed hitter,” the old man mumbled. I said to him: “* Caesar has ten thousand gold pieces on me— he alone. All in all, I carry about a million in this left hand of mine. Be quiet, and tie the straps a little tighter on my right arm.” To cut the story short, I met this barbarian Chornie. And, _ by all the gods, for the first time in my life I was uneasy! Old Apollodorus, in the gladiators’ school, used to teach boxers—wearing a seven-pound caestus of bronze—to fight with their own shadows. Also, in front of a plate of polished metal, to spar with their own reflections. This made for a certain kind of speed and accuracy. Well, when I came into the arena to smash that loud-mouthed ‘aie? e . . . . ' barbarian, it was as if I were boxing with my own shadow, or my own reflection. Whatever I did, he did, and in the same ‘Seapstant .. . And the crowd began to hoot me, calling me vile names, and _ throwing rotten fruit, so that I determined to make an end of it iss ae wen . ea 6 way vib wt Wei ~iei ) 6 vt a AG at) Fink AC comichbooks.com —