The Far Arena

by Richard Ben Sapir

  At the time I thought the men were beating her up with the help of the women who held her arms. But it was strange because I saw many do it in that large barn, usually without screams. It was, of course, copulation, but I had never seen people do it so publicly. She would not let me sleep near her that night.

  In the morning, like all the rest, she was led to the fields. When she complained to the vilicus himself, showing scars about her face and body, she was cuffed back to work. It was harvest, and one did not delay this crucial work or cause commotion in the groups.

  A cart was unloading water for the slaves in the field when I noticed a scythe lying at the feet of the first man to assault my mother. He was using his given moment for drink. I slipped between his legs and swung the scythe upward into his chest. It was a wild, sloppy stroke, but it struck just beneath the heart and kept going. I had killed a man. And during the harvest.

  He was not cold before I had my first collar on my neck, and I was put in a cart all by myself and driven from the latifundium. My mother, seeing me taken off, ran to me, and only the vilicus and his armoured slaves stopped her. The other slaves stood still, and the woman who had led the goading strangely attacked the armoured slaves to save my mother, and so both were beaten.

  She called out my name and my collar restrained me. I cried, but instead of weeping I should have taken note of the mountains the buildings, how long the journey was to the sea, how long the journey was on the sea, what the port we left from looked like, and where the sun was at midday in relationship to the land.

  I was eight years old and had killed a man. Instead of being punished I was sold to a lanista at Capua where the best gladiators are trained. A nuisance on a latifundium, I was of value in Capua for not every man will kill by nature, and most must be trained to it with molten rods and flogs. Not even for their own lives will some men kill. I had killed at eight.

  The lanista laughed when he saw me crying, saying, This is the killer we paid so dearly for.'

  The food was good. Where I had been beaten once by another slave for taking a gnarled pear on the latifundium, here in Capua I had all the pears I wanted, provided I ate my barley first, for barley builds bulk. The food was better than my mother's father ate in the big house with all the horses in the city of my birth.

  I was the youngest in the school by eight years and most were no younger than sixteen. Not knowing what size I would be to fit which weapons, they trained me in all forms: net and tridens, secutor minor armoured, Samnite heavy armoured, Thracian dagger, and even the fists of the pugilist, should I turn out to be big and slow. To goad others, the lanista used me as an example whenever I did something right, pointing out that even little Eugeni could do this or that.

  This all but exiled me from the others. And learning so young, I learned properly, so that in a time of panic I could only revert to what was right, never having known anything else. Captives, on the other hand, would often revert to what they had learned in their far-off homelands, invariably taught by their fathers who were shepherds or hunters.

  When I was twelve, with four years of hard training and somewhat large for my size, Greeks accused me of being haughty because I spoke Latin better than they, always trying to imitate the lanista in speech and manner. I refused to fight, and reported their threats to the lanista. But because it was in my interest to maintain order in his school and because gladiators could earn coins for their peculium in fights, he approved of me and lashed those he didn't

  I told the lanista I was willing to fight one of them, but I did not consider it proper to waste his property for anger which, I said, I truly felt. When he asked me which one I hated, I told him 'the slow one'. At this he laughed to tears,, and I thought I was being most grave. He said I would be too valuable to risk just yet, that I had a good seven or eight years until I began my good strength. He said he would punish him.

  'If you fear for my life, then that is the best way to lose it, dominus, for surely the punishment would build such resentment that they would see me dead one way or another.'

  'And where would you want this match, Eugeni?'

  The big arena in Rome. They free gladiators there for good fights. And they give them money.'

  'And what would you do with money, little Eugeni?'

  'I would buy my mother's freedom.'

  'You have a mother?’

  'Yes, dominus.’

  'You should not have been separated. While slaves do not have legal recourse and though slavery is a hard, hard thing, we in all our hardness and sometimes cruelty are not that hard. A child is never separated from his mother. This is an infamy, Eugeni.’

  'Worse than an infamy, dominus. It is a fact.'

  The lanista thought a moment. I remember standing before him while he sat, and his large grown-up's head was eye to eye with me. I would find out later that he was one of the few lanistae who comported himself with respect and was honest in his dealings. But being a child, I thought all lanistae were like him and all Romans like him, for he was the second Roman I had dealings with - the first being my father, who was hardly a recommendation for a people.

  'What sort of slave was your mother?' What did she do?’

  'She could weave.'

  'She may be expensive Eugeni. That would be a lot of money.'

  'She was harvesting when I was taken away.'

  "Then she would not be too expensive. We can get ourselves a bargain because we know she can weave, don't we ? But the latifundium doesn't That is good. We will make a contract between us. I will buy your mother for a victory. That is our agreement. You have my word.'

  'Dominus, why do you pay for what is yours already?’

  The lanista smiled. I remember he had a scar through his grey hair, and while his face to others was hard, to me it was the glory of the gods themselves. For with him, I knew that if I did things properly, I would be rewarded, and there were rights he granted. They were not the most awesome of freedoms and prerogatives and protections, but coming from the latifundium they seemed great indeed.

  ‘I own your body and rights to punish you. But I do not own your spirit.’

  'You own it now, dominus.'

  'Let us say I have earned it now.’

  The lanista said I was hardly ready for Rome, even if boys were allowed to fight there. I would find out later that Romans considered the gladiatorial combats a sign of manhood. Therefore child gladiators were an infamy, although they readily let captive children participate in the acts where gladiators would represent soldiers sacking a town and killing everyone. They were old enough to die but not to fight for their lives. But in the small arenas there were no rules. The lanista could fight whomever he wished with whatever he wished. Since the slow Greek would have to be a pugilist anyway and not worth much, he had a small private showing for the first patricians I had ever seen.

  They were beautiful to my eyes in the way they moved, the way the women wore their hair, and the cleanliness of the men's faces. Their white garments made them appear like gods. I had never seen cloth so white. And of course it was the first time I saw the broad purple stripe.

  I could hear their comments on the sand, so small was the arena. I was dressed like a Thracian dagger man, with only a loincloth and sandals, but I had a sword and a light shield, like a secutor. The slow Greek was laden with armour like a heavy Samnite, and his sword hand had enough iron on it to equip a legion. This made him slower still. The woman patrician let out a gasp when she saw how formidable he looked and how bare I looked. Her husband quieted her fears, telling her appearances were deceiving.

  'But he is so young,' she said.

  'Would you wager with me, then ?' said the man.

  'I would not bet against that poor child,' said the woman.

  ‘Neither would I, but I wager he is no poor child, Is that not correct, lanista?'

  'Most correct, dominus,' said the lanista, and at that time I learned that even the lanista had people he looked up to.

  "Then it
is not a fair match,' said the patrician.

  'No. It is not. I would not risk that boy at twelve.'

  'Settling some problems in your school?' asked the patrician.

  'Yes,' said the lanista.

  'An honest lanista,' said the patrician laughing.

  'He looks so young. But a boy,' said the woman.

  'I will wager a thousand sesterces,' said the patrician.

  ‘Against what? My husband gives me no money. He keeps me poor,' said the woman.

  ‘You are sitting on your treasure, woman,' said the patrician, and she agreed.

  It was my first match. Men are supposed to be nervous at their first match, but it was then that I first felt the great, cool air in my lungs and the power to run all day. I remember the Samnite armour coming at me so slowly I wondered how a man could be that slow even with his arm weighted down. The sword lazed its way towards my head, and with great ease I was under it and at his neck, almost like a slow dance. His body, falling on me, pinned me, and he bled to death atop me, his life spilling from his throat.

  I was not strong enough to lift him off and had to wriggle from beneath. I stood above his hulk and looked to the lanista for the signal.

  'You have already done your job, little gladiator,' said the patrician and he threw coins at me. They were gold.

  The woman complained that she didn't see what happened. .

  The patrician took delight in explaining to her about combat.

  'You saw a Roman-trained gladiator execute a slave. I told you before it was not a match, dear. This was not a match. To a trained eye, there was no contest from the beginning. They could have used a cross.' He demanded his money back, but the lanista said he had been told honestly what he would see. The patrician said there was no magistrate in the empire who would take the word of a lanista against a patrician.

  Terror seized me when I thought that perhaps I would not get my mother if the match were not paid for. I offered another match, and the lanista had me whipped with a rod for my insolence in talking to him and a patrician while they were in conversation. It was not a hard whipping, and it was done on my buttocks where the marks would not show. I hardly felt it. But my terror was such that I would not have felt the hot irons, either. It was agreed, and for more, that I would fight another gladiator, the patrician giving the money first, but also inspecting the armour first. The lanista would not let him select the gladiator.

  There was a Briton who had no training but was huge. He was faster than the Greek. But I knew now that a match consummated too quickly might not be paid for. He swung his sword in the wide arcs of a scythe, and it made a ferocious noise going about my head. As with the Greek, it all seemed so slow. But this time I did not take the finish quickly, even though I heard the lanista yelling for it. I knew I could tell him later I heard nothing in the sand, but I heard everything. The woman's shrieks, the man's cheers. I was not strong enough to block a direct blow, but I did not have to. He slashed. He was armoured as a secutor and had half his body bare. I took nicks that if followed through would be kills. I danced with him, and worked him towards me. When panting, he moved the sword even more slowly. I opened his belly and caught his right thigh from behind, lowering him to the sand. I mounted his chest looking for the signal which was death. But his huge hand grabbed my leg and upended me. I rolled as he crawled towards me, and, with my own belly on the sand and both of us at the same level, I put my short sword into his neck as his huge hand lowered on my head, pushing it into the sand.

  I knew where his body was and got to it many times without seeing, for the sand was in my eyes. There was an Egyptian physician at the school and he washed out my eyes, right there on the sand, as the patrician and the woman screamed my name. The patrician wanted to buy me.

  'You could have named a price before this match. Now you can not have him for a half million sesterces,' said the lanista.

  'He will be worth a million when he is grown,' said the patrician. 'I know combat. That is the gladiator the way they used to be. I am the first to see him, and 1 tell you, lanista, you are a wealthy man. Twelve years old!'

  For this I received ten gold coins from the lanista and six from the patrician, which brought my peculium to twenty - the price I had been bought for. Yet even then 1 knew. I knew 1 was much more valuable than I could afford. In Rome, they freed gladiators for great performances. Just for a fight they did this. Yet I was not troubled by my own rising worth. For now I would see my mother and tell her how good life was and that she should not worry about me. She would see the food I ate, the magnificence of my couch, how slaves oiled me, and how I relaxed just like a Roman in the baths. And she would enjoy this, too. I had hoped the lanista would take her as a woman, he being so kind.

  The lanista showed me a parchment with drawings on it. He said it was a map. A long peninsula was Italia, having first been conquered by a dot that was Rome, the centre of the world. A large blob was the sea. I had come that way because I had been picked up at the nearby port.

  'Now we bought you from a dealer with the guarantee that you had killed. Today, you proved yourself a good investment. But this dealer is dead, and the problem is latifundium slaves are not recorded as to where they are from and who they are. They are sold in lots. So you are going to have to tell me exactly where the latifundium is, what its name is, what your mother's name is, and what she looks like.'

  'She was beautiful, dominus. Her name was Phaedra.'

  ‘But what did she look like?

  ‘Very beautiful. I see her some nights in dreams.'

  'Describe them.'

  'She is kind and she sings to me in my dreams.'

  'Yes, but that does not help me, for they are not my dreams.’

  So, well trained with a sword, I found myself weak with descriptions. I said she had eyes like one slave and hair like another and a nose like another.

  'And what was the name of your mother's city ? For we can say we want to purchase Phaedra from Thebes or from Pharsalus or from Actium.'

  'It was called the city. It did not have a name. But I know names of all the other cities, and the one I do not mention will be the one.'

  'You cannot know all the cities at your age, Eugeni.’ 'I do. Athens and Iberia.'

  'Iberia is a country, Eugeni. When you came by boat did you leave the shore? How long did you take? Where was the shore? Where did the sun rise?'

  'I do not know.' I was crying. 'But it was a big latifundium.'

  'The world is filled with latifundia. Don't you know its name?'

  'No,' I said. I felt panicked, like a new man seeing his first arena death. We estimated, by my remembrances of mountains as a child and the way it was cold there, that I had come from northern Macedon, Greece. I had high cheekbones, and this might also show a touch of Dacian blood beside my Roman and Greek blood I did not remember how long the journey was to where my father sold us, but I did remember one of his names being Gnaeus. And yet I did not remember the others.

  'He was in Athens a lot,' I said. And thus began my quest to find my mother. It never fully ended and it was never successful. They found traces of my father within a year because I knew he dealt in dyes. There was a Gnaeus who had lost his wife and son in a gambling game, and she was from a provincial village.

  According to the tales brought back, he was so remorseful about his life, he killed himself regretting every day that he had sold his wife and son. He drank much and blamed the wine for his misdeeds.

  'If that is what wine does, I will never drink,' I said. 'I would not do what he did if hot irons were buried in my belly.'

  'They say he regretted what he did. And he took his own life.'

  'That was his to take,' I said. 'Ours were not his to gamble.'

  'According to the law in that province they were, Eugeni.'

  'When I am rich, and I will be rich, dominus, I will buy all the law there is.'

  Until I was sixteen I was matched for private showings. I assumed the size and the speed to us
e any weapon, but knowing all, I made the combination of the punching shield and the long spatha with the point the best for my skills.

  I earned extra coins not only in the arenas around Capua, but was rented out as a bodyguard to women and men. I drew a high price because they did not want the sword I held in my hand, but the one on my body. After a match, the price was higher. But in those years, I began spending the money freely, for I knew I could never afford to buy my freedom as I became more valuable. I bought misinformation and charlatan's skills at telling me where my mother was: through looking at chickens eating corn and at the shape of a goat's liver. One even looked at a glass vial and said he could not see my mother but felt she was content.

  I even bought three old latifundium slaves called Phaedra, and it was sadder still knowing they were not her when I met them. One was afraid she would be beaten for revealing her name was Lilith. I put them in the lanista's house, where he promised they would be treated well. When I was sixteen years old he said he could not live through another match of mine, because I was just too valuable for his purse to risk. The excitement was too much for him.

  I was sold to Lucius Aurelius Cotta for one million, three hundred and fifty thousand sesterces - the largest sum ever paid for a slave. Of course, rumours had it as twice that.

  The lanista kissed me on both cheeks when I left. He told the great Lucius Aurelius Cotta, who had young, dark hair then, that I knew more about the arena than any lanista in Rome. He should follow my advice in all things to do with the arena. He should never use me as a bodyguard or waste me as a teacher of his children in the art of the sword. I was better able to choose my opponents than Lucius Aurelius Cotta, although the lanista thought I could defeat anyone now, and most assuredly when I was twenty.