dead father a real bang-up funeral. The brothers were wealthy patricians, the ruling class in Rome, and provided outstanding funeral rites for a dead parent was an important social obligation. The usual processions, sacrificial animals and prayers weren't enough for the brothers, but Marcus came up with an idea.
'There was an old custom, dating back to prehistoric times, of having a few slaves fight to the death over the grave of some great leader,' he reminded his brother. 'Why not revive it to show how much we revere the memory of the old man?'
Decimus turned the suggestion over in his mind. Originally this ceremony had been a sort of a human sacrifice, and the souls of the dead slaves were supposed to serve the chieftain in the next world. The fighting was to make sure that only brave men capable of being good followers would follow the dead leader. Educated Romans like the Brutus brothers didn't believe this old superstition, but the dead man had been a great soldier and fond of rough sports.
'Nothing would please father more' he admitted. 'If the priests agree, we'll do it Our social position will be definitely established.'
The priests had no objections and half of Rome turned out to watch the fight. Three pairs of slaves fought and the crowd loved it. The brothers became the most popular men in Rome for having put on such a good show. Politicians, eager to be elected, decided to put on similar exhibitions. The following statistics will show how fast the idea caught on:
264—b.c. 3 pairs of slaves.
216—b.c. 22 pairs of slaves.
183—b.c. 60 pairs of slaves.
145—b.c. 90 pairs fought for three days.
Soon it was taken for granted that anyone running for office had to put on slave fights—the bigger the better.
Promoters began to buy up able-bodied slaves, criminals and prisoners of war especially for these fights. The promoters would then rent the men out at so much per head to any ambitious politician. These professional slave-fighters became known as 'gladiators,' meaning 'swordsmen.'
As long as only a few gladiators were engaged, the fights were generally given in the Forum, but when several dozen fought there wasn't enough room. So the fights were moved to the Circus, and the gladiators staged their combats as an extra attraction together with the chariot races, the acrobats, the wild animal trainers and the other performers. Unless the show was subsidized by some wealthy man in honour of his ancestors, an admission fee was charged and the whole affair was strictly a business proposition, but later politicians started putting on the shows for free to get votes, or the government staged them to keep the mob quiet
Unfortunately, no gladiator was kind enough to leave a collection of memoirs or, if any did, the manuscript hasn't survived. However, we know plenty about them as many of the Roman writers such as Suetonius, Martial, and Tacitus described the fights in considerable detail. We know, for example, that one of the most famous gladiators was named Flamma and, although we know very little else about him except a list of his outstanding triumphs, we can by combining stories about several of the gladiators give a reasonably accurate picture of one of these professional killers.
Let's suppose that Flamma was a huge, heavy-set bull of a man. Most gladiators were, as their statues and the portraits of them cut on monuments show. He may well have been a private soldier, condemned to the arena for insubordination. We know of one such case, and we'll suppose the man involved was Flamma.
Flamma, then, had been given a bawling-out by a young officer, fresh out of military school and he told the officer off. The officer struck him with a cane and Flamma knocked him down. For this offence, he was sentenced to the arena.
Flamma hoped to be matched against some other ex-soldier and fight with regulation sword and shield, which he knew how to handle, but the penalty for striking an officer was death and the high brass was determined that Flamma wouldn't leave the arena alive. So he was put into one of the new 'novelty acts' which were springing up. The Roman mob had tired of the standard combats so the promoters invented fights between a Retiarius, who wore no armour but carried a net and a trident (a three-pronged spear), and a Sccutor, who was equipped as a Gaul; that is^ he had a fish insignia on his helmet as did the Gauls, and carried a sword and shield. He wore a breastplate, and his right arm and left leg were protected by armour. His left arm and right leg were bare to give him greater freedom of movement. Except for its fish symbol, the helmet was very plain so as not to offer a spot where the Retiarius' net or trident could catch. Flamma was to play the part of the Secutor or 'chaser.' It was up to him to catch the nimble Retiarius or 'netman.'
The edges of the Retiarius' net were fringed with small lead weights, so when the net was thrown it would open to form a circle. Similar nets are still used by fishermen in various parts of the world today. If he could suceed in catching the Secutor in his net, the Retiarius could pull the heavily armed man off balance and dispatch him with the trident. The Retiarius always had the advantage in these fights and, even with well-trained gladiators, the betting was generally five to three on the netman. In this case, Flamma knew nothing about the business, while the Retiarius was an expert. The odds on the Retiarius were fifty to one with no takers.
When Flamma appeared in the arena in his Gaul's outfit, he was greeted by boos and catcalls from the mob. They knew he was a mutineer, and also he was nothing but a palooka who couldn't be expected to put up an interesting fight. Flamma was a fairly simple fellow and his spirit had been broken by the court-martial and the sentence. When he saw that everyone was against him, he dropped his sword and sat down to let the Retiarius finish him off. The crowd, feeling that they had been swindled, burst into shouts of 'Chicken!' 'What's he afraid of?' 'Why does he die so sulkily?' 'Whip him!' 'Burn him!'—for a gladiator who refused to fight was whipped and prodded with hot irons until he changed his mind. But Flamma's whole regiment had turned out for the fight and they stood up in the stands, shouting for him. When Flamma heard their familiar voices, he picked up his sword and cried, 'All right, boys, I'll do my best for the honour of the regiment!' The Retiarius had been parading the arena, taking bows and making dates with the pretty girls for after the fight. Now he settled his net and came for the soldier.
As he approached Flamma, the Retiarius sang the traditional chant of his profession: 'I seek not you, I seek a fish. Why do you flee from me, O Gaul?' meanwhile making tentative casts with his net. Then he pretended to slip and fall, hoping to get Flamma off balance. When that didn't work, he danced around the heavily armoured man, calling him a coward and daring him to come on, but Flamma had too much sense to wear himself out chasing the agile Retiarius around the arena. He stood his ground and made the other man come to him.
The Retiarius circled him, holding the net by one end and slinging it at Flamma's feet, hoping to have the long net wrap around the Secutor's legs and trip him. Then he suddenly changed his technique and threw the net in a cast. Flamma turned it with his shield, but one of the lead pellets hit him in the left eye, partially blinding him. The Retiarius saw his chance and, rushing in, knocked the sword out of the soldier's hand with his trident. Both men ran for the sword but the light Retiarius got there first and threw the sword into the stands. Then he turned to finish off the unarmed man.
It seemed as though Flamma was through, but the Retiarius made the mistake of first showing off with some fancy net casts. Flamma managed to give the trident a kick that sent it flying across the arena. The terrified Retiarius turned to run after it, but before he could get away, Flamma grabbed him by the tunic. As the Retiarius went down on his knees, Flamma gave him a rabbit punch with the edge of the shield and killed him.
The victory, although totally unexpected, didn't seem to help Flamma. The emperor simply signalled for another Retiarius to come out and finish him off. But here the condemned man got a break. Flamma's nickname around the barracks was 'loach,' as loaches have whiskers like a catfish and Flamma had a bristling beard. The soldiers in the stands had been yelling: 'Go it, loach!' and the crowd had taken up the yell after Flamma showed that he was really willing to fight. Now a 'loach' had killed a 'fisherman' and the crowd thought this was such a joke that they demanded that Flamma be spared. Very few emperors dared to ignore the will of the people in the circus. Often notorious bandits and murderers were saved in this way, to the indignation of the judges. So Flamma was sent to gladiatorial school to learn his new trade.
There were four big gladiatorial schools in Italy at this time (about 10 a.d. under Augustus Caesar). They were known as The Great School, The Gallic, The Dacian and the School for Bestiarii (animal fighters). Later, there were dozens of schools maintained by rich enthusiasts of the fights just as today rich men have racing
