“There are games held several times during the year,” he answered her, “but these particular games are being sponsored by Justin Gabras to celebrate his marriage to Aspar’s former wife, Flacilla Strabo. He was unable to schedule them sooner because in the spring everything is concentrated on the May games. Then the weather grew too hot in the summer. So Justin Gabras planned his games to coincide with the sixth-month anniversary of his marriage to Flacilla. There will be racing in the morning and gladiators in the afternoon. Gabras, I am told, has paid for death matches.”
“I have never seen gladiators,” Cailin said. “They fight with swords and shields, don’t they? What are death matches?”
“Well, dear girl,” Arcadius began, “I see that this is another area of your education I shall have to fill in for you. Gladiatorial bouts first began in ancient Campania and Etruria, from whence our ancestors sprang. The first gladiators were slaves, made to battle each other to the death for their masters’ amusement. Such matches came to Rome eventually, but were held only during the funeral games for distinguished men. They were rare for many years. Then slowly gladiatorial bouts began being sponsored privately, and the emperor Augustus funded a few of what he called ‘extraordinary shows.’ Eventually the gladiators were scheduled regularly at the public games in December on the Saturnalia, while politicians, and others wishing the public’s support, supplied free gladiatorial combats at other times. The populace loved the excitement and the blood lust of such games.
“In the beginning gladiators were captives taken in war who far preferred death to becoming slaves. They were trained fighters. Soon, however, with the Roman peace imposed over most of the world, the supply of captives dwindled and it became necessary to train men who were not soldiers. Many criminals were sentenced to become gladiators, but even so, there was not enough of a supply to fill the now great demand. Many innocent men were accused of petty offenses and condemned to the ring. Early Christians were sacrificed because there were not enough criminals or captives to be found. When there were not enough men available, women and, yes, even small children were sent into the ring to fight.”
“How awful!” Cailin cried, but Arcadius continued, unmoved.
“There were schools for gladiators in Capua, Praeneste, Rome, and Pompeii, as well as other cities. Some schools were owned by wealthy nobles so they might train their own fighters, but others were the property of men who dealt in gladiators. The schools were strictly run because their purpose was to ensure a steady supply of competent, effective fighters. The teachers were tough, but they trained their charges well, and carefully. Diet was monitored. Each day held a round of gymnastics, and lessons from weapons experts.
“Eventually, however, it became impossible to obtain enough students to train even from among captives and criminals. Today’s gladiators are free men who have chosen the life for themselves.”
“I cannot imagine why,” Cailin replied. “It sounds terrible. But what of the weapons they use, Arcadius? And how do they fight?”
“In pairs, usually,” he said, “although in the past gladiatorial combats have pitted masses of men against masses of men. Usually few were left standing. Professional gladiators are divided into three groups: Samnites, who are heavily armed; Thracians, who are lightly armed; and there are net fighters. The net man’s weapons are his large net, his daggers, and a spear.”
“You still have not told me what a death match is,” Cailin said.
“The combatants fight to the death, unless, of course, Gabras grants the loser of each match mercy. Knowing Justin Gabras, I doubt he will. He will be far more popular with the people if he gives them a show of blood.”
“How horrible,” Cailin said, shuddering. “I do not think I would like these gladiatorial combats, knowing that one of the two men has to die.”
“It adds spice to the match knowing it,” Arcadius said. “The combatants are always magnificent fighters under such circumstances.”
“I am surprised that any free man would agree to fight under such conditions,” Cailin noted. “To know that you might be killed is such a frightening prospect.” She shuddered.
“But there is always the chance you will not be killed,” he answered. “Besides, the fee for a death match is far better than for just the ordinary combat. The little gossip that reaches me here tells me that the current, unbeaten champion, a man known as the Saxon, is to fight in Gabras’s games.”
“I feel sorry for him,” Cailin said. “If he is the unbeaten champion, then all the others will strive harder to bring him down. He faces the most danger.”
“True,” Arcadius agreed, “but it will make for a far more exciting match. You may step down, Cailin, and clothe yourself. I am finished.” He stepped back to admire his handiwork. “It is done, and it is one of my greatest masterpieces, I think,” he said, feigning understatement. “Aspar should be well-pleased, and inclined to pay me on time for my efforts.”
“What of the base?” she demanded. “I want it set in the garden facing the sea before Aspar returns from Adrianople.”
“I have an apprentice in the city working on the pedestal, my dear,” he told her. “The marble is most unique, a pink and white mixture. I have no idea where it came from. We found it lying about beneath some old clothes in the rear of my studio, but when I saw it, I knew it was the perfect piece of stone for our Venus. Come and look now.”
Cailin had slipped her tunica back on. She came around to view her statue. The young Venus, as Arcadius liked to call it, stood, her body slightly curved, one arm at her side, the other raised, the hand palm outward as if shielding her eyes from the sun. Her hair was piled atop her head, but here and there errant ringlets had escaped and curled about her slender neck and delicate ears. There was just the faintest hint of a smile upon her face. She was both pristine and serene in face and form. “It is beautiful,” Cailin finally said. She was frankly awed by the sculptor’s skill. She could almost see the pulse at the base of the young Venus’ throat. Each fingernail and toenail was perfect in its detail; and there was so much more.
“Your simple homage is more than enough praise,” he said quietly. He could see the admiration in her eyes, not for how he had portrayed her, but for his talent, and his art. Her lack of sophistication was refreshing, Arcadius thought. Had this been a woman of the court, she would have complained that he had not really caught her essence, and then tried to cheat him of his fee. Well, it had been a most pleasant interlude. Tomorrow he would return to the city and begin a set of six figures for the altar of a new church being built in Constantinople. “When the pedestal is done, dear girl,” he said, “I shall come myself to see the statue installed upon it. I think Flavius Aspar will be most pleased with what we have accomplished together.”
After he departed the following day, Cailin found that she missed the sculptor’s company. He had been a charming and most amusing companion. Nellwyn was a sweet girl, but a simple one. Cailin could not speak on complicated matters with her. She just did not understand. Still, she was pleasant company, and Cailin was glad for her presence.
The harvest was a good one on Flavius Aspar’s estates, and as Cailin walked across the fields with Nellwyn, greeting the workers, she again considered the possibility of Aspar’s raising horses for the chariot races. The estate’s tenants already raised hay and grain for their cattle and other stock. Much of the pasturage was as suitable for horses as for cattle. If Aspar needed even more land, perhaps he could obtain it from overtaxed landowners whose properties bordered his own. She would bring it up with him again when he returned.