The Jews were dead. The lions had begun to devour the bodies. The corpses were jerked back and forth between the big cats and the sound of cracking bones was clearly audible. Carpophorus took his eye from the peephole. He knew what was coming next. These lions would not be saved as were the trained man-eaters and the arena must be cleared for the next act.
Ethiopian bowmen, magnificent in ostrich plume headdresses, were forcing their way through the crowded aisles to balconies projecting over the edge of the podium. Even as Carpophorus turned away he heard the twang of the bowstrings and the roars of the stricken beasts. As he left the inner barrier, slaves were already rushing out with their hooks for dragging out the dead animals and humans, carrying baskets of fresh sand and jars of perfume to pour on the arena.
There was need for the perfume. On the podium, the patricians were holding sachets of scent to their noses and even the plebeians in the stands had covered their faces with handkerchiefs. In the hot stadium, the blood and guts covering the arena sent up a fearful stench. Slaves were setting braziers full of burning incense in the stands, and the fountains were sending up sprays of saffron and verbena-scented water. Carpophorus noticed that the young editor of the games was standing up in his box, trying to crack jokes with the crowd to prove how democratic he was. The crowd good-naturedly kidded him back. So far, the games had been well up to standard and the mob felt friendly toward the young office seeker. But if the shows on the following days were not equally good, they would turn on him even though the youngster and his mother had bankrupted themselves trying to entertain the mob.
The inner barrier was hastily struck and the arena cleared for chariot races. These were to be novelty races, the real chariot races were held in the Circus Maximus which had been specially designed for them. To gratify the demand for racing, Domitian had increased the original four teams to six, adding Gold and Purple to the other colours. For the Saecular Games, he had staged one hundred races a day, cutting down the number of laps around the Spine from seven to five to speed things up. However, vast as the arena of the Colosseum was, it wasn't quite big enough for six four-horse teams to manoeuvre, so these races were more in the nature of a joke.
The first race was between chariots drawn by ostriches (called by the crowd "overseas sparrows"), the next by camels and the third by oryxes (African antelopes). As it was virtually impossible for the charioteers to control the animals, the results were an ungodly mess and meant to be. After the hysterical excitement of the massacre of the Jews, this interlude served as comic relief. Dwarfs in extravagant costumes ran alongside the chariots, deliberately frightening the animals, and pretending to get run over. One of the dwarfs got disembowelled by an ostrich kick—he forgot that an ostrich kicks forward instead of backwards like a horse—and the crowd considered this accident the funniest of the whole show.
CHAPTER NINE
By now, it was growing late and time for the main presentation of the day. As the sun dropped below the edge of the stadium, it became noticeably cooler and the sailors were sent aloft on the great masts to furl the awning. As it was pulled back, the overheated air rushed upwards, making the sailors' task more difficult as the vast expanse of cloth napped wildly up and down but sucking in fresh air through the colonnade of arches surrounding the building. There were audible sighs of relief as the crowd relaxed, the slaves removed the braziers of incense which were unnecessary now that there was circulation of air, and the patricians put away their scented sachets. The podium was fuller than it had been at any other time during the day. Many patricians despised the usual run of the games, but now was the time for the gladiatorial contests, and even the most discriminating members of the nobility took an interest in them.
Led by a band, the gladiators marched into the arena, spreading out as soon as they reached the open sand so that they covered the entire arena. They saluted the royal box and the young editor, who was betting desperately with everyone around him. The gladiators were the only part of the games which the sickly youth really enjoyed and, like all patricians, he considered himself an expert on manly arts. The crowd was wildly partisan, greeting the different units with shouts. "Hurrah for the Puteolaneans! Good luck to all Mucenans! The hook for Pompeians and Pithecusans!" Here and there fights started among members of different factions.
The gladiators made a stirring sight in their magnificent armour and accoutrements. Trained to march in military formation, they swept across the arena keeping perfect step. Each group marched together with their special arms; the Hoplite in full armour, the Myrrnillones with their curved scimitars, the Retiarii with their nets and tridents, the Paegniarii with their wooden shields and long bullwhips, the Essedarii coming last in their chariots with their lariat throwers beside them. There were many classes of gladiators and many types of arms, but the mob not only knew each class but also most of the individual men.
At this time, the gladiators were still a highly trained group of professional fighting men with tremendous pride in their calling. They had a great tradition to live up to. A hundred years before, Mark Anthony's gladiators, whom he was training for a big battle in celebration of his expected victory over Augustus Cassar, had stayed by him after his troops had deserted. They had formed* themselves into an army and tried to reach their master in Egypt, and when they could not find ships to transport them, had sent Anthony a message urging him to return and let them defend him with their lives. Anthony, however, had refused to leave Cleopatra. Other groups of gladiators had acted as bodyguards for emperors. An important gladiator was still the best-known personality in the Empire. Horace wrote bitterly, "If Malcenas says it's cold today, it becomes the talk of Rome." Nero had asked to have his tomb decorated with carvings showing the victories of Petraites. Boys scribbled the names of famous gladiators on the walls of their rooms, and innkeepers had signs up "Tetraites ate here," much as Sardi's has pictures of stage personalities on the walls.
But already the rot that was to overtake this bravest and most terrible of professions had appeared. It first manifested itself when gladiators were set to fighting wild beasts. Pompey had pitted gladiators against elephants. Claudius had cavalry fight leopards. Nero forced the Praetorian Guard to fight four hundred bears and three hundred lions. Neither the gladiators not their lanistia managers knew when the men might be pitted against bears, lions or wild bulls at the whim of the crowd. As long as the bouts were man against man, there was a fifty per cent chance of survival—or say forty per cent allowing for men who died of their wounds afterwards. At that rate, it paid a lanistia to build up a great fighter like Flamma. But when men were sent out against wild beasts— unless they were trained bestiarii, who possibly ran little more risk than does a modern bullfighter—the casualties were ninety or a hundred per cent. Under those conditions, the enormous cost of creating an expert gladiator wasn't justified, any more than building up a boxer whom you know will be killed in his first or second fight
As a result, anything was grist that came to the gladiatorial mills. Supposedly a man could be sentenced to the arena only for robbery, murder, sacrilege or mutiny. But with the enormous turnover caused by the animal fights, the demand for gladiators far exceeded the supply. In the law courts, "sentenced to the arena" was the commonest of all verdicts. As the mob grew increasingly indifferent to good sword play, any criminal might have armour slapped on him and be thrust into the arena. Flamma would have been shocked at the exhibitions some of these men put on.