If a few days ago I was able to "interview" a Roman from the 1st century to ask him what he thought of Tiberius, Caligula and Nero, today I have dared to take a trip back in time (to the year 80) and attend the inauguration of the Flavian amphitheatre, later known as the Colosseum . Emperor Vespasian, father of the current Emperor Titus, who will attend the event, was the one who began work on one of the seven wonders of the ancient world almost 10 years ago on part of the ruins of the Domus Aurea , the lavish palace that Emperor Nero had himself built for his personal glory after the burning of Rome. Its original name, Flavian Amphitheater (in honor of the dynasty of emperors who ordered its construction), was changed to Colosseum by a large bronze statue of Nero, the Colossus, which is not preserved. And since here they are to do things in a big way, the inaugural celebrations will last 100 days. Almost na…
In this journey through time my cicerone is going to be the poet Marcial from Bilbilita. After an effusive greeting and the typical questions about our health (out of concern for him, I did not comment on the pandemic that is plaguing us) and our respective families - education above all -, Marcial proposed, as was logical, that I attend the Games. And the first thing I find is clear proof that some things had not changed:a show with the "free" sign was synonymous with jostling and long lines. Since I was interested in gladiator fights, I suggested to Marcial that he delay entering the amphitheater and have a drink.
– How about if we have a snack and chat for a while? I have seen the schedule of the Games and in the morning the fight of animals and the sacrifices of those condemned to death are celebrated. What I would like to see are the fights between gladiators in the afternoon.
Marcial nodded and motioned for me to follow him. We arrive at what today could be a fast food restaurant with an outside bar, which they call caupona here. , where my partner ordered a carafe of wine with two glasses and some cheese. While we were being served, I brought up the subject of the solidity of Rome's buildings. Marcial took a glass, took a drink of that wine mixed with water and started off:gromas, chorobates and cranes were interspersed between large stone blocks and wooden scaffolding to give shape to an academic essay. With my curiosity satisfied, I decided to ask for a second jug of wine -don't worry, as I already told you, it's wine diluted with water, that there drinking undiluted wine was a barbaric thing- and, in reference to the subject in question, I I dared to ask him if they also had the problem of cost overruns in public works.
We had it, mate. we had it Now, when an architect agrees to take charge of a public work, he must quantify its cost. His estimate is delivered to the magistrate, and the architect deposits his property as collateral until the work is completed. Once finished, if the cost matches his estimate, he is honored. If no more than a quarter of the calculation of it is to be added, this small deviation is assumed by the public treasury. But if you have to spend more than that fourth part, the money is obtained from the architect's properties.
It was clear that in Rome they had known how to nip the issue in the bud, because in the province of Hispania we continued to pay for the works with an extra cost directly proportional to the greed of those who awarded them.
While I was immersed in my thoughts on how we could apply these measures today, I noticed a presence next to me. When I turned my head to find out his identity, I met a woman who gave me a beautiful smile. Before I could even reciprocate by returning the best of mine, the world went into slow motion:her left eyelid slowly lowered until her eye closed, while the other remained open. Dammit! That wink broke all the magic. It was an unmistakable sign that she belonged to the copae guild. –The prostitutes who worked around the caupona-. After that jug of cold water, I regained my composure and… Marcial laughed out loud! He had been a front-row spectator of disappointment in a sitcom that he would have signed even Titus Plautus himself.
Come on, let's go back to the amphitheater, which for the gladiator fights is filled to the wake - the poet told me while a smile can be guessed on his lips.
As we approached the Colosseum, one realized to what extent the panem et circenses it was a reality. With food and entertainment, the populace remained sedated and allowed to be guided like a flock after the shepherd. So, I assumed my sheep role and let myself go.
Although the show was free, in that case financed by Emperor Titus, the conqueror of Jerusalem, you had to have a ticket:a small piece of clay on which the numbers of the door, the vomitory and the seat were engraved. As a good host, Marcial had already obtained them before. So, we went to the door that appeared on our tickets:the X –come on, door 10-. From there to vomitory V, to get to our seats:L and LI. Before sitting down, I stood for a moment contemplating the majesty of the enclosure… until I noticed the sand:dozens of slaves were busy covering the spilled blood with more sand and removing the remains of animal bodies and those condemned to death. I slumped down in my seat…my stomach wasn't ready for this gory scene. My companion understood that he needed a moment and gave me a break. Absorbed in my thoughts, I looked closely at the people and realized that the place occupied in the stands depended on social class:the higher you were seated, the lower the social class to which you belonged, being next to the wake the poorest and women, except the wives of senators and aristocrats who were seated with their respective.
Suddenly, the trumpets sounded, and as if a spring was activated under the seats, the Spectators stood up and I came back to reality abandoning my internal moral debate. The gladiators entered the arena as if it were a military parade. With almost 50,000 people screaming around you, if not outright 49,999, it was hard to pay attention to all the details taking place in the arena. So, I leaned close to my ear and asked my companion if the gladiators had already pronounced the ritual greeting before the emperor:“Hail Caesar, those who are going to die salute you ”. When he turned his head towards me, I was met with a facial representation of the expression what are you talking about? Silence fell and I waited for him to get me out of my mistake.
Let's see, gladiators have never, and I mean never, pronounced what you call a ritual salute. That only happened in a naumachia. You know, a real, life-size depiction of a naval battle.
Although my subconscious was trying not to look like an idiot, my face did not accompany and betrayed my ignorance. Marcial noticed and, resigned, explained to me.
When Julius Caesar proclaimed himself dictator of Rome, he decided to entertain the people with a spectacle never seen before, the first naumachia. For this he ordered to dig a huge circular moat in the Field of Mars that communicated with the Tiber River through a channel. Once finished, the dam was opened and the waters of the Tiber flooded the moat as an artificial lake. Such was the size of that theater of naval representations that it housed biremes, triremes and even the enormous quadremes. Around 2,000 combatants and more than 4,000 rowers participated in this first naumaquia, most of them prisoners of war and sentenced to death. Years later, in the time of Augustus, the naval battle of Salamis between Greeks and Persians was recreated on the other side of the Tiber, in an excavated pond 1,800 feet long and 1,200 feet wide, where today is the Sacred Forest of the Caesars. Thirty triremes, garrisoned with rams, and an even larger number of smaller ships took part. On board these fleets fought, not counting the oarsmen, about 3,000 men.
Despite being amazed by the proportions of that show, halfway between the movie Battleship and the board game "Sink the fleet", but without special effects and with real blood, the ritual greeting that I associated with gladiators still did not appear . And so I let him know…
Don't worry, we're here. Almost 30 years ago, Emperor Claudius also wanted to entertain the people of Rome with a naumachia after several victories of the legions in Britannia. And he did it at Lake Fucino. It was there that the oarsmen and fighters addressed the emperor shouting "Those who are going to die salute you." And it wasn't just the first time, but the first and the last, and the "Ave, César" must have been added by whoever told you that hoax to give it credibility. Being honest, I will tell you that it is not surprising that they pronounced this death sentence, since the destiny of the combatants and oarsmen was to die or die, either by drowning or at the hands of other participants.
After the clarification, I heard the voices of a vendor who was going through the stands offering a snack. Unfortunately, that same scene from the Monty Python movie “The Life of Brian was very fresh in my memory. ”, where he shouted“ lark tongues, plover liver, wild boar brains, jaguar ears, she-wolf nipples… buy while they are warm ”, and although I knew that it had nothing to do with what they now offered, I almost threw up. I politely declined his offer, and went back to focusing on the fighters.
Once the draw was made for the pairs of gladiators that would face each other, this time they were going to fight to the death (sine missione) , although with the possibility of forgiveness by the emperor. As Marcial explained to me, it was normal for them to be first-blood combats, but that was a special day:the first of the 100 days that the amphitheater inauguration Games were going to last. Musicians, the editor and the rest of the gladiators left the arena, and only the first couple of fighters and the summa rudis remained. , a kind of referee who ensured compliance with the rules –fair play -. These judges, usually retired prestigious gladiators, wore white robes and carried wooden swords (rudis ) or whips with which they signaled illegal movements, stopped the combat if a gladiator was wounded (when he was first blood) or incited them to fight by hitting them if they did not feel like it. The previous draw, which determined the pairs of gladiators who were going to face each other, had paired in the first fight a Retiario, the one with the net and the trident, and a Samnite with a shield, helmet and gladio.
If the retiary manages to catch the Samnite with his net, he is lost – Martial sentenced.
From the beginning, the Retiario took the initiative trying to reach the Samnite with his net, who did enough to dodge it and stop the spears of the trident. The spectators cheered the attacker and booed the defender, and I did quite a lot of pretending that he was enjoying the show. Suddenly, there was silence. In just an instant, everything changed:the Samnite had ducked to avoid the net and, kneeling on the ground, had blocked the trident with his shield, exposing the left side of the Retiary. Moment that he took advantage of to nail the gladio in the thigh of him. Screaming in pain, the Retiary dropped to one knee and took a blow to the head with his shield. The gladiator of the network, the favorite of the public and the bets, was lost. Now, the respectable would render his verdict and the emperor would decide his fate. Since I had my blood quota covered, I got up, extended my arm, closed my fist and stretched my thumb up.
From your reaction when you entered the amphitheater, I didn't think you would want more blood – Marcial snapped at me.
Nerd. That's why I make the sign of life - I answered, keeping my fist clenched and my thumb up.
The poet's comment made me pay attention to the rest of the spectators. The expression on his faces did not match his thumbs:the most visceral faces, as if thirsty for blood, kept their thumbs up next to their throats and shouted " Iugula! ”; and the faces with the most friendly and condescending expressions had the thumbs down to the cry of “Missum! ”. Something didn't add up. Again, my partner had to get me out of my fatal mistake.
Are you sure you come from Hispania? It seems as if you have come from the lands where men drink undiluted beer or wine. If your decision is for the fallen gladiator to die in the arena, you indicate this by clenching your fist and stretching your thumb toward your throat, so they yell Slash him! and if you want him to be forgiven you must turn your thumb down, as if to sheathe the gladio or stick it in the sand, and that is why they shout “forgive him!”. And the gesture that the retiary makes by extending two fingers means that he is begging for mercy.
After that explanation, which ruined something that I thought I knew without a doubt, I quickly changed my decision and turned my thumb down, while inwardly cursing the Roman films and the oil painting “Pollice verso” , which meant turned thumb, painted in 1872 by the Frenchman Jean-Léon Gérôme, and on which Ridley Scott was inspired when he directed the film Gladiator .
I knew that my change of mind had not influenced, but the emperor followed the majority opinion of the spectators and spared the life of the retiary by turning his thumb down.
He is a crowd favorite and the emperor knows it. In fact, I think it's his first loss. Those who have bet on the Samnite will have gotten a good pinch.
Is he a slave, a prisoner of war, or a convicted criminal? – I asked, interested in his story.
Neither one nor the other, but quite the opposite. He is a free man, who fights for money and glory. There are many gladiators who, like the ones you say, are forced to be, but the most popular and famous are the volunteers, they are the auctorati . It could be said that his profession is that of a gladiator, but do not think that it is a bed of roses. Although some of them may achieve fame and money, and even be admired by the people, their status in Roman society is the same as that of a prostitute. In fact, by becoming a gladiator they give up their rights as citizens. These volunteers go to a gladiatorial school and sign a contract with the lanista, usually for five years, which they can renew for periods of the same time if both parties agree, in exchange for payment.
It sounds good, Marcial, but they risk their lives every time they jump into the arena.
As I told you before, most of the fights are to the first blood and only on rare occasions, like today, are they to the death. Think that this is a business:the editor who organizes and finances the fights, to gain the favor of the people, keep them happy or get the votes for a position in the judiciary, rents the gladiators who are going to fight to the different lanistas and, logically, pay for it. If it's to the death, much more, because a dead gladiator is one less fighter than the lanista can hire for other shows. So, to amortize the expenses of training, maintenance and the pay of the volunteers, he wants them to fight on many occasions so that it can be a profitable business. In addition, these free men turned gladiators usually fight only three or four times a year.
And do they receive any favored treatment in the schools for being volunteers?
With the only difference of the stipulated pay, once the contract is signed they become one more. They receive the same Spartan training, sleep in the same quarters, eat the same food, and receive the same medical care.
But to endure those workouts and be in perfect physical condition, I guess they eat better than the rest, right?
Except dinner free , in which the editor pays for a feast the night before the show and the gladiators enjoy the best delicacies, wine as if there were no tomorrow and even receive the visit of some women, their diet does not differ much from that of the rest of deadly. Mainly cereals, legumes, vegetables and on special occasions some meat. Of course, after the fights, as a restorative, they take a concoction of vegetable ashes dissolved in water and sweetened with honey. And since I see that now you're going to ask me about medical care, I'll go ahead and tell you -Marcial smiled anticipating my intentions-. In that matter they do differ from the rest, they have access to the same doctors as the wealthiest families in Rome. As I told you before, this is a business and they have to keep their merchandise in perfect condition.
But they are always men, right? - I asked waiting for any answer. Because it was clear that my level of ignorance around this show was almost total.
As they say in the north of our land:“there are, there are”. Here we call them gladiatrix and, although some managed to earn a living as volunteers, they are somewhat testimonial. You will never see a women's match in a big show like today, it is more typical of other smaller venues and less important cities. In fact, it is a degeneration.
That was one of those moments of my trip in which I had to stop for a moment, realize that I was not in the 21st century and bite my tongue so as not to answer him as he deserved. Faced with that statement, clearly sexist, I realized that I was judging an event from the past with the mentality of today. And that is a big mistake. So, I ignored my comment and continued to be interested in those fighters.
If it is a degeneration for women to participate, why is it allowed? – I insisted.
Gladiator fights themselves are a degeneration. The origin dates back to the time of the Etruscans when this type of combat between prisoners was celebrated to honor the death of a loved one. A funerary ritual became a playful spectacle. And already put, later the fight between animals or the one of men against animals were added, anything so that the show did not decline. In fact, the first fights between women were private. Emperors, senators and magistrates organized fights between women dressed as gladiators to entertain their guests. A kind of erotic-festive show, which later some editor decided to transfer to the arena. Of course, they were always celebrated when the sun had already set.
To all this, and while Marcial was giving me a master class on gladiators, in the arena the pardoned retiarius, helped by two slaves, left the enclosure through the Sanavivaria door. . If the imperial decision had been death, his body would have left through the Libitinaria door. . The Samnite, after making a triumphant turn and collecting all kinds of presents thrown from the stands, headed towards the door Triumphalis . While everything was being prepared in the arena for the next fight and Marcial attended to a group of acquaintances who had come over, I wondered why in our modern society a thumbs up is synonymous with positive, everything correct, and a thumbs down with negative or that something has gone wrong. Perhaps it was Christianity that changed the origin of these symbols, since the thumbs up pointing to heaven would indicate good or salvation and the thumbs down pointing to hell would mean evil or death. At the very least, it seemed plausible.
The conversation between Marcial and his acquaintances was getting louder. I decided not to interfere and continue on my own. Next to the stands where the Emperor and the senators were sitting, a slave held up a banner listing all the pairings for the fights scheduled for that day, and the editor put a V next to the name of the Samnite and an M next to the name of the Samnite. retary. With what I have seen so far and the explanations received, I would dare to say that the V was for Vicit (beat), the M of Missus (sorry) and if I had put a P it would have been Periit (perished). Those were the official results, as a pool, which would later serve to collect the bets. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Marcial approaching with an unfriendly face.
I'm sorry to tell you that I have to go. A problem has arisen and I have to return to my villa. I don't know how long it will take, so you can stay or I'll walk you to the place where you're staying. Sorry, friend.
Well, I've already seen what I wanted to see. So I'm leaving too. I followed in Marcial's footsteps until I reached the street, and already outside we found a large group of people next to one of the doors of the amphitheater.
I guess they don't have a ticket and they're waiting to see if they can get in, right?
This door is not an entrance, only an exit, and these people are unscrupulous merchants. On the other side of that door is the spoliario, where the gladiators who leave through the Libitinaria door end up. Here dead gladiators are stripped naked and the mortally wounded are auctioned off, and these merchants collect the sweat and blood of the dead to sell in small jars. They say that this elixir cures diseases such as epilepsy or impotence. They are smoke sellers who get rich thanks to the ingenuity and desperation of the people.
Since Marcial was in a hurry to get to his villa located in a countryside near the city, I said goodbye and took a taxi ( cisium ) to return home… to the year 2021 and, with my trip still fresh in my memory, I wrote this story.
Source:Stories of History (Storytel)