As Rufus spoke those awful words, I felt the blood drain from my face and I almost swooned. Be a gladiator?! As I pleadingly explained to him, a gladiator was a slave’s job, not a witty young freeman who I’d always thought of as a promising actor.
Poor boy. He didn’t know what he was letting himself in for. I should never have taken him to the games in the first place to see those barbaric fighters. I had a high suspicion that it would not be the career of honour and glory that he expected.
I tried my best. I was almost on my knees before he gently told me that it would be impossible to sway him from his stand. He’s out at the moment, volunteering at the training post and I have decided to start this diary as I will need new occupations with my dear ward gone.
* * * * *
He has returned now and things would seem even worse than before were it not for the pledge that he has made to me to fight only one battle before giving in his notice to the trainer, with whom this agreement has been sworn.
He has broken the news to me that he will be posted to a training camp in southern Italy, it is likely that I will have little or no contact with him for a whole devastating year. Furthermore an awful silent doubt is taking root in the back of my mind, a jeering voice whispering to me that this is the beginning of the end. My dear Iowan shall not come back to me and I shall grieve for him for evermore. But I am sure that there is hope, darling Rufus is agile and strong, and there is only one chance for him to break my heart. Let us hope that the sad event will not have to occur.
But I will not despair while there is even a sliver of hope that he will come out unscathed. I am determined not to give up in the boy, and I will give him the little motivation and encouragement that I am able.
He departs in the morning, taking nothing but the clothes on his back. I sincerely doubt that the situation will look better in the morning light, but since it is growing dark, I had better return to my bed-chamber.

I arrived at the training camp yesterday, after a long and wearying march. However, I was not given the warm welcome that I expected. As soon as I’d walked through the gates a burly man strode up to me and gave a once-over.
“Bit scrawny if you ask me but you’ll do. Get in there recruit.” I just stood there, astonished, before he gave me a shove and I tottered inside. Before I could even explain myself, a searing red iron was shoved against my nape and I screamed aloud in pain. The brander looked at me with amusement.
“The Master will never keep you if you ain’t got more guts than that. Get along with you.” With that I was herded into yet another room, this time filled with sweating, heavily built men. A clerk in a much-abused toga scurried up behind me, “Now let me see, you will now be known as Recruit CIV of the XI rank. No names allowed or there’ll be no rations for the week.” I stared blankly at him and he scurried off again, muttering to himself about youngsters these days.
I’m really not sure how to break it to Claudia, but somehow I’m not sure these men will value my agreement with the recruitment informant in our region. I’m not sure if I’ll be able to go home when I’ve served my time. Oh well. At least there’s some good news: just before I went to bed in our rank dormitory (not much of a dormitory if you ask me, we all sleep on the floor!), I espied my hero who inspired me to embark on this daredevil venture as I was queuing to receive my meagre rations. Who knows, I might even get to meet him! Training starts tomorrow and I’ll be able to show that Doctore Glutious Maximus that I’m not such a ‘scrawny specimen’ after all! Maybe being a Gladiator won’t be so bad in actual fact!
Anyway, after all the anxiety and begging that I’ve put poor Claudia through, I’m determined to do her proud in the ring, even if it be the last time I ever lay my eyes on her sweet face.

Tomorrow is the day that the boys’ families hand in their mail to the post messenger to deliver them back (well, most of them) to the Ludus. I didn’t know what to write, but I managed to compose a passable letter, though of little depth:
Dearest Rufus, (I much prefer Iowan)
I hope you are well and progressing in your training. (I’m so scared for you, I hope you aren’t being too maltreated.)
I’m so proud of you, turning into a fine man and making your fortune. (Why did you do this to me? You might die in this, you’re too young.)
I am well, although I miss you, of course.
(I feel ill when I think of you. How will I survive the extent of your training.)
Come back soon, (Or it might be too late)
Claudia xxx

I don’t know what Iowan is doing right now, but I hope that he is not already regretting his decision to put his life on the line and waste away his childhood.
I’m absolutely dreading his appearance in the games. When I went to the Circus Maximus, I could see the wives of the unfortunate wringing their hands and I winced every time a man tumbled from his chariot. And these are the ones who have a say in whether they do it or not!
I went to my friend Flavia’s house for a light lunch with the female circle in our area, and as the others joked about the Games, I began to feel rather queasy in the stomach region, in fact, I had to made a rather hurried trip to the lavatory.
I think I’ll go to bed now, - maybe the circumstances will look better in the break of morn.

Eugh! As I speedily discovered after my arrival at the Ludus, there is a far less glamorous side to being a gladiator! All the minor recruits (the ‘boys’ and female trainees) have to do all the dirty work for the more senior Gladiators and Doctores. Yesterday I even had to clean out the Lavita’s chamber pot!
However, my Samnite tutor, Marcus Julius, tells me that I excel in my studies and will make a fine gladiator one day when my training is completed and when I remarked that surely it must be too early to tell, he laughed and said that it might not be so long after all till I make my break in the arena.
For the first few days, all we did was awfully tiring exercises to strengthen us up, but as I passed the tests with ease, I was soon promoted to fighting exercises instead. Another boy, a Greek named Aggesus or recruit CII, was promoted at the same time as me, and I know that he dislikes me fiercely for challenging his position as head of the ‘Boys’. It has been decided that I will be a Samnite warrior equipped with a square shield and a short sword, and aromourwise, with a helmet, breastplate and leg shields: the basics to survive in a battle against another of my own skill and strength.
The training exercises consist for the most part of mock swordplay against other recruits, (namely Aggesus who fights with brute strength and short sharp stabs) or dummies made out of cloth. The weapons we use are specially made to be twice as heavy as the ones we will use in the arena so that we will find the weapons lightweight and be able to react and strike with greater speed, or at least that’s what the Doctores tell us when we plead for mercy from the arduous training.
I received a letter from Claudia the day before yesterday and I’ll copy my reply here, and you’ll see that I didn’t say exactly my feelings, although that’s probably best for my guardian’s wellbeing:
 

Dear Claudia (Dearer than you know!)
I’m very well and my training is going wonderfully. (I AM getting fitter, but the conditions are awful and I’m not sure if I’ll make it out alive if I tell the truth.)
Soon I’ll be out in the arena – we won’t be separated for long. (If I don’t die before that’s possible.)
Yours contentedly, (More like desperately!)
Rufus xxx


* * * * *
I’m awfully worried for my hero. He’s to be pitted in the arena in a fight to the death in a weeks’ time. He pays special attention to me in training, always giving me tips and tricks, which I know Aggesus is jealous about to the point of violence, as it must mean I have the promise the be a good fighter when I am older in the arena. I’ll show Aggesus then that skill and cunning can beat brute force anytime!

I can hardly bear to go to the games – I can’t imagine that I used to actually view this monstrosity as a good afternoon’s outing! - and I feel such compassion for those poor souls in the arena, as their crimson blood soaks into the sand. I could hardly bring myself to accompany my dear friend Flavia to the Coliseum but she begged me in such earnest that she could not bear to be there without me that I felt so moved that I simply had to accompany her.
I felt awfully twitchy all the way there and as we went to find somewhere to sit the man at the desk asked me if I was feeling alright – I expect I was a white as a sheet – and twice as nervous. Flavia began to look quite concerned and asked if I wanted to go home. I confirmed , however, that I was quite alright although I clasped her hand tightly as the condemned stepped proudly out into the arena. “We who are about to die salute you!” they chanted, a dull look in their eyes. Then suddenly everything went hazy as I almost fainted from shock and fright!

Today was the eventful day when my hero and self-appointed trainer took to the ring once more in a fight to the death. As I shovelled my cold porridge into my mouth, I wondered if I would ever see him again. However, although nobody would tell me what was going on, by the time I was out in the yard, I was sure something was afoot. The Lavita was hurrying around, watching all the training sessions, with something close to an expression of desperation on his face.
However, another Greek boy told me the rumours that the second most renowned gladiator in the school – set to face Titus Pompeus (my hero) – had succumbed to a close to fatal fever in the night and was, at this moment in the hospital wards. I was just considering who would be chosen as a replacement, when I was dragged out of line by the Lavita himself, telling the Doctore pompously “This one will do!” And I was marched off while I barely had time to drop the pair of weights that I was hefting.
I suddenly found myself face to face with the most renowned gladiator in the school: Titus Pompeus!!!
He looked on with horror as the Lavita confirmed the events of the night and broke the terrible news that I was to face this mountain of muscle in the arena.
As we climbed into the wagon, my head was reeling and I felt rather faint. I was virtually a sacrifice made to maintain my hero’s reputation. I had been training for barely more than a month!
It seemed ironic that my inspiration was to prove my eventual downfall and I began to laugh hysterically at my doomed plight and before I knew it we had arrived at the arena. I strode out, fully armed, onto the sand with as much bravado as I could muster. In the crowd I saw Claudia being fanned and I smiled with grim satisfaction that she should be here to witness my hopefully courageous end. I chanted the salute with resignation, but was determined that I would put up a good fight.
The battle commenced, and the crowds cheering barely reached my ears, past the thudding of my own heart and the clash of metal. He easily parried each shot I made, although I barely noticed the dull ache in my tired arms. I handled my shield with ease, however, and the part of Titus that was still my trainer smiled encouragingly. I thrust viciously at my opponent – but without hope as I knew the end was near.
But as the sweat began to trickle its way in beads down my forehead, I sensed that this was no ordinary fight. I could tell that my opponent was either unwilling to kill me, or that something was badly wrong.
Suddenly I heard a voice in my ear “ I want you to end this for me today, my son.” Then suddenly as his defence dropped, the blow I had been about to make hit its mark with deadly accuracy. My opponent fell still, the blood gushing out of his chest, crimson and accusing against the sand – bringing home what I had just done.
I felt sick with horror as realization flooded home. The red hair so like my own, the special attention…
And now the ending to his message. I stood, struck dumb as I realized that I had just killed all that was unknown yet dear to me.
I had killed that dream that I had nurtured for years.
I had killed my father.
Deaf to the sound of applause, I left the arena, feeling mortified. I was sick on the road and I continued retching although nothing was left to come up.
I went home with Claudia that evening, and although I may have seemed cheerful on the outside, on the inside, that dismay I felt will never disappear. The cold-blooded murder taking place, innocent lives…and all for the sake of entertainment. I knew that I could never think about the games, or myself, in the same way ever again.