Those About to Die

by Daniel Pratt Mannix

  "The women will be quiet, I promise you," said the rabbi calmly.

  "Well, see that they are. Remember you've got nobility sitting in those boxes and just the jewels they're wearing are worth more than the whole lot of you. Nothing personal, you understand, just stating a fact. All right, now here's what you've got to do. Stand quiet and spread out some so you don't form a compact mass. Then move your hands slightly and sway your bodies a little; just enough so the lions know you're alive. Once they realize that you're alive but not dangerous, they'll charge. Remember, no quick motions or loud noises. Easy does it."

  "I understand," said the rabbi. He turned and translated. The people listened despairingly. A new volley of questions went up and the rabbi asked of Carpophorus, "How do we know that you will keep your word and spare the children?"

  "You don't," said Carpophorus frankly. "But what have you got to lose? The kids will be killed anyhow."

  The rabbi said sadly, "It is true," and addressed the people. More cries and sobs went up while Carpophorus listened with increasing restlessness. Finally the rabbi said, "Select the children you will spare, if being sold into slavery is to spare them" He turned away, unwilling to watch the sight.

  Carpophorus approached the crowd. The worried mothers pushed their children forward, anxiously smoothing their hair in place, wiping their noses, and trying to twitch their rags into some semblance of neatness. Carpophorus made his selections rapidly. The mothers clung to the children, rejected and selected alike, sobbing over them while the children stared at Carpophorus curiously and tried to finger his soft tunic and glittering belt buckle.

  Carpophorus called the guard and told him to make sure that the two groups didn't mix. Then he went to find the Master of the Games.

  The Master was supervising the rebuilding of the inner barrier. This time the barrier was constructed of plaster boulders to represent the Masada hills. A model of the prin­cipal city, originally built by Herod the Great about 50 B.C., was cleverly incorporated among the artificial rocks. The scenery used in the shows was so elaborate that not even the vast storehouses under the Colosseum could hold it, and these props had been kept in rooms under the Temple of Venus nearby. The lions would enter the arena through openings among the rocks as though issuing from their lairs. The remnants of the Meridiani were still fighting in the arena to amuse the mob while the work was going on.

  Carpophorus explained his deal with the Jewish prisoners and the Master nodded abstractedly while watching the work.

  "That's all right. We'll still have plenty of prisoners to make a good show. The extra children can be killed by baboons later. Are many of them little girls?"

  Carpophorus fidgeted uncomfortably. "I promised the old priest that I'd have them sold as slaves."

  "You promised? Do you think a damn bestiarius is running this arena?"

  "I swore to them by my gods."

  "Well, unswear then. Do you think an oath to rebels counts with the gods?"

  "Why not? I'm a Roman freeman. Before the gods, my oath is as good as the emperor's."

  The Master looked at him curiously. "You're not getting soft in your old age, are you? All right, I'll see what I can do. But remember that I'm running an arena here, not a slave market. Start loading the lions into the barrier wall"

  Carpophorus glanced up at the stands. The podium was filling up again as the patricians returned from their noonday meal. The Master shouted to the Meridiani: "Finish it up there, or I'll get some action out of you with the hot irons." Carpophorus went off to attend to the loading.

  The lions were kept in far better quarters than the prisoners. The cells that contained them (still visible in the Colosseum) were inside the podium wall but below the level of the arena. Each cell was about eight feet deep and seven feet square. A water channel ran before the cells so the animals were sure of a constant supply of fresh water. The lead pipes and bronze turnkeys of these systems are still functional.

  Directly above the cells and on a level with the arena floor were a series of passageways so the slaves could race around on their various chores without disturbing the beasts. From these upper passageways down to the cells were narrow openings through which burning straw could be thrust into the animals' cells to force the inmates out into the lower passageways. From hence they were driven up ramps, covered with herringbone paving to give the animals a better grip, to the arena.

  Carpophorus went to the second level to check the cells. The door of each cell was an iron grill that could be swung back on a hinge against the wall of the lower passageway. The door was nearly as big as the whole side of the cell so that the animal, panic-stricken by the burning straw, would have no trouble finding the opening and be able to rush out into the passageway before he got badly burned or suffocated by the smoke. As soon as he was out of the cell, the iron grill door was slammed shut after him and the movable barrier was shoved along the passageway, forcing him up the ramp toward the arena. By this system, a whole line of cells could be opened almost simultaneously by slaves sta­tioned by each door and then the animals rushed to the arena. How the slaves caught between the animals and the movable barrier got out of the way in time I haven't been able to figure out. Probably a lot of times they didn't. But slaves were cheap.

  Carpophorus didn't want to keep the lions in the cramped spaces provided for them in the barrier cages any longer than was absolutely necessary. On the other hand, as soon as Domitian returned from lunch and settled himself in the royal box, he would give the signal for the afternoon games to begin, and those lions had better start pouring out of the barrier wall when he waved his royal hand. As Carpo­phorus went along the passageways, he passed slaves standing by the massive bronze sockets (still there) which held the windlasses to haul cages up the ramps and work the elevators. After making sure that the slaves were ready with the straw in the upper passageway and that there was a man by each grill in the lower section, Carpophorus returned to the arena level. The patricians were back in the podium, including the foreign nobility who had obviously taken advantage of the break to get well liquored up. The young editor was also in his box. Carpophorus reflected that the young patrician looked in worse shape than did the Jews who'd spent a week in the underground cells.

  A frantic slave rushed to him. "Where in Venus' name have you been? The Master of the Games is furious. The emperor is coming through the passage that leads to the Baths of Titus and the lions aren't in place. The Master says that if you don't..."

  Carpophorus didn't wait to hear the rest. The emperors had had three underground passageways built for their con­venience, connecting the Colosseum with the palace, the baths, and the Lateran hill. You never knew which one they'd use. As Carpophorus raced down the passageway he shouted to the slaves in the lower level to open the cell doors. Imme­diately came the clang of the iron gratings being flung back and the slaves in the upper passageway fired their straw and thrust it down the holes.

  From below came roars, snarls and strangled gasps as the burning straw fell into the cells, then the crash of the grills being slammed shut followed by the creak of the barrier being pushed forward and fresh snarls from the desperate animals. The lions were being herded onto movable platforms like freight elevators that would take them up inside the inner barrier in the arena. As the lions from each line of cells were pushed onto the platforms by the movable barrier behind them, the slave gang boss gave the signal, the slaves started turning the windlasses, and the animals were hoisted up inside the line of artificial rocks above them.

  A slave watched from an opening in the podium wall gave Carpophorus a running commentary on what was going on above. "The emperor's coming into his box. He's stopped to speak to the Lady Livia. Now he's waving to the crowd. Now he's talking to that pinheaded kid he takes around with him. Now he's getting ready to sit down."

  Carpophorus ran out through the Door of Death and dived into an opening in the plaster boulders. The lions were in the cages prepared for them, the movable platfo
rms composing the cage floors. Now the lions had to be sprung out of these cages into the arena when the signal came.

  Meanwhile, the Jewish prisoners had been introduced by another elevator into the model of the city which they had once called home. When Domitian gave the signal for the afternoon games to begin, the Jews opened doors in the sides of the model and stepped out into the glare of the arena. As Carpophorus had directed, they had been covered with animal skins. The captives were greeted by boos, insulting shouts, and cries. "Circumcised dogs! Traitors! Now see if your God can save you. Let out the lions!"

  The backs of the cages in the artificial hill were movable and could be pushed forward to force the lions out into the arena. Doors were opened among the rocks and as the cage backs were shoved in, the lions began to pour onto the sand. Carpophorus watched anxiously through a peephole.

  The lions slunk rather than walked into the arena or ran with great leaps along the sides of the inner barrier, looking for some way to escape. Several of them sprang up, hung to the plaster rocks for a few seconds with their claws, and then fell back. Occasionally a lion running around the circle would suddenly turn and bump into the lion following. There would be angry snarls, lightning-like blows with the great paws and then the contestants would back away from each other to resume their anxious pacing. A few of them approached the crowd of people standing in the middle of the arena, studied them for a moment, and then turned away.

  The children still with the group had begun to cry and several of the women had fainted. Some of the men were trying to sing a hymn but their voices faltered at the sight of the terrible beasts around them and the sound died away. A lioness circled the group nervously, unsure what to do. Carpophorus saw the old rabbi step forward and move his hands slightly as he had been instructed to do. The lioness only backed away. A young male with an orange mane had been scratching in the sand, either trying to find water or because he scented blood under the clean sand which had been spread over the arena after the last of the Meridiani had been dragged out. He looked up and snarled at the rabbi. The rabbi took a few steps forward. After all, Carpophorus reflected, there was no reason why he shouldn't want to get the business over. What the people were suffering now was far worse than death.

  The lion crouched down. Carpophorus watched the animal's tail. The man swayed slightly from side to side. Suddenly the tip of the lion's tail began to twitch. It's coming, it's coming, thought Carpophorus. Another step forward will do it. Why don't you take another step, you fool? He was tempted to shout to the man but restrained himself. His voice might frighten the lion.

  Then he saw the lion gather himself together for the charge, digging in with his claws to get better purchase. The rabbi swayed again. So sudden was the lion's attack that he was on the man before Carpophorus saw him leave the ground. The rabbi fell and a scream went up from the crowd. The lion grabbed the man by the waist and ran with him as easily as a cat carrying a mouse, trying to find some secluded spot where he could eat in peace. A young black-maned lion from Nubia rushed forward and seized the man by the head. The woman screamed again.

  At the scent of blood, the other lions became restless. A lioness charged the closely packed group, bounded into the air and came down into the middle of them, striking blindly left and right. Two half-grown males, possibly her cubs, followed her. The crowd scattered like sheep when a collie rushes into their midst. The lions lashed out at them as they passed, more in fear than from hunger. A scream and a woman was down. Another scream and a child fell, his head smashed by one fearful blow. A full-grown male reared up and seized one of the men. The man's whole head vanished in the jaws. A woman was dragging herself across the arena with a half-grown cub clinging to her leg. The cub was shaking his head and growling, trying to pull the woman down.

  Now Carpophorus could hear the insane, unnatural yelling of the crowd. As Petronius, the Arbiter of Elegance, remarked contemptuously, "These rag-pickers enjoy their carnival of blood" This yelling was not the usual cheering of an excited crowd during a chariot race, or the enthusiastic cries that greeted a skillful exhibition of swordplay. The pitch of the crowd's voices changed as does the cry of a pack of hounds when they see their quarry in front of them. Carpophorus knew that when the mob was in this mood, men and women had been known to hurl themselves into the arena in a frenzy of excitement and drink from the pools of blood on the sand. He knew that women in the stands were tearing long gashes in their cheeks with their fingernails and men were beating on the marble seats with their clenched fists until their hands were raw. The dull, pointless existence of the Roman mob would be unbearable unless their emotions were given some vent. For this purpose, the games existed. Death, torture, blood were the only spectacles that could really gratify the people's basic longing. They became drunk on suffering. Death and sex were the only emotions that they could still really grasp. The sight of a lion tearing a screaming woman apart gratified both instincts.

  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 we
re 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.