Bucco licked his lips as he drew near to the cookhouse entrance. Pavo peered inside and looked on longingly as several slaves toiled over a side of pork hanging above a large grill. He feasted his eyes on bowls of sweet figs, grilled mushrooms layered with cheese, and a mouth-watering assortment of pickled fruit, all carefully arranged on silver trays, together with cakes that were dripping with honey and a large bunch of freshly picked grapes. His empty belly rumbled with hunger.

‘Let’s get stuck in,’ Bucco said to Pavo.

‘Hold it.’ A guard gripped Bucco by the shoulder. ‘Where do you think you’re going?’

‘To eat.’ Bucco gestured to the cookhouse. ‘What does it look like?’

The guard sniggered.

‘This isn’t for scum like you,’ he said. ‘That’s the lanista’s dinner they’re preparing.’

Before the men could protest, the guard brusquely shoved them beyond the cookhouse and further down the corridor. They passed a heavily guarded armoury sealed off with a wrought iron gate. Armour and swords gleamed on wall racks. The guards stopped the recruits when they reached a dark, damp room at the end of the corridor, located next to the stairs that led up to the cells on the second storey of the ludus.

‘This is where you lot eat,’ the guard grinned as he waved a hand around the canteen.

A powerful stench of manure hit Pavo as he realized the canteen was right next to the stables. Straw had been scattered across the floor, and from its damp, rotten texture, he guessed it had already been used in the stables. Pavo spotted cockroaches scuttling across the floor. Blowflies buzzed in the air. The other recruits scuttled towards the far end of the canteen, where a cook with teeth like old tombs poured small rations of barley gruel into clay bowls.

Pavo felt his heart sink at the sight of the squalor. There were two trestle tables with a pair of benches either side taken up by the veterans. The recruits had to content themselves with squatting on the floor. Many seemed accustomed to their surroundings, ignoring the insects crawling over their legs and the rancid smell. Pavo supposed these men had grown up as slaves and were familiar with such appalling living conditions. At the roll call that morning he’d been surprised to discover that Bucco was the only volunteer recruit. Eighteen of the other men were runaway slaves and four had been accused of murder. Laws introduced by Augustus and reinforced by subsequent emperors had attempted to rein in the number of volunteer gladiators, and the fact that most of the men around Pavo came from a much lower station only increased his sense of isolation.