A brief pang of nostalgia hit him as he remembered the feasts that had been laid on for his father at the imperial palace. Titus had been highly respected by Emperor Tiberius, Caligula’s predecessor and a military man to the bone. Titus and Tiberius would often relive past glories on the battlefield over jars of honeyed wine late into the evening whilst Pavo played at gladiators with the other children in the palace gardens.

‘Here,’ Bucco said, snapping Pavo out of his daydream and handing him a small ration of gruel. ‘Get stuck in before it’s all gone.’

Pavo looked despondently at his meagre bowl of gruel. A maggot wriggled in the mixture. Pavo felt his stomach churn. ‘I’m not feeling hungry,’ he said, passing the bowl to Bucco, who accepted it with a shrug.

‘Fine by me. More for old Bucco.’

‘How do they expect us to live like this?’ Pavo said quietly.

‘Oh, it’s not all that bad,’ Bucco replied between greedy mouthfuls of gruel. ‘Three square meals a day, a bed to sleep in and the chance to earn a few sestertii. There’s plenty in Rome who’d give anything for that.’

Pavo threw up his hands. ‘You’re right,’ he announced dryly. ‘What am I thinking? I should be grateful for being thrown into a ludus and forced to work myself to the bone every day, feeding on scraps and living with a bunch of criminals and the very dregs of society.’

Bucco looked hurt. Pavo offered a weak smile.

‘Present company excluded, of course,’ he said.

‘Well, you’d better get used to it.’ Bucco finished licking his bowl clean and stifled a belch. ‘Gurges has a reputation as a right vicious bastard. Step out of line and you’ll find yourself being crucified in the arena instead of fighting in it.’

Pavo fell quiet as he mulled over his conversation with the lanista. Gurges had dropped a hint that he might have some leverage with enticing Hermes into the arena. But only if Pavo was victorious against lesser opponents, he presumed. As he made a silent prayer to the gods that he survived long enough to face Hermes, a grim thought occurred to Pavo. His greatest fear wasn’t dying in the arena. It was dying before he had a chance for revenge.

‘Anyway,’ Bucco said. ‘At least you can use a sword. You heard the doctore. I was bloody useless out there. Got the skills of a leper.’

‘Then why join a ludus? You must have had some other means of paying off your debts.’