Bucco harrumphed. ‘Don’t count on it. Ten thousand sestertii might not sound like so much to someone born into class like you, but that’s a lot of money for a man like me. It’d take a soldier the best part of twelve years to pay off that kind of sum. And I’m no soldier. I don’t have a brain for numbers, and I don’t fancy collecting piss for a living,’ he said, referring to the fullers who collected jugs filled with urine for cleaning togas. ‘On top of that, I’ve got a wife and two boys back in Ostia, so that’s three mouths to feed. All in all, I didn’t have a lot of options, all right?’

‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to judge.’

Bucco sighed. ‘Forget it. Not your fault I’m here, is it?’

‘Your sons – how old are they?’

‘Papirius is seven, Salonius is four.’ Bucco stared wistfully at his empty bowl, lost in thought. ‘They’re good boys. The little ’un wants to be a soldier when he grows up. Says he wants to conquer Britain all by himself.’

‘I have a son of my own,’ Pavo said. ‘Or I did,’ he added quietly. He moved on quickly, before Bucco could ask about Appius and open the still-sore wound. ‘It must be hard for them to see their father in a gladiator school.’

‘Well, I don’t imagine I’ll be here for very long,’ Bucco replied casually.

‘Oh?’ Pavo raised his eyebrows at Bucco. ‘I hate to point it out to you, Bucco, but it’ll take you a long time before you’ve got enough money to settle your debts in full. Even with the signing-on fee, that still leaves you short by six thousand sestertii.’

Bucco lowered his voice and tapped the side of his nose furtively. ‘Between you and me, I’ve got a plan for settling up sooner rather than later.’

Pavo puckered his brow. ‘What are you talking about?’

The volunteer leaned in to Pavo, a slovenly grin stretched across his flabby jowls. ‘I’ve got a friend on the outside,’ he said. ‘He’s going to lay down money on the fights. Big money. What with me being in the ludus, I can give him insider information on the form and ability of the gladiators. Injuries, training, that sort of thing. Trust me, Pavo, I’m going to make a killing! With a bit of luck I’ll buy my way out of here before the year is out.’

‘What if you get caught?’ the recruit asked.