‘A Roman soldier who’s a show-off, that’s what,’ Amadocus went on, staring viciously at Pavo. ‘Just because you can hit a bit of wood, don’t go around thinking you’re a gladiator. You have to earn this in blood.’ The veteran raised his left wrist to reveal a reddish ‘G’, representing the house of Gurges, branded onto his flesh. Pavo had noticed that all of the veteran gladiators sported the same brand. He had overheard another recruit explain that to receive a branding was an honour bestowed only when a trainee gladiator triumphed in the arena and became a veteran.

The recruit said nothing. Amadocus chuckled as he cupped his hand to his ear and turned it towards Pavo.

‘What’s that, Roman? Something to say?’

Pavo still said nothing.

‘That’s what I thought,’ Amadocus clucked as he stepped closer Pavo’s face. The recruit could smell the foul breath coming off him. ‘A fucking coward. Just like your old man.’

A hot rage burst inside Pavo. He spat into Amadocus’s face, the thick globule catching him on the forehead, sliding down between his eyes and onto his nose. For a moment the veteran was stunned. He took a step back, his muscles palpitating with anger as he wiped the spit away from his face and studied it in the palm of his hand. His eyes were wide and his brow furrowed, as if he couldn’t quite believe what had just happened.

Then he punched Pavo in the stomach. The recruit doubled up in pain and fell forward as Amadocus grabbed Pavo by the nape of his tunic and smashed a knee into his face, the dome of the bone slamming into the bridge of his nose. Agony shot through Pavo’s skull, and he lost his balance abruptly. He dropped to the ground, and a flurry of hard feet to his chest and abdomen winded him further. He rolled onto his front, curling up into a tight ball to shield himself from the repeated wave of blows. Each time he tried scrabbling to his feet, another hit thudded down on the small of his back and struck him like a hammer. His face was smeared with the foul hay that had been raked across the canteen floor. His nostrils were violated by the thick stench of sweat and piss.

‘Spit on me, will you!’ Amadocus fumed above the pounding between his temples. ‘I’ll teach you some manners you little prick!’