‘Get up!’ Macro boomed. Pavo tried to say something between snatches of breath but the soldier cut him short. ‘The first rule of fighting is you never fall over. If you’re on your arse, you’re good as dead.’

Pavo wearily struggled to his feet.

‘Ten more laps,’ Macro said.

‘Ten?’ Pavo sputtered. ‘But—’

‘Faster this time! Put some bloody sweat into it.’

Pavo keeled over, his hands on his knees and spittle dangling from his lips. His shield weighed heavily in his left hand while his right was burdened by the pigskin. His wrist tendons burned with the stress of holding both objects upright, and the pain twisted his shoulder muscles into excruciating knots.

‘We never trained like this in the legions, sir,’ he rasped. ‘Not with all this bloody kit.’

‘I didn’t learn this in the Second,’ Macro replied. ‘I learned it when I was a boy. Four or five years younger than you. I had the good fortune to be trained by a retired gladiator. He taught me a few tricks of the trade.’

Pavo snatched at the air. ‘What was his name?’

‘Draba of Ethiopia. Bloody good swordsman.’

‘Never heard of him.’

‘Pity. You could have learned a lot from that man. He’s not around anymore. But I am. I’m going to pass on to you what he told to me. If you know what’s good for you, you’ll take every word to heart.’

Between gasped breaths Pavo spat on the ground. ‘In case it escaped your notice, optio, I received plenty of sword training in my own youth, and from a gladiator far more famous than your Draba. Felix was one of the best fighters of his era. And he never had me running up and down, over and bloody over.’

Macro shook his head patiently. ‘Whatever Felix taught you isn’t going to help in the arena. Capito fought like a true gladiator against Britomaris and lost. What you need is to forget the basic principles of gladiator combat. As I said, we have to work on a new way of winning against the barbarian. You see, Draba’s skill wasn’t just with a sword. It was with his feet. His movement meant that he’d tire his opponent before he stabbed them.’

Pavo cocked his head inquisitively at Macro. ‘Why did you receive instruction from a gladiator?’

‘Let’s just say I had a score to settle, and Draba helped me do it. Now get a move on!’