In 1996 a team of archaeologists digging outside the walls of a Roman cemetery in London’s Southwark discovered the cremated remains of a woman in her twenties. Her grave goods included a meal for the journey to the afterlife and the remains of the meal her mourners had eaten gathered around her for the last time. Her burial was strewn with pine kernels, an expensive import from the Middle East, and the grave goods included a pottery oil lamp depicting a Roman gladiator. This lamp and the place and style of burial led the archaeological team to make the, perhaps, excessive deductive leap that she was a female gladiator and therefore deprived of normal rights, described by her first century AD contemporaries as infamis (disreputable). It could simply have been that she had loved gladiators and followed their exploits in the Londinium arena on the site of the present London Guildhall. Or she may have brought shame on her family by having an affair with a gladiator, even eloping, which would also explain her burial outside society. One-night stands or affairs with gladiators were far from unusual, even amongst members of the imperial family.
Gladiators were an ancient Roman equivalent of today’s superstars of sport and entertainment. When the gladiatorial barracks at Pompeii were excavated from the volcanic ash which had buried the town in AD 79, a locked room was found to contain the skeleton of one apparently high-ranking woman and eight male gladiators. This is just one piece of evidence of their attractiveness to female fans, their amatores.
Gladiators’ faces and images appeared on cheap domestic goods sold outside the amphitheatres to eager enthusiasts wanting to see the image of their hero on everything from glass beakers to oil lamps. Like children today, one could even own an action figure, albeit in terracotta, of one’s favourite gladiator. So the burial site and the lamp are by no means conclusive evidence that this young woman was a gladiator. Moreover, the bone fragments recovered are too small and too badly burned to reveal anything of the life she led. But it is historical fact that there were female gladiators. There is archaeological evidence – a relief from Harlicarnassus (now Bodrum, Turkey) shows two in combat with their names, Amazonia and Achilia, engraved beneath them. There is evidence in literature – in the reign of Emperor Nero it became common to see noblewomen, presumably jaded by their easy lives, in the arena. Juvenal, the satyrical poet, poured scorn on these female gladiators, not just because they disgraced their position in society, but because of what he saw as the ridiculous notion of women fighting.
‘How can a woman be decent, Sticking her head in a helmet, denying the sex she was born with?
Manly feats they adore, but they shouldn’t want to be men.
What honour for a husband to see his dead wife’s effects put up for auction,
Belts, shin guards, arm protectors and plumes,
To look at the rolls of bandage and tape that made her legs look like tree trunks!’
If this young lady was a professional gladiator she would have been regarded as on a level with prostitutes, ‘one who sells her body for cash’, infamis, not to be trusted. But what was the world she would have been part of? How did gladiators originate and become so significant a feature of Roman life, for everyone from the lowliest slave to Caesar.
It was originally believed that the tribes that came together to form Rome adopted the Etruscan funerary rite of sacrificing prisoners to accompany the souls of the departed to the underworld. A more recent view is that prisoners or slaves were indeed forced to fight, but more to honour those that had died and act as a reminder of the loss suffered by the Roman nation. By the time of the empire gladiatorial shows had become the established way of commemorating the dead of the past year. These took place at the time of the annual festival of Saturnalia, when, amongst other things, Romans took time to look back and reflect on recent bereavements. Dispensable slaves shed their blood as a reminder. The popularity of these private shows with the townspeople at large led to their transformation into mass entertainment. In one city the people would not allow the funeral of a local dignitary to take place until his relatives had organised a suitable public show. At least the fighters drawn to oppose each other in that instance were adults. On another occasion a wealthy citizen had provided in his will for a gladiatorial combat to commemorate his greatness and the fighters were to be all the young boys he had loved. With unusual sensitivity, the people annulled this part of the will.
Writing to a mother who had lost her new-born boy, the satyrical writer Juvenal suggested by way of comfort that she should not grieve too much as her son might have grown up to gamble away his money and become a gladiator to make ends meet. This idea of a desperate son from a good family throwing in his lot with a visiting troupe of gladiators is not as extreme as it might sound. Records exist of men from all social classes volunteering for the profession. Sissines, who fought as a gladiator at Amastris on the Black Sea, did so to raise 10,000 drachma, a lot of money, for a good friend who had suffered a bad debt. As a teenager the Emperor Commodus (the villain of the film Gladiator) was so captivated by the sport that he enrolled in one of Rome’s gladiator schools, where trumpeters would herald his arrival every morning. Others were drawn by the prospect of getting their hands on the sizeable praemium (prize money), the collection raised for the victors from the terraces of the amphitheatre. Inevitably there were also recruits who joined up for the adventure and the glamour (every nice girl loves a gladiator!). Women would voluntarily have become gladiators for similar reasons.
For every volunteer, however, it has been estimated that at least ten were pressed into this savage and tough profession. These unfortunates were usually drawn from the ranks of prisoners of war, or enslaved captives from conquered tribes. Lanistae, the managers of gladiatorial troupes, would keep a close eye on the slave markets looking out for merchandise with the right build and bone structure, fitness and fighting experience. The lanistae were despised even more than their charges. In the empire they were known as ‘Death’s middle men’ and they had often been gladiators themselves. In an effort to elevate himself in society one described himself as ‘the business manager of a gladiatorial troupe’. A lanista would generally assemble teams on behalf of rich clients. Cicero, the great lawyer and politician writing to his rich friend Atticus, praised him on his team: ‘What a fine troupe you have bought. I hear your gladiators are fighting splendidly. If you had cared to hire them out you would have cleared all your expenses on the last two shows you gave.’
For the pressed gladiators, bought in the slave markets and thrown into the new surroundings of the barracks, there would initially be no pride or camaraderie. In the first few weeks of captivity these dispirited souls were kept under 24-hour watch to prevent them committing suicide. The politician Symachus attempted to organise a show to further his career in the fourth century AD. He had assembled a team of fighters and bitterly complained in a letter that his 29 best Germans had used the cover of night to strangle each other, rather than fight. Shockingly, the last of the number, rather than remain alive, was willing to beat his own head against the wall until he died. Symachus appeared to have no feeling for the misery his political aspirations were responsible for. He merely observed that ‘no guards, however efficient could restrain that desperate race’. Another deperate and lonely soul, not wishing to fight in the arena, rammed a sponge (the Roman equivalent of toilet paper) down his throat and choked himself to death.
Reluctance to take the gladiatorial oath, ‘uri, vinciri, verberari, ferroque necari’ (to be burned, chained, beaten with rods and killed by iron), is entirely understandable in the light of the vicious regime of training gladiators had to undergo. Trainees, tirones, were forced by their doctores, the ex-gladiators now serving as instructors, to build up their upper body strength by continuous sword slashes against the palus. This two-metre high wooden post was set into the training field. In this initial training period the lanistae would assess the individual qualities of their new stock. The decision to train them as different types of gladiator would be taken at this stage.
Gladiators were, at least in the first century AD, divided into a number of specialist groups. These originated in mythology and history. There was the griffin-crested threx, or Thracian fighter, with his curved-blade sica and the spear-armed hoplomachus (heavy-armed fighter, like the Greek hoplite). There were the saggitarii (archers), armed with reflex bows, who would shoot at each other across the arena, and the bizarre andabatae, who slashed wildly at one another, effectively blindfold, with no eyeholes in their helmets!
Common images of gladiators show two particular types however. Heavily influenced by the goggle-eyed form of the sea bass, in Greek mormylos, was the dorsal fin-crested fighter the myrmillo. He was armed with a legionary style scutum (shield) and a straight infantry-style gladius (sword). When dressed in protective padding and armour he became an otherworldly, masked fish-man. He was paired against his natural earthly enemy, the fisherman. This bare-headed fighter carried a three metre-wide rete (net) and a two-metre fascina (trident). Called the retiarius, the net-man, he was usually the most mobile of the gladiators in the arena. He carried no shield but wore bronze plate armour to protect his neck and left shoulder from slashing blade attacks by his adversary. The fish iconography is reinforced in an example found in the 18th-century excavations at the gladiatorial barracks of Pompeii which was embossed with anchors and crabs. The retiarius was not disadvantaged by this limited protection, however. The rete was weighted at the edges with lead to help it spread when thrown. The weights gave the added advantage that the retiarius could use his net offensively in various ways, for example, whipping, tripping up or blinding opponents with the weighted edge. Together with the two metre-long fascina, the retiarius was effectively armed but if he lost one or the other he was at a severe disadvantage. Training ironed out the complexities in the use of these weapons and taught effective and entertaining moves to counter an opponent. In particular the retiarius was trained to drop his trident’s prongs into the sand when throwing the net. If it became snagged on the barbs he would be at the mercy of a fast and well-trained opponent.
At all times in training pressed recruits used blunt wooden weapons. After the revolt of Spartacus in 73 BC the public feared that other rebellious gladiators would break out from their barracks and launch a similar revolt across the empire, so only the rudis, the wooden sword of the tiro, was issued in the barracks. Real weapons were given to the more trustworthy volunteers who were thought to be less of a threat than their pressed fellow fighters. For most of the tirones it seems that the first time they were issued with a real weapon was just before stepping out onto the harena, the fine sand of the amphitheatre, for the first time.
Gladiators in training were, contrary to generally held views, cared for relatively well. There are records of lanistae employing masseuses, called unctores, to keep their muscles toned and physicians whose job it was to create special body-building and energy diets for their charges, as well as caring for their wounds and other health problems. Galen of Pergamon, whose theories on the circulation of the blood and ‘humours’ were unchallenged until the 16th century, was a gladiatorial physician early in his medical career. He boasted that he could save any gladiator from death through injury in the training schools. However, as in any strict military training there was punishing discipline to keep the rebellious in check. At the barracks in Pompeii a cell was found with a set of manacles to take the legs of up to eight men. The ceiling was too low for a grown man to stand up, even taking into account the average 1.7-metre height of the Roman military skeletons found at the waterside excavations in nearby Herculaneum. Verbal and psychological abuse would have been commonplace together with the typical bullying of the tough drill sergeant. Female recruits would have had to endure the same harsh regime as their male comrades.
Pliny the Elder complained at one time that the standard of the newest gladiatorial recruits was so poor that none of them could face a sword being shaken in their faces without blinking! However, the lanistae and the editores, the politically powerful and influential men who funded the shows, had an interest in keeping their charges in good health. Petronius, the playwright, has his character Echion extolling the virtues of his friend Titus. ‘I’m a close friend of his and know he does nothing by halves. He’ll give us cold steel, no quarter and a slaughterhouse out there in the middle where everyone can see it.’ Later in the same passage the character gives an insight into the reality of buying political votes by staging shows: ‘If he really does it, he’ll make off with all of Norbanus’ votes. I tell you, he’ll win at a canter!’
Gladiatorial audiences craved new and exciting fighters, male and female, and would be highly critical if a show was poor or the gladiators looked unfit or dispirited. Echion gives his partisan view on Norbanus’ last effort to influence the voting public. ‘After all, what has Norbanus done for us? I’ve seen animal killers fight better. One boy had a bit of spirit; he was in Thracian armour but even he didn’t show any initiative. They were all flogged afterwards – and there were shouts of “Give them what for” from the crowd!’
If a gladiatorial show had been paid for by an aspiring politician and it failed to impress his prospective voters, it might just cost him his political career. Symachus, the fourth-century political aspirant, bemoaned the fact that the leopards bought for the morning’s venatio (beast hunt) were undernourished and weak. History doesn’t record how he fared in the elections but for centuries politicians had invested in the games to win over the Roman mob, who demanded gladiators skilled in the fighting arts, entertaining and full of star quality and sex appeal.
Lanistae appear to have allowed women to go freely in and out of the barracks, either to entertain the gladiators or, in the case of the upper class and wealthy, to use them for their pleasure. The gladiatorial barrack cells at Pompeii are decorated with lewd graffiti discussing the individual qualities of the local brothel’s merchandise. These liaisons may also have led to marriages and certainly led to lasting relationships. In Lincoln, England, a fragment of pot was found inscribed with the words ‘Lucius the Gladiator loves Verecunda the actress’ and worn as a charm; of course Verecunda may have had a different profession! It seems to have been regarded as unwise for gladiators to marry whilst in training for the good reason that death could break apart such a union at the next fight. A poem written in the first century gives a broken-hearted insight into such a loss:
Alas, myrmillo, at the command of a proud man,
You have gone amongst the net fighters
Gripping your sword in strong hands, your sole weapon.
And now you have left me in my anguish and alone.
Gladiators are known to have fathered children; rumours were even put about that Commodus was the natural son of a gladiator rather than of Marcus Aurelius. Gladiator fathers were allowed to mourn if their children died. In at least one case, fellow fighters contributed to the funeral of the daughter of a fellow fighter. This is one illustration of how gladiators, male and female, could become linked by a strong camaraderie.
There is evidence that suggests that gladiators, once settled into their lifestyle and with a few victories under their belts, would be eager to step into the arena again. A young myrmillo is reported by Seneca, the first-century playwright and tutor to Nero, as bitterly complaining that ‘his time is being wasted’ because the Emperor Tiberius had reduced the number of shows in an Imperial cost-cutting exercise. Even when there were fewer shows, gladiators were unwilling to fight opponents ranked lower than them.
Ranking was measured in terms of victories won. The editor of the games would usually have the ultimate decision over the life or death of a fighter but in the shows he put on in the Colosseum the emperor would often hand over the decision to the spectators. Beaten fighters, even when suffering terrible injuries, were not necessarily in danger of losing their lives at the whim of the mob. They could be pronounced missus, spared from death, if they had impressed the audience by their bravery, spirit and fighting style. Contrary to general belief, sustained by Hollywood, thumbs down indicated that a life should be spared. A sharp jab to the neck with a cry of ‘jugulum!’ (throat) signified death. It was not unusual to find two gladiators both fully able to fight on after the summa rudis (referee) had stopped the fight. He would generally do this after fifteen minutes or so if neither swordsman had achieved a discernible advantage. Then the editor would declare the fight stans missus, a draw.
In their trade, where death could come swiftly and publicly, gladiators became very superstitious. The multi-faith religion of the empire gave the opportunity to worship any number of gods. At the excavated and partially restored barracks at Pompeii small niches in the cell walls were host to gods and heroes such as Hercules, Mars and Diana. A curse tablet found at Caerleon, Wales, reads simply: ‘Lady Nemesis, I dedicate to thee this cloak and pair of boots. Let him who wears them not redeem them except with his life’s blood!’
Gladiators had good reason to fear that the fates were against them. Before a show the lanista would lay on an extravagant feast for his troop, the cena libera. Here the trainee tirones, new to the horrors of the arena, might give way to lamentation and woeful excesses. Celts, however, were reported to gorge themselves whilst Greek fighters took the opportunity to say goodbye to their friends whilst eating very little in case it affected their fighting ability the next day. As the meal progressed, the public would study the fighters and note their individual characteristics. Betting was rife in the stands and such information might prove valuable in the next morning’s gambling.
On the day of the games the gladiators would eat their morning meal, facing each other over a large refectory table. Those who were to fight might all be drawn from the local gladiator school. Thus, as they travelled by chariot to the amphitheatre, they would know they were going to be fighting against a comrade, even a friend, whom they had trained with and lived alongside, and were now expected to kill.
Spectators would have started arriving at the amphitheatre from inside the town and beyond before sunrise. At the entrance to the amphitheatre in Pompeii a large open space, protected from the Mediterranean sun by tall cedar trees, was kept for market stalls selling gladiatorial goods of all kinds, as well as food and drink. Programmes were on sale listing the fighters who would appear that day. The poet Ovid suggested that borrowing a programme was a good way to meet a young woman, though anyone doing so after the reign of Augustus would have difficulty returning it to its owner once inside the amphitheatre as the Emperor had ordered that the sexes be segregated. The day’s entertainment began with the venatio, the beast hunt. This was roughly similar to a present-day bullfight, but exotic and often very dangerous wild animals were used. It lasted several hours. For the Romans this was not senseless killing but symbolised the superior power of Rome over wild barbarian lands.
With freshly laid sand obscuring the blood spilled in the venatio, noxii, condemned criminals, provided the next entertainment. Not every kind of criminal suffered this fate. The penalty was reserved for various crimes including certain types of murder, for example parricide, rape, temple robbery and arson. Christians were charged with arson for their prophecy that the world would end in an all-consuming fire and found guilty of a crime that had not yet been committed! Noxii were often forced to fight against each other in a messy hacking match, the last man standing being spared to be thrown back in prison and kept until the next mid-morning show. Occasionally fully armed gladiators would take on the untrained noxii and massacre them gregatim, ‘in flocks’, in a representation of a set-piece battle. Grander spectators would miss the execution of the noxii and only take their premium seats in time for the highlight of the show, the gladiators.
If our woman from the excavations at London was indeed a gladiator it was at this point that she would have made her entrance. Dressed in the purple gladiatorial cloak she and her fellows circled the arena, their names on boards or flags carried by assistants and armour bearers. A relief from Pompeii shows this pompa (grand procession) in clear detail but it is not known whether the elaborately decorated helmets in the Naples Museum were used only as parade armour or were actually fought in. After the composito, the drawing of pairs to fight, our Amazonia or Achilia would have waited her turn before being announced by the praeco (herald) and stepping out on the bloody sand. How she died is as unknown as her name, or anything else about her.
by Stephen Wisdom
Further reading
Auguet, Roland, Cruelty and Civilization: The Roman Games, Routledge, London, 1994
Byock, Jesse (Ed.), Martial in English, Penguin, Harmondsworth, 1996
Grant, Michael, Gladiators, Penguin, 2000
Junkelmann, Dr Marcus, Das Spiel mit dem Todt – Roms Gladitoren im Experiment, Philip Von Zabern, 2000
Juvenal, Sixteen Satires, Penguin, Harmondsworth, 1998
Kohne, Eckhart, and Ewigleben, Cornelia (eds.),
The Power of Spectacle in Ancient Rome, University of California Press, 2000
Ovid, The Erotic Poems, Penguin, 1996
Petronius, The Satyricon, Penguin, Harmondsworth, 1997
Pliny, The Letters of the Younger Pliny, Penguin, Harmondsworth, 1997
Wiedemann, Thomas, Emperors and Gladiators, Routledge, 1995
Wisdom, Stephen, Warrior 39: Gladiators, Osprey, Oxford, 2001