Proximo never missed training for the new boys. He could learn so much about them.

The more experienced gladiators trained against each other, working with swords and spears and with shields and armor.

The new ones were put together into a small arena in the center. One by one they were given heavy wooden swords and sent in to face the teacher. He had a similar sword.

Proximo watched from a short distance. Very quickly his trained eye could sort the new class into two groups. The fighters were marked with red paint, and the others with yellow.

Haken enjoyed his job as gladiator teacher. He took great pleasure in knocking away the swords of his new students and then hitting them hard so they fell onto the dirt. It was soon Maximus's turn to face Haken.

"Spaniard," Haken called to him.

Maximus went forward slowly. Proximo watched more closely, to see what would happen.

Maximus picked up the sword and stood facing Haken. Suddenly everyone, especially Haken, saw that this man was a fighter. There was something about the way he held the sword, the way he stood-but most of all there were his eyes. There was no doubt-he knew how to fight.

Maximus lifted the sword and then dropped it to the ground. He seemed to be saying, "I could kill, but I choose not to."

Haken was surprised. Was this an insult? He looked to Proximo for orders. Proximo made a sign to him to continue.

Haken struck Maximus across the stomach. Maximus fell forward but then stood straight again and faced him.

Haken looked again to Proximo, and again he was told to continue.

This time Haken struck Maximus across his wounded arm. Maximus almost fell to the ground but managed to stay on his feet. All the time he stared straight at Haken, who was becoming very angry. Maximus's thoughts were clear: "I may be low, but I'm not as low as you. I won't kill for sport."

Proximo found it very interesting. Haken lifted the sword again, ready to hurt Maximus really badly, but Proximo stopped him. "That's enough for now" he said. "His time will come." He looked behind him to the servant with the pots of paint. "Mark that one," he said.

***

In the heat of the late afternoon Haken, Juba, the Greek, and the other new gladiators sat on the ground in the shadows.

Maximus lay by the wall to one side. He had a small, sharp stone and was using it to try to remove the letters SPQR from his arm.

Juba called out to him, "Spaniard! Why didn't you fight? We all have to fight."

Maximus did not answer.