Crowds of people came down the hillside from their small houses above the Moroccan town. They were all going toward the arena, hoping to put a little excitement into their difficult lives.

Maximus's arm, now without the letters SPQR, was covered with an arm guard. He had earned the extra protection of armor because of his brave fighting. He bent and picked up some dirt from the ground, watched it disappear through his fingers, and walked quickly toward the entrance to the arena. Proximo walked with him.

"You just kill, kill, kill!" Proximo shouted at Maximus. "You make it look too easy. The crowd wants a hero, not just someone cutting up meat. We want them to keep coming back. Don't kill so quickly-take more time!" The cheers of the crowd grew louder as they got closer to the arena. "Give them an adventure to remember!" Proximo shouted above the noise. "Fall to one knee-they'll think you're finished. Then force yourself to your feet-our hero!" He was rushing along to keep up with Maximus. "Remember, you're an entertainer!"

Without a word to Proximo, Maximus walked out into the arena. There was a cheer immediately. He was a known fighter now, and the Moroccans knew they were going to see some real action.

Out in the bright sunlight, six fighters waited. Maximus looked at them and decided immediately on his method of attack. He chose the strongest and most confident man first. When that man went down, the others would know they had no chance. He cut them down, one by one, his sword striking through their bodies with great speed. It was all finished in a few minutes.

The crowd stood and cheered. They shouted, "Spaniard! Spaniard!"

Proximo got up from his seat and walked out.

Maximus dropped his arm to his side, stepped over a body, and walked back toward the exit. He picked up a sword from the sand and threw it into the crowd. As it fell to the floor, the screaming crowd grew silent, watching and waiting.

"Are you not entertained?" Maximus shouted at them. "Is this not why you came?" He threw down his own sword and walked out of the arena gates and back to the prison area.

***

In the cool of the evening, Maximus and Juba stood inside the gates of Proximo's school. They looked out over the desert to the mountains in the distance.

"My country-it's somewhere out there," Juba said. "My home. My wife is preparing food and my daughters are carrying water from the river. Will I ever see them again? I think not."