The Value of Desperation

It was midday at the gladiator training camp and all the slaves were lining up to get their food. When the gong sounded to let everyone know lunch was ready a small bald slave was first in line. His name was Catabar, and he was clothed in a disgusting and smelly smock which was covered in animal filth. Catabar had spent the morning cleaning out the pig pens and stables and so even the other slaves kept their distance from him as they lined up for their food. This suited Catabar as he had been at work since before dawn and was hungry to the point that his insides had begun to hurt. The greater the distance the others kept meant he had a better chance of getting to what counted for food at the camp.

It was a sweltering day, and the camp was dusty with an oppressive atmosphere hanging like a curtain over it. However, despite this, the activity in the camp was not allowed to slow down and everywhere the sights, sounds and smell of ongoing gladiator training for the arena dominated the space between the walls of the large building.

 Catabar had been a slave for more years than he could recall. He first arrived as a child, taken with his parents and siblings when their village in Gaul had been overrun by one of Rome’s legions. That was a lifetime ago and now Catabar was the only one left of those who had been taken with him on the terrible day of their capture. His parents, his brothers and sisters and even the others who had been taken with them from their village had not survived the harsh reality of life in the camp.

Although Catabar and his clan had not been selected to serve as gladiators, their captors and the slave overseers under them had worked them one by one to death. Now Catabar was the last of his village and in truth, he looked forward to his own death because of the relief it represented. However, at this moment in time as he stood in the lunch hall, Catabar was very hungry and thoughts of anything other than that of the coming meal crowded all other considerations to one side.

Then as Catabar and the others stood waiting for their food the door to the training ground opened and a large muscular man walked in. This individual was tall, standing a full head and shoulders above the others in the room. He was bronzed and muscular from his working days in the arena, and his face and arms were lined with several scars, fleshly reminders of his career to date. The destroyer was accompanied by Cato, the quiet armourer, who accompanied him everywhere.  

Catabar did not know the destroyer’s real name (because people like Catabar who serviced the indirect needs of gladiators did not have any social interaction with gladiators themselves), but he recognized him as one of the most successful fighters in the camp. 

Both Catabar and the destroyer were technically slaves, but within the slave community there was a world of difference between the two men. The destroyer was a gladiator who had fought in many festivals, celebrations and other gladiatorial events over the years and had always won their bouts. The other slaves referred to this man as the “destroyer” and although Catabar had never seen one of his fights, Catabar had cleaned up after the destroyer’s fights many times before, and it did not require much imagination to deduce the strength and brutality this particular gladiator was capable of. 

Catabar, on the other hand belonged to the lowest order of slaves. In short, he was of little value and was very expendable.

The destroyer was a human killing machine. His singular talent was for the destruction of other humans and the occasional wild animals released into the arena. Using swords, clubs, spikes and spears the destroyer had risen to the top of his profession. In hundreds of bouts before cheering crowds the destroyer had stabbed, sliced, bludgeoned and dismembered others, many of whom were trained gladiators and killers like him. Men who had received special training and preparation for their time in the arena, but when it came to the destroyer all their training and experience had proved to be of little use, protection or value.

The destroyer had killed or maimed beyond the point of being considered ‘sport’ people and animals and as a result of which he was a star player in the camp. So, it followed the destroyer had a special status in the camp and he conducted himself accordingly.

 The destroyer strode in front of the line to get food ahead of all those who were already there and had been waiting for their meal. 

As the giant gladiator walked past Catabar the small slave suddenly shouted out, “Hey…no you don’t go ahead of me I was here first”.

The gladiator turned to Catabar and looked downward at his angry face. Nothing was said for a few long seconds as the giant gazed passively at the angry looking insect in front of him.

There was an auditable gasp from the others in the room as they heard Catabar call out and then they fell silent and looked on as the tall muscular giant squared off opposite the small, insignificant and smelly individual that most had never bothered to learn the name of despite the fact that most of the other slaves had been in the camp for years.

Intently, everyone in the mess hall looked on. Most expected a swift bloodletting, but many of those witnessing this scene wondered what form of suicidal madness had overtaken the diminutive Gaul. 

“What did you say to me?” the gladiator’s voice boomed.

“You heard me I was here in line first and so I should get my food first.”

The gladiator looked into the eyes of the little man before him and noticed something very strange. There was no sign or even hint of fear or apprehension. To the destroyer this was unusual, strange and somewhat unexpected. Even when he was in the arena facing other trained and armed gladiators, he could see the nervousness and apprehension before a fight began. Often, he could even smell the fear from his opponents as they got closer. That was normal. But the insect before him displayed none of the apprehension the destroyer considered ‘normal’. 

The destroyer did not feel, at that moment, either anger or annoyance. Rather he was filled with a sense of curiosity.      

As he looked down on this strange, dirty and smelly creature before him, he detected no fear just anger and indignation. To the so called “destroyer” this was intriguing. For years, he had experienced nervousness or down right fear in everyone he interacted with. His reputation was all encompassing in the world he inhabited. Even when he spoke to his owner, his slave masters and his fight trainers, there was always caution in the way they spoke to him, although they owned and controlled him. These were the people who had been present and had witnessed him kill people and animals and was very aware of what he was capable of. 

However, they did not know that one of the secrets of the destroyer’s success had been his power of observation and strangely his intellect. The fact that the destroyer had survived as long as he had been able to, and he had been able to attain his record of victories was due in part to his ability to notice small and easy to miss, details of the arena and in his opponents. For example, the way his opponent carried himself and his armour betrayed the man’s strong and weak sides. Also, the position of the sun in the arena meant that if he positioned himself strategically, and advanced on his opponent at the right time with the sun behind him, gave the destroyer an advantage. And this advantage in mental acuity had been the determination of many life-or-death situations the destroyer had been involved in over a long bloody career. The destroyer had enough insight to know this, but everyone who watched his past fights did not.  

These unnoticed factors, mistakenly taken to be the favour of the gods or such nonsense, meant a lot in determining the outcome of any bout he was participating in. And such subtle nuances had served the gladiator well over the years, but no one knew or even guessed his reliance on such considerations. Such is the human condition that people see the physical manifestations of the blood and the gore from a gladiatorial bout, but never consider the mental process that led to such a grisly conclusion.

The net result of a historical record of destruction was there was an aura of fear build up around the destroyer, and a reputation that matched everywhere he went. This aura was so powerful that Cato his armourer and companion once joked that the destroyer could almost open doors without touching them. As in all humor, this was built on a foundation of truth.   

Once or twice, the gladiator had even caught his own owner or his slave master glancing nervously at the weapons he carried as he entered the room and spoke to them about a practice session or an upcoming arena bout. Just as it was true that all slaves were not equal, it was also true that the reach and effect of power and authority was not confined to job titles and ownership status.

The destroyer knew that all people he came into contact with were automatically apprehensive about his presence, but it appeared that this insect from the pig pens felt no such fear or concern in his presence. This was such a sharp difference to the attitude of all individuals he encountered, that for the first time in his life the destroyer could have been said to have been taken aback.  

To any other person of lesser temperament and self control, the situation would have been dealt with instantly with a quick movement of his arms or a kick with his feet, and the insignificant person before him would have been dealt with. However, to the destroyer this display of defiance was intriguing and worthy of investigation. 

Presently, the gladiator asked, “why are you complaining? I am the destroyer; I am the most successful fighter of this school. I always eat first. It’s the way it’s always been around here. Why are you complaining?”

The small man answered without a hint of concern, “you have no right to push in front of me I was here first and just like everyone here you must take your turn. It’s how things should be...it’s what’s fair.”

There was stifled laughter from the people in the room at what had been uttered by the smaller man. Notions of what was and was not fair were ideas that only the upper classes talked about. Noone in the room could afford such high-minded sentiments as “fairness.” You might as well start talking about “love” and “marriage” and other such nonsensical notions. Besides which no one had ever spoken to the destroyer like this before. 

Now that the little Gaul had confronted the premier fighter of the school in this way by Catabar, it was the unspoken consensus that the little man would be dead within a very short period. The only real question was whether it would take a few seconds, or longer for the gladiator take his time and enjoy killing the hapless fool in front of everyone in the room.

But the widely anticipated act of annihilation did not follow. For a few seconds the gladiator thought about the other man’s protests, and then the bigger man asked, “you know I can kill you right here and now for your act of insolence, but you don’t look mad or suicidal, so why are you doing this?”

“I’m doing this because I don’t care…I’m starving…I’m sick from working in the filth of the pig pens...I have nothing to look forward to and I no hope of anything better if I live to be a hundred years old,” Catabar said in a voice infused with more sorrow than anger, “ so, I don’t care what you do… kill me …please kill me because in order to be afraid you have to have something to lose. I have nothing to lose so I’m not afraid.”

Then with his lips twisted in an ironic smile the smaller man added, “besides I was here first so you know its my right to go first”.

What followed was a long pause where both men looked at each other in silence then the gladiator said in a soft voice, “you’re right”, the gladiator said, “you were here first so go ahead and get your food first”.

Everyone looked at the gladiator in shocked silence, none more so than Catabar. Then after a few seconds he slowly he went up to the galley and took his food before leaving the room without looking back.

The gladiator then collected his own food and left the room with a crescendo of muttered whispers all around him as he exited.

After they left the room and when the two men were alone without anyone within earshot Cato stopped and asked his companion, “what happened back there?”

Without looking at Cato the destroyer answered shortly, “you watched the whole thing you know what happened.”

Cato was not content with that answer and asked again, “no that’s not it. We all watched what took place, but you saw something that no one else in the room saw. I have been with you a long time and I know when you saw something that stopped you from killing that pig keeper. What was it?”

The gladiator turned to face Cato and said, “I saw something in that little man that gave me an insight. An insight that I had been waiting for and was worth sparing him for because it was an inspirational key to something we had been thinking and planning on”.

“So, what was it?”

“The insight was when a man was starving and desperate and had no hope he was at his most dangerous state and most fit for a certain purpose,” the gladiator said in a soft voice, “I could have killed him of course but in talking to him and in seeing the willingness he had to defy and fight hopeless odds when he’s starving and desperate made me see what we would need for the time when we need to…change things in this empire.”

Cato did not reply, because from previous conversations between the two men he knew what the destroyer was talking about. A revolt by the slave population of Rome was not something you spoke of in the open. So, Cato just nodded his understanding at what the other man was alluding to.

“That’s why I let him go,” The gladiator said, “I saw in his act of defiance what it would take for us to instill upon our people when it was time for us to move. Also, I understood from our encounter with our friend that we will need men who are desperate, starving, angry and with nothing to lose. Just like our friend the pig keeper. Their hunger, anger and need for a vision will make them useful to have around.”

“In other words, you saw a potential platoon leader,” said Cato.

“Exactly,” was the succinct reply, “you asked what I saw and why I let the man go…that is my answer.”

After that the two men stopped talking in the corridor and went on to their barracks to eat lunch.

This whole incident was never recorded in the history books, and the individual Catabar lived and died long ago without really anyone noticing who he was and what he did. However, the gladiator known as the destroyer made more of a mark in history because his real name was Spartacus.