It was 45BCE and Julius
Caesar had returned to Rome from Spain where he had defeated the last of
Pompey’s sons in the Battle of Munda. This brought about wild and extravagant
festivities throughout the city of Rome. One man who was completely immersed in
the celebrations that were taking place across the city was Gaius Lentulus
Solonius, the owner of one of Rome’s most upstanding and reputable ludus’.
Whilst great controversy surrounded these celebrations, as they marked the end
of the civil war, Gaius was a great believer in Caesar’s political views and
conquests and boasted stories of his triumphs late into the night at the Forum
Romanum. Some powerful men within the senate, including Quintus Marcus
Aurelius, who had always had a fiery hatred for Gaius and his outlandish ways,
watched from afar with looks of distain and anger as Gaius cried his love for
Caesar.
Gaius returned to his house
at the top of the Palatine Hill late into the night, accompanied by his most
trusted slave, Varro. As he stumbled into the atrium of his grand abode Varro
propped him onto the ornate scamnum sat in the corner of the room. Whilst slurring his words and gesticulating
elaborately, Gaius began to tell Varro that tomorrow all his problems would be
over; that Bonifatius (his finest gladiator) would be victorious in the arena
and thus he would win a large some of money. This money, he told Varro, would
help him escape the huge amount of debt he was in. Gaius was not a gambling
man, but times were hard, both economically and personally, as signs of his
deteriorating marriage were now evident to the public eye. The fact that the
fight would be against his main competitor, Tullius, someone who he had
out-bidded at an auction for Bonifiatus, at the Forum Aemelia, igniting an
astronomic feud, added another aspect to this much anticipated fight.
Before retiring to bed, where
his wife was waiting up for him, with feelings of trepidation and angst, Gaius
demanded he give Bonifatius one last visit to offer some words of wisdom before
his important contest. He headed towards the gladiator quarters with an air of
optimism, but turning the corner and taking a few steps down in the gladiators’
chambers, this positive attitude was swept from underneath his feet. The stench
of blood filled his nostrils and the hairs on his body began to rise. As he
pushed open the door to Bonifatius’ chamber he gasped with shock and dropped
instantly to his knees. There, in the middle of the room, lay Boniatius in a
pool of blood, his eyes wide open and one deep slit on his neck. This was the
work of a professional.
