Gladiator

 
the tigers. Most of the chained men
looked back at the tigers

from time to 

 
time, not with interest but 
25 

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with fear. They knew what a hungry tiger could do, and they
guessed why they and the animals had been bought together. 
They drove through some large iron gates. There was no sign
on the gates or on the buildings inside, but everyone in the city
knew the place as Proximo’s School. It was not a place to learn
Latin, Greek, or mathematics. It was a school where men learned
how to fight—to live one more day in the face
 
of death. It was a 
gladiator school. 
Proximo’s school was like a castle prison. In the center was a 
square. On one side were the cages for the animals, and on the 
opposite side the human prisoners were kept. 
Maximus and the other new slaves were pushed into their
prison, and the doors crashed shut behind them. Maximus
noticed the guards. They all carried short swords and some also
had arrows or spears. 
At the far end of the square a group of about ten men were
training. “Battle practice,” thought Maximus. “Like Commodus.” 
A very big man was teaching two new gladiators how to
throw a spear. They were trying to hit a picture of a man, but
they were not very good. Both students missed it. The teacher
threw his spear and hit the picture in the stomach. 
“Haken,” said a voice from behind, naming the teacher. 
Maximus turned to see Proximo, who was admiring Haken’s 
strength. He and Maximus stared at each other. 
“Spaniard . . .” Proximo said, naming Maximus. Then he
moved along the line, naming each new slave. “Thief . . .
murderer . . .” 
Suddenly, he stopped and smiled. “Proximo!” he said. “Anyone 
know the