Peeps at Many Lands: Ancient Rome (Yesterday's Classics) by James Baikie Page A

Marcus Antonius. The lanista draws with his wand a line in the sand for the combatants to stand up to, and the two champions advance.
    Avilius is what our forefathers used to call a Samnite—not that he is of the race of our old enemies, but that he uses an equipment something like that of those stubborn fighters of the olden days. On his left arm he carries a big oblong shield, his head is protected by a brazen helmet adorned with a high crest and wings of gaily coloured feathers, while a perforated visor covers his face. He has no breastplate, but wears only a loin-cloth, girt with a broad leather belt; his right arm is swathed from wrist to shoulder in thongs of leather, and his left leg is covered from the knee to the ankle by a brazen greave. His sword is the short, heavy, two-edged blade of the Roman legionary.
    His opponent Antonius is no more a Thracian than Avilius is a Samnite, but it pleases the Romans to imagine that he is armed like a warrior of Thrace, though the idea is merely a fancy. His helmet, which has a perforated visor like that of Avilius, bears a griffin for a crest. His belt, loin-cloth, and arm-guard of leather match those of his antagonist; but he has leather swathings on both legs, and highly ornamented greaves as well. His shield, however, is by no means so good a protection as the broad oblong of the Samnite, being merely a small round buckler, and his sword, a curved scimitar, looks by no means such a workmanlike tool as the straight Roman blade. Samnite against Thracian is a favourite fight in the Amphitheatre, and the whole audience takes sides as enthusiastically as over the Blues and Greens in the chariot-races. You can hear bets being offered and accepted on every hand as the rivals face one another across the line.
    Now the blades cross, and a few cautious passes are made. The men are merely testing one another, and the spectators wait a little impatiently for the real business to begin. Now the Thracian leaps in; his scimitar is not much use for a thrust, and he swings a swift cut at the Samnite's neck just below the left side of his visor. Avilius never moves his feet; a quick upward movement of his left arm, and the blow is caught on the upper side of his big shield; and, as Antonius leaps back again, the straight sword darts at his chest in a lightning thrust, only to be checked by the round buckler. This little beginning, however, has warmed the men up, and now thrust and cut and parry succeed one another with bewildering rapidity. Both fighters are much quicker on their feet than one would have imagined from the heavy greaves they wear, and the Thracian uses his inferior weapon so cleverly that his cut is almost as swift as the Samnite's thrust. Blow after blow clatters on shield or buckler, or thuds dully on the leather arm-guards; and the spectators lean forward from their seats, or rise to their feet in excitement, urging the fighters to greater exertions.
    Now the Thracian, who seems, as he would need to be, a little faster than his enemy, has got a heavy cut home on the Samnite's helmet. Avilius's shield was just a little too slow, and as the keen blade rings on the brass, the Samnite reels under the blow. Before Antonius can follow it up, however, the big shield has come into play again, and Avilius is well covered. A deep seam along the side of the helmet shows the keenness of the Thracian blade; but the audience, watching closely, sees with some disappointment that no real wound has been given, for no blood appears. Among the shouts that come from the upper tiers of seats, there are some unflattering comments on the slowness of the Samnite in thus letting his opponent's blow get home.
    The reproach seems to have stirred Avilius's blood. He is pressing now. Carefully covering himself with his shield, he darts in thrust after thrust, so that the Thracian's small buckler is perpetually in motion, and he has little chance for another heavy blow. And then, almost like a flash of