Ludi Romani 2761 Munera reports (Nova Roma)

Revision as of 10:33, 2 October 2008

This page is maintained under authority of the Aediles Curules

Introduction

Here are the reports that C.L.C. has allowed us to display, for every interested civis.
There were unfortunately few entries in these important Munera. As we had thus just four entries, the competition table was obvious, and we were to begin the contest by the semifinals.

Semi-Finals

Direct from Circus Maximus, by our reporters P. Plautius Dives Aremoricus and Lucia Solaris Divina for CLC (Catena Ludorum Curulium)
[PPDA] Good afternoon to all, and first our apologies for the technical problem that we have now. Our whole team is trying to fix it. My neighbor and colleague Lucia Solaris Divina's microphone is out of order, and, as I am not used to share mine, I will report to you, until the microphone is fixed, all Divina's thoughts, I mean her interventions.
This year 2761, aedilis Memmius decided, for NR 10th Birthday, to offer the Munera in the Circus Maximus, in order to honor republican tradition. It is certainly not the whole campus, the whole Circus' track, that has been assigned to this event, but just the arena, i.e. the space including both Circus Primus and Intimus, from the carceres to the prima meta and the Circenses starting line.
The sky is a bit cloudy this afternoon, but the weather is mild. At 4pm, it is the ideal one to fight and sweat.
The aedile and his team have been deceived by the low enthusiasm showed by the ludi owners for these Romani Munera, though we are in NR 10th Birthday year. Only four gladiators will fight, two of them being featured by one owner, Gaul G. Petronius Dexter. Besides, the opponent that the first dextrian gladiator is going to meet is also a Gaul fighter, or, to be more correct, he belongs to a Gaul team, L. Rutilius Minervalis' one. The last entered is a C. Tullius Valerianus Germanicus' man and comes from Nova Britannia. Well, in short, Gallia has saved Rome.

1st semifinal: Mirmillo vs. Secutor

Today's first pugna may be let us perplexed, for either it will be exciting, or boring, for both adversaries have almost the same profile.
Diogenes, rutilian gladiator, is a secutor, while Hierocles is a mirmillo: same equipment, except the helmet whose crest is bigger for the mirmillo. Furthermore, both men have the same height, to within one Roman digitus (6 pedes and 3 digiti), and, according what displayed the weigh-in aedilician scribes, the same weight (223,6 librae). If both fighters are well-proportioned and show an harmonious musculature, they are thus no giants or monsters. They are nearly, to within training and science of fighting, men like me or like your sister, Lucia. This said, Hierocles indeed looks rather like your sister, delicious Ursula, than me, specially when we see how big are his biceps and when we are told that he can crush nuts with just two fingers... Please, Lucia? What did you say? That your sister crushes nuts too, but not with her fingers... Well... thanks, Divina... let us go on...
What to say more, apart that both men are Reds, and fresh on the circuit, even tirones in Nova Roma central circuit. A little advantage must be granted to Diogenes, who seems having fought for a longer time than his 25 y.o. younger. The aedile has displayed an age of 27 for Diogenes, but the most directly affected apparently doubts himself about his birthday. Hierocles was born and grew up in Sparta, while Diogenes apparently comes from northern Greece, or Asia Minor, we do not exactly know.
What, Divina? Yes, you are right! Diogenes fights for Blues and Hierocles for Reds.
Ah! You just hear the trumpet. The doors of both claustra open, and both men are stepping into the arena.
The crowd, which has gathered in Circi Primus et Intimus tribunes, cheers them. The factiones supporters warm up their voices, but the mood stays kind, probably because Praesina is not represented in these Munera and that the entered are not many. Even sellers seem cool. Both gladiators are not, however. They stand now so that the sun is perpendicular to the fictive line that is joining them. This sun is shining from over the Aventine tribune. The Circus may contain today around 20 to 25,000 spectators, for the upper tribunes degrees are not all occupied.
Here falls the mappa, from Aed. P. Memmius Albucius' hand. Albucius has stepped forward on the podium towards the magisterial cella, built at the center of the carceres flat roof. And when the mappa falls, we can hear the "Pugnate!" shouted by the referee, and the outcries rising up again.
Both warriors wear the colors of their factio. Diogenes thus wears a red loincloth, the usual rather baggy secutors' loincloth, while Hierocles wears a kind of skirt whose red is the same color than my colleague's Solaris's lipstick, L. Solaris Divina being here by my side, concentrated on the fight.
Both gladiators are right-handed too, and thus hold the pugio in the right and the scutum in the left. A thick leather manica covers their right arm, and an metal ocrea protects their left tibia.
Here we see them now stepping aside. They are now keeping on the line of an invisible circle whose center is the referee, A. Lentulus Batiatus, the famous former albatus gladiator. Diogenes has relaxed his guard, and holds his scutum as he would hold a basket filled with apples, swinging it smoothly. His pugio is sleeping along his right leg. A few steps later, he comes around back.
Hierocles, who has first put himself on guard mode, left leg bent and scutum covering his body down to the knee, has relaxed, and, even if he is keeping the shield towards Diogenes, he acts as his elder.
This dances lasts at least five minutes, and a handful of people in the tribunes begin to whistle. But Diogenes stops once more, and the audience waits: is he going to keep on walking around like a caged lion? But, in an apparently insignificant move, Diogenes has grasped his scutum, even if it is still looking the ground. He shrugs his shoulders as if he was hesitating, and suddenly moves three steps forward. The public stands up as if he has been informed of a historical military victory, and Veneti cheer again.
What is going to do young Hierocles? Will he give ground or accept the challenge and come into the imaginary circle? Will he come to contact?
The Spartan has stopped, lifting insensibly his shield, as if he tried to hide the expression of his face. Younger than Diogenes, he is however less pleasing, with his flat nose marked by the heavy visor of his preferred field helmet. He is thinking... But here he has made his mind, and entering the circle, but cautiously. One step, then another... He has now bent again on guard, the gladius at chest level. One more step and both men will be within range. Diogenes seems stretching his shoulders, or sighing, while lifting his shield up to his shoulder. The shield does not protect his chest. He is sideways, watching Hierocles over his right shoulder.
Suddenly, with no particular previous warning, Diogenes just stood on his back leg out, and come immediately hitting the wood of Hierocles' scutum with his pugio's edge. At the same time, he quickly draws his own shield into the inside and striked Hierocles' arm that is holding the gladius.

Even if the Spartan is muscled, the speed and the strenght of the blow chase the arm into the inside, where the gladius is immediately jammed under Hierocles left arm, that has drawn the scutum closer to the body, after Diogenes' pugio attack.
Nobody can naturally see the eyes of young Petronius' protégé, but everybody can imagine his disarray. During a short eternity, just a handful of seconds, Hierocles finds himself crossed arms, such a momified Pharaon, with his scutum and pugio instead of a crook and a flail. But the rub is that the second one is stuck under the first one.
The spectators have understood how important was this moment. They are shouting more and more. The regular ones now expect that Diogenes pushes Hierocles with his scutum and his whole body weight, and that, both arms still jammed, Hierocles at best looses ground over 30 feet, at worst stumbles and falls on the back.
But Diogenes' next move amazes almost everyone. With the pugio that has come back at shoulder level, and now protecting himself with his scutum placed in his body axis, Diogenes takes a short and quick leap and strikes Hierocles' helmet left upper side.
From the public arises a "ohhh !", as well a surprise as an admiration one. For people now understand that Diogenes has preferred renouncing to the most obvious tactics, in favor of a formidable train. Hierocles, wholly busy covering his center and right flank and at the same time trying to release his arms, did not imagine this attack, and sure was thinking instead to the push, and how he could oppose it at best and step backward in good manner and the lowest losses.
We have heard his helmet clinging and seen his head swinging to the right. Unconsciously, he tried to protect this head, and his shield right arm arose, which had a double consequence: first his both arms got more stuck than ever, but second and overall, it opened a small breach in his central defense.
Diogenes immediately leaped forward, and, instead hitting with the right arm, slided his right iron protected wrist under Hierocles' shield and, sterilizing his own pugio, put all his first efforts in opening aside the Spartan's shield.
Yes, I know what you are going to say, Lucia: this way, he faced the risk releasing Hierocles stuck pugio arm. But see! He has just canceled this possible advantage thanks to a second but quite simultaneous move: he has pressed Hierocles upper chest and chin with his scutum.
You sure hear the public, whose shoutings are getting louder and louder.
Hierocles has sure admitted he would step backward, but not like this! His pugio, released during one or two seconds, is now jammed again under his opponent's shield. And the scutum also presses his head back, specially thanks to the mirmillo's helmet convenient angles.
Oh!!! Diogenes has now taken profit that his younger was stepping backward and did not see much anymore – and indeed, the mirmillo's helmet is not great in such a situation – to place his right leg behind Hierocles' left one, and the Laconian has fallen down in the worst attitude: the left arm stretched and the shield fully open, and now unuseful.
But in the fall, Diogenes has lapsed and has, by his own speed and strength, been thrown over behind Hierocles. The Spartan is now on the ground, fully vulnerable.
This is now a question of time. If Hierocles managed to stand up towards Diogenes, all will start over again.
Despite his little lapse, Diogenes has quickly reacted: he covers in a glance the two paces between the lying man and he, and, just before Hierocles holds up his head, gives, with his pugio pommel, a violent strike on the helmet, this time on the eyes grid. Naturally the helmet protects the Spartan, but the blow has pressed his head again on the sand and dazes him just as needed. Diogenes can then, with no more attention to Hierocles scutum or pugio, take a last short leap to place his right knee near the younger's shoulder and slide his own cold blade onto Hierocles' neck.
The experienced audience, who has well seen the last moves, has suddenly stopped shouting. The few "Veneta veneta !" that were surging out just one minute before are now dead in Blues's throats. Silence covers the Circus. This is death or life time.
We just have heard: "Amitto !", weakly said by the Spartan's voice that smothers helmet, a short breath, and probably the fear, well understandable, to leave now Rome's sweet sky for the kingdom of Hadès.
Hierocles' left hand has succeeded getting rid of its scutum, that falls swinging on the sand, and the young fighter hits now the ground with the palm of his hand. Once, twice, repeating: "Amitto !"
Silence is getting on, but people has heard the weak and muffled ordinary sound of the palm on the sand and suddenly took pity on the young gladiator. He has just lost against a stronger one. And people are thinking that a more experienced warrior would have shouted "amitto" louder, and just once, and let afterwards Fortuna doing her job.
Batiatus, the referee, has kneeled down at Hierocles' feet, the right-hand index pointing at Diogenes' gladius. This one has understood, let his shield fall, too, and just got a steadier position, the pugio still on the Spartan's neck. But his eyes now quietly travel from Batiatus black eyes to the tribunes.
Batiatus has known soon that Diogenes knew his job, and that he would wait for the People's decision. The old champion stands up, and opens his still muscular arms to the crowd, his baton in his right hand.
"Et nunc, Romani ? Jugulandus seu mittite ?" (and now, Quirites, should he be killed or will you let him go?)
Silence goes on during twenty seconds about, and one can even hear Batiatus' sandals on the arena's sand. Then rise a few "Jugula", but quick covered, as such supplications, by a breaker of "Mitte! Mitte!"
A. Lentulus Batiatus then comes back to Hierocles, standing over his helmet, between sun and man. Ponctuating his judgment with the right arm, he throws up to the Circus: "Mittatur !" (Be he released!), and, while the crowd is rejoicing, including Russati, Diogenes stands up, the pugio still in the hand. His eyes meet Batiatus' ones, who comes and grasp the winner's arm in order to wave it to the Circus Maximus.
In their back, Hierocles has kneeled up. He is not dead but not yet back among the alive. This is the first time that he has a so close brush with death. Welcome in Rome, boy... Batiatus leaves Diogenes to the crowd and its cheerings, and comes back to the young Spartan. He puts his hand on Hierocles' large shoulder, and repeats low voice : "Mitte, bone, mitte ! Exitus acta probat ! I !" (you are safe, boy! Things ends well! Go now!).

Diogenes thus goes in the Finals. Rather short fight, Divina, but so exciting, and a technical lesson, was not it ? Let us see what will offer us the second Semifinal...

2nd semifinal

[to be completed]

Finals

[to be completed]

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