Gladiator Page #8

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Maximus finally looks at him.

JUBA:

Life is a gift from our fathers to

us. Who are you to give it up for

lack of lifting a spoon?

Maximus does not respond.

EXT. PROXIMO'S SCHOOL - COMPOUND - NIGHT

Maximus and Juba are being observed. Proximo stands in

the shadows of the compound and watches intently.

EXT. SLAVE WAGON - PROVINCIAL STREETS - DAY

Blood appears to be flowing across an oxen's back. But

the blood is too rich, too red.

The oxen are pulling an open slave wagon through the

crowded streets of the town. Hanging above the street is

dyed wool drying in the sun. Vermilion and crimson dyes

drip down and splash across the oxen -- and splash across

the gladiators.

Maximus, Juba, the formidable Vibius are chained in the

back of the wagon. Also the frightened Scribe.

Proximo and a few of his guards drive the wagon. Proximo

has an umbrella over him, colored with years of dripping

dyes.

They pass a banner honoring Vibius, the star of Proximo's

stable.

Meanwhile, the terrified Scribe is almost weeping,

chattering nervously to Vibius, chained next to him:

SCRIBE:

I know nothing of armaments and

warfare! I'm a scribe -- I write

down words! I can write down seven

languages --

VIBIUS:

Be still.

SCRIBE:

I don't -- how do you hold the

sword?! I've never held a sword!

VIBIUS:

You point the sharp end at your

opponent and you shove it in his

guts.

SCRIBE:

I can't -- I --

He suddenly vomits.

VIBIUS:

(calling to Proximo)

Proximo! You insult me with this

carrion! Chain him to someone else!

PROXIMO:

(calling back)

Don't worry, noble Vibius, he won't

be bothering you for long.

The Scribe begins to weep.

The crowds in the street jeer at the passing gladiators.

Occasionally throwing trash at them. A pack of children

run alongside the wagon, chanting:

CHILDREN:

Dead guts! Dead guts! Dead guts!

Maximus watches the children for a moment and then another

sight draws his attention. Over some buildings he can see

vultures circling in the distance.

EXT. PROVINCIAL ARENA - DUGOUT - DAY

In the cramped holding area of the arena, a dugout beneath

the stands, Maximus and the other gladiators are waiting.

Proximo walks before them, giving a final "pep talk." He

gazes at them evenly, his eyes going from face to face.

PROXIMO:

Some of you say you can't fight, you

won't fight... They all say that...

But one day you will pick up a sword

and thrust it into another man. And

the crowd will cheer you and love

you. And you will love them for it.

On that day... you will be a

gladiator.

He stops at Maximus.

PROXIMO:

In this life, we all die. All we

can choose is how we die. And how

we are remembered. Be remembered

proudly.

Drums are heard from the arena. Proximo nods to a waiting

blacksmith.

The blacksmith begins slamming shackles on the gladiator's

wrists -- chaining them together in teams of two by a

chain about four feet long.

The blacksmith is about to chain Maximus to the Scribe.

PROXIMO:

No...

(he points to Juba)

... give the Spaniard to him. Give

the Scribe to Vibius.

Proximo nods to Vibius, who, for reasons we shall soon

see, makes no protest to being chained to the whimpering

Scribe.

Proximo watches the blacksmith shackle Maximus and Juba

together and then strides off.

JUBA:

(to Maximus)

Are we going to fight each other?

EXT. PROVINCIAL ARENA - DAY

Proximo sits in a box with several other GLADIATOR

TRAINERS. They drink wine and eat constantly. A

perpetual chatter of wagers and odds and side bets.

The arena is only sparsely attended this day.

PROXIMO:

Make it 600 sesterces for each

decapitation.

TRAINER #1

How many strokes?

PROXIMO:

Two.

TRAINER #1

For the great Vibius, one stroke.

PROXIMO:

Done. 400 sesterces for two

strokes.

In the arena:

Proximo's chained teams enter the arena, five teams.

Maximus and Juba are chained together. Some of the small

crowd cheers for Vibius. He acknowledges the cheers. He

is chained to the weeping Scribe.

In the box:

Trainer #1 laughs.

TRAINER #1

(re:
Vibius)

Who's he with?

PROXIMO:

A Greek Scribe.

TRAINER #1

I'll raise the wager.

PROXIMO:

(smiles)

Give me odds, friend.

In the arena:

From the opposite end of the arena a dozen armored, very

scary Andabatae thunder into the arena. Some of the crowd

cheers.

The Andabatae immediately race for the chained teams and

the battle is on.

Vibius spins into action -- dragging the weeping Scribe

after him as he circles opponents and fights -- the Scribe

is almost instantly killed -- Vibius immediately hacks

through the Scribe's wrist and frees himself, as Proximo

surely intended. Vibius is now free to fight alone,

swinging the chain as an additional weapon.

Juba's eyes dart everywhere as he tries to move with

Maximus -- Maximus neither helps nor hinders -- allowing

Juba to pull him along --

Proximo, now that his star Vibius is safe, watched Maximus

and Juba closely.

Juba fights well, with a strange elegance, his body

flowing like liquid -- but he is inexperienced. He

strikes a few blows and then tries to move away -- finally

he is in trouble -- cornered -- a huge Andabata is slicing

at him -- it is a desperate battle -- Juba is losing --

his sword is slammed away -- the Andabata raises his sword

for the kill --

And Maximus strikes.

With a sudden roar he EXPLODES into action -- he swings

past Juba and blocks the blow meant for Juba -- then he

slashes the Andabata -- killing him -- he pulls Juba after

him as he fights --

It is a dazzling display of Maximus' skill -- he moves

through the Andabatae at amazing speed -- spinning around

Juba and protecting him -- slashing ruthlessly -- pulling

Juba after him and commanding the battle -- Juba recovers

a sword and they fight together.

In the box:

Proximo watches, smiles. A gladiator is born.

EXT. ROME - WAGON - DAY

SENATOR GRACCHUS, an imposing, moral and corpulent man in

his 60's, is riding in a luxurious wagon with Senator

Gaius.

And CAPTAIN MARCELLUS, the handsome Head of the Roman City

Guard.

Their wagon slowly maneuvers through the crowded streets

of Rome. The cosmopolitan bustle of the great urban

center is everywhere around them.

GRACCHUS:

We have plague in the Hebrew Quarter

and it is spreading... we have

looting at the granaries... we have

so much filth in the Tiber that the

water is undrinkable... we have

Praetorian Guard units that are

demanding protection payments from

the merchants at the exchange --

MARCELLUS:

My City Guard units have tried to

curtail these excesses but no

constabulary can police the entire

city. And the Praetorians outnumber

us two to one.

GRACCHUS:

Rome dies as the Emperor plays at

beneficence. At least Nero gave us

music!

GAIUS:

Do you think he'll listen to us?

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