We have a fictional, but no doubt realistic (and chilling!) account of one unwilling gladiator’s first experience in the arena, preserved in a rhetorical exercise used to train young orators (Pseudo-Quintilian, Rhetorical Exercises 9.6):

And now the day was here, and the people had gathered for the spectacle of my punishment [cf. the noon time event described in "Capital Punishment"], now for show throughout the arena the bodies of those about to perish had led off a procession of their own death [a procession into the arena was the standard beginning of a gladiatorial event]. The sponsor [editor] was sitting there piling up favor [i.e., political support, see "Politics"] derived from our blood. Although no one could know my fortune, my family, my father, because I was separated from my homeland by the sea, among certain spectators nevertheless one thing made me pitiable, that I seem inadequately prepared [forcing convicts to fight in the arena without training was a typical punishment]; truly I was destined to be a certain victim of the arena, no one had caused less expense for the giver of the games than I; there was noise everywhere produced by the equipment of death; here a sword was being sharpened, there someone was heating metal plates [perhaps to be used on fallen gladiators, to see if they were dead], here rods were produced, there whips [to encourage unwilling participants]. You would have thought that these men were pirates. The trumpets were blaring with their funereal sound, and the funeral procession was proceeding with the carrying in of the couches of Libitina [the Roman goddess of burials; the couches are stretchers for the dead] before anyone had died…everywhere there were wounds, moans, gore; one could only see danger.

The aura of death was strong in the amphitheater.  Images of Hermes, the conductor of souls to the underworld, were in evidence (see mosaic immediately below).  Apparently new gladiatorial volunteers were beaten with rods by staff dressed as demons (Sen. Apocol. 9.3), perhaps to give them a proper introduction to this place of death. K.M. Coleman calls the arena "the threshold of the underworld.¹" 

It should be noted here that there is absolutely no evidence that the gladiators addressed the emperor with the famous "Hail emperor, they who are about to die, salute you." This sentence was addressed only on one occasion to Claudius by condemned criminals who were about to participate in a naumachia , a staged naval battle (Suetonius, Claudius 21.6). Since it was the purpose of this naumachia to serve as a means of executing criminals by having them kill each other, it is not surprising that they are pessimistic about their survival as their address to the emperor indicates. 

In this picture we have a scene from the arena. On the far left there is a herm (the column on top of which was a bust of Hermes, and against  which a shield is leaning). Next there are five musicians, who provide musical accompaniment to the gladiatorial combats, capturing the shifting moods of combat with their music (just as piano players or orchestras used to accompany the showing of silent movies). The musician on the far left plays a long straight trumpet (tubicen). In the middle a woman plays a water-organ (organum) and on the right three musicians play a large curved instrument called a lituus. Above them is a "couch of Libitina" ready for its next occupant.

When one gladiator was wounded, the typical cries from the spectators were "habet, hoc habet (he’s had it)" or "habet, peractum est (he's had it, it's all over)."  Some contests were designated ahead of time as sine missione ("without release," i.e. to the death), so in these fights the referee would allow the gladiator with the advantage to proceed until he killed his opponent (there were no rounds nor time limit in any form of gladiatorial contest).  This type of contest, however, was rare, at least in the early empire, because of humanitarian concerns and the expense to the editor, who had to reimburse the lanista.   Augustus even outlawed contests sine missione, although this injunction probably did not remain in effect in later centuries.  Kyle notes that:

The chance of survival decreased in later centuries, perhaps owing to the development of a taste for death and the revival and increased popularity of munera sine missione.  Nevertheless it is certain that many gladiators survived the arena to freedom and to retirement.²

In the more typical contest, when one opponent had decided that he was defeated, he could indicate submission and request mercy.  In the image to the left, a defeated gladiator, who has thrown his shield to the ground, gives a signal of submission to the referee with the forefinger of his left hand.  The victorious fighter stands proudly, still holding his shield.  As literary sources make clear, the spectators expressed their judgment with some gesture involving the thumb (pollice verso, "turned thumb"). What is not clear is whether the Romans used thumb gestures in the same way as we do: up for yes (life), down for no (death). More likely, thumb-up meant death for the defeated gladiator (representing the death blow with the point of a sword into the neck) and thumb down, salvation.  Unfortunately, there is no visual evidence that can confirm or contradict this interpretation.

Those who urged mercy for the defeated gladiator called out "mitte" ("release him") and waved the hem of their garment.  The final decision lay with the editor, the giver of the games, who most often under the empire was the emperor himself.  If the decision was death, there was a ritual to be performed, which would bring honor in death for the loser. With one knee on the ground, the loser grasped the thigh of the victor, who, while holding the helmet or head of his opponent, plunged his sword into his neck.³ This was the moment of truth, which fascinated the Roman audience, just as bull-fight fans in Spain and southern France are mesmerized today by the death of the bull.

The only task left now was to remove the dead body. An attendant impersonating Pluto, the god of the dead, struck the corpses with a mallet, perhaps signifying the god's ownership of the body. Another attendant dressed as Mercury, escorter of souls to the underworld, used his wand, which was in reality a hot iron, to see whether the gladiator was really dead or not. There was no escape by feigning death.⁴

The winner received from the editor a palm branch and a sum of money.  A laurel crown was awarded for an especially outstanding performance.  The victor  then ran around the perimeter of the amphitheater, waving the palm.  The ultimate prize awarded to gladiators was permanent discharge from the obligation to fight in the arena, most certainly in recognition of a brilliant career rather than of just one performance.  As a symbol of this award, the editor gave the gladiator a wooden sword (rudis), perhaps to suggest that he no longer had to fight with real weapons at the risk of his life.

Notes

1. "Fatal Charades: Roman Executions Staged as Mythological Enactments," JRS 80, 67.  Back to text.

2. Spectacles of Death in Ancient Rome (London and New York, 1998), 86.  Back to text.

3.  Martial (Spect. 27) mentions an extraordinary match between gladiators named Priscus and Verus, who fought so evenly and bravely that when they indicated submission (with the forefinger as above) at the same time, the emperor Titus,  encouraged by shouts of missio ('release') for both men from the crowd, awarded victory to both and gave them wooden swords (rudes).  Back to text.

4. If the defeated gladiator was allowed to live, he, along with the victor, was given all necessary medical treatment, which was of the highest quality available. Back to text.