You are in the Imperial Box of the great ampitheater on a hot August afternoon, along with some 10,000 citizens of Rome and Pompeii. A lion has just run fearfully from the arena, and the crowd are hissing and stamping their feet. For centuries, Romans believed blood the most precious gift they could offer their Gods, and for centuries the convicted, walked by the Imperial Box crying Ave, Imperator, morituri te salutant - Hail, Emperor, we who are about to die salute thee. But on this day, one of the condemned did not have to speak those words...