The Chariots Slave (18 page)




 

*

Sellah kept her eyes to the ground as she too made her
way to the cart. The bitter sting of the news she had just
heard had left her feeling ill. She was foolish to feel so.
Thaddius and she were never anything more than master and
slave. But despite her best efforts to convince herself of such,
she still felt justified in her feelings.

“Allow me to help you, Simeon,” Sellah said as she
wrapped her arms around his waist to steady him into the
cart.

Their sudden closeness stirred up memories of the night
she had visited him in the tent. She had been avoiding him
ever since. By the way he watched her now, Sellah could tell
he wanted to know why. But now was not the time to discuss
such matters, so Sellah dipped her head to avoid his gaze and
sat across from him in the cart.

*

Thaddius could not help but notice how the two continued
to behave. Theirs was not the expression of lovers as he had
imagined they would demonstrate. Yet, their responses were
also not those that mere friends gave, either. Perhaps they
were still trying to sort out their feelings for each other. He
sauntered over to the cart and pulled himself up.

The tension between Sellah and Simeon left a heavy
presence in the air. It was unexplainable, almost awkward to
be near. And as he entered the cart, he noted how Sellah’s
back stiffened and how she clutched the fabric of her stola.



His addition had definitely added to the awkwardness, but
why?

To change the mood of the group, Thaddius popped his
head out and called for Vettius. “Vettius, will you be joining
us?” His voice had a pleading tone to it.

A mischievous smile spread over Vettius’s face as he
looked at Thaddius in a knowing fashion. “No, go ahead. I
will ride with the others. I am sure you three have many
things you would like to discuss!”

Despite Vettius leaving them alone to talk, not one of
them said a word. And they remained in their stubborn
silence all the way to Rome.

*

As the caravan arrived at the town, supporters of the blue
team lined the streets to watch them pass. Townspeople
called out for Thaddius, waving flags and tossing palm
branches on the ground before them.

Men, women, and children were dressed in the color of
their favorite team, red, green, white or blue. Houses bore
flags or paint on their doors. The city had come alive with the
Grande Maximus.

Yet despite the full array of colors, green and blue
supporters outnumbered the others three to one. Women
clung to the hands of their children and men to the handles of
their wine vessels as they wove through the crowds toward
the circus.

Emperor Caligula had arranged for a section of Rome’s
streets to be portioned off for the first race. And as they came
closer to the site, Sellah could sense the excited pulse of the




 

crowd.

Supporters of the greens began throwing rotten vegetables
at Thaddius and his teams. This infuriated the loyal blue
supporters and a fight broke out. Men and women attacked
each other in defence of their team’s honor.

Sellah watched in astonishment as men bashed each other
with vessels of wine while women clawed at other women’s
faces and pulled their hair.

“Is it always like this?” she asked as she braved putting
her head out the window to watch.
Sellah could barely see through the throngs of people or
hear her thoughts over their shouts. She had never seen or
experienced anything like this before in her life. And a part of
her wondered if they would even make it to the race in one
piece.
She pulled her head back into the cart, narrowly avoiding
a flying cabbage.
“Yes it is pretty much the same every time,” Simeon
replied, amused by the stunned look on her face.
Thaddius paid no attention to what went on outside the
cart. Instead, he leaned his head back and closed his eyes.
Sellah watched him with a bold curiosity and then turned
to Simeon. She motioned with her eyes to Thaddius as if to
ask Simeon what he was doing.
“He is going over the race in his mind. It is his way of
preparing,” Simeon explained.

*

 




Thaddius opened one eye and looked at Sellah. A shy
smile crept over his face as he watched her for brief moment
before closing it again and returning to his thoughts. His
moment was so close he could almost taste it. There was no
doubt he would win. He would have tough competition but he
would win. He had to.



“T haddius, we missed you in the procession this morning.
I was afraid the blues would not be attending,” Barachius
taunted as he saw Thaddius approach.

“I do not doubt you thought such things. Or contrived
them to be so,” Thaddius added in an attempt to irritate
Barachius.

But Barachius laughed off the accusation and raised his
hand to greet Thaddius. Pushing his hand aside, Thaddius
walked by. The gasps of those who watched fell upon his ears
and a broad smile appeared for all to see. No doubt they
found him rude for ignoring the greeting. But rude or not, it
felt marvellous leaving Barachius looking foolish before
them.

Besides, he didn’t have enough time to tell Barachius all
the things he had wanted to. Now that the blues had
registered, he needed to make his way to his team and get
them prepared.




It didn’t take long for Thaddius to find the blue team’s
makeshift stables. They were at the edge of the square which
housed all of the charioteers and their teams. The area was
decorated with various blue banners and paintings.

He paused, taking in a deep breath so that he could absorb
every moment, every smell, before jumping into business.

When he reached the blues, he began giving out orders in
rapid succession. “Sellah, see that Diana, and the rest of my
team’s hipposandals are securely on. Last race one of the
leather straps came loose, and she almost lost her shoe.
Vettius, Simeon, I need you to help me robe. You men, help
the other drivers into their gear.”

He pointed in different directions as he shouted out his
orders. This was his territory, and he wouldn’t overlook one
small detail.

Vettius and Simeon brought over his helmet and his
leather waist, knee, and shin pads. He stood as a warrior
preparing for battle, eyes focused, chest out, shoulders back,
head high. He raised his arms and Vettius slipped on his blue
cloak, adjusting it over his back. Then both he and Simeon
set to strapping on the rest of Thaddius’s gear.

And when finished, they took a step back to look over
their work. The blue Veneta team emblem was proudly
displayed over Thaddius’s heart, and his leather accessories
made him look fierce.

“You will scare the other drivers from the track!” Vettius
beamed like a proud father.
The trumpets sounded, calling for the charioteers to make
their way to the starting gates. A smile spread across
Thaddius’s face. His time was so close now.
“I would wish you luck, but you won’t need it,” Simeon



joked as he patted Thaddius on the back and shoved him in
the direction of his chariot.

Thaddius walked around his team, taking a moment to
stop and encourage each horse. It was the routine which he
repeated before each race.

His hand ran over the familiar leather strap, and he used it
for leverage to pull himself up into the cart. He found the
markings for his feet and looped the reins around his wrist.
Before he gave the commands for the horses to leave, he
turned to wave goodbye to Simeon and Vettius. All the while
his eyes darted around the stables, trying to catch one last
glimpse of Sellah. But try as he might, he could not locate
here anywhere.

“Hijah!” he screamed and the horses jumped into motion.

As he pulled up to the starting line, he was notified that
Emperor Caligula had something planned and that they
would offer the people one final procession before the races
started.

Thaddius impatiently waited, eager to finish with the
formalities and get on with the race.

*
“Welcome to the first stage of the Grande Maximus!” the
Emperor shouted from his perch to the assembled masses.
“Today we honor the god’s with a blood sacrifice.”

He raised his arms in the air, and on command a group of
guards walked onto the track pulling a chain of men and
women. The guards shoved them to their knees in a line in
front of the swelling crowds.

“These worthless slaves have been kindly offered forward
by our very own Barachius of the greens!”

 




The crowd divided between cheers and taunts at the
mention of the greens. Sellah pushed her way forward so she
could see what was happening. Something within her told her
not to look, that it would be a mistake. But she ignored her
inner voice and continued to make her way through the
crowd to the front.

When she neared an opening, she was finally able to see
the shackled men and women. They were forced on their
knees with soldiers over them, swords pressed to the backs of
their necks. Sellah faltered in her step and allowed her eyes to
roam over every person who would senselessly lose their
lives.

As her eyes made it to the frail form of a woman in
bindings, she paused. There was something vaguely familiar
about this girl. But try as she might Sellah couldn’t place the
memory. If only she could get a look at the girl’s face.

In a fleeting moment of bravery, the girl lifted her head,
taking in for one last time the word around her. And when her
eyes locked on Sellah’s, she offered a smile.

“Nadria?” Sellah screamed as she recognized the girl from
the bathhouse. This was the girl, who like her and Accalia,
had suffered at the hands of the guard Kaeso.

“Someone stop this! Please we must do something. What
have they done to deserve public execution?” Sellah
screamed, but her voice was lost in the chants of those around
her.

A meaty hand rested on Sellah’s shoulder, and she could
recognize the scent of wine and sweat.
“They have done nothing other than to look at me the
wrong way,” he laughed, his whole flabby body jiggling and
shaking Sellah’s shoulder.




Cautiously, Sellah turned to see the face of the man who
had plagued her dreams. Barachius.
“You cannot allow this to happen,” Sellah pleaded as she
fell to her knees in front of the man.
Sweat dripped off his plump chins as he looked down at
her. “I assure you I can!”
“Please, is there anything I can do to convince you
otherwise?” She knew full well the consequences of her
offer. But what other choice did she have? Innocent people
would die all because of the man she hated more than
anything.
Grabbing her hair, he yanked her head back so he could
look upon her. He bent low, but thankfully due to his
enormous belly, he couldn’t get too close to her face.
“Your offer bears no weight with me. When all this is
done, you will be mine, and I will do as I please with you.
You will regret the day you defied me at that auction.” He
finished by spitting in her face.
The crowd fell silent as the Emperor raised his arm out
straight. His hand was clenched in a fist with his thumb
sticking out. If he put his thumb down, they would die. If he
held it upwards, they would be spared. But they all knew
what he would do. He had promised a blood offering, and a
blood offering they would get.
Barachius yanked Sellah up by her hair and turned her to
watch the spectacle unfold. He held her tightly to his body,
forcing her to feel his every breath against her back.
The crowd cheered as the Emperor’s first command was
death. Sellah closed her eyes and tried to turn her head, but
Barachius held fast to her.




The sound of blade upon flesh and bone, the lifeless
thump of the body as it fell forward, and the screams of the
crowd met her ears. She squeezed her eyes tighter together,
not wanting the image before her to haunt her memories more
than the sounds already would.