The Racing Factions (8 page)

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‘I thought I’d come and watch it with you, gentlemen,’ Euprepes said, sitting down next to Magnus and Servius as the gates of the Circus Maximus opened to admit the teams competing in the second-to-last race of the day. ‘My drivers understand their orders so now comes the moment of truth.’

Magnus shifted uneasily on the stone seating as the three Red chariots appeared followed by the Blues, accompanied by cheers and jeers from the huge crowd. Suddenly his eyes opened wide in astonishment. ‘Juno’s bald crack! A White!’

Down on the track a single White chariot trailed in after the three Greens to gales of laughter from the supporters of the other three factions.

Magnus looked in alarm at Euprepes. ‘I don’t call that funny at all. I thought when they only put two chariots into the previous race it was because they only had five spare teams.’

‘They must have saved the sixth for a chance in this race. That’s Scorpus.’

‘The fuckers! He’s good.’

‘It’s all right, Magnus, my lads will deal with it.’

‘They’d better, my friend,’ Magnus said, thinking of the chances of keeping his eyes, or any other part of his anatomy, should Ahenobarbus lose his money.

The ten hortatores entered the circus whilst the starter drew numbered coloured balls from a barrel; as each team’s number was called they could choose which of the twelve starting boxes to occupy.

Once all the teams were loaded, slaves pushed the double doors back against the poles, behind each one, that were inserted into highly tensioned, twisted bundle of sinews. The doors were secured with a wooden bolt placed vertically through two overlapping iron rings – one screwed to each door; cords of twine, attached to each bolt, ran up to the roof of the boxes and then over, through eyelets, and down the back to the starter’s position so that all could be pulled open simultaneously. The hortatores then took up position in a line, fifty paces in front of their teams’ respective starting boxes as a slave patrolled the roof, checking each cord, making certain that all could run free.

The crowd went silent with anticipation. From within the dark confines of the starting boxes the teams neighed and snorted; the hortatores’ mounts stamped and tossed as their riders struggled to control them.

The presiding praetor – the man who had sponsored the day’s racing – stepped forward to the front of the senators’ enclosure and held up a white napkin; it fluttered in the breeze. The crowd drew communal breath as he paused for a few moments; then, with a flick, the napkin dropped. The starter pulled on the cords, the doors burst open and, to the delirium of the crowd, the teams sprang forward. Suddenly, from the Blue end of the circus, there came jeers and whistles; Magnus scanned the chariots to see that there were only two of that colour running. Looking back at the starting boxes he saw that one remained shut; of the slave on the roof there was no sign.

‘A starting-box malfunction,’ Euprepes observed with a look of false concern. ‘What a shame for the Blues. Still, it does happen from time to time.’

Magnus grinned. ‘Especially if you can get your man on the roof.’

‘Now that would be cheating; we wouldn’t stoop to that.’

‘Never.’

Down on the track the nine remaining teams stormed up the Aventine straight with a Blue in the lead, closely pursued by a Red with a Green outside him.

‘The Blue is Lacerta,’ Euprepes informed Magnus, ‘I’ve been trying to negotiate in secret with him to come over to our faction.’

Magnus nodded dumbly. With tension constricting his throat, he remained silent as the first corner was rounded with Lacerta ten paces in front. Behind, the Green steered clear of the Red but not so clear as to make it obvious – just a hand’s breadth – as both chariots took the corner too fast and skewed out into the middle of the track. Hardly able to look, Magnus watched the next two Reds, battling with Scorpus the White on the inside and the remaining Blue – a Numidian – just behind, negotiate the 180-degree turn. Spraying clouds of fine sand, the four chariots skidded around behind their sure-footed teams, the charioteers all leaning to their left to prevent their vehicles from tipping over to disaster.

They disappeared around the corner mainly obscured from Magnus’ vision by the angle of the statues that adorned the length of the spina. A roar went up from the White supporters on the Palatine side of the circus gates as the final two Greens entered the curve.

Magnus strained his neck. ‘Fuck! What can they see?’

Glimpses of fast-moving chariots, flashing across the gaps between the statues, tormented Magnus with their brevity.

The Whites’ volume grew.

The leading teams raced down the Palatine straight and angle lessened; the gaps grew wide enough for Magnus to see that Lacerta was still in front and also to discern the cause of the Whites’ excitement. ‘Shit! Scorpus has moved up into second and is gaining; he could fuck this for us. What are your drivers going to do about him?’

Euprepes did not reply but stared intently down at the track, clenching his fists on his knees as the first dolphin tilted and Lacerta started the second lap with Scorpus just five paces behind him; the lead Red was a good twenty paces to his rear.

The supporters of the Blues and Whites strove to outdo each other in the intensity of cheering as the next lap proceeded in a welter of dust and speed. Magnus glanced over at the imperial box where he could make out Antonia; next to her was the brooding figure of Ahenobarbus.

The second and then the third dolphins tilted as Lacerta and Scorpus pulled away from the rest of the field in their own private battle for first place. The leading Red remained third, closely followed by the first Green with the Blue Numidian on his inside. The next two Reds were nigh on fifty paces behind and beyond them the final two Greens were out of the race, over half a length of the track behind the leaders.

Magnus’ head slumped into his hands. ‘I’m going to have to get out of Rome, Servius; Ahenobarbus will tear the place apart looking for me.’

The old counsellor looked grim. ‘That certainly looks to be the only option.’

Euprepes remained silent, his fists still bunched, glaring down at the track with his jaw jutted out in concentration.

The fourth dolphin tilted and the situation had worsened.

Boys from the factions, based on the spina, threw skins of water out at their racers to quench their thirsts and to wash the dust from their stinging eyes. As the Numidian snatched at a skin aimed at him half a dozen smaller shapes hurtled through the dust from behind a spina statue. They cannoned into his team, catching the inside horse down its flank and on its jaw; the beast slewed to the right, buffeting its fellows and pushing the outside horse’s forelegs on to the wheel of the Green chariot next to it. The sharp edge of the iron tyre grated through skin and flesh and rasped the bone; the leg buckled and the horse collapsed to its right, crashing on to the side of the Green chariot, hauling its teammates down with it in a skidding spray of sand. With his team’s momentum violently checked the Numidian’s chariot arced to the right, snapping it from the central pole, hurling him, splay-limbed, into the air to somersault once before crunching down on his back with lung-emptying force. The Green charioteer fought to control his team as they veered off to the right; the two trailing Reds swerved to avoid the wreckage, and moved past the Green.

Euprepes fists slammed down on to his knees. ‘A hail of curses!’

Magnus inhaled, deeply, suddenly aware that he had been holding his breath for a very long time. ‘Very good, my friend; nothing like nail-studded lead tablets to bring a horse down.’

Servius nodded in appreciation, playing nervously with the loose skin on his neck. ‘And who’s to say who threw them, the track’s always littered with them.’

Magnus glanced up at the dolphins as the fifth tilted down. Lacerta pulled his body back on the reins around his waist, slowing his Blue team, taking the bend tightly and allowing Scorpus to draw level with him as he took the longer route around the outside at considerably more speed; their supporters screamed them both on. They whipped their teams away down the Aventine straight for the sixth time, neck and neck; their hortatores both waved an arm above their heads indicating the position of the Numidian’s wrecked chariot. Ahead the trailing two Green teams could just be glimpsed rounding the far turning point.

As the three Reds began their sixth lap, Magnus felt the bile rise in his throat and sweat trickling down his cheeks; he glanced over at Ahenobarbus in despair. ‘They’ll never catch them; our only chance is that Lacerta and Scorpus bring each other down.’ He looked with venom at the trailing Green teams, now almost three-quarters of a lap behind the leaders. ‘I never thought I’d say this but: fucking Greens!’

As Lacerta and Scorpus turned into the last lap the last two Green chariots were only halfway down the Aventine straight.

With another quick look at the imperial box Magnus saw that Ahenobarbus was sitting very, very still. ‘That’s it,’ he muttered, getting to his feet, ‘I’m off; I intend to be out of the city within the hour.’

Euprepes grabbed his arm and pulled him back. ‘It’s not over until the final dolphin dives.’

‘It is for me.’

Euprepes looked Magnus in the eye. ‘Trust me.’

‘I was mad to.’

‘You weren’t; sit back down and watch.’

Magnus did so reluctantly as the trailing two Greens disappeared around the far end of the spina and the excitement of the White and Blue supporters reached a crescendo. Lacerta and Scorpus rounded the turning post with very little between them, more than fifty paces ahead of the Reds, whom Magnus had meant to be triumphant, followed by the third Green.

Now, sure of disaster, Magnus did not care that the top quarter of the Palatine straight all but was blocked from his view; he stared glumly at the first gap that afforded sight of the action, waiting for the inevitable, unable to believe that Euprepes’ Green charioteers could salvage the situation from so far behind. They came through, side by side, almost cantering now, having given up hope. Lacerta and Scorpus pounded up behind them hell for leather; their hortatores screamed at the Greens and they parted to let them through as the Red teams rounded the final corner.

Slashing his whip down, Scorpus exhorted his team on, edging just ahead of Lacerta as they neared the gap.

The inside Green charioteer glanced over his shoulder; with an abrupt crack of the whip and a jerk of his right leg, he forced his horses to accelerate. As they sped forward the chariot’s right wheel flew off; the crippled vehicle collapsed to one side, dragging the team out to the right and into Scorpus’ path, forcing him into Lacerta. The Blue and White teams collided and ricocheted off each other into the Green chariots on either side, slowing abruptly as the terrified beasts shied. Holding his diagonal course, the inside Green forced the rearing White team back into the Blues who in turn remained penned in by the second Green. With bestial screeches – heard only by the charioteers – lost beneath the howls of outrage from the Blue and White factions, all sixteen horses collapsed to the right fighting against each other in a flurry of equine limbs in vain attempts to stay upright.

Then a new sound rose over the circus: the sound of celebration; Red celebration. Magnus stared, dumbfounded, as first one, then two and then a third Red chariot crossed the line followed, in fourth place, by the final Green. His mouth fell open and his eyes widened; for a moment he sat motionless before springing to his feet and punching both fists in the air with a high-pitched howl of jubilation.

He felt a sharp tug on his tunic and looked down still roaring.

‘A little more discretion would perhaps be appropriate, brother,’ Servius suggested, indicating around with his eyes.

Magnus looked up; he was surrounded by a sea of silent Green supporters staring in incomprehension at the one man in their midst who derived pleasure from a Red one-two-three. Magnus lowered his arms and shrugged apologetically at the nearest Greens. ‘We did come fourth.’ He sank down, hyperventilating in relief and then tried but failed to suppress the urge to vomit.

Magnus and Euprepes stood under one of the great arches of the Circus Maximus looking out over the Forum Boarium at the Racing Factions packing up for the day. Echoing off the stone all around were the cries of support and howls of disappointment of the people of Rome watching the final race.

‘As soon as my lads get back with all our winnings I’ll be off, my friend,’ Magnus said, proffering his forearm to Euprepes. ‘The South Quirinal Crossroads Brotherhood is four thousand aurii better off from all the bets we spread around. It’s been a pleasure doing business with you.’

‘And I’m a few hundred thousand in silver better off because of your idea, Magnus.’

‘It may have been my idea, but I shall be giving the credit to someone unsuspecting.’

‘You give the credit to whomever you want but the fact remains that between us we are the first people to have fixed a one-two-three without anyone noticing.’

‘Us with a little help from the gods.’

‘Gods? I didn’t notice any gods being involved.’

‘What about the wheel coming off at the last moment?’ Euprepes raised his eyebrows. ‘At just the right time, you mean?’

‘Yeah, if that wasn’t the gods, I don’t know what it was.’

‘Mechanics, my friend. The charioteer had a strap around his right foot; a sharp jerk pulled a bolt from the axle and the right wheel came off at just the right time. The other chariot had one too but didn’t need to use it.’

‘But . . .’ Magnus frowned, looking puzzled for a few moments, and then his expression gradually brightened in dawning realisation. ‘Oh, I see! I’m sorry I doubted you, that’s brilliant, Euprepes; those last two chariots were always meant to be last.’

‘Exactly. How else could we absolutely guarantee to have two chariots in front of the winners unless they were about to be lapped; and then, when an accident happens . . .’

‘Like a wheel falling off, for example?’

‘That’s a very good example, Magnus, it happens all the time. When an accident happens we can’t be accused of deliberately crashing into the winners to fix the race.’