‘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.’
‘And all bets must be honoured.’
‘Indeed. And I didn’t have to risk my best horses in a deliberate crash. My worst two teams had no problems being in the right position, almost a lap behind, by the end of the race.’
‘You could say they made it look easy.’
Euprepes grinned and turned to go; then he paused. ‘Oh, by the way, I’ll overlook your mate Lucius giving you highly confidential information.’
Magnus hid his surprise. ‘That’s very good of you.’
‘Next time you want information like that, come directly to me. Even after sparing Lucius, after what I’ve won today, I’m still in your debt.’
‘I don’t know if I’ve mentioned this before, Euprepes, but I consider you to be the kindest and most understanding of men.’
Senator Gaius Vespasius Pollo did not look like a man who had won a lot of money as he waddled down the steps from the senators’ enclosure soon after the completion of the last race.
‘Did you not get your bet on, sir?’ Magnus asked as he and his brethren began the arduous job of escorting him home through the race-day crowds.
‘I did, Magnus; I put down all my winnings from the Green one-two the other day on the basis that what I won today would be a sufficiently large bribe to perhaps interest Ahenobarbus in backing Sabinus in the elections. I laid Ignatius’ promissory note of two hundred in gold with him and the two hundred in gold coinage I laid amongst the other three bookmakers; they were fine and I have promissory notes from them worth over ten thousand in total.’
‘But Ignatius has refused to honour the bet?’
‘Worse, my dear man, he disappeared. One moment he was there and then after the three Reds crossed the line he wasn’t. No sign of his slaves or bodyguards, just his table was left. I would guess that he took the opportunity to get out of the city very quickly. Now I have only half the amount that I planned to bribe Ahenobarbus with.’
Magnus cursed and bit his lower lip, thinking of Ignatius enjoying his wealth unnoticed in some far-off provincial town. Seething, he took his anger out on the people before him as he barged through the crowd. From the left the crush started to part and, above people’s heads, Magnus could see eight fasces – axes wound in rods, the symbol of power – borne by lictors.
Magnus and his brethren stopped to give way for a party of higher status.
‘Who could that be?’ Gaius mused. ‘No magistrate has eight lictors.’
As the walking symbols of Imperium pushed their way past, a grating voice called out: ‘Stop!’ From behind the last two lictors Ahenobarbus emerged and pointed at Magnus. ‘Come here!’
Magnus approached the Senior Consul with trepidation.
Ahenobarbus slapped his arm around Magnus’ shoulder and leant in to him in a conspiratorial manner. ‘That, Magnus, was spectacular; I’m over two million denarii better off.’
‘Two million?’
‘Yes, two. I caught the insolent little man smirking as he took my money, taking me for a fool, so I doubled the bet and Ignatius accepted it.’
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‘But, Consul, I’ve a nasty feeling that he’s left Rome.’
‘Left Rome?’ Ahenobarbus’ mouth pursed in confusion. ‘Of course not, although he did seem to be making plans to beat a pretty hasty exit as those three Reds came in. However, I had four of my lictors watching him.’ He turned and signalled. His remaining four lictors came forward with a terrified Ignatius in their midst. ‘He’ll find it very difficult to leave Rome; in fact he’ll find it very difficult to leave my house until he’s paid me what he owes. Tomorrow we’re going to start auctioning his property and then if that doesn’t raise enough we’ll auction him at the slave market.’
Magnus gave Ignatius an appraising look. ‘Might even buy him myself.’
Ignatius’ eyes widened in horror.
Magnus smiled his most innocent smile. ‘I expect you’re wishing that you paid me my full winnings now, Ignatius?’
‘You?’ Ignatius blurted, ‘You did this to me?’
‘No, Ignatius, you did; and, of course, the Fates who contrived to have a Red one-two-three in the very race that our esteemed Senior Consul decided to bet so much on it.’
‘Talking of the Fates,’ Ahenobarbus said, moving Magnus away from Ignatius, ‘who was the particular Fate that organised all this?’
Magnus inclined his head towards Gaius. ‘My patron, Consul, Senator Gaius Vespasius Pollo.’
Gaius tried to hide the confusion and consternation he felt but failed as Ahenobarbus clasped his forearm.
‘Senator Pollo, we haven’t had much contact before but I can see that you are a man of rare ability.’
‘I am honoured, Consul, thank you.’
‘No, it is I who should be thanking you; what can I do for you?’
Gaius broke into a moist-lipped smile. ‘Well, there is the small matter of the quaestor elections coming up soon.’
‘Ah yes, such a wide field, so many worthy candidates; it’s difficult to choose.’
‘Indeed, Consul; but I feel that my nephew, Titus Flavius Sabinus, would be an admirable choice.’
‘I think that you may well be right, senator, I was thinking of backing him myself.’
‘It may interest you to know that Ignatius took a bet off me for two hundred aurei in the second-to-last race.’
‘Did he now? Were you lucky enough to have the foresight to bet on a Red one-two-three?’
‘Like you, I was divinely inspired. I only won a trifling amount, two hundred and fifty thousand denarii, but perhaps, as you strip Ignatius of his assets, you would care to keep it as an aid to your memory?’
Ahenobarbus clapped Gaius on the shoulder. ‘The name Titus Flavius Sabinus will be firmly fixed in my mind; in fact, I’ll practise saying it every time the subject of the quaestor elections comes up. Good day, senator.’ With a brief nod to Magnus he rejoined his lictors.
Gaius looked at Magnus with delight. ‘Promissory notes for a quarter of a million denarii that I can use as a bribe for supporting Vespasian in next year’s quaestor elections and the Senior Consul supporting Sabinus in this year’s; that should do it.’
Magnus pictured his own considerable winnings; his eyes narrowed in cold satisfaction and a grim smile creased his lips as he watched Ignatius, shoulders slumped, disappear into the crowd at the mercy of Ahenobarbus. ‘Yes indeed, senator; that should do it very nicely.’
The Racing Factions Page 7
