“There are good reasons for Armenians to cooperate with the Romans. The Romans are very strict in their slave laws, and they are not pleased when their laws are abused. I have a license to sell mules and horses to them, and the authority from our King to breed up to five hundred horses. You are a good girl, Tishtry, and your father is a good man, but none of you are worth that government license. So I will do all that I can to uphold the Roman slave laws, and be careful in my conduct. I want to have another license next year, and the year after that. It is my hope that I will have a thousand horses here in ten years, but that will not happen if the Romans do not approve of how I run my business.” He nodded slowly. “So you see, girl, I have no reason to play you false. And you have every reason to do the best that you are able, so that you may free your family at last. It is in both our interests that you perform and improve.” He stroked Shirdas. “Your horses are a testimony to the quality of my animals. Take good care of them.”
“As you have already reminded me, it is in my best interests to do that.” She lifted her chin to stare at him. “And besides, they are mine.”
Barantosz made a growling sound that Tishtry knew was his way of chuckling. “You’re right; they’re yours.”
IT WAS difficult for Tishtry to look at Soduz because she was afraid that she would cry, and that would be wrong. The four months since she had received her team had passed too quickly. She took the cup of watered wine he offered and drank the stuff down much more quickly than she usually did. “Then it is set? I leave in three days?”
“Yes. Barantosz was pleased at the report of his neighbors, and so there’s no reason to keep you here. The Games at Apollonia begin in a month, and this way you will have a little time to get used to the larger arena, and the team can, too.” He coughed once to clear his throat. “I said you’d be ready.”
The time had gone by so fast, Tishtry thought. She had assumed it would be much longer—always in the past the months had crept by. Now she was about to leave and it seemed only a few days ago, not four months, that her master had outlined his plans for her. “I ... I’ll be ready.”
“Good. There will be a group of trainers going to Apollonia for the spring bidding, and Barantosz has said that you will go with him. After you arrive in Apollonia, he will pay the fees to enter you, and from then it is up to the Master of the Bestiarii to decide where you will do the best.”
“Fine.” She wished that they were not alone. Her mother and her father’s other wife would let her have the chance to cry.
“Macon has almost finished the saddles. She might be able to go with you.” He doubted that Barantosz would be willing to stand the cost of taking another slave with him, but he could see how miserable Tishtry was, and he knew he had to make the effort, even if nothing came of it.
“I’ve practiced with the two she has finished,” Tishtry said, hardly knowing what she meant. Being without Macon was unthinkable. She could not face losing all her family so completely.
“Good. You’ll do fine in Apollonia. I have heard that the crowd there has a love of horses. Your four will please them.”
“I hope so,” she muttered, her mind on other things. She wanted to have a word or two with her groom, so that the horses would not be mishandled when they were got ready for the journey. “Immit is ear shy,” she murmured, and let her father give her a little more wine.
“And Dozei does not like to be approached from the rear,” Soduz finished for her. “I have told the grooms that. They all have heard it from you, and from me. If any of them do wrong, it will not be our mistake.” He put his hand on her shoulder and turned toward the orchard behind the stable. “Come, girl. Let’s walk together. It’s pleasant enough out.”
Tishtry sighed, but allowed herself to be coaxed out into the sunlight. “I ... I don’t want to go.”
“Yes, you do,” Soduz said firmly. “You’re afraid that you will be lonely, and I think it is likely that you will be. That’s natural, my daughter, and you should not feel that you are wrong to miss us. But,” he went on, not giving her any opportunity to argue this point with him, “you are going to have much to do, and there will be little time for you to feel sorry for yourself—”
“Sorry for myself?” she demanded.
“That is how it might appear to those who do not know you,” he said in his most bracing tone. “You will have to think about your demeanor now, because you will be with many strangers, and most of them will have little reason to give you more than passing attention. It is your conduct that will make the difference, and if you drag about and look hangdog, they will ignore you, and listen to those with a more cooperative attitude. Do you understand me, girl?”
“I am supposed to put on a brave front, and—”
Her father cut her short. “No, not a brave front!” He stopped and looked down at her. “What are you? A half—grown cur prancing and fawning in the hope of finding a master? No! You are the best trick rider our family has ever had, and we have been trick riders for generations. You have only to be what you are, girl, and you will shine. I thought you’d learned the difference between courage and bravery. Any fool can show bravery, but it takes courage to jump from the back of one galloping horse to the back of another, and smile while you do it. Keep that in mind when you meet strangers, and recall that we would not let our freedom ride on you if you were not the finest rider in this family.”
To her chagrin, Tishtry began to speak, and instead burst into tears. Her face went scarlet and she tried to turn away.
“No, no, girl. There’s no shame in weeping.” Soduz clapped his arm around her shoulder and pulled her close to him. “You’re a good girl, and a superb horsewoman, and there is no reason you cannot rise as high as anyone in the arenae of the Empire. The new Emperor likes chariot races and charioteers, and so even Roma is not beyond your grasp.” He patted her in rough comfort. “You’ll do us proud, I am certain of it.”
She was able to make a muffled reply, but even she thought it made little sense.
Apparently this did not bother Soduz. “Come, Tishtry, let it out now, while it will trouble no one. I don’t want Barantosz thinking he has made a mistake. The man is so easily flustered that we must take great care with him, so that he will not be misled.” He drew her with him to a bench under the trees. “Now, girl, pay attention to me.”
She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. “Yes, Father,” she sniffed.
“Barantosz will change his mind a dozen times before you reach Apollonia, and it will be up to you to remain firm in your purpose and tell him that you are eager to go on. Otherwise he will lose heart and it will be another year at least before he will be able to undertake such a venture. If he sees that you are faltering, he will abandon the whole thing, and we will be the worse for it.”
“All right,” she said, more confidently.
“He may be the master and we his slaves, but it will not be the first time that the slaves have made the master. Keep that thought before you and you will know how best to go on.” He paused a moment, then poured her more wine from the jug he carried. “He will give many orders, of course, but you will have to keep the purpose in mind. The grooms will look to you for guidance, not Barantosz, and if you do not stay firm, there could be trouble. Remember, they are your horses, not Barantosz’s, and you must care for them or they will suffer for it.”
“I will.” She felt some of the fear that had been gnawing at her leave her mind.
“And you will have to be sure that no one in Apollonia is mistaken in your purpose. You are not there to race—not that they would permit a woman to race, but still—you are there to perform, and to do tricks that none of the racing charioteers could do in a decade of practice.” He stopped, and his manner softened. “I am going to miss you, girl.”
This time she controlled her sobs, though she felt her eyes fill. “When you ar
e free, Father, then perhaps we will see each other again.”
“Yes,” he said, and they both knew it was a lie.
“The gods will favor us,” she said, aware that now he was the one who needed cheering. “It will not be long before you are free.”
“I am certain of it.” He stood up. “There is going to be a feast tomorrow, to honor you and to reassure our master. No sadness then, Tishtry. You must learn to smile for him.”
“As I do when I jump from horse to horse?” she asked, attempting to smile for her father and failing.
“It’s something like practice,” he said, and Tishtry saw with amazement that Soduz, her hearty, practical father, was fighting back tears.
She set her cup aside and got to her feet. “I won’t fail you, Father.”
At last he had to look away. “I know.”
* * *
Macon came running into the room where her family kept the tack for their horses. Her face was flushed and her eyes were bright, and when she spoke, her voice was high with excitement. “Oh, Father! Barantosz has said I’m to go with Tishtry. He didn’t refuse!”
Soduz turned from his work to look at her. “You spoke to him?”
“Just now. I said that I would need time to prepare my equipment, and there is only a day to do it.” She dragged one of the three—legged stools away from the wall and sat, reaching for the largest leather satchel in the room. “I’ll take my gear and enough supplies to make Tishtry another saddle and bridle, so she will have a spare, in case anything happens.”
“Have you told her yet?” Soduz asked. He was rubbing oil into a pair of reins, testing them for suppleness as he worked.
“Not yet. I thought I’d find her as soon as I’ve packed.” She was gathering up supplies as she spoke, and she tried hard not to rush, knowing that she was likely to forget something if she did.
“Very good. Does your mother know?” He asked it awkwardly; it was difficult to lose two children at the same time.
“Not yet.” She looked up, her expression serious. “I will not be sold. He gave me his word on that. I will return here.” She took a half—completed wooden frame. “He knows I’m a good saddler and he doesn’t want to set a value on me that will make it apparent that I have great skill. So it follows that he will keep me. That’s sensible.”
“He also gave his word that the family would be kept intact for five years, so that Tishtry might have the chance to earn enough to free us.” He said it slowly, wondering if it would be possible. Tishtry had done her best to appear confident, but in the last day, Soduz was beginning to doubt their chances.
“Then I will be returning,” Macon said calmly. “And there is no reason to fear.” She picked up two scrapers. “Which one shall I leave for you?”
“The bone—handled one,” Soduz answered.
Macon went on with her packing, then said, “I wish now that one of us could read and write. That way, we could send word to you that all is well, and inform everyone of how Tishtry is doing.”
“I couldn’t read the message in any case,” Soduz told her.
“Yes, but there are those here who could, and that way ... well, it doesn’t matter. Whoever learned to read in less than a day?” Macon sighed as she looked around the room. “I need thongs and twine. Where are they?”
“Second shelf under the window. Leave some for me,” Soduz said, then gave her a long, steady look. “Guard yourself, child, and your sister. Slaves are vulnerable, and you are woman enough for men to want you.”
“That’s for Barantosz to say,” Macon reminded her father.
“Still, you should take care. Barantosz isn’t one to protest too much for his slaves.” He shook his head. “When the time comes, I hope he’ll choose well for you, Macon.”
“So do I,” Macon answered wistfully. “Tishtry’s safe enough—no woman rides well carrying a child, let alone does tricks, and that’s her value to our master. He won’t let Tishtry be any man’s woman as long as she can win for him in the arena. If she ever wants a man for herself, she’ll have a hard time convincing Barantosz to allow it.” She gave a short, wise laugh. “As long as I’m with her, he’ll make sure I’m safe enough. He’s too nervous to risk letting either one of us find a man for a while.”
“Perhaps,” her father said. “But have a care in any case.”
“Do you think any man we’re likely to meet will be foolish enough to hazard the penalties for abusing a slave? Barantosz will take care to see we’re guarded.”
“I think that many men are foolish where women are concerned, and women where men are,” Soduz said. “And the penalties for slave abuse won’t stop a fool.” He nodded to himself. “You’re a clever girl, like your sister, but you’ve got sense enough to be cautious. That benefits you, but it hinders you as well. If only Tishtry weren’t quite as impetuous as she is.” He fell silent. “Macon, if we were free, it wouldn’t matter. But until we are, we must be practical and sensible at all times. You know that, even if Tishtry doesn’t.”
Macon came to his side. “You’re saying that you’ll worry about us,” she corrected him. “Father, at least we’re not being sold.”
Soduz chuckled ruefully. “You’re right. I am worried.”
“I will thank the gods for your care,” Macon promised him, then lifted her satchel with difficulty.
“You’re carrying a lot,” Soduz remarked, trying to make light of their parting.
“You taught me that I should always have what I need on hand,” Macon said, then kissed his cheek. “I’ll come back, Father. I will.”
Soduz patted her hand, but said nothing.
* * *
It was a blustery morning when Barantosz gathered his little cavalcade together and started out for Apollonia. Most of the household came out to bid them a safe journey and to wish them well in the venture.
“I will send word back, my word on it,” Tishtry called out to her mother, waving for the entire gathering to see. She knew that her father was depending on her to show enthusiasm and eagerness, so she resolutely kept the tears from her eyes and determinedly smiled and called out encouragement to those around her. Mounted on Shirdas, she let the chestnut curvet and sidle, showing his mettle; she felt his tension through the reins, and kept her hands light. “Have a care!”
“The gods favor you!” Soduz shouted, gesturing to the rest of his family to wave heartily. “Do us honor!”
Tishtry held up her hand to them, accepting this charge with purpose. “I will!”
Barantosz, riding in a biga pulled by matched blacks, came abreast of her and scowled. “I want you to take the second place in line, behind me.”
He was showing her unusual courtesy, and Tishtry was confused at his order. “The second place?”
“You’re the main reason we’re going. You should be in the second place.” He turned to glower at his charioteer. “And don’t go too fast. You know that the roads are not all good. I don’t want a broken wheel or axle for our efforts.”
The charioteer, a whip—slender Greek, just shrugged. He looked across at Tishtry. “They’re bringing your quadriga and the rest of your team up behind you. I’ll hold to a trot most of the way.”
“All right,” Tishtry responded, feeling the first welling of pride. It was not as painful to leave her family if it was done with distinction like this. “I will keep to a trot.”
“Your team is five—paced?” the Greek asked.
“Of course,” Tishtry answered haughtily. “You’ve seen them work.”
“Then we will expect them to do the uphill gait when we enter Apollonia.” He nodded with Barantosz as he said it. “They should attract some attention that way.”
“We won’t be at Apollonia until tomorrow afternoon,” Tishtry reminded the two men. “We can work out our plans when we stop for
the night.” She realized she was being high—handed in her conduct, but her father had told her several times that she must take a positive stance with Barantosz. “I don’t know what the road is like there, and if there is a crowd, it might be better just to get through the gates as best we can.”
“A good thought,” Barantosz said, and began to toy with the ends of his belt. “We would not want to cause any difficulties, since the Guard might not permit us to bring the horses inside the walls if—”
The Greek whipped up the blacks, and the last of Barantosz’s dithering was lost in the rumble of wheels and the clapping of hooves.
Four wagons back, Macon sat with three other women behind the driver. The vehicle was uncomfortable and the big mules that pulled it were bad tempered, but Macon bore it all with calm good humor. She watched her younger sister riding ahead, and felt gratitude to Tishtry for making the journey possible for her. She had never complained to her family, but for three years she had longed to get away from the limited world of Barantosz’s land. For a slave there was little choice, and often the alternatives were unpleasant. But now Macon was getting her wish, and without the distress of being sold.
Tishtry grinned, thinking of all the wonderful stories she could tell when she returned. She wanted to convince herself that she would return, no matter how remote the chance, since it made leaving bearable. It was hard enough to go when she wanted to think of her return, but if she did not come back, it would be agony to leave. She shook herself inwardly, telling herself that it was foolish to be troubled. Before she let herself be distressed by such questions, she would have to succeed in the arena. If she won, there would be sweetenings given to her by those who made money from her performances, and there would be time then to think about when she could return.
Tishtry took her place behind Barantosz’s biga and reluctantly pulled Shirdas to a trot. The chestnut tossed his head in protest, then steadied into the pace as Tishtry’s quadriga was brought up behind her, driven by one of the older grooms. Dust blew around them, swirling and stinging. Tishtry ignored it, keeping her mind instead on her master’s chariot, ahead of her on the road to Apollonia.
Four Horses For Tishtry Page 3
