Four Horses For Tishtry

by Chelsea Quinn Yarbro

  “I may never be ready for them,” Tishtry said candidly. “But I will not know until I try, will I?” She looked at Atadillius, her expression polite and faintly curious, giving him time to answer her.

  “You’d better go exercise your team. You have to perform tomorrow.” He indicated the door. “The charioteer will be here in a few days. You should be prepared for him.”

  “I will,” she assured him, closing the door as she went out.

  * * *

  The charioteer was a Persian called Naius, a grizzled man nearing forty, with weathered features, a tough, stringy, sun—baked body, and the first signs of the disease of the crab on his shoulder. He regarded Tishtry through bleary eyes and spat in the dust. “So you’re the one they’re all talking about,” he said by way of introduction.

  “I’m Tishtry.” she said, knowing no other way to respond to this opening.

  “Well, the master’s certain you’re going to bring him a fortune in Salonae. Or so he tells me.” He clapped his hands together. “The passage is all arranged. I hear your team and rig are ready. Is there anything else you need to tend to? Better settle up your debts if the master won’t cover them for you.”

  “There’s only my keep, and that’s paid for. I don’t gamble.” She was aware that most charioteers were avid bettors, seeking any excuse to make a wager, but so far gambling was not attractive to her.

  “Strange,” he said. “But you’re young enough to have got into little trouble yet. Wait a year or two, when the money’s greater and they offer you big bribes and other enticements. I know what it’ll be like. There was a time when I did it all myself.” He signaled to two of the porters near the tavern. “Bring her chest. There’s a ship waiting for us that goes with the tide.”

  The porters hurried to obey while Tishtry said, “The horses are ready at the amphitheater. One of them is difficult to get onto a ship—Dozei doesn’t like ships.”

  “The men know how to handle that. This is a crew that’s brought leopards and crocodiles to arenae all over the Empire. A horse is nothing to them.” He inspected Tishtry again. “I heard your sister left yesterday, with her new master.”

  “She did,” Tishtry said, her throat tightening. “We didn’t get to say any true farewells.”

  “It’s better if you don’t. The parting’s less painful that way. You think that it would be otherwise, but it’s not. I remember when I was parted from my woman and our two children—I wanted to spend days and days with them, but my master did the wise thing and sent them away without warning. One day I went back to our quarters and they were gone. The grief was over sooner. That’s why the Romans have the custom. It’s wise of them.”

  “But I—” She stopped, afraid she would cry.

  The old charioteer gave her a rough pat on the shoulder. “I don’t mind if you want to weep for her. We may be slaves, but we’re still human.”

  “They didn’t have to go like that. There were things I wanted to say.” Tishtry swallowed hard and looked away, her lips pressed tightly together.

  “Our master said that she’s good with tack. You must be sorry to have her gone.” He looked at the tavern door, impatient for the porters.

  “I will miss her very much,” Tishtry said softly.

  Naius turned back to her. “There. Don’t take it to heart. It’s the way of slaves to lose their families. You were fortunate to be with yours for so long.” He cleared his throat. “Do they have decent wine at this place?”

  “I think so,” she answered, irritated by his attitude.

  “The crab is eating me,” he said matter—of—factly. “There are times I like to drown it in wine. It helps for a while.”

  Tishtry felt alarmed at this revelation, for she knew what men were like who took to comforting themselves with wine. “Will it be wise, going aboard a ship as we are?”

  He laughed roughly. “Why, I’ve had enough wine in my skin that I don’t think it could bother me if we were caught by both Scylla and Charybdis.” He grinned at the prospect of this double disaster. “We stop at Apollonia—”

  “Apollonia?” Tishtry repeated with amazement.

  “Oh, not the one you’re thinking of, on the Pontus Euxinus; this one is on our way to Salonae, on the Mare Adriaticum. I raced there when I was much younger. I’ve seen them all, even the Circus Maximus in Roma. It’s an enormous place.” He could not conceal the satisfaction he felt. “It will be a pleasant thing to see some of it again. Barantosz lives at the back of the world, though he doesn’t know it. Ah! There’re the porters. Over here, you sluggards. And bring me two skins of wine while you’re at it.” He threw them three copper coins, then turned back to Tishtry. “Do you need help carrying this to the boat, or can you manage?”

  “I can manage,” Tishtry said, more irritated than ever.

  “Just as well. No saying what a porter’ll do with a chest.” He peered up at the sky, watching the clouds. “We might have some rough weather if the wind picks up. How are your horses in a storm?”

  Tishtry could not keep her worry out of her voice. “Do you think it will be bad weather? My team ... I don’t want anything to happen to them.”

  “The captain knows his business, and he isn’t about to lose good animals if he can help it. For one thing, he’d have to pay Barantosz for the loss, and that could get expensive.”

  “To say nothing of the time it would take me to train another horse,” Tishtry snapped. “If there is any doubt, it would be best to wait.”

  “You’re being too cautious,” he said bluntly. “You’re still new to this; give yourself a few years and you’ll change your tune—trust me.” Naius winked raffishly. “By the time you’re an old hand like me, you’ll think nothing of setting out in a gale.”

  “Not with my team,” she declared.

  “Get your chest, girl.” Naius ordered, closing the argument. “We must be under way.”

  * * *

  By the time they reached the dock, the clouds had thickened overhead and the wind was brisk, coming in from the southwest. The transport ship, still tied up, rolled ominously and the gangplank shifted treacherously as Tishtry attempted to help two of the ship’s slaves lead Shirdas aboard.

  The chestnut rolled his eyes and stamped nervously, squealing as the gangplank rocked. He tried to buck, but was restrained expertly by the ship’s slaves on either side of him.

  “Don’t hurt him. He’s got a soft mouth!” Tishtry called to them.

  “We know how to do this,” the older of the slaves replied, keeping a firm hold on Shirdas’ bridle. “We’ll have him aboard and in his sling in no time.”

  Tishtry scowled as she watched them, fearing that at any instant Shirdas would buck and break free, hurting himself and perhaps one of the slaves as well. She did not want to have to get him out of the water, for she could not swim. “Careful!” she shouted as the slaves finally got him onto the deck. “Don’t force him; he gets frightened.”

  This time the slaves did not answer her, being fully occupied with getting Shirdas down the ramp to the stalls belowdecks.

  Immit was more cooperative, though she whinnied in distress at the movement of the ship. The slaves patted her and cajoled her, luring her down into the hold with a nosebag of mixed grains.

  When Amath was brought onto the deck, his ears went flat back and he started to rear, his front hooves striking out. Tishtry, still on the dock with Dozei, started to rush onto the ship, but was warned back by Naius.

  “You let them handle him. That bay of yours won’t be any calmer if you go running up to him in a panic.” He spat again. “Drosos is a good captain, and his slaves are the best. They won’t bring him to any harm.”

  “But look at him!” Tishtry protested.

  “They’ll handle him,” Naius repeated. “You look after this sorrel of yours, that’s
what you need to do.”

  Reluctantly, Tishtry turned to pat Dozei’s neck and blow into his nostrils, trying to reassure him. “You’re going to be fine, boy,” she said uncertainly as he whickered.

  At last the slaves brought Amath under control and had him mincing down the ramp into the hold.

  “There, you see? Nothing to it. Why, these slaves could load lions and tigers and ostriches without any problems. You can be sure that horses are nothing to them. They’ve even carried a rhinoceros once; I heard all about it from Drosos this morning. Tricksy animals, rhinos, and they weigh more than your horses do, too.” He rubbed at the discoloration on his shoulder. “Take care that you do not find the crab growing on you, girl. Make sure you wear your tunica all the time you race.”

  “I wear a leather tunica when I race,” she told him, her attention on the ship, not on his warning.

  “See that you do.” He nodded to the slaves who now emerged from the hold to lead Dozei aboard. “How many other horses do you have aboard this trip?”

  “Twelve more than these,” the younger one answered. “Two mares in foal among them.” He reached out for Dozei’s bridle. “Come on, fellow. Your friends are waiting for you.” He held out his hand, offering raisins to the sorrel. “Come on,” he coaxed.

  Naius had tapped the first of his wineskins and took this opportunity to have another drink from it. “Bring your chest aboard, girl. It’s time we joined your team.”

  Dozei did a jittery prance down the ramp, balking only once, when the ship rolled and creaked loudly. The slaves quieted him before taking him all the way below the deck.

  “In good weather, they sometimes keep animals on the deck in cages. Not the horses, of course. They can kick the sides out of the cages.” Naius gathered up his wineskins and a satchel of belongings and led the way onto the ship. “We have quarters in the front of the vessel, just behind the prow. One bunk each, and we share space with the crew.”

  “Fine,” Tishtry said absently. “Will they permit me to see my team before we cast off?”

  “Permit you? They require it. Drosos doesn’t want to be accused of negligence when we reach Salonae.” He indicated the ladder that led to the slaves’ tiny cabin. “Down you go. Leave your chest and then we’ll look at your team.”

  With apprehension, Tishtry climbed down the ladder, fearing as she went that she would miss her footing and fall. It was awkward to hold her chest, for it left her only one hand free to brace herself. “It’s dark in here,” she complained, disliking not the dark but the smallness of the cabin.

  “Then stay on the deck, if it bothers you. There’s no reason for you to be here when you’re not asleep. You can go back into the hold with your horses, if you like. They’re bringing your quadriga aboard now,” he added, looking along the deck as he started down the ladder. “Are you going to offer libations to Neptune and Mercury?”

  Tishtry paused in the middle of selecting a bunk. “Is it wise?”

  “Well, Neptune is god of the sea and of horses, and Mercury protects travelers. Toss a cup of wine overboard to them, when Drosos does, just in case.” He offered her his opened wineskin.

  “Do you think it makes a difference?” she asked, frowning.

  Naius shrugged. “Who knows? I think the crew believes it makes a difference, and that is important, you’ll agree.”

  “Then it should be done,” she said, knowing that her master would be offended if his slaves did not observe the customs of the ship. She put her chest on the uppermost bunk, then went back to the ladder, eager to be out of the confined quarters.

  On deck, the crew was stowing crates on deck, securing them in place with heavy webbing, while, in the bow, others were loosening the lines to the square sail that hung from the sprit that angled up from the deck. Two men were climbing aft to the high rear deck where the steering oars were located. On the tall mast amidships, slaves were climbing to the spar to let down the large, square sail. The captain stood under the mainmast, shouting instructions to his crew.

  “We’re ready to make the offering,” Naius said when Drosos had paused in his shouting.

  “In good time,” he said, giving a swift glance their way. “We’re about to cast off.” He looked up the mast and, apparently satisfied, gave his attention once more to Naius and Tishtry. “So you’re the charioteer they’re all talking about,” he said to her. “I’ve heard about your tricks.”

  “I’m honored,” Tishtry responded, as was proper.

  “You’re a credit to your master,” Drosos told her, then marched back toward the steering oars, where the guardian image of the ship stood. “We’re under the protection of Demeter; Ceres, the Romans call her. She’s been good to us so far.” He indicated the wooden figure of a young woman holding a sheaf of wheat and barley in her arms. “We started out carrying grain, but there’s more money in animals.”

  Tishtry and Naius followed after him, walking less steadily than the captain, who was used to the rocking motion of his ship. “Do we offer to her as well?” Tishtry asked Naius.

  It was Drosos who answered. “Yes.” He reached the statue and patted it affectionately. “She’s good to merchants.” Then he bent and took a flask of wine from beside the statue, opened it, and smeared a little of the wine on the wooden foot of the figure. “Take care of us, my pretty, and we’ll get you a new paint job next time we have a layover in Athenae.” Then he went to the rail and poured more wine over the side. “Neptune, be kind to us.” He poured a second libation. “Mercury, speed us, and without any of your tricks.”

  Naius opened the neck of his wineskin and poured some of the dark liquid out onto his hand, then offered the wineskin to Tishtry as he rubbed the wine into the feet of the statue as Drosos had done. Tishtry copied his motions, and as she watched the wine splash into the restless water, she hoped that the libation would gain them aid and favor from the elements.

  “We’re ready to get under way,” Drosos told them as he gave his signal to the men handling the steering oars. “In good weather, we would make the crossing in nine or ten days, but with the wind the way it is, and the swell running heavy, it might be longer. If it goes badly, we can layover at Athenae.”

  “Might it be necessary?” Tishtry asked, worry making her voice sharp.

  The ship eased away from the dock, and the slaves on the mast pulled the square sail all the way down. Drosos signaled his approval with his arm and shook his head in answer to her question. “I’ve seen worse skies turn fine in an hour, and I’ve seen a squall come out of the sun. Pray that the gods favor us, and keep to your bunk if you’re frightened.”

  “I’d rather stay with my team,” Tishtry said, feeling her stomach lurch as the ship took the first frontal assault of the waves.

  “That’s your choice,” Drosos said, then turned away toward the starboard steersman. “Hold on tight. We’re going to have a rough ride.”

  Naius tugged Tishtry’s sleeve. “Come on; leave them to their business and we’ll tend to our own.”

  DURING the day the swell increased so that by sunset the merchantman was pitching heavily. Drosos had ordered the mainsail shortened some time before, and now he stood on the afterdeck, staring at the fading red of the western horizon. He rubbed his bearded face as he watched the movement of the sullen clouds. “We’ll have a rough night,” he predicted to the two steersmen. “You’ll have to strap yourselves into your bunks.”

  The taller steersman, a swarthy, middle—aged man from Creta, agreed. “It will take both Lysander and Kortos to hold the ship on course tonight.”

  “And the cargo on deck will need tighter lashing to hold them in place,” Drosos went on, thinking aloud. “Thank goodness we have no animals on the deck in cages. Just the horses are bad enough.” He paused. “Do you recall the time that bear got loose during a storm? I don’t know which was worse, the wind or th
at animal.”

  “Best to warn the charioteers. They’ll have to keep watch in the hold.” The steersman pulled more tightly on his rudder. “Hey! Pari, keep a watch!”

  The other steersman answered grimly, “I am. Tend to your side of the ship.”

  “No arguments,” Drosos warned the men. “We have trouble enough without that. I wonder if it’s worth putting out the lamps in this weather?”

  “Better to have them. Who knows what other ships are out here on this night?” The Cretan leaned back to relieve the pressure on his arms, then set his grip more firmly.

  Drosos muttered something to himself and went down into the hold, leaving his two steersmen to their task.

  Tishtry was standing between two stalls, one arm wrapped around a supporting column, while she strove to quiet her team. “Don’t be afraid, my heroes,” she crooned to them, trying to reassure herself as much as the horses.

  The horses, confined to slings in their stalls, were clearly distressed. Dozei had flecks of foam around his sling and Amath kept craning his neck and rolling his eyes. Immit let out a shrill, squealing whinny as the ship rocked and wallowed. Shirdas was making a useless attempt to kick his way out of his sling.

  Naius, half drunk, sat slumped against the ramp to the deck. He was singing softly to himself, holding his wineskin as if it were a baby.

  “I’ve come to warn you,” Drosos said, raising his voice to be heard over the horses and the moaning of the ship, “we’re going to have to close this hatch. Otherwise we’ll ship too much water. That means that you’ll have to keep watch on the horses here—all of them, yours and the others—without help. I need all hands ready to fight the storm. Do you think you can take care of them?”

  Tishtry, who had made a minor attempt to talk to the other horses in the hold, regarded the captain with dismay. “All of them?”

  “I’m afraid so,” Drosos answered, glancing down at Naius in disgust. “I can spare one man, perhaps. You might need him.” He glowered at the man near his feet. “I don’t think he’ll be much use to you.”