by Tony Roberts
Casca sighed and lay back on his bed to ease his muscles after another hard day. Those damned horses seemed hell bent on maiming him every time he got in the chariot, but at least he had managed to remain on his feet today. Hadramon seemed to think he could be ready for the four horse chariot in less than two weeks, and maybe the next scheduled race in Adrianople after that. Casca had acquired a helm that covered most of his face, including the scar, and two brass wristlets that concealed the scar around his wrist, two tell-tale features that the Brotherhood would recognize at once if they were watching a race he was in.
The summer had come and it was a hot one, typical of the hot, muggy summers normal for Constantinople, yet he enjoyed the days sweating in the sun. It helped work out some of the frustrations he felt at not being able to do anything constructive for the time being. He went over the tactics of racing and flexed his shoulders to ease the aching he felt at having to drag the horses round the turns, taking a course he wanted rather than the wider one they desired. If he could master the horses and impose his will over them, the battle was half won. Then it was up to his brain to work out the angles, speed and distances and not get smashed up all over the place.
The door latch lifted and he sat up and watched as the door opened and Zoe edged in around it. She had been flirting openly with him for weeks but Casca had ignored her ill-concealed advances. He was too busy learning how to keep himself from being thrown all over the racetrack and burning for the chance to get even with the Brotherhood to respond. Now the dark-haired sultry woman decided things had gone on long enough. She had allowed the scarred newcomer to rent a room in her house for one reason only, and that was to satisfy her sexual needs which she needed sating almost daily. She'd worked out her frustrations on some of the other men, Icanius in particular, but she was longing to try out this big man who looked extremely likely to give her what she craved.
She recognized he exuded an air of power and danger about him, but she also knew that it wasn't threatening in any way. She was too afraid to admit being overawed by his presence and the latent power he possessed but she knew her desire to couple with him was growing to an intolerable level. So this evening she had put on her most alluring clothing and used her expensive henna and kohl to color her face and hands. She had noticed too the look Carina gave him and as a woman she noticed the potential rivalry to the man she already was planning to make hers. Once she had seduced this man, that rivalry would be stopped, even if it meant stopping him seeing the daughter. She resented the way he played with little Delia, letting her climb all over him and pretending she frightened him when she leaped out at him. Tonight she would make him hers. Was she not experienced in the ways to satisfy a man? Did not the men of the faction vie to bed her once she had made them taste paradise in her skills in making love? Once a man had spent a night with her most didn't wish to couple with another woman, even their wives!
Casca watched as Zoe closed the door and walked up to his bed. She didn’t so much as walk, as glide, swaying her hips and letting her long hair brush back and forth across her shoulders. The two looked at each other for a moment, then she undid her shift and allowed it to fall to the floor, revealing her body. Casca grunted. He’d wondered when this temptress would finally take action. “Is this part of the rental agreement, woman?”
Zoe laughed the words off. “I'll give you a night to remember, Rufius. You want me, I know you do, and I can give you satisfaction no other woman will ever be able to. Do what you want to me; ravage me, take me.” She fell forward onto the bed and crawled up towards him. “I'm all yours.” He felt that old familiar stirring in his loins and realized he hadn’t enjoyed a woman’s body for about two years. The memory of Ireina still hurt but he also remembered his other loves and knew there would be more to come, and his body needed a woman right now, judging by the reaction to her nakedness. She pulled back the thin blanket and laid down next to him. He smiled and ran a hand over her body. “It seems you want me as much as I want you,” she said huskily.
* * *
The next morning Casca woke to find Zoe had returned to her room, probably sleeping off the energy expended during the night. Certainly he hadn’t had much sleep, but then he didn't mind if that was how his sleep was sacrificed. Ahh! It felt good to be able to unwind again. The steamy Zoe still hadn’t appeared by the time he left but he didn’t begrudge her sleeping late. He just wondered what her attitude to him would be now they had slept together. He walked to the race track and saw Icanius there arguing with Hadramon, the two stopping suddenly when they caught sight of Casca approaching. Icanius scowled and stalked off while Hadramon looked at him guiltily.
“Okay, Hadramon,” he said forcefully, “what was that all about? Icanius wants me out?”
Hadramon twisted his lips. “No, he and I had that discussion the day you came. He wants you on the four horse chariot today. I have the impression he wants you pushed until you make an error and get spread over the race track. That would make his day.”
“It would make his fucking year,” Casca grumbled. “Still, if you’re happy for me to trot a four-team around the place that’s okay by me, but I won’t gallop one yet.”
The elderly man shrugged. “I think you’re going too fast. It’s not that long ago you began on the one-horse chariot. You’re still struggling with the two-horse, and I don’t think you’re ready yet. What’s the rush?”
Casca looked at Gundar riding a four horse team around, the Germanic rider sporting a nicely misshapen nose, a legacy of Casca’s greeting to him. “You want a rival to Manius, and the season’s coming along without a sign that any of these people here can touch him. I’m strong enough to look after myself, and if I can master the four, then I’m ready to be let loose on the circuit.” In truth, he was getting impatient at the length of time he was sat on his ass and the Brotherhood was still untouched within reaching distance. It ate at him.
“Very well,” Hadramon said heavily, “but if you end up in bits over the track, don’t expect me to put the parts back together.” He slapped Casca on the shoulder and led his trainee over to the stables to hitch up a four horse team and the next stage in the training of Rufius of the Blue faction.
As the summer came to an end Casca’s training finished. He had mastered the four horse chariot after a few weeks of trail, error and great pain. Icanius fumed that his hated colleague had grasped the skills to ride and was in fact tipped by Hadramon to do well. The next race in Adrianople was a week away and it would take that long to travel there, get used to the stadium and then race. Casca bade Zoe and Delia farewell, promising he would win and return with honors. Carina gave him a long stare, one that said she wasn’t pleased he was bedding the older Zoe, but Casca didn’t give a rat’s ass what she thought. Zoe had almost slapped a possession order on him and threatened off every other woman in the community. Casca couldn’t care less; he was intent on getting the first race out of the way and nothing else mattered at that moment. He did have a quiet word with Torgeth, asking if he would keep an eye on things, not wanting either woman to start something heavy in his absence. The German assured him that he would and Casca left with the other faction members along the old Via Egnatia, the Roman road that led west to the Adriatic coast at far off Dyrrachium. The only bad point was the presence of Icanius whose looks towards Casca bade him no good at all. Gundar had vanished a few weeks ago, still smarting at the beating he’d received at the hands of the Roman and rumors were that he had defected to the Greens, much to the anger of the people around, even Icanius.
As they traveled away from Constantinople Casca reflected on events that had occurred over the last few months. He was still full of anger and frustration, and longed to haul himself up into prominence so that the Imperial couple could notice him. That was his way into the high echelons of the Empire, and his route to Narses. Zoe had made his stay that much more pleasant, but she was just incidental, and he knew she was only interested in him as a passing fad. Her reputation was we
ll known to him, thanks to gossip from the other riders. All of them had had Zoe at one time or another, and one or two were glad he was taking much of her attention up.
All the same his domestic situation wasn’t softening him. He was very wary in letting anyone close lest the tragedy that had befallen Ireina and Demos happened again. He certainly didn’t want little Delia to have the same fate, and his blood began to boil even as he thought what the Brotherhood would do if they got their hands on the girl.
The news from Italy was interesting in that Belisarius, now reinforced by Sicarus’s mercenaries, was content to stay in or around Naples despite urgings from the Emperor to move on northwards. The general had written to Justinian stating he hadn’t enough men to defeat the Gothic nation and garrison the places he had conquered, and unless they were forthcoming he would stay put. That probably went down with the imperial court like a cup of cold vomit. The Goths had made all the recent moves; the nobility having got fed up with Theodehad’s dithering had deposed him and elected one Vitiges in his place.
Theodehad had sensed things weren’t all that well and had made a run for Ravenna but some of the more disgruntled members of the Gothic army had decided that a mere deposing wasn’t good enough and had promptly killed the poor man, thus bringing to an end the reign of Theoderic’s family. Vitiges had promised action and was rallying the army to him at Ravenna at that moment which didn’t bode well for Belisarius and his vastly outnumbered force, yet still the imperial court refused to send any more reinforcements although the army was on stand by. Much of the refusal to grant the general a bigger force stemmed from the Emperor’s mistrust of popular and successful generals who in the past had ended up vying for the throne in the old Roman Empire, and Justinian certainly didn’t want that happening to him.
Narses wasted no time in pointing this out on many occasions; his dislike for the popular general overcoming any success he may desire for the Empire - in fact his orders from Elder Thassus was to sow dissension and mistrust in the court so to undermine the imperial war effort. Narses still harbored in his breast the glory of the vision he had received about killing the Emperor and would, when necessary, carry out the act. In his mind however the Empress was by far the more dangerous and she often influenced Justinian in decisions that came from the court.
* * *
The city of Adrianople had been named after the Roman Emperor Hadrian and was the largest settlement in Thrace. It had been outside this city’s walls that the demise of the Roman Empire had begun with the victory of the Visigoths over the Emperor Valens in 378, but like the rest of the eastern half of the Empire it had survived the fall of the western half and now was an important supply post in between the capital and the frontiers in Illyricum and on the Danube. Casca had passed through the city with Ireina and Demos a few years back while on his way to seek employment as a mercenary so some of the streets were familiar. The stadium was a smaller version of the Hippodrome in Constantinople and Casca studied the track closely on the day he arrived. He was scheduled to race in the last contest as the Blues’ third ranked rider, behind two locals, one of whom was an elderly man coming down from his pinnacle.
The three Green charioteers included an experienced rider by the name of Telanius, a man revered by the local Green faction as invincible in the city, although when he had tried his luck in the capital he had been badly beaten, so he had remained a big fish in a little pool.
Casca watched the first few races and was encouraged by some successes but overall the larger Green faction was winning, although it was close. He decided to check on his horses and chariot and wandered into the cool interior of the stadium, and was intrigued to see someone moving about furtively by his vehicle. Sneaking up he recognized Icanius and the Greek was too engrossed in what he was doing to notice Casca standing there until he straightened from the left hand wheel and saw him a few yards away. Icanius’s face went still with shock, then a guilty look spread across it. Casca slowly moved round to look at the wheel and saw the fittings had been loosened so that it would fall off at high speed when going round a corner. Casca’s jaw tightened. Icanius was clearly out to kill him and if there was a serious accident which would have killed any normal man, his condition would be revealed when he revived. The Greek was obviously a liability and in the end would accidentally reveal Casca’s unique condition.
“You intended to kill me, didn’t you?” he growled deeply, squaring his shoulders.
Icanius hefted the knife he had in his hand which he had used to damage the wheel with. “I may as well kill you now, Latin.” The last was an insult, the way it was spoken.
“You may try, boy lover, but I’ll stick that piddling little toy of yours right up your ass, which knowing you Greeks you’ll enjoy.” Icanius’s face darkened and he sprang at Casca, knife swinging downwards aimed at the neck, but Casca seized the wrist with his left hand and Icanius’s throat with his right, and squeezed hard. Icanius reckoned that he was tough but he had never before encountered such strength and the awful realization hit him that he had screwed up well and good this time. The knife was forced out of lifeless fingers and his blood was pounding in his ears as his vision began swimming. Suddenly he was pulled forward and his face was smashed into the chariot, breaking his nose and a few teeth. He was pinned face down by one immensely strong arm no matter how much he struggled, then he felt his legs being forced apart and knew what was coming. “Noooooo!!” he screamed, bubbling through the blood, but the implacable face of Casca never changed as he slowly inserted the knife blade. Icanius felt a burning pain in his bowels and in his terror emptied his bladder. The last thing he heard was Casca’s voice in his ear. “Told you I’d do it,” he breathed, then slammed the knife up and twisted, severing intestines, organs and his genitals.
Casca looked down in distaste at the corpse and at his bloodied hands. He had to dispose of the body and clean himself up before his race which wasn’t too long away. Besides, someone might happen along at any time and it wouldn’t do to be found with a body at your feet and a bloodied knife in your hand.
There was a convenient store room which he dumped the disemboweled Greek in and used a handy bucket to wash off the blood. Keeping the knife he returned to the chariot and saw Hadramon there. “Ah, there you are, Rufius. It's time to hitch up the horses and prepare yourself. How are you feeling?”
“Okay. I think the left wheel is suspect, though.”
Hadramon examined the wheel and whistled as he caught sight of the sabotage. He looked up at Casca. “Who did this?”
Deciding to come clean with the man who had spent a lot of time and effort in grooming him, he told him of Icanius’s treachery and the fight to the death. Hadramon looked sick. Icanius had been a good bodyguard but his jealousy and nasty streak had alienated him from most of the faction in recent months and he wouldn't be missed. Hadramon called a couple of slaves over and detailed them to dispose of the body in an alleyway somewhere, then he set to making the wheel safe. By the time he had finished the horses were brought out from the stables and hitched to the chariot. The reins were left draped inside the vehicle and the team was led out into the sunshine. The wave of noise washed over Casca and his mind went back to the days he had been a gladiator; his heart began to beat and the sweat broke out over his body as adrenaline coursed through his veins. He smiled from behind his helmet as an old familiarity settled over him. Once again he would be a competitor playing to the crowd.
He heard the names of the competitors being announced and the biggest roars were reserved for Telanius. When his own name - Rufius - was announced, there were a few polite claps which were drowned out by catcalls from the Green supporters. They didn't give a shit who he was; the fact he was a Blue meant he had no parents and he copulated with dogs. Adjusting his helm to a more comfortable position on his head and making sure the wrist bands were in place, he mounted the two wheeled chariot and took the reins in his hands, guiding the horses round to the start line. To the left in it
s socket stood the whip he could use to goad the team to greater speed, although he wouldn't put it past some of the less sporting riders to use it on opponents.
The smell of sweat, horses and leather filled his nostrils as his senses heightened, and he glanced to either side at the other riders. They had all given him a cursory glance but decided he was nothing. A newcomer was easy meat.
The crowd became hushed as the six chariots formed in a rough line, although Telanius was slightly in front which was ignored by the race official. Casca decided to keep an eye on the Green who was hot favorite. Casca glanced at the other four, receiving encouraging nods from the two Blues and sneers from the Greens, then he drew in a deep breath, made sure his cloak was secure and draped behind him and concentrated on the official. The crowd began to increase its noise, the official threw down the flag and then the race was on! Casca slapped the rumps of the horses with the reins and they leapt forward, snapping Casca's head back with the force. There was a terrible thunder as twenty four horses galloped for the first turn. Dust billowed up from the hoofs of the horses and the wheels of the chariots and it was hard to see who was where until they strung out. Casca finally saw it was Telanius in the lead, hotly pursued by a chariot from each faction, then came Casca in fourth position.
Dragging his team round the first turn he saw Telanius speed away, opening a gap between him and his team mate, someone called Kos, and the Blue rider Floris. By the time they had rounded one circuit it was clear there were only the four in it, and the two back markers then proceeded to try to impede the opposition faction's chariots as they passed, steering across them at the critical moment.
Casca had a hairy moment on the second circuit when passing the last placed Green, but the force in the turn opened a slight gap on the inside and he nipped through with a vile invective hurled at him. Casca grinned beneath his helm and closed on Floris who had been less fortunate in passing and had lost ground. Telanius and Kos had gained some distance and their supporters were screaming encouragement as they raced into the third circuit, at least seven lengths ahead. Floris and Casca drew level and bore down on Kos who began weaving from side to side, blocking their route, so Casca tried to overtake on the outside while Floris went on the inside. As Kos skidded into the turn he saw Floris and tried to cut him off but only succeeded in colliding with him, wrecking both chariots and spilling the two out onto the track. Casca had to swerve wide to avoid the spinning wreckage and found he was clear to pursue Telanius, now well clear of the rest and closing on the back markers.
