The Chariots Slave (23 page)

Thaddius chuckled as he shifted in the cart to be seated
next to her. Simeon glared as he did so, but didn’t risk
Thaddius’s wrath by speaking his mind.

“It is beautiful is it not?” Thaddius watched intently for
Sellah’s response.
A smile brightened in her eyes as she nodded. Instantly he
felt a fool. Of course, she could not answer him because he
had not permitted them to speak.
He looked to Simeon and Calista, and by the pouts on their
faces decided he would forgo hearing Sellah’s voice to save
having to hear theirs.
“Just wait until you see the inside,” he beamed as he
turned back to Sellah.
He leaned over her to look out the window, and one of the



women in the crowd spotted him. She began to shake in
excitement as she screamed his name. He gave her a brief
smile and nod before quickly pulling back into the safety of
the cart.

She could tell he was tired, exhausted even, by the lack of
enthusiasm he put forth.
The first race he could barely keep the smile from his face.
But today, he seemed to have lost some confidence. She
should have pulled away from him, especially after catching
the glare Calista offered her. But she couldn’t find the
strength to do so.
Instead, she pressed her leg closer to his and waited for
him to tense and move away, but he did not. He merely
looked at her, as if to ask if her touch was purposely done or
by chance. And when Sellah saw the look in his eyes, she
diverted her gaze, afraid of what her face might reveal.
Accalia was right, Thaddius would not want her. He was
betrothed to another woman, one of better breeding than her.
She moved her leg and pressed herself as far from him as she
could.
How could she act so recklessly after the heartfelt
conversation with Simeon the night before? She had
apologized for pulling away from him as he attempted to kiss
her. And she had given him hope by saying she would think
over his proposal of marriage.

A kind and decent man had wanted her, and yet here she
was entertaining thoughts that her touch would comfort
another.

Both men watched her, wondering about her prompt
movement. Simeon, upset over her closeness to Thaddius,
was relieved to see her leave his side, yet that left Thaddius
feeling the sting of rejection.

She watched out the window as she thought over her
actions. In the distance she could see a swarm of green as
Barachius’s party made their way through the crowds. They
came with hundreds of attendants who pushed back the
people so their charioteers and supplies could be brought
through.

At the front of the greens rode Barachius upon the back of
a white horse. The horse seemed to struggle underneath his
weight but he did not care. He dug his feet into its side and
waved at the people as he passed.

Soon the green and blue melded together as they came to
the large wooden doors of the arena. Just as before, the
supporters fought over which team would win, some going as
far as to physically assault the others.

Sellah was thankful that no one had thrown anything at
their cart so far. She wondered if it was because they were
honoring Thaddius for winning the first race.

As the wooden doors opened and forced back the crowds,
Barachius pushed his way before the blues so he could enter
into the arena first. As he passed the blue entourage, he spat
at the ground. Each charioteer who followed him repeated the
gesture.It was a sign of utmost disrespect, and soon the green
supporters in the crowd followed their action. The blues
supporters became enraged and another large scale brawl

Thaddius motioned for the drivers to move on before the
carts got pulled into the fight.
Sellah watched behind them as they entered the arena. It
pained her to see people getting needlessly hurt over a sport.
But she knew pain and death were what ruled Rome. And
like it or not, she had to live with it.
Thaddius instructed the driver to do a loop around the
track before pulling into the stables. They watched from the
cart as thousands of colorful spectators filled the seats.
It was a sea divided into sections of green, blue, white, and
red. They waved their flags and stomped their feet, each
section calling out the names of their favorite drivers.
The biggest sections were filled with the greens, followed
closely by the blues. These two groups were separated by the
reds and whites. And rightfully so, as the greens and blues
were already were throwing objects at each other and
exchanging shouted insults and threats.
In the middle of the stadium seating, there were open
rooms, colorfully decorated with draped silks. Sellah could
make out servants attending to men and women within them.
Some were waving palm branches to cool their masters and
others were serving food and drink. She wondered what
powerful and well-bred men and women used these rooms.
When they first pulled up to the arena, she had thought the
people in the street would be filling the spectator seats, but
there was not an empty seat to be seen. They had gathered in
the streets around the circus just to catch a glimpse of the
race.
*

As soon as the cart came to a halt at the stables, Thaddius
began shouting orders. Sellah was once again instructed to
see to the hipposandals as she had done a good job the first
time. Simeon also worked with the horses, fastening each one
to the quadriga and insuring they were properly decorated in
the colors of the team.

When Thaddius and Lucius were in their armor and the
horses ready, they took off into the arena procession
.
The
charioteers from all four teams paraded around the arena,
waving and shouting to their well wishers in the stands.

Slaves took this moment to see to the last demands of their
drivers, oiling the wheels, adjusting the leather armor, and
offering water sponges for drink. Other men concentrated on
the condition of the track, dispersing buckets of water onto
the sand.

As promised, Thaddius brought Calista along with him for
the opening ceremony of the event. She pressed her body
close to his as he drove her around the track, displaying
herself before the crowds in the stands. Unlike Sellah, she
embraced the angry taunts of the other woman and would
often do things to anger them further such as rub Thaddius’s
chest or wrap her arms around him.

“They water down the sands so that there is less dust.
Yesterday, we were on stone ground and still could barely
see. It is far worse when we are racing on the sand,” he
explained.

The trumpets sounded announcing that the race would
begin in just a few short moments. He was happy to hear
them so he could finally say goodbye to Calista. When he



had successfully seen her off the track, he motioned Lucius to
follow him.

They pulled their chariots before the starting blocks and
awaited their next signal. Thaddius found his familiar foot
grooves, rewrapped the reins tighter to his forearm and ran
his hand over the rough wood of the cart.

The crowds screamed alongside the trumpets, clapping
their hands on their wine vessels, and singing the song of
their favorite charioteer. This continued to escalate in volume
and caused an unnatural echo to reverberate off the walls of
the arena. Many thousands of men, woman, and children had
gathered to watch the race. As the trumpets stilled, Thaddius
looked up to see the magistrate standing in the middle of the
track on top of the spina. His hand was held high above his
head, and in it was the mappa cloth. The crowd quieted,
anxiously awaiting the release, the start of the race.

One of the green drivers began to spout taunts, insulting
Thaddius and the blues’ ability. But he ignored the man and
instead focused on his team’s breathing pattern as he tried to
match his own to the four horses’ rhythm. Time was his
instrument as he became one with his team, waiting,
listening; his knees were bent and ready to spring at any
moment.

The jeering of the crowd ceased for one brief moment as
all held their breaths. Thaddius knew his time had come. And
just as the cloth was about to touch the ground, the familiar
groan of the loosed gate latch met his ears.

He had gathered the green drivers together to discuss the
tournament, but the discussion had turned into further abuse.
“What do you have to say for yourselves?”
“The boy is good, maybe even the best,” Jiao Xen, the
driver from the Republic of Seres interjected from his perch
against the back wall.
“I paid for you because I was told you were the best. Are
you telling me it was a bad investment?” His face reddened
as he yelled at the man. “If you do not stop competing against
each other and start working together as a team, I will have
you all crucified! I do not care who wins as long as a green
driver crosses that line first. This is not every man for
himself. This is green versus blue. Do I make myself clear?”
The men nodded their heads in agreement, afraid of saying

light breeze rolled over the land. Despite not having Diana
for the second race, Thaddius had won it, and also the third
race with ease. Barachius’s hired drivers could not match his
skill and natural talents. Even the driver from the Republic of
Seres was always just behind him as he crossed the red sand.

This new discovery, that even without Diana he could win
a race, only aided to fuel his already robust ego. Simeon and
the others were thankful that the time between each stage of
the tournament was limited. Or they would have had to listen
to far too many of Thaddius’s pride filled boasts.

He looked out at the crowd as his team waited at the
starting blocks for the fourth race, waiting for the magistrate
to drop the mappa. Once again Thaddius was without his
trusted lead, Diana. She had successfully won him his third
heat and now she rested.

The servants had strict instructions to rub down her legs,
brush her thoroughly, and feed her only the best grains and
cleanest water they could find. It upset him that she would
not be beside him for his final race. He had won the first
three races and if he won today he would close the
tournament two heats early. Though excited for it to all be
over it pained him that Diana would not be able to wear the
sash of flowers for their final victory lap. Diana was after all
a large part of why he won two of the three races so far.



He looked over to the sidelines and saw a flash of red hair.
From a distance he couldn’t make out whether it was Sellah
or Calista. But no doubt they were both there, as well as
Calista’s tag-along Guya, and Simeon, Vettius, and Lucius,
who had not completed the last race.
They were the reason he fought so hard to win. They could
never survive the law of the beast Barachius. How long
would a young and beautiful girl last under such rule? He
couldn’t allow himself to think that way. He would win, and
he would do it now.
No one would be able to deny him the title of world’s
greatest charioteer. He would be the youngest and first ever
to win the tournament in the first four arenas. If only his
father could see him now he would have no reason to doubt
Thaddius’s ability.
Tightening the reins around his arm, he turned to give one
final look over his team. The horses were overworked from
having raced two days prior, but he had no other choice but to
race them again. In all his stables there were only eight
horses he trusted. So he made two teams of quadrigas and
rotated them from one race to the next.
Ideally he would have given the horses a few days break in
between, but as each race was consecutive, he did not have
that luxury.
Trumpets sounded informing Thaddius and all his
followers that his time was near. It had been easier than he
had thought it would be to win the Grande. Despite the
archers in the second arena and the loose horses running
amuck in the third, he and his team effortlessly navigated
their way to victory.
All that stood between him and owning Barachius’s land,