Four Horses For Tishtry (12 page)

“I suppose I’ll have to learn more Latin,” Tishtry said wearily. She had spoken Armenian and Greek most of her life but had never been comfortable with the Roman language. “Will you give him the order for me? I don’t want to make a mess of it.”

“He already knows where you’re going,” Holik said, waving with the ends of the reins to attract the man’s attention. “Not that there would be any doubt, with four horses and a quadriga. Where else could you be going?” He glanced back toward the ship. “Captain!” he shouted as Drosos emerged from the hold. “I’m going to help Tishtry get her horses and gear to the amphitheater!”

“Fine!” Drosos responded at once. “Make sure she’s expected! Don’t leave her until she’s in the hands of the Master of the Bestiarii!”

“I will,” Holik promised, then addressed the carter in Latin as awkward as Tishtry’s. “We must go to ... to—”

“To the amphitheater,” the carter agreed, looking over the quadriga and chest that waited beside Tishtry and Holik. “Is there anything more?”

“A barrel of grain,” Tishtry said at once. “For the horses.”

The carter nodded. “I’ll wait while you get it.” He looked over the horses with a suspicious expression. “What do you do? You don’t race them, do you?”

“I do tricks,” Tishtry corrected him sharply.

“With a team like that, I’d suppose so,” the carter said, chortling. “They’re a bit of a trick themselves, aren’t they?” He saw Kortos come with the barrel. “Is that all of it?”

“That’s all,” Tishtry said.

“Then I’ll bring my cart. Your horses won’t mind my mule, will they?” He gave her very little chance to answer. “I won’t have those brutes of yours kicking my mule and that’s that.”

“They won’t kick your mule,” Tishtry assured him, adding to Holik in Greek, “We’ll let him lead us. You go first and I’ll come after.”

“Good,” the carter interrupted in dreadful Greek. “And that way, no harm will come to my mule.”

“If that’s what you want,” Holik said to Tishtry, ignoring the carter.

Tishtry said a few more soothing words to her horses, hoping that they would indeed mind their manners when the carter brought his mule. After all that time at sea, she was afraid that they might be too rambunctious to behave as well as they usually did. “Don’t let them have their heads. They’re going to try to shake loose, but don’t let them,” she instructed Holik.

“I’ll try,” he said, looking uneasily at the reins. “They’re strong, aren’t they?”

“The line on a taut sail is worse,” she said, trying to find the carter among all the other people. “Where is he?”

“Give him a little time. He can’t clear a path by galloping, Tishtry.” He was silent, but there was plainly something on his mind.

“What is it?” she asked when he had been fretting over it.

“I ... I’ll miss you. I liked sailing with you. That’s all.” Under his dark tan, his face was rosy.

Tishtry had to blink back sudden tears. She had not wanted to think of saying good—bye to Holik, and now he had reminded her that they would part before the day was over and might never see each other again. “I’m not gone yet,” she said gruffly to cover the loneliness she felt. “But you were good to me. I am grateful for that.”

Holik stared down at his feet. “I won’t forget you, Tishtry, not ever. And when you’re famous, I’ll tell everyone that we sailed together when you were on your way to Salonae. They won’t believe me, but that won’t stop me telling them.”

Tishtry coughed, but the tightness in her throat did not go away. “I might overturn my chariot and be sent back to Barantosz in disgrace. You never know.”

“You’ll be famous. I can tell. They’ll all cheer you, every one, and you’ll be honored by the Emperor himself.” His voice dropped to a mumble.

At this Tishtry laughed while she felt color suffuse her face. “There are times I dream of it,” she confessed. “But when I am awake, I can’t imagine Nero bothering over someone like me. He has a chance to see the best that the entire Roman Empire can offer.”

“Well, you are fine,” Holik said doggedly.

“You’ve never seen me in the arena. You’ve never seen me on a horse,” she reminded him, though her pleasure was greater than her pride at the touching faith he showed in her.

“It doesn’t matter. I’ve seen you in a storm at sea, and that tells me all I need to know.” His chin was thrust out as if he were angry with her, not paying her a compliment.

‘There’s the carter,” she said, relieved that they would not have to say anything more to each other that would make them both uncomfortable.

“Here,” the carter said as he brought his mule close to them. “One of you hold the horses and the other help me load up. You’d better hold the horses, girl; they tell me they’re yours.”

Tishtry did as he said, glad that she was about to get back to the work she knew best. As soon as the cart was loaded, Holik came and took Dozei and Amath from her without saying a word. Tishtry was both comforted and distressed by this. It was best that they say little, she reminded herself. They had to reconcile themselves to parting, and it was easier if they did not reveal too much to each other. This sensible attitude could not keep her from being downcast as she followed the carter and Holik through the crowded, narrow streets of Salonae.

CHIMBUE
Barantosz
arrived in Salonae six weeks after Tishtry, flustered by the voyage and distressed by the size of the city. “They say you need more training,” he complained to Tishtry after she had finished performing for the day. “Naius says it, and two of the other bestiarii say it. They tell me you’re too good not to have the training.” He rubbed his squat hands together and shook his head so that his jowls wobbled like dewlaps.

“I do,” Tishtry said. She had realized it as soon as she had seen what the other trick riders could do. She wiped her forehead with the back of her wrist, wishing she had been permitted to bathe before seeing her master.

“But you’re so much better than you were,” he said, clearly not understanding the problem.

“And if I am to go further, I must be better still. The charioteers here have told me that they like what I do, but they do not think I am ready to advance. Find me a teacher, and I will learn everything I can.” She put her hands on her hips. “And I do need two more horses.”

“I can’t afford them,” Barantosz protested. “By the demons of the air, you don’t know what you have cost me already.”

“Give me the reckoning, and I will know,” Tishtry said, since she had a little knowledge of counting.

“It is not so simple,” Barantosz countered evasively. He lay back on his couch, fanning his face. “The Legions have been slow to purchase horses. They want more mules, and here I am with twenty—three mares in foal. You could not have chosen a worse time to need anything from me.”

Tishtry was wise enough to say nothing in answer to this blustering. She changed the subject deliberately. “I have been taking time to improve my Latin. Most of the arena slaves use Greek, but if I am to do more, the Latin will help.”

“Yes, yes,” he said absently. “That is wise of you.”

“But it will be of more use to me if I have the opportunity to advance,” she pointed out, bringing her master back to the matter at hand.

He made pudgy little fists of his hands. “You pester me and pester me, and I can’t think when you do that.”

“I didn’t mean to pester you,” Tishtry said quickly. “It is only that I am anxious to justify your faith in me.”

“Of course, yes.” He sat up again, his face turning plum color. “I do not know what I can do, girl. You will have to wait, that’s all. Until I make more money from the horses, you will simply have to wait.”

Tishtry’s heart turned cold, for she knew that Barantosz could procrastinate for years, and in that time she would lose the advantage her youth gave her. “Master, I beg you to reconsider. If you wish me to bring you more money, you must give me the opportunity to do more. As it stands, I am caught here, and there is nothing I can do that will ...”

Barantosz waved her to silence. “You are not to talk to me this way. I own you, girl.”

“You could sell me,” she said before she could stop herself. As soon as the words were out, she caught her lower lip in her teeth.

“Stop talking nonsense!” Barantosz ordered her. “Your father will not want to hear that you have lost all sense of conduct.”

“My father ...” Tishtry wanted to have news of Soduz, but had dared not ask. How she longed to know how her family were doing, who was well, who had been ill!

“He’s in good fettle now that his ankle is better,” Barantosz said, and volunteered no more information. “Go away, Tishtry. I am tired from my journey. I will speak to you later.”

Tishtry withdrew, worried, and feeling very alone as she wandered back toward the stables where her team was kept.

“So you saw the master, did you?” Naius asked maliciously. “You won’t get him to invest more in you, you know that.” He held up his half—finished skin of wine. “Want some?”

“No. I have to exercise my team still.” They had been cooled by the stable hands, but Tishtry had taken to working them on the lunge after they had performed. She thought it made them less nervous, but was wise enough to know that it might be only her nerves that were soothed by the exercise.

“Too bad that Roman didn’t convince the master to sell you. He might have been willing to get you a coach. Barantosz is likely to send you home in a year and breed you.” He drank from the wineskin. “Don’t take it too badly. Barantosz would deny anyone.” With a rude gesture, he was gone.

Tishtry walked to the door of Dozei’s stall and looked in at the sorrel. “You were spooked today,” she said to her horse. “That isn’t like you.”

Dozei turned his head and looked at Tishtry, his huge brown eyes regarding her steadily. Then he snorted and waggled his head before stretching down to nibble at the straw.

“Don’t blame the horses,” Naius said behind her. “They can’t help it when the crowd is noisy. You’re the one who has to keep them steady. They’re just animals, and it’s up to you to guide them.”

This was more than Tishtry could stand. “Be quiet!” she grated.

“Oh—ho!” Naius teased. “Getting miffed, are you? Annoyed because the master wouldn’t be convinced to do what you want?”

“Stop it!” Her voice was louder and more ragged. “Right now.”

“Now, now, don’t get touchy,” he chided her. “That’s not the way to get me to help you, is it?”

“I don’t want you to help me, not after what you’ve done.” She could feel tears hot in her eyes and she wanted to run away from him, to be alone in the sudden rush of misery that threatened to overcome her. She had to convince Barantosz to get her a coach, she
had
to. Otherwise she might never be able to earn enough to buy her family’s freedom. It was unthinkable that she would let them down after all they had done for her. She had to admit that she was galled to be held back as much as she was infuriated by the thought of failure.

“My, my, turning temperamental, aren’t you?”

“You want to make it worse,” she accused him, and knew from his grin that she was right.

“You should learn to be patient, girl, and to be more flexible, more accommodating. Otherwise you will gain enemies. Slaves cannot afford to have enemies.” He sucked at the mouth of the wineskin, watching her as a little of the red liquid dribbled down his chin.

“Leave me alone, Naius.” She felt fatigue now, more consuming than her anger had been. “I have to have some time to myself.”

“Surely,” he said, giving her a mocking inclination of his head. “And when you’re ready to be sensible, you come talk to me again, all right? Between us we should be able to arrange something.”

She had already turned away from him, going toward the tack room at the far end of the stable, where she could occupy herself with waxing her bridles instead of dwelling on her growing sense of disappointment.

* * *

For a week, Barantosz refused to speak to Tishtry again, finding a variety of excuses to avoid her. She knew from the few tidbits of gossip Naius offered that Barantosz had been asking many questions about her, but to what end, Naius refused to say. When he bothered to mention anything, it was with the snide reminder that she would have to abide by their master’s decision, whatever it was.

Tishtry tried to put her concern about this new development out of her mind by spending more time working with her team, working with them vigorously and drilling them while she practiced handstands and somersaults on their backs, driving herself into a fatigue so deep that she could not spend her nights in sleepless pondering. On the eighth day of this routine, she discovered a stranger sitting on the fence of the practice ring watching her.

“You handle them very well,” he said when Tishtry took a break.

“Thank you,” she said, paying little attention to him. There were many strangers in Salonae, and those who came to the amphitheater often spent an idle hour observing bestiarii and charioteers in training, since they were forbidden to watch the fighters—gladiators, retiarii, secutores, essedarii, and captured soldiers from every client nation of the Empire. She had learned early to pay no heed to such spectators.

“I like the team. They’re innovative.” He motioned to Immit. “They say pale horses aren’t lucky.”

“I haven’t found it so,” Tishtry answered, noting the man’s collar and wondering whose slave he was.

He watched as she prepared to work Dozei on the lunge. “I’m an aurigatore, called Himic. I raced before I broke my leg.”

She whistled Dozei out to the end of the lunge and began to take him through his paces, watching him critically.

“I saw your quadriga in the arena yesterday. A bit old—fashioned, isn’t it?”

Although Tishtry agreed with him, she knew better than to admit it. “It is what my master provides me.”

“Ah.” He was content to sit still for a time. “You have marvelous hands.”

“I have to have. I couldn’t do what I do without them,” she responded, forcing Dozei to lengthen his trot without breaking into a canter.

“Your inner horse, the chestnut; he’s in need of more oil on his hooves. They look too dry, and that might cause them to split.” He offered this in the most helpful voice. “You have to pardon me for speaking out, but since I became an aurigatore, I notice things like hooves and the state of your tack and quadriga.”

“Not surprising,” Tishtry said, trying not to be brusque with the man, for she felt very much in need of a friend, and thought perhaps this older slave would sympathize with her but not shame her with pity.

“Do you think your horses could learn to do more than their usual paces?” He had not spoken for a little while, and his question, so unexpected, startled Tishtry.

“I don’t know. I never thought about it. They will rear together if I force them, but that’s about it.” She went to unfasten the lunge and transfer it to Amath.

“I see.” He remained quiet while she worked Amath, contenting himself with studying the way she handled the dark bay. He made only one suggestion, which again interested Tishtry. “You might try a different set of signals. The whistle you give for slowing down is very like what some of the audience do when they want to urge a team on in a race. You don’t race in competition, but it might confuse your animals.”

Tishtry turned toward Himic again. “I’ll bear that in mind,” she said, warming to the stranger. “But it’s not easy to change them once they’ve learned something,” she could not resist pointing out.

“They can be trained, with patience.” He came down off the high rail into the ring. “Let me look at that chestnut’s feet, will you?”

Her first reaction was to refuse, but she had been hungry for some trace of companionship; this older man was the first who seemed genuine in his interest and his attitude. She thought it over. “All right. But be careful going near him, he’s a little head shy.”

“I noticed that,” Himic said with a smile. “But you were good to tell me. There’s many another who would have let me tangle with him.” He went toward Shirdas at a steady pace, talking quietly as he went.

Tishtry nodded as she watched him. There was no doubt that the man knew what he was doing around horses, unlike some who claimed to be expert and were not. She waited while he bent over the lifted hooves, trying them one at a time. “What do you think?” she asked when Himic was through.

“Several breeds have trouble running on sand. It’s too dry, and it’s hard on their hooves. You’ve done a good job of keeping them filed—you are the one who does that aren’t you?—but they need oil on them as well.” He brushed off his hands against his tunica and the loose leggings he wore under them. “I have a preparation of wool fat and ground seaweed that I will give you for him.”

Tishtry blinked. “Why would you do that for me?”

Himic did not answer at once. “My master has offered to buy you from your master. He has said that I am to be your aurigatore. If anything were to happen to your team between now and then, he would be displeased with me, and I don’t want that to happen.”

“Your master is buying me? Who is your master?” Tishtry was completely baffled now, as if she had somehow forgotten something very important. “I know nothing of this.”

“Well, the arrangements haven’t been concluded yet, but my master is confident that Barantosz will sell you.” He folded his arms and looked down at her. “And my master is willing to see that you have the extra horses you need and a proper chariot for your tricks, not the quadriga you currently use.”

“I see,” Tishtry said, though she did not see at all.

* * *

“It is a good thing for you that this man is a generous fool,” Barantosz scolded Tishtry as he watched her remove his collar. “I would not accept an offer for you under ordinary circumstances, but the way my luck has been, and the expenses I have had, I cannot afford to keep you any longer, not without seeing more of a profit from you than I have done. This man seems to believe that you will earn him much money, which I have already warned him may not be the case. Nevertheless, he is persistent, and he has money enough to throw away on an arena slave like you. So be it.” He slapped his thigh in exasperation. “I have agreed to send Atadillius his fee for your sale, since it was he who brought you to this new master’s attention. That will be an obligation you will have, to justify the price Calpurnius has paid for you.”