Four Horses For Tishtry (14 page)

“That would be Dionysos. Aegidius Modestinus Valericus owns him, and has had great success with him. He has been performing in Patavium for several months, and Valericus recently decided to bring him here.” Calpurnius looked at the red and black horses in the practice ring. “Himic tells me that they have very good feet and strong legs. That should stand for something.”

“I hope,” Tishtry said, then knew what was expected of her. “You were most generous, my master, to provide these new horses, and I am grateful that you gave them to me.”

Calpurnius shrugged. “With the sort of performing you do, they would not be much use to anyone else in any case. I fully expect to be handsomely repaid for your team in the revenue you bring from your winnings and your performance fees.” He started away from the ring, signaling Tishtry to come with him. “I have accepted a commission for your appearance in ten days. Do you think you can be ready by then? Himic has informed me that you have improved your performance, but that does not mean you’re prepared to show the world.”

“I’m willing,” Tishtry said promptly, wondering where this was leading.

“I trust this is true, for there are many side bets being placed on you, and I stand to make a tidy sum if you justify my faith in you. Do you have at least six new tricks to perform in the arena?”

“Seven, in fact,” she said proudly. “One of them is very dangerous, and Himic has helped me find a way to make it even more spectacular than it is.” She had to trot to keep up with him, for he not only walked swiftly, but was more than a head taller than she. “I spring off Immit’s back, do a double backward somersault and land on my feet in the quadriga.”

“Truly?” Calpurnius had stopped walking and stared at her. “Are you sure you will not be hurt?”

“No,” she said. “But I have done it more than twenty times without mishap, and I am as confident as I can be that it will go precisely as I have practiced it.” She did her best to appear unconcerned with the risk. “If the team were to shy, or I was to trip, or the quadriga hit something in the sand, then I might be injured, but such things happen rarely.”

“I’ll talk to Himic about this,” Calpurnius told her, his mouth setting in a stern line.

“Yes; do. He knows better than I do how well I perform it.” She braced her hands on her hips. “In another half year, I will be able to do better than that. I am certain of it.”

DIONYSOS
gave
a signal and his ten horses rose on their hind legs together, first turning to the left, then the right. The one on the end, a clay—colored stallion from Gaul, moved ahead of the rest, hopping on his rear feet with every snap of Dionysos’ whip. At another sign, the horses dropped back to all fours, and began a slow rack in an interlocking loop pattern.

“They’re wonderful.” Tishtry sighed to Himic as she watched the performance. “They make my team look like dray beasts.”

“Oh, it’s not that bad, surely,” Himic said, attempting to reassure her.

“You wait. That is what the crowd will think, and who can blame them?” She leaned her forehead on her hand. “Calpurnius will sell me for sure, and I’ll end up mucking out stalls in Tingis or Olbia, or some other remote end of the Empire, and I’ll have to sell my horses and I’ll never get my family’s freedom.”

“He’s good, but he’s not that good,” Himic said more bracingly. “He can’t ride anywhere near as well as you do, and that ridiculous double—rank—of—five hitch of his is about as maneuverable as an oxcart.”

“But look what his horses can do,” she wailed softly. “Even at his very, very best, Shirdas can’t do half of what that tan stallion of his does.”

“Then perhaps you should think of teaching your team a few more tricks,” Himic suggested, careful to make it sound as if he did not expect this of her.

“Perhaps,” she echoed morosely. “And look at Dionysos himself! He’s like one of those Greek statues, with a profile that must drive every woman under fifty to distraction.” She made her hands into fists. “Golden curls, huge blue eyes, and his tunica dyed to match his eyes. Valericus must be overjoyed to have such a slave as that.”

“Calpurnius is pleased to have you,” Himic reminded her, trying to encourage her. “And you may not be a work of art like that youngster—”

“I look a complete barbarian beside him,” she corrected Himic sharply. “There is no need to flatter me. I know that I am no beauty, and even if I were, I would have to look better than Aphrodite to compare with that Apollo there.”

“The Emperor has blond curls and blue eyes, too, and though he is handsome enough, he is nothing to rival Dionysos. That may be why Valericus is reluctant to take him to Roma, for fear the Emperor would be offended.” Himic laughed quietly. “It will take a great deal of cleverness on Valericus’ part not to offend Nero with that glorious youth.”

Tishtry cocked her head to the side. “Why?”

“Because Nero does not like to have any who rival him, and believe me, that slave would cast the Emperor into the shade. Valericus must arrange it so that Nero himself orders Dionysos to the Circus Maximus, or he will find himself in great disfavor.”

“Well, Nero certainly has nothing to fear from me,” Tishtry said wryly. “Unless the Romans are mad for squat women with clubbed hair.”

Himic patted her shoulder. “Very good, Tishtry. You are learning a little wisdom at last. Beauty is a great danger for slaves. Remember that.”

“What reason have I to remember it?” Tishtry asked wistfully.

“Not for yourself, perhaps, but for others. In time you will be grateful that you need concern yourself with little more than your performing skills. There are many others who would gladly trade with you.” He studied the golden curls that Dionysos took such obvious pride in. “Slaves are not permitted to refuse the claims of their masters, or those their masters favor. With one as beautiful as that Greek boy, Valericus would be a fool not to take advantage of Dionysos’ good looks, and Dionysos will have no opportunity to accept or refuse the attentions his master permits. I doubt you wish to live that way, Tishtry.”

She was frowning as she listened. “No,” she said at last. “I would not like to be my master’s plaything. But there are slaves who earn their freedom in catering to their masters’ wants.”

“Wouldn’t you rather buy your freedom through your own abilities?” Himic asked gently.

Tishtry could not help smiling. “Yes.”

“Then don’t look at him with so much envy,” Himic ordered.

“Can’t I envy his horses?” Tishtry protested.

“Only if you believe you cannot do better yourself,” he responded, chucking her on the jaw as they watched Dionysos acknowledge the applause of the crowd.

* * *

“Where are you from? Your Greek is terrible.” Dionysos regarded Tishtry arrogantly as she prepared to enter the arena.

“I’m Armenian. My first master comes from near Satala in Cappadocia.” she answered, trying not to mimic his tone.

“By Poseidon, that is the end of the world. No wonder you are so lacking in graces.” He bowed to her with a condescending smile.

“Yes, we have not yet had the chance to become effete,” she agreed with sweet malice just before she gave the sign to Himic to release her team so that she could rush through the Gates of Life onto the sands. She could feel her face redden because of the insult Dionysos had given her, and her swipe had not given her enough satisfaction to make up for what he had said. She knew that he had intended to rattle her so that she would not perform well on this first appearance in the arena in several months, and that alone gave her the necessary will to concentrate on her performance. She braced her feet in the special racing chariot Calpurnius had provided her and slapped the traces over her team’s backs. She refused to permit that smug, conceited Greek any more enjoyment at her expense.

She heard the welcoming roar of voices, and she took her team around the arena once, holding them to their perfectly matched trot every step of the way. Neronis was yoked up in Dozei’s place, but by now the horses were used to each other. She felt her nervousness melt away as she began her performance, moving from the chariot onto Immit’s back. As the team stretched into a canter, Tishtry raised her head and flashed a smile at the stands.

Her first two new tricks brought hoots of approval from her audience: while standing on her hands, she walked from the back of Shirdas, to Immit, to Neronis, to Amath, then ended with a backflip that carried her to Shirdas again. Here she paused long enough to get her breath, then she grabbed a handful of Shirdas’ mane and swung under his neck to Immit. Here she reached for the mare’s mane, then vaulted onto Immit’s back, and repeated the loop under Neronis’ neck and onto Amath’s back. The drumming of their hooves was louder than the shouts of approval from her audience, and Tishtry was a little startled to see that some of the crowd were throwing blossoms into the arena in appreciation of her new stunts. She returned to her old routine for a bit, then did the splits across the backs on her running team. This brought another wave of shouts and a fresh shower of blossoms.

When Tishtry finally did her back spring with the double somersault that ended with her standing once again in her quadriga, the ovation was staggering. In all her years, she had never heard anything like it for a bestiarii. Usually such enthusiasm was reserved for gladiators and other fighters. She brought her team to the front of the editor’s box, where her team dipped their heads to the man who was sponsoring the Games that day, which evoked a little more tumult from the crowd.

“Most worthy!” the editor shouted in order to be heard at all.

“For the glory of my master and the gods,” Tishtry replied, as was proper. Then she wheeled her team and set them at a smart trot for the Gates of Life. As she left the arena, she saw Dionysos’ face, contorted with disgust and fury, watching her from the shadows by the Master of the Bestiarii’s shed.

* * *

Calpurnius was beaming as he came up to Tishtry that evening. “You surpassed everything,” he said grandly, and Tishtry could tell that he was slightly drunk. “I won over twelve thousand denarii on bets alone, and your performance fee has gone up by two hundred denarii. Here.” He held out a small pouch in which coins clinked. “For all you did. Add it to your account to buy your family’s freedom. There will be more soon if you continue as you have performed today.” His smile became silly. “They were all agog over that Greek, and no one thought you’d have anything new to offer, but you showed them, didn’t you? Valericus has already offered quite a lot of money for you, but I’ve refused him. In six months, I’ll be able to name the amount and anyone who is able will think himself lucky to get you.”

“So soon?” Tishtry asked in spite of herself.

“Maybe a year,” Calpurnius allowed. “But you’re improving so much, and your style has become so polished that everyone is mad for you.” He noticed that one end of his toga had come loose and he held it out, puzzling what to do with it. “You will race again in ten days. Not an hour before. We can’t go spoiling your effectiveness with too many performances, can we? You are rare, girl, and I intend that you should stay that way. Valericus has his Greek in the arena four times in the next ten days, and by then some of the crowd will be used to him, and they will not think anything of watching him make his horses dance. But you, they will be waiting for you so eagerly.” He rubbed his hands together and more of his toga trailed on the ground. “Valericus will be furious, of course, but by then it will be too late.”

Tishtry, who was feeling more exhausted than she cared to admit, looked at her master with curiosity. “Is it your intention to create a rivalry between me and Dionysos?”

“I don’t need to,” he answered with glee. “It already exists. There are men betting that the Greek will not be able to do more than drive his chariot, and will not be able to stand on his team’s backs, let alone do somersaults and handstands and all the rest of it. How do you keep from getting trampled when you go under the necks that way?” he asked suddenly.

“It takes a great deal of practice,” she answered, not adding that if she were much larger, she would not be able to do it at all. “You are very near the legs when you swing under the neck, you know.”

“Um,” he responded owlishly. “I wouldn’t like to try it, myself.”

“It requires training, both for you and the horses,” she said, hoping that Calpurnius would not decide to attempt it.

“Well, I know my horses wouldn’t put up with it, even standing still.” He gathered up the end of his toga and knotted it—very incorrectly—around his waist. “Terrible garment. You’d think they’d let us wear something sensible to a banquet, like a tunica or a dalmatica, but no, men of rank must have on the toga, or they will be thought boors. It shows you what fools we are.” He leaned back against the stable wall and stared off into the twilight for some little time, saying nothing to Tishtry.

When she had waited for some more response and none came, she took one step back, assuming he would dismiss her. “Master?”

“No, no. I’m not through yet. I’m thinking.” He cleared his throat. “You truly dislike that Greek, don’t you?”

She hesitated, then answered directly. “I dislike his manners, and it appears that he dislikes mine. Beyond that, I don’t know. He has not spoken much to me, nor I to him.” It would be improper of her to say more unless Calpurnius ordered her to elaborate.

“Would you like to meet him in some kind of challenge demonstration?” There was a greediness in his eyes that startled Tishtry.

“It would depend on the circumstances and conditions. Clearly his team can outperform mine by most standards, but just as clearly, I can outperform
him
by most standards. You would have to take that into consideration if there were to be such a demonstration.” She watched him, trying to think of some way to caution him. “I doubt any conditions could be made that both of us would think fair.”

“That doesn’t matter,” Calpurnius said, dismissing her reservations. “Valericus is itching to take advantage of the situation, and so am I.” He stared off into nothing for a bit. “Well,” he went on as if there had been no lapse, “I will consider this all very carefully, you may be sure of that. I’ll talk to Himic, too, and find out what he thinks. We could all realize great profits from a contest between the two of you, should you win. And I expect you to win if we make such an arrangement.”

“Valericus will expect Dionysos to win, as well,” Tishtry reminded her master. “They will not be willing to have such a match otherwise.”

“Naturally,” Calpurnius chortled. “That is what makes it so delicious. You said yourself that you can outride him, and I know that you can get through tighter spots than his team can, and if it comes down to hard cases, the bestiarii is more important than the beasts.”

“Not according to the ones who work with lions and tigers,” Tishtry said, beginning to feel seriously alarmed.

“I’ve already talked to a chariot maker. There’s a radical new design being tried out, one in which the tongue has a certain amount of swivel, so that the chariots can make tighter turns. I hear the traders on the Silk Road use wagons with hinged tongues like this, so that they can manage all the twists and turns of the mountain roads. Think of the advantage that could be for someone like you.” He regarded Tishtry expectantly. “What do you say? Does it intrigue you?”

“I will have to see the chariot first,” she said gently. “Once I know what the chariot maker has in mind, then I will be able to say more. I might be overjoyed, but it is possible that the modification will not be satisfactory.” She wanted so much to talk to Himic and find out what he thought of all this. “And I don’t know that my team will adapt well to it. We will have to wait and see.”