Chapter 30
The Lesser Races
To a smattering of applause the new (co)Emperor entered the kasthima. Pons thought he cut a dignified figure in his imperial garb accompanied by a lovely young lady and flanked by his bodyguards. Cyn wondered if he was standing on something so tall did he appear compared to the lithe beauty at his side. Brian the Saxon was a tall man, but Emperor Andronikos towered over him. Following behind crowded other sycophants. The Emperor smiled at the crowd, waved his hand imperiously in benediction, and slowly turned to view the entire arena.
Pons noticed the Emperor’s gaze fell on a dark clad fellow lacking a nose standing at a column near the kasthima a few rows up from where they sat. The Emperor motioned to a page and whispered a few words. The page departed.
Now the Emperor had arrived, the races could begin. The first two heats of the day were between the two-horse style biriga or synoris chariots. These teams of horses and drivers were of lower quality and less senior rank. Two-horse chariot racing was less dangerous than the four horse style as there were fewer horses to control, less entanglements, and not as many shipwrecks. Lack of mayhem made it less exciting and less popular than the quadriga or tetra-hypos style. Much less expensive to stage, they were the proving ground where both animals and drivers trained.
Six teams of biriga chariots took their places at the carceres. As the charioteers settled their teams into position, the young lady in the kasthima stepped forward to the railing and held out a white kerchief. With the wind steady from the east it blew like a tiny banner in her hand. When she released the kerchief the breeze took it across the track and spina. The chariots bolted and the crowd roared their horses on.
“That woman is expensively beautiful.” Cyn said, but neither Pons nor Nestor heard him. Having paused taking bets for the running of the race, both of the older men cheered out. For whom Cyn was not sure. Blues? Were they cheering for Blues in all the races? Sure. Why not? The race was seven circuits counterclockwise around the spina in length.
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“Tight in the corner you. Go venetoi.” Cyn cheered to the lead blue chariot. A spirited contest followed with four teams repeatedly changing position seeking the lead while two others fought for last place. An exciting race was all well and good but it was the collisions and dying horses the crowd truly wanted to see. That did not happen in the opening race. After a blue team won, Pons, Nestor, and Cyn smacked palms.
Nestor and Pons repeated their offer to the crowd and a few more came up to bet with them. Cyn watched as some jugglers moved out to perform on the track - tossing three balls back and forth in loops of increasing distance and height. Behind them a middle aged man naked, shaking, and covered in black tar was brought out to the middle of the racing circuit driven at spearpoint by guardsmen. Beside the condemned man, workers jogged as they brought out a wooden pole, straw for kindling, and faggots of sticks. The pole was placed into a hole set into the track near the spina opposite the kasthima. In this way the emperor and his party could get a good view of the execution while the prevailing wind wafted the smoke away.
A fourth ball had been added to the juggler's act without Cyn noticing its introduction. The prisoner’s name was read out along with his charges by a magistrate, but Cyn only caught a word or two. Once the prisoner was secured, the juggler's balls were replaced one by one with torches which an assistant lit and tossed into the act. For several minutes the jugglers played with the torches in complex patterns, throwing them back and forth and up and down, before they were thrown one by one into the straw. Once the prisoner was set ablaze, the screaming began. It was hard to find betters among the stands with all of that going on but Pons tried.
“Even money. Alexander of the Blues in the final race.” Pons was about to directly address the noseless man who still stood in the shade by a pillar, but now the Emperor’s page was speaking to him. After a moment they left the stands together.
When the executed prisoner’s screaming and thrashing stopped another group of biriga chariots began to fill the carceres for the start of the second race. Again from the railing the courtesan - for Cyn was sure this voluptuous creature was no proper noblewoman - released a white kerchief. It wafted lazily across the track and landed on the pyre at the dead man’s feet as the teams bolted forward in an even line. Not liking the smoke, however, the horses began to pull away from the spina as they passed the burning traitor. On the far wall a shipwreck occurred. Two teams became entangled and one chariot flipped. Not a bad spill - the charioteer was unhurt and was able to quickly right his light wicker car and resume, although in last place. The crowd cheered his spirit. The other teams continued to turn round the spina without incident, but the horses veered wide again - frightened by the burning man they had to race beside. Dust rose from their passing and the second turn was obscured. All teams made it around, for when the dust cleared they were pulling and jostling for position on the farside of the track with the trailing chariot just now making the turn. The remainder of the race saw two Blue chariots pull to the fore, one in the lead and the other blocking the Green challengers. The race finished for the Blues.