Chapter 35

The Final Heat of the Day

For the third time Mariapitkee dropped the mappa to begin the race. A counter weight dropped and the gates of the carceres sprang open. All other eyes turned to the six teams of horses which surged forward to the “He-Ya!” cries of their charioteers. Only she watched the cloth drift to the right for a moment on the wind before dropping directly into the hand of a handsome broad shouldered young man. He had not been watching the start of the race either. He had been watching her. Their eyes met. He winked. Mariaptkee blushed. Was that old man behind him a servant with a handful of silver?

Pulling her eyes off him Marapatkee looked back to the race to see the six teams thundering down the track - hooves pounding, evenly matched. Then from the outside position a blue charioteer recklessly cut off his neighbor. Only the green driver reining to nearly a standstill prevented a collision. Rounding the spina for the first time the same blue chariot cut sharply again, neatly avoiding his teammate, to tuck in behind the second green team. As they raced past the kasthima the blue horses’ forelegs pumped the air dangerously close to the green chariot’s wheels. The breath from their noses blew hot on the green charioteer’s back. Fearful of being trampled from behind, the green charioteer’s whip cracked over and over urging his team to the front, but with each snap the blue chariot followed, closing the already narrow gap. How they managed the next turn was a marvel which left the crowd roaring and the first dolphin fell.

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Cyn coughed - even with the track wet from the blood of the dog’s meal, twenty-four charging horses churned up a plume of dust. On the opposite side of the spina now flickering between the statues and plinths he could not tell which chariot was in the lead. “Run venetoi! Go Alexander!”

Rounding the spina at the far end of the track Alexander the Great prepared to strike again. Blocked by his own teammate on his left who was aligned with the innermost prasonoi team and the prasonoi chariot to his fore, he had no choice but to swerve wide. Throwing his weight to the left and tightening the reins on that side, he simultaneously loosened the reins on his right arm and spun one hundred eighty degrees on one wheel. Then smoothly shifting his weight on the wicker running board he landed his airborne wheel back on the sand with barely a tremor only a cubit back from his competitor and with a clear outside run along the main stretch ahead of him. Now his own whip cracked and his team surged ahead and visibly gained on the nearest flagging green team. Pons and Cyn jumped and cheered along with the crowd. Between them Nestor had transferred the coins safely into Pons’ cap. He too was caught up in the excitement.

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Another plume of dust and sand obscured the next turn from the lower seating, but from higher up in the stands Stephen Hagiocharistophrites saw the moment when the blue charioteer once again madly cut off the green team. This time, an outside horse reared, veered, and sent its wicker chariot cartwheeling end-over-end as the wooden hitch fragmented. The three other horses on the team went down in a heap of flashing hooves. The prasonoi driver also went cartwheeling through the air whirling in brief synchronicity with his car - flying over the injured horses, only to be jerked to a bone breaking stop by the reins lashed to his wrists. Driver, horses, and crowd all screamed for the first big shipwreck of the day.

Alexander the Great avoided it all by the grace of the Almighty, and even gained a length. Stephen glowered. Three teams now vied for the lead - a green team on the inside and two blue cars on the outside. The damned outside team was gaining. Gaining. Rounding the far turn of the spina dead even - despite the advantage of circumference. The outside blue ground on for another length. Stephen hissed at the green team. Nags. Worthless nags. Where did they come by such farm horses? “Run. May your horses pull you to hell if you fail.”

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At the kasthima railing even Andronikos’ attention was swept up in the race. Finally a spirited one. A supporter of the greens, he had been distracted by his conversion with Stephen, so he had not wagered with the notables sharing the box on this - the main heat. Probably just as well seeing how things were going on the track. Still he thundered out his encouragement to his team. The green team in the fore was losing the lead but maintaining inner position on the spina, until another wicked turn - more of a one wheel pivot truly - saw the outside blue charioteer come dangerously close to clipping the green driver with his raised wheel as he spun. The green driver veered to the outside only to run headlong into the entangled horses from the green team which was shipwrecked on the previous circuit. Catapulted over his car, the driver flew into a melee of flailing hooves and rearing equines. Breathtaking. Cheers all around. Ah well, even though it was a loss, the race was well run and its effect on the crowd helped brighten Andronikos’ mood.