M. Scott - Rome - The Emperor's spy

She felt the change in him as he edged away, and the clenching of his fist. Tentatively, her two hands wrapped round his one.

‘Math, what have you got? Can I see?’

After a moment’s hesitation, he uncurled his fingers. She picked up the coin by feel.

‘It’s a denarius,’ he said, but she already knew that. She wasn’t rich; she might have hailed from Rome’s breadbasket, but if she had brought any of its wealth with her when she left, it was all in her head. Like everyone in the team, she owned the tunic she wore every day and a silver belt buckle. Beyond that, and the linen sack with its bandages and unguents, dried herbs and the five nested copper bowls for washing of wounds, she had come to the race barns with nothing and likely would depart with as little. Anyone who lived hand to mouth as she did knew the feel of a denarius without needing light to look.

Quietly, she gave it back to him, wrapping his fingers closed again. ‘Did you steal it? Is that how you scraped your face?’

‘I earned it.’ He could hear the stubborn pride in his own voice and hated it. ‘I didn’t steal it, I earned it.’

‘Oh, Math…’ She pulled him close again and this time he let her. ‘Please be careful.’

They sat in silence for a bit, breathing in each other’s warmth while the horses moved around them.

She was so like his mother. He made himself think of the differences, so that he would never confuse the two: Hannah was dark-haired where his mother had had hair the colour of ripe corn. Hannah’s eyes were a deep brown, his mother’s had been blue-grey, like a mackerel’s back. Hannah was, he thought, maybe ten years younger than his mother, more Ajax’s age, ten or fifteen years older than Math. Hannah spoke Greek first and then Latin and a faulty Gaulish while his mother had spoken three different dialects of northern Gaul for preference, Greek when she must and Latin only under sufferance. Hannah was trained in philosophy and medicine; she spoke to Ajax of Isis and Osiris and of Socrates and Plato, Pythagoras and Demetrius as if they were all alive, gods and men alike. Math’s mother had told him tales of the heroes of Britain who were dead for the most part, and had taught him the daily rituals by which the gods of oak and river were remembered. He chose, for the most part, to forget those now that she was dead.

But one thing the two women had in common was that their time in his life was short. His mother had already gone and Hannah, he knew, would leave soon, Ajax had said that she wasn’t the kind to stay long in one place, or with one man; that it didn’t do to fall in love with her. He had been speaking, it seemed to Math, largely for himself.

Hannah moved a little, and Math caught a brief scent of something else in the wood smoke.

‘What were you celebrating?’ he asked. He felt the searching quality of her look and said, ‘I can smell roast lamb.’

‘Ajax said you were quick.’ She looked down at the straw. ‘It wasn’t me. Someone was celebrating on my behalf.’

She was less still, suddenly, as if a stone had been thrown into the pool of her soul, ruffling the surface. Math sat, waiting.

In a while, she said, ‘A friend of my father’s has searched for me for over half a year. Today his journey ended. He gave a feast to show his gratitude.’

Math said, ‘You don’t like lamb.’ Hannah didn’t ever eat meat; it was another way she was different from his mother.

She nodded, ‘He doesn’t know that. My father died before I was born. My mother returned to Alexandria to give birth to me and see to my childhood. I have never met any of my father’s friends until today.’

They were quiet a while, listening to the horses’ slow eating. Hannah said, ‘His name is Shimon. He wants me to go back with him when he leaves.’

‘Will you?’

‘I don’t want to.’

‘But you might?’

He thought this was the first time she had considered that. She reached up and teased a tangle of hair from Sweat’s mane. ‘I might.’

Math picked a piece of straw and sucked on the end, tasting the flavours of autumn and frost. He thought of how Ajax had changed when Hannah came and would change again if she left.

He said, ‘Ajax says everyone who comes to Coriallum is running from something. It’s as far away from Rome as a man can get.’

‘Or a woman?’ Hannah’s eyes were sharp in the grey light. ‘Might we not be running towards something?’

‘He didn’t say that.’

They were quiet a long time after that. Math stared up to the dark roof space.

‘If we win the race tomorrow, Nero will send us to Alexandria to train,’ he said eventually. ‘All his horses go there first, then he picks the best to race for him in Rome. They say it takes two months by sea, or three by road, but that would mean taking the horses over the mountains and they don’t want to do that. We’d have to go by the end of next month or the sea-lanes will be closed. If we win,’ he added. ‘But we won’t.’

Hannah’s hand moved to his shoulder. Math felt her come back from faraway thoughts. ‘Is that what’s wrong?’ she asked. ‘You think you might be stuck in Coriallum all your life? You won’t. The emperor will notice your horses, I’m sure of it.’

‘Ajax still thinks he can win.’ He let his voice show how stupid that was.

Hannah shook her head. Her silk-smoke hair brushed his cheek. He felt her smile. ‘No, he doesn’t. But he doesn’t want the entire team to decide that second place is good enough. “Good enough” is how you lose.’

‘Did Ajax say that?’

‘Yes, and he’s right. You need to keep aiming to win if you want to catch the emperor’s eye. It’s the fire in you all, the need to win, that’ll do it. Ajax said he’ll get you to Rome to race for the emperor if it kills him. He promised it on the shade of your mother.’

‘I know, I was there, but he can’t promise what’s not in his gift.’ Math shook his head. ‘He drew the Green ribbon this afternoon. The gods are against us.’

‘Just because you’ve always been the Red team before doesn’t mean-’

‘Nero hates Green, he thinks it’s unlucky.’

‘Then you’ll just have to show him it’s not.’ Hannah took his head in both her hands and kissed his brow. Her lips were cool and dry, as his mother’s had been except at the end, when they had been hot. ‘And to do that, you need to sleep. You’ll never be a race-driver if you spend the night before a race wide awake. You could come and sleep with me in the healer’s booth. I’ve got a straw pallet and hides. It’s warmer than here.’

The part of Math that stood apart watching others knew that Ajax would give a month’s food for an offer like that. It was almost worth accepting just to see his face in the morning when he found out.

The smell of cheese on his fingers reminded him that he needed to be alone. He shook his head. ‘I need to stay with Sweat and Thunder. They get upset the night before a race.’

‘But, Math, they’re not racing tomorrow. Only the first team goes in the traces.’ Her voice was gentle, not to upset him.

‘I know that,’ he said crossly. ‘But they don’t. They just smell the axle grease and know there’s a race coming. If I leave them now, they’ll keep everyone awake kicking the walls. I need to stay here. And I want to. I’m fine, honestly.’

‘You’re crying, Math. I’ve never seen you cry before.’

‘I was thinking of my mother. She bred Brass and Bronze, who are in the first team. She’d have wanted to see them race.’

‘Then I’ll leave you with her memory. Thank you for telling me.’ Hannah kissed his hair and didn’t comment on its smell. Standing, she said, ‘My mother’s dead, too. She was a healer, far better than me. When I bring a woman to childbirth and both dam and child are healthy, or set a bone and know it will mend, I cry too, out of pride at her memory. It’s not a thing to hide.’ She squeezed his hand again and began to worm her way back between Sweat and the edge of the stall to the passageway.