Robert Fabbri: The Racing Factions

A huge roar engulfed the whole Trigarium, signalling the start of the first race. Wearing the colours of their factions or, if they were independent, just a plain tunic, the twelve jockeys urged their mounts at terrifying speeds around the oval course carved through the throng of spectators. With no barriers marking its route, the course itself was a fluid affair, subject to the undulations of the crowd, suddenly narrowing and then widening again as they surged to better see the race. Waving faction flags or ribbons, they cheered on the riders as they negotiated their way around the treacherous track, narrowly missing – or sometimes clipping with disastrous consequences – foolhardy spectators who had encroached on to their path.

Handing the horse’s bridle to an attending slave, Lucius led Magnus away from the Green camp and into the heaving mass. ‘I heard the faction master telling my uncle yesterday that the mares and geldings will run in two days’ time in the second race.’

‘And that’s for sure?’

Lucius shrugged. ‘As sure as it can ever be; there’s always the chance of injury during training.’

‘And how is their training going?’

‘Excellently, my friend. The two teams of geldings would both stand a good chance of winning even without the help of the mares on heat.’

‘That’s good news. Where can I find your faction master?’

‘Euprepes will be in the tent in the middle of our camp; I’ll be able to get you in if you want an introduction.’

‘Better not, mate, I’ll do it myself; it would be tricky for you to be seen associating with me after what I’ve got to say to him.’

Lucius looked worried. ‘You’re not going to tell him that you know about the mares, are you?’

‘No, my friend, I wouldn’t betray your loyalty like that.’

‘Euprepes will see no one without an appointment,’ the ex-gladiator guarding the tent informed Magnus, cracking both his shoulders in turn to stress the point.

‘Oh, but I have an appointment; in fact I’ve got a permanent appointment. You tell him that the man who’s going to make him richer even than when he was a charioteer driving first for the Blues and then the Greens is here to see him.’

‘He won’t believe you so I’d fuck off quietly if I was you, mate.’

Magnus squared up to the guard. ‘I’ve got no intention of fucking off quietly – or loudly for that matter. Now you listen to me, matey-boy, I’ll get to talk to Euprepes somehow, very soon, and I’ll inform him, as he’s hugging me to his breast with tears of joy in his eyes and gratitude welling in his heart at my generosity, that his involvement in my proposal very nearly didn’t happen because of an over-officious oaf obstinately denying me ingress to his tent. Now, do you want to risk what will happen when he contemplates the magnitude of your error or would you prefer to pop in and tell him that Marcus Salvius Magnus is here with a proposition that will make the prize money from winning nearly two thousand races seem like nothing more than what a dockside whore-boy earns for parting his buttocks for a Syrian sailor?’

The guard’s eyes narrowed and his fists clenched, tensing the sculpted muscles all down his arms. However, he remained motionless, weighing up his options for a few moments until he turned, abruptly, and disappeared through the tent’s flaps.

Magnus smiled to himself and waited, watching a Green rider bring his lathered horse into the camp surrounded by cheering supporters. ‘A Green victory, very auspicious,’ he muttered.

‘And what makes you think that I would possibly do this, Magnus?’ Euprepes asked, stroking his grey-flecked, Greek-style beard and holding Magnus’ gaze with surprisingly blue, penetrating eyes.

‘Odds of forty or fifty to one?’

‘But I’m not allowed to bet on other teams, especially on a Red one-two-three.’

‘I quite understand that, Euprepes, and I’m sure that you never break that rule – personally. However, I’m informed that you had a very good day at the last races, when, I believe, the Greens only won once in the whole half-day. I would guess that you had a good friend place the odd, illicit wager on the opposition.’

Euprepes gave a thin smile. ‘A man in my position would be foolish not to take advantage of the information that I possess.’

‘I quite agree; that would be stretching loyalty too far.’

‘Indeed – although, obviously, there is no questioning my loyalty to the Green faction.’

‘Obviously.’

‘What’s your motivation for doing this?’

‘I’m a lifelong loyal Green, so what does it matter?’

Euprepes conceded the point with a nod and a wave of his hand. ‘Which race?’

‘Either the second-to-last or the last in the first race-day after the calends of March.’

‘So if I was to give our charioteers orders to let the Reds win how can you guarantee that the Whites and the Blues will also do the same? Have you spoken to their faction masters too?’

‘Now that would be letting a few too many into our little circle, I would say. If there were to be numerous people betting on a Red one-two-three in the one race that it actually happens the bookmakers might get a little suspicious.’

Euprepes inclined his head in appreciation of the fact.

‘The Whites I can deal with; it’s the Blues that are still a problem, but I’m sure that with your help we can guarantee that all three teams will fail to finish.’

‘Have my three teams bring them down?’

‘Too risky; one might get through and, also, it would look a little strange if the Greens spent the entire race having a go at the Blues whilst the Reds just storm ahead.’

Euprepes considered this for a few moments. ‘You’re right; we’ll just do one.’

‘And the other two?’

‘A malfunction and a hail of curses?’ the faction master suggested.

‘Perfect.’ Magnus stood and proffered his forearm. ‘I knew that a man of your experience would have the answers.’

‘So it’ll be just you and me who know about this?’

‘No, Servius my second knows, as well as a very helpful centurion in one of the Urban Cohorts and also a couple of others who will be betting in the senators’ enclosure.’

‘So they won’t be making our bookmakers suspicious.’

‘Exactly; if we spread small bets over quite a few of them we’ll clean up without anyone being any the wiser.’

‘Thank you for coming to me with this, my friend; let me as a show of gratitude give you a tip for the races the day after tomorrow.’

‘A Green one-two in the second race?’

Euprepes’ eyes opened wide in surprise; he laughed and slapped Magnus on the shoulder. ‘I can see you are very well informed; however, you’re not as well informed as I am. I’ll give the orders for our first and second teams to cross the line in reverse order so it will be a Green one-two, second team first, first team second.’

‘Euprepes, you are a very kind and understanding man.’

‘As are you, Magnus.’

Magnus waited on the steps of the Temple of Mars, in Augustus’ statue-lined forum, watching the arrival of twelve patrician youths singing and waving long swords in unison in a slow, rhythmic dance. Watched by a solemn crowd, they moved forward with regular leaps in time to the slow beat of the almost unintelligible song. Clad in ancient embroidered tunics of many colours and plain, oblong breastplates under short red cloaks and spiked, tight-fitting leather headdresses, the leaping, armed priesthood of the Salii paraded their sacred bronze shields around the city in celebration of the god of war’s birthday. Eleven of the shields, shaped as if two round hoplons had been fused together one on top of the other, were replicas of the twelfth, the original shield said to have fallen from the heavens back in the time of King Numa, Romulus’ successor.