Tales of Ancient Rome Read Online Free PDF Page B

Citus’ ear to be heard over the general hubbub.
    “ Should be a good one today. Prudens is up for the greens, and you know what he’s like.”
    Citus’ voice came back, deep and hoarse as always.
    “ He’ll have a hard race against Sura, make no mistake.”
    Lentullus let out a low chuckle. According to his sources, which were, after all, quality ones, Prudens stood little chance of a loss today. His team had been carefully selected from the best steeds bred by Sarmatian trainers who knew their horses better than any man. Certainly his sources damn well should be correct, given the amount he paid them. Even if Prudens walked away with a clear victory today, Lentullus’ profits would be heavily eaten into by what he owed to various people ‘in the know’. Of course the profit he cleared would still buy him the nice new estate down near Antium he had his eye on… figuratively speaking, of course.
    “ Andros? Are you there?”
    The slave turned to his master, grateful that the latter’s long-term total blindness prevented him from seeing the expression on the young, long-suffering Greek’s face.
    “ I am, master.”
    “ What’s happening?”
    Lentullus lounged back, his hand tapping along the marble of the seat toward Citus until it closed on the cheese and grapes that rested between them on a bronze plate.
    “ Master… the quadriga aren’t out yet, but I can see movement in the carceres. Should be any moment now.”
    “ Don’t miss a thing, boy. You hear? If this goes well, I’ll perhaps take you with me to Antium for the weekend.”
    Andros nodded, frowning, trying to keep the ennui and sarcasm from his voice while speaking. Lentullus was sharp enough, but his equally blind friend Citus could almost hear an eyebrow rising.
    “ Thank you, sir.”
    “ Good. Now pay attention.”
    Citus leaned to his friend.
    “ You say the boy is good?”
    “ Excellent. It’s almost as good as actually seeing it, though I have to admit it’s been so long I can barely remember.”
    Andros leaned forward onto the rail, looking along to his left toward the starting gates. The crowd thronged the circus maximus, every stand full to capacity. He shouldn’t complain, really. How many slaves got to have trackside seats at one of the most important chariot races of the year? Glancing directly across, past the spina that ran along the centre of the circus, he could just make out the purple robe of the Emperor Domitian, himself leaning on a railing, the Praetorian Guard surrounding him and glinting in the sunlight.
    No. He really shouldn’t complain. When his family had sold him eight years ago in order to have the money to keep his brothers and sisters alive after his father’s business failure and their subsequent eviction, he’d been sure the world was going to end for him. He would end up chipping marble in a quarry or fighting gladiators for the right to live another day. His father had smiled and told him he really landed on his feet with service to the ageing blind senator, while his mother cried in a corner.
    Of course, his father didn’t know how strict Lentullus was. He didn’t realise that the reason the senator needed a new slave was because he’d beaten the last one to death over a petty theft. But all things considered, Lentullus wasn’t that bad. Andros had only ever been beaten twice, and both times he’d made mistakes. Now he was wise and knew how to hide his mistakes from the sightless senator. But it would be nice to be free again. He’d never experience manumission, of course, but he could still dream. There were people who could remove all traces of slave marks from you. You just needed to get far enough away and fast enough to evade the slave hunters.
    But what use would escape be anyway. To be free and penniless in Rome was worse than any slavery.
    He shook his head and concentrated as he heard a fanfare.
    “ Ah… this’ll be it” said master Citus with a smile.
    “ Alright boy. Here you go.