The King's Gambit Read Online Free PDF Page B

a mealymouthed old political whore who was responsible for at least as much of the city's violence as any of the gang leaders. "But, to lighter things. Today I sponsor a day of races, in honor of my ancestors. I would be honored if you and your clients would attend me in my box at the Circus." At this, my spirits rose considerably. As I have said, I am passionately fond of the Circus and the amphitheater. And Hortalus, for all his bad qualities, owned the finest box in the Circus: on the lowest tier, right above the finish line. "You Caecilii are supporters of the Reds, are you not?"
    "Since the founding of the races," my father said.
    "We Hortensii are Whites, of course, but both are better than those upstart Blues and Greens, eh?" The two self-styled old Romans chuckled away. The Blues and Greens in those days were the factions of the common men, although their stables were greater than those of the Reds and Whites, and their charioteers better and more numerous. It was a notable sign of the changing times that a rising young politician like Caius Julius Caesar, of an ancient patrician family which traditionally supported the Whites, ostentatiously favored the Greens whenever he appeared in the Circus.
    A slave passed out vine wreaths for us, somewhat brown and wilted at this season, and we all trooped gaily to the Circus. All thoughts of official business were forgotten for the moment, with the prospect of a day's racing ahead of us. The whole city was flocking toward the flats by the Tiber where the wooden upper tiers of the Circus reared against the sky.
    The carnival atmosphere lightened the dismal season, and the open plaza around the Circus was transformed for the day into a minor Forum with traders, tumblers and whores competing for the coins of the audience, turning the air blue with raucous shouts and songs. It is at such times, I think, that Rome turns from being mistress of the world and reverts to her true character as an Italian farm town in which the folk have left their plows for the day.
    Father and I were honored by being seated next to Hortalus, while our lower-ranking clients took the lesser seats higher in the box. Even those seats were better than any others in the vast stadium, and I saw my soldier, freedman and farmer preening themselves, the envy of all eyes, trying to act as if these privileged seats were their customary lot.
    To keep the people entertained and in good humor while the first race was being readied, some swordsmen were going through their paces with wooden weapons. Those of us who were fond of gladiatorial exhibits, which is to say nine tenths of the spectators, took a keen interest in this mock fighting, for these men were to fight in the next big Games. Throughout the stands, handicappers wrote furiously in their wax tablets.
    "Do you favor the Big Shields or the Small Shields, young Decius?" Hortalus asked.
    "Give me a Small Shield every time," I said. Since boyhood, I had been a keen supporter of the men who fought with the little buckler and the short, curved sword or the dagger.
    "I prefer the Big Shield and the straight sword, the Samnite School," Hortalus said. "Old soldier and all that. Those were the arms we fought with." Indeed, Hortalus had distinguished himself as a soldier in his younger days, when some patricians still fought in the ranks on foot. He pointed to a big man with a shield such as the legionaries bear, which covered him from chin to knee. "That's Mucius, a Samnite with thirty-seven victories. Next week he fights Bato. I'll put a hundred sesterces on Mucius."
    I looked about until I saw Bato. He was a rising young fighter of the Thracian School and was fencing with his little square shield and short, curved practice-sword. I could see no signs of injury or other infirmity. "Bato has only fifteen victories to his credit," I said. "What odds?"
    "Two to one if the Thracian fights with the sword," Hortalus said, "and three to two if he uses the spear." The small