"I accept your offer," I said, putting the knife back in my belt. When I finished, I reached for my helmet.
"Perhaps the loser will muck out the stables of all the winners," the charioteer said, smiling.
"If you think you can spare the time for all that work." I made sure my smile was just as wide as his.
He nodded, and I started to follow him down the steps toward the track.
"You'd be easier to control if you didn't insist on such foolish agreements all the time," Radulf called down to me.
I stopped long enough to grin at him. "Yes, Radulf, that is my plan. I will not be controlled."
He wasn't smiling back. "Then I am sad to say that you will have to learn the hard way."
Several minutes later, I and nearly twenty other chariot teams were in two rows at the break line of the track. There was no room for all of us from the gates, and out here, we drew for positions by the length of sticks in one of the players' hands. I pulled a middle length, meaning I was in the front row but nearer to the outside. It could've been worse.
It also could've been better. Namely, that I just might be the sort of person who was determined to learn everything in the hardest possible way. Radulf was right about that.
Up in the stands, money was already changing hands as people realized an unofficial race was about to begin. The empire might pretend not to see any gambling on game days, but they'd be less tolerant today. I noticed Radulf shaking hands with a couple of men and handing them a small sack of money. I wasn't sure how much he was gambling, and especially wasn't sure whether he was betting in my favor. I wanted to think he was on my side, but I also knew he wasn't a fool. Some of the drivers here seemed to know what they were doing, far more than I.
A man was chosen to drop the white cloth that signaled the start of the race, and as he raised it, I recalled what I had learned from Radulf so far. By the time the cloth fell, I was already in motion.
My chariot was the first to launch from its position, which gave me a small advantage. Although I'd made no official agreement to withhold magic, I still wouldn't use it. Today was a test of how the Ludi Romani race would go in only two days.
By the first turn, I had cut midway into the center, which gave me an easy angle around the spine. The horses of two teams ahead of me collided in the turn and fell in a tangled mess. Their drivers cut free, and it looked like they were about to start a fistfight, when the oddest thing happened: Two other drivers slowed enough to pick them up.
That made no sense to me. A second driver weighed down their chariot while giving them no advantage, and the time they'd lost would surely cost them the race.
But I also couldn't worry about any of that. I was quickly headed for the second turn, which would complete the first lap of seven, and I was determined to be inside by then.
Three chariots were ahead of me, each of them riding so close together that it almost looked like they were one wide chariot with three drivers and a team of twelve horses. I thought about the story Radulf had told me of Nero's ten-horse chariot. It had sunk him, and it would hurt these teams as well.
Another charioteer to my left was doing his best to edge me out, but my horses were strong and I wasn't about to give him any room. When we took the corner, I leaned my weight hard to encourage the horses farther inside and it forced that chariot to back off or be crushed against the columns.
The stands around us had come alive with cheers and shouts. Radulf was on the other side, opposite from me, so I didn't bother looking for him, or at anyone else, but I did hear the crowd. As always, the green and blue factions were the most popular, and they were receiving their encouragement, though I also heard a few calls for white. My faction, the red team, only had a couple of other charioteers amongst them, and both were behind me. So most of what I heard for the red was hope that we lost.
The second lap went well. The three chariots were still ahead, still locking me out of position, but everyone else had fallen behind. I'd never keep up if I tried overtaking them from the outside, and they were riding so close together that my horses had no way of pushing between theirs. My only chance was to beat them on the inside. It would require an extremely sharp turn at the spine, but I figured it was better to test my team of horses today than at the Ludi Romani.
I got into position and pushed so near the center that I could've touched the columns if I held out my hand. When it was time to turn, the other teams made the usual wide arc with their horses, but I pulled hard on one rein and then counterbalanced with my weight. My chariot bumped into the first column when we turned and I nearly fell, but I grabbed the side of the chariot long enough to reset my feet and saw all the other chariots slide into place behind
me.
Although five laps remained, I could already taste victory in my mouth, like the sweetest fruit at perfect ripeness. I cared nothing for the win itself -- no emperor was here to place a laurel wreath on my head, none of the gambling money would come to me, and from the chants in the stands, nobody here would be particularly happy if I won. But at least I would know that I had crossed the finish line first and, more important, that I could do it again in two days.
With half the race still to complete, I was the clear leader, and as Radulf said, it was much harder to get ahead than to stay ahead. All I had to do was keep my place on the inner track, and I would win.
And then I looked behind me, to the three chariots that had been riding in such a tight formation. They clearly weren't happy that I'd passed them, and they were motioning to other chariots still racing.
That didn't bother me. Or didn't bother me too much until I realized the other chariots had slowed to near crawls. Why would they? There was still plenty of time for any of them to pull into the lead, or to attempt it anyway. But at this pace, I'd be finished and back at Radulf's home sipping a hot tea before they started their final lap.
The two teams who had picked up the fallen charioteers had no hope of winning now; at best they were still a full lap behind me. They rode evenly but were spread apart at about the length of a horse team. It was risky to drive between them, but it was the only choice if I wanted to keep my lead.
The instant I committed myself to this route, the extra charioteer to my left tossed one end of his whip to the man on the right, who caught it, and then together they pulled it tight.
There was no time to react. At the speed I was going, I would run directly into the whip. If I ducked too low to avoid it, then I'd pull on the reins tied at my waist and lose control of my horses. And if I didn't duck low enough, the whip would catch me across my neck. It'd create an entirely new definition of the phrase "sore throat."
As it was, I pulled the knife from my waist and began to cut free of my reins, but I'd only sliced through one when the whip connected at my chest, stripping me off the chariot. With one rein still pulling me forward, my whole body fell to the ground and was dragged through the dirt while I tried to get free. The sand on the track covered a hard dirt surface, one without forgiveness. Every one of the small rocks kicked up by the horses found my arms, legs, and my side. The knife was still in my hand, but I was being dragged at such a high speed, it was difficult to get the knife against the knot. A chariot was also coming up directly behind me, ready to run me over if I didn't get out of his way. And perhaps he had already decided that I wouldn't get out of his way.
Finally, I sacrificed my shoulder enough to raise my other hand and cut the rein. Then I immediately rolled toward the spine, out of the way of the chariot directly behind me. It still wasn't safe on this part of the track, particularly from the other horses. To be safe, I needed to climb onto the spine itself. Better yet, get to the outer track where I could reach the stands, but I'd never make it that far alive, especially not the way I was feeling. My shoulder was shredded and raw, and my arms weren't much better. But more than any pain in my body was the heat in my chest. I was furious.