Four Horses For Tishtry

by Chelsea Quinn Yarbro

  “Well,” she hedged, “it’s coming along, but it isn’t perfect. I think that the soles of my boots irritate his coat when I do it. I’ve asked Macon to try to make me another pair with softer soles, more flexible. They won’t last as long, but if they’re more pliant, it’ll be worth it for many reasons.” She popped a few of the raisins and nuts into her mouth. “Do you know what made my master want to leave? Has he said anything about it to you?”

  Atadillius shrugged. “I think it was that Roman, Balbo, who was talking about a new horse breeder he’s found. Barantosz’s afraid that it might mean a loss of business for him—that’s absurd, of course—and he’s got himself convinced that he must take action at once or be without buyers for his stock.”

  “I see.” There was no way she could admit to Atadillius how great a blow this was for her. She felt a dull pain behind her eyes, as if she had been in the sun too long; her throat was oddly stiff, so that when she talked, she sounded like an old woman. “He would be troubled if he thought he’d been deprived of a market.”

  “Don’t be worried, Tishtry.” Atadillius said, seeing how distressed she was. “I’m sure I can convince him of the need for you to go on. Or perhaps I can find a new master for you. That would be one solution, wouldn’t it?”

  “But who’d take the chance?” Tishtry said miserably.

  “There might be someone,” Atadillius said with a smooth smile. “It could be worked out, with a little luck. Burn a pinch of incense to Tyche and see if she doesn’t show you favor. I’ll start making inquiries for you, all right?” He poured them both a little more wine. “Your sister will help you, that’s certain.”

  “What can she do?” Tishtry asked, feeling the icy touch of hopelessness. “Barantosz can be a very determined man. If he’s decided we’re going home, then there’s nothing I can do to change that.”

  “And you’re not a very determined girl?” Atadillius asked with such an air of complete innocence that Tishtry laughed in spite of her falling spirits.

  “Oh. I know what I want, but I’m a slave, and that takes my life out of my hands. You remember what it’s like, don’t you? I know Barantosz said I’d have five years, but it’s not binding, since there’s no formal contract.” This gloomy thought took hold of her, and she stared into the middle distance as if the answer might lie just out of sight.

  “You let me talk to him, and you can be certain that we’ll have you on your way to Troas. My word on it. And since I’m a freedman, my word has some worth.” He got up. “I’ll need a few days, and if you can avoid talking with your master until after I’ve had a chance to reason with him, we might carry it off.”

  “All right. I’ll keep silent if I can. But if he sends for me, you know I must come,” she said, sighing. “I was hoping there would be more time.”

  “There will be,” Atadillius said.

  “I could learn so much more, and I’m just starting to know how to perform for a large crowd. It’s hard to give it up.”

  Atadillius shook his head in exasperation. “Will you listen to me? I think he can be persuaded. Do you understand that? Do you?”

  “Yes,” she said softly. “But I dare not get my hopes up.”

  This somber realization took some of the confidence out of Atadillius, who reached over and tousled Tishtry’s short—cropped hair. “I know; I know.”

  * * *

  Barantosz came puffing through the stable yard, his dumpy body swathed in three woolen dalmaticae to keep out the winter chill. “You! Tishtry! Come here!” He toddled quickly toward her when he caught sight of her team.

  “Master?” Tishtry said, trying to appear casual while her courage sank down to her knees. “What is it?”

  “I’ve been speaking to that Atadillius fellow. The—”

  “Master of the Bestiarii.” Tishtry finished for him. “What about?”

  “You know what about, girl. I’ll have none of that pretense from you!” His face darkened and his fat little hands were bunched into fists. “You’ve been talking with him, I know you have.”

  “Naturally. He has been coaching me,” Tishtry admitted, trying not to hold the reins too tight, for that would frighten her horses more than the tone of her voice was already disturbing them.

  “And he’s been saying things about Troas and other arenae, hasn’t he? That’s what he wanted to talk to me about, Troas!” He looked around to see if they were being watched, and noticing that several of the grooms had stopped, he lowered his voice. “I hear you’re ambitious. I hear you want to go to the Circus Maximus in Roma. What is the matter with you?”

  “Nothing,” Tishtry answered, not caring if she angered Barantosz with her candor. “Atadillius has encouraged me, and I know that I am improving. Why should I not go to Troas and Roma?” She reached up to pat Immit’s neck in reassurance.

  “By all the gods of thunder and horses, what possessed you?” He glowered at her. “You’re being disobedient, and you’ve spoken against me. You know I could have you flogged for that.” He paced, waiting for an explanation.

  “You were the one who brought me here and asked me to do what I could to improve. I have followed your orders, Master, and I’ve come to realize that I might go far, if I am careful and take time to perfect my act. I was under the impression that this was what you wanted, too.” She saw that some of Barantosz’s ferocity was fading, and she took advantage of this. “I have an obligation to my family to do all that I can, so that one day we can all be free. They lavished their time and their skills on me, and I want to be worthy of their trust. I never meant to speak against you.”

  “It’s your right to free your family, of course, if you can get the money,” Barantosz growled.

  “I have enough to buy Macon’s freedom right now, but not the rest. One day, when I am too old to ride in the arena, I will buy my own freedom. If you will permit me, Master, to go to Troas, you’ll be well rewarded for it. I wish to go as far as my abilities can take me.” This was more forthright than was proper for her to be when speaking to the man who owned her, but saying the words gave her satisfaction, and she waited for her master’s response with some apprehension.

  “What if I took you back. There are many slaves who would be happy to breed with you, and your children might have a better chance than you to free you and the rest of your family. Three children performing make more money than one girl.” He nodded to himself. “I’d protect my investment that way, and there would be no risk. If I send you on, there could be ... well, any number of things to go wrong.”

  Tishtry felt as if her bones had gone soft inside her, so great was her fear that Barantosz had already made up his mind. “What you do is your decision, Master, and I will abide by it, as I must. But if you decide to breed me, it would mean you would have to wait a long time for the money you want, and during that time, the value of my family would decline through age, and in the end you would not get as much for any of us. If I do well, you could find yourself much richer than you are, and without gambling for years and years on the sort of children I might have.” To her own ears she sounded defeated, but apparently Barantosz did not notice.

  “You speak boldly for a slave,” he chided her.

  “I do not mean to offend you.”

  Barantosz shook his head. “You’re a feisty girl, there’s no denying that. And you have a mind of your own. That may stand you in good stead in the arena, but it is not the best thing for a slave to be so independent.” He paused and chewed his lower lip. “Atadillius believes that you will be very popular wherever you go.” He hesitated. “I am minded to give you one year in which to demonstrate your worth. In that time, you will have to earn back all that I have invested in bringing you here, and show me that your value has increased enough to offset the loss of a child, which you would have in a year if I take you home.”

  This was the first
positive thing Tishtry had heard from Barantosz and she seized on it. “You will have better from me letting me perform in the arena than using me for breeding.”

  “It’s likely,” Barantosz said with no trace of satisfaction. “A girl like you is not the best for bearing. In a year, you will have enough of a chance to prove your claim, and that is as reasonable as a man can be.”

  Tishtry nodded. “I will show my worth,” she promised, at once pleasantly surprised and terrified. “A year in Troas and other arenae, you will see, I will make my way.”

  “I will tell your father of this when I reach home.” He paused. “You need have no concern for your sister.”

  “Macon?” The thought of being without her older sister dashed Tishtry’s sense of triumph at once. “Are you taking her home?”

  “No. She’s one less for you to buy now. The Master of the Bestiarii has bought her from me. He says he needs a good saddler here, and that you will need more tack when you go on. He drives a hard bargain, that one.” Barantosz shrugged heavily. “This world is not for me. I cannot sort out all the currents that run here. At home, I know what is right and reasonable, but not here.”

  “Master?” Tishtry blinked. She had always thought Barantosz a dithering fool, but never, until that moment, had she felt sorry for him.

  “You seem to do well enough. I’m counting on that, and so is your family. Remember that.” He turned away from her, then looked back once. “I hope you do well, girl. I will lose good slaves if you prosper, but ...” His words trailed away as he started away from her once more. This time he did not look back.

  Tishtry stared after him, filled with confusion. Her life, which had seemed so bleak before, now had the promise she had longed for. Yet mixed with this elation was worry; she had said she would prove herself in the year she had been given, but now she had to admit to doubts, and they weighed her down, along with the realization that there was no longer any turning back except in total defeat.

  Dozei whickered and nuzzled her neck, as if reminding her that they had work to do. The other three horses caught something of his restlessness.

  “Very well,” she said aloud, trying to put her turmoil aside in the familiar routine of practice.

  * * *

  Macon was flustered by Tishtry’s question, and she did not answer it at once. “He said he needed a saddler. That’s what he told Barantosz.”

  “But that isn’t all there is to it, is there?” Tishtry asked. They had finished their evening meal and were sitting by the small brick stove in the corner of the room; unlike the residents of the great villae, they did not have their heat from a central furnace that circulated warm air just under the floor, and so there were few parts of their quarters that were not cold.

  “Not all,” Macon admitted. “He is fond of me.”

  “And?” Tishtry pursued. “What more?”

  Macon picked up a length of leather and began automatically to work it through her fingers, softening and shining it. “He has said that he will ... make me his wife.”

  Tishtry stared. “Wife? But why?”

  “For protection. As a freedwoman, I am still part of our family, but as his wife, I am part of his.” She shrugged. “And he may simply want to have a wife, like a freeman has.”

  “But your children would be freemen in any case,” Tishtry pointed out. “Never mind. Don’t try to explain it to me. If you want to be his wife, that’s fine with me. But who would have thought that any of us would be married?” She laughed and stretched out her muscular legs to the warmth. “When will this happen?”

  “Sometime in the spring, after we have left for Troas,” Macon answered, some of her habitual calm returning. “We will go to the magistrates and record the marriage contract and then have a celebration.” She blushed deeply. “A marriage contract. Imagine that.”

  “And what then? Do you return here or what?” Tishtry felt a pang of loneliness as she said this, because she could sense that although Macon had not gone home with Chimbue Barantosz, she was still leaving her.

  “I will do what Atadillius requires of me, I suppose,” Macon said, frowning. “He has already given his word that I may continue to make tack of all kinds, and that work and money will be mine, of course, but there are responsibilities to being a wife and he has good reason to expect me to ... to honor them and him.” She looked down at her hands. “He is not a bad man, and I like him. When he tells me stories, I laugh at them because they please me, not because I want to please him.”

  Tishtry shrugged. “Well, if that is what you want, then you are fortunate to have it. I would rather keep as I am than be paired with a man. Maybe when I am older, I’ll change my mind as you have.” She rubbed her hands together. “I ought to be grateful, Macon. Atadillius has spared me the task of buying your freedom. But I was looking forward to doing it. If I earn enough to free the rest of our family, I will not be able to see it, but with you here with me, I thought that there would be one time that I could see it, could share in the celebration. And now, that’s not possible.”

  “Tishtry!” Macon said, not quite able to keep the rebuke out of her voice. “How can you begrudge me this?”

  “Oh, I don’t,” Tishtry responded quickly. “I didn’t mean it that way. But I wanted to have the opportunity ...” She faltered, then went on, “I know it’s foolish, but I always thought it would be my right to be the one to free you. That is what our father taught me from the first. Don’t you understand? I’m glad you are free and that you will have a husband and have children that are freemen and never wear a collar. You will not be paired off with another slave at the master’s orders, and need never fear again that it might happen. You’re the first of us to be free, Macon. It was something I wanted to give you, for all of us.”

  Macon sighed and reached out to put her hand on Tishtry’s shoulder. “Little sister, you are shaming me.”

  “No, no,” Tishtry protested. “I don’t want you to feel shame. I just wanted you to know why ...”

  The sisters looked at each other in silence. Then Macon gave her attention to the stove. “You have enough to contend with, Tishtry. I’ve thought for some time that it was not proper for our father to expect so much of you.”

  “I don’t mind,” Tishtry said with a touch of pride.

  “Not now. But in a year, you may. Barantosz has only given you a year, and that is not very long. You have too much of a burden now. At least you need not carry me along with the rest.” She finished adding wood, then slid the grate back into place.

  “But I don’t mind!” Tishtry insisted. “And if that is why you are going to be Atadillius’ wife—”

  “No,” Macon said. “No. I will be his wife because it is what I want to be. If he had not freed me, but only bought me, he still might have taken me with my goodwill. There are few men I would rather be paired with.” Color rose in her face again. “That’s the true reason, Tishtry.”

  “Ah.” Tishtry said, trying to sound as if she understood, no matter how baffled she was.

  FROM APOLLONIA, Tishtry, Macon, and Atadillius took a ship onto the Pontus Euxinus, south and east to Byzantium, then westward through the Propontis, with Thracia on the north of them and Asia and Bithynia on the south. They arrived in Troas four days later, bored and restless from the confinement of the ship, and with the horses suffering from frets and fidgets that made them hard to handle.

  At the amphitheater, they were met by the Master of the Bestiarii, a grizzled old Greek with a much-broken nose and an enormous paunch that overhung his belt. He sniffed once at Tishtry’s mismatched team and stared hard at Atadillius. “You’re the one that fellow Barantosz sent?”

  “Yes,” Atadillius answered. “I’m Master of the Bestiarii in Apollonia in Thracia.” He tried to make it sound important, but in this larger amphitheater, he felt intimidated.

 
“Huh!” the Greek scoffed, then looked once more at Tishtry. “You’re the Armenian, aren’t you?”

  “Yes,” Tishtry answered, aware for the first time that her speech marked her as a complete provincial.

  “I’ve heard about you. Tomorrow I want to see if what they say is true.” He braced his hands on his hips and planted his feet apart, as if he expected a struggle.

  “The day after would be better. My team has been on a ship for four days and they will need to be worked on the lunge before I yoke them up again.” She was pleased to see that this protest had gained her a small measure of respect.

  “Day after tomorrow, then,” he agreed, and started to walk away.

  “Where are we to stay?” Atadillius called after him.

  “How should I know? That is Barantosz’s concern, not mine. You’ll find taverns all around the amphitheater. They’ll have room. There are stalls at the end of the stable yard that you can use until we move you to permanent quarters.” He waved his hand once, and then was gone.

  Macon looked astonished and turned to Atadillius. “What behavior!”

  “They’re always like this in the big cities,” Atadillius lamented, and gave a philosophical hitch to his shoulders. He did not want to admit how little confidence he felt now that he was out of his own amphitheater.

  “We’d better get the horses stabled and then find a place to sleep for the night,” Tishtry said, paying little attention to either Atadillius or Macon. “I want to see that they get raisins with their grain tonight. It will help them tomorrow.” She signaled one of the grooms to assist her, and led her horses toward the far end of the stable yard, as the Greek had told her to do.

  “Say there, youngster!” a tall charioteer called as Tishtry made her way toward the stalls. “What’s a kitten like you doing with a quadriga?”