Four Horses For Tishtry

by Chelsea Quinn Yarbro

  “Merchantman ahead!” called one of the steersman.

  Tishtry got to her feet and went to the side of the boat, peering across the water to another dark shape, like a shadow in the afterglow of sunset. It was headed west.

  “Bound from Dyrrhachium to Ancona by the look of her,” Drosos shouted to his crew. “Probably carrying olive oil and linen. She’s small and light.”

  The other steersman pointed away in the dusk toward the shore where a light gleamed. “The Dyrrhachium lighthouse.”

  “We’re doing well.” Drosos announced with great goodwill.

  The steersmen went back to singing their playful, rollicking songs. Listening to them, Tishtry fell asleep on deck, where Drosos found her near the middle of the night.

  He chuckled. “You’d do well at sea, girl,” he said softly, and did not disturb her, letting the rising sun wake her.

  * * *

  Salonae was large and the dock so busy that it took a little time for Drosos to find a berth where he could offload his cargo. Tishtry was alarmed by the constant bustle on the dock and the quay; she confided her feelings to Holik.

  “Don’t worry—the crew will watch your belongings while you tend to your team. But it is wise to be careful of thieves, for the harbor has more of them than rats, I think.”

  Tishtry took little comfort from this warning, and her apprehension increased when Naius ambled down the gangplank to where her quadriga waited.

  “There’s a tavern close by. You’ll find me there,” he told her as he strolled away.

  “What tavern?” she called after him.

  “It has a sign showing a spotted dog. It’s two streets farther on. Ask anyone; they’ll tell you how to find it.” Then he was gone in the jostle of the crowd and Tishtry felt a helplessness she had never known before.

  “Here,” Holik said as he came to her side. “You go get your horses and I’ll see that no one takes your chest or your quadriga.”

  “Thanks,” she said, bolting back for the ship. “I’ll bring them out as quickly as I can.”

  Belowdecks, most of the crew were busy getting the horses out of their slings and starting them up the ramp. Most of the horses were in bad tempers from their long stay in the hold, and a few of them kicked and bucked as they were released.

  Tishtry found Drosos attempting to bridle Immit, and she took over for him. “She’s more used to me,” she explained.

  “I’ll get the bay, if that’s agreeable,” the captain said with a twinkle in his eyes. “They’re good—looking animals, this team of yours.”

  It was pleasant to hear someone speak well of them without criticizing their lack of uniform coloring, and Tishtry blushed. “I have always thought so.”

  “Is Holik coming to help?” Drosos inquired as he released the sling holding the bay.

  “He’s guarding my chest and quadriga on the dock.” She paused, working the cheek strap on Immit’s bridle. “Naius has gone to find wine.”

  “That should not surprise you,” Drosos said gently.

  “It doesn’t, but it troubles me. My master has said that I am to obey Naius, but how can I do that when the man is ... what he is?”

  Drosos nodded as he bridled Amath. “A pity, but surely your master had a good reason to send the man.”

  “He used to race everywhere, but that was some time ago,” Tishtry said, shaking her head as she stood back to lead Immit out of the stall.

  “Before he took to wine, I’ve no doubt,” Drosos said. “Here. You may have this one, too.” He handed Amath’s reins to Tishtry. “Let the mare go first; she’s more restless.”

  Tishtry accepted this advice willingly, backing up the ramp as she led her horses out onto the deck and to the gangplank. Immit and Amath minced across it, their hooves loud on the wood. The crowd on the pier upset them, and their ears swiveled uneasily.

  “Give them to me,” Holik said, reaching for the reins.

  “Be sure they don’t get too much of a lead on you,” Tishtry warned as she handed the horses over to him. “I’m going back for Shirdas and Dozei. I won’t be long.”

  “I’ve ordered a cart to carry your quadriga. Four—horse rigs aren’t allowed within the city walls at this time of day. You’ll have to walk the horses to the amphitheater and have the quadriga carried,” Holik called to her as she hurried back across the gangplank.

  “Very well!” she shouted as she went back into the hold.

  “Here they are.” Drosos was waiting for her, the two remaining horses out of their slings and bridled. “The rest of the grain you brought on board for them is in that barrel, and I’ll have Kortos bring it out to you.” He looked at her with concern and respect. “You’re a worthy girl. I hope the gods show you favor.”

  “And you, Captain,” she answered, holding the reins as her horses pulled at the leather. “Come to see me in the arena, if you have the chance.”

  “I would like that. Perhaps on the return voyage. I have an order to pick up a dozen lions in Tyrus. Twenty days out, twenty days back, you should still be performing then, shouldn’t you?” He chucked her under the chin with his hard, square hand. “I will look forward to watching you.”

  Tishtry could not quite smile, but she nodded. “I will do well for you, if you come to watch me.” She gave him her thumb up, and tugged her horses toward the ramp before she felt too foolish.

  “They’re being pretty temperamental,” Holik said as he cocked his head toward Amath and Immit. “It’s been difficult to hold them.”

  “You’ve done well,” Tishtry said, having her own task with Shirdas and Dozei. “I’ll take them in a moment.”

  “You’ll never get them to the arena on your own.” He paused. “Drosos will permit me to help you, if you would like me to ask.”

  Tishtry sighed. “It ought to be Naius, but ... If Drosos is willing, I would be grateful for your help. I’ll have to look for Naius later, once I’ve found where I am to stable my team.” She looked about in exasperation, not knowing where the amphitheater was, or how to get there.

  Holik guessed her thoughts. “The carter will lead us. Carters always know the best ways through the streets. On a day like this, his help will be welcome.”

  “More than Naius’, probably,” she said in an irritated tone. As Dozei tried to toss his head, Tishtry reached up and patted him, smoothing the hair on his neck and tugging his mane affectionately. She could feel his pent—up energy through the rein. The arch of his neck alerted her to his excitement after so many inactive days. “Steady, boy. In a little while you’ll be in a stall, and this evening I’ll work you on the lunge until your sides ache.”

  Dozei lowered his head and nudged her arm with his nose.

  Holik pointed through the crowd. “I see the carter coming. I warn you, he speaks no Armenian or Greek, just Latin.”

  “I suppose I’ll have to learn more Latin,” Tishtry said wearily. She had spoken Armenian and Greek most of her life but had never been comfortable with the Roman language. “Will you give him the order for me? I don’t want to make a mess of it.”

  “He already knows where you’re going,” Holik said, waving with the ends of the reins to attract the man’s attention. “Not that there would be any doubt, with four horses and a quadriga. Where else could you be going?” He glanced back toward the ship. “Captain!” he shouted as Drosos emerged from the hold. “I’m going to help Tishtry get her horses and gear to the amphitheater!”

  “Fine!” Drosos responded at once. “Make sure she’s expected! Don’t leave her until she’s in the hands of the Master of the Bestiarii!”

  “I will,” Holik promised, then addressed the carter in Latin as awkward as Tishtry’s. “We must go to ... to—”

  “To the amphitheater,” the carter agreed, looking over the quadriga and chest that waite
d beside Tishtry and Holik. “Is there anything more?”

  “A barrel of grain,” Tishtry said at once. “For the horses.”

  The carter nodded. “I’ll wait while you get it.” He looked over the horses with a suspicious expression. “What do you do? You don’t race them, do you?”

  “I do tricks,” Tishtry corrected him sharply.

  “With a team like that, I’d suppose so,” the carter said, chortling. “They’re a bit of a trick themselves, aren’t they?” He saw Kortos come with the barrel. “Is that all of it?”

  “That’s all,” Tishtry said.

  “Then I’ll bring my cart. Your horses won’t mind my mule, will they?” He gave her very little chance to answer. “I won’t have those brutes of yours kicking my mule and that’s that.”

  “They won’t kick your mule,” Tishtry assured him, adding to Holik in Greek, “We’ll let him lead us. You go first and I’ll come after.”

  “Good,” the carter interrupted in dreadful Greek. “And that way, no harm will come to my mule.”

  “If that’s what you want,” Holik said to Tishtry, ignoring the carter.

  Tishtry said a few more soothing words to her horses, hoping that they would indeed mind their manners when the carter brought his mule. After all that time at sea, she was afraid that they might be too rambunctious to behave as well as they usually did. “Don’t let them have their heads. They’re going to try to shake loose, but don’t let them,” she instructed Holik.

  “I’ll try,” he said, looking uneasily at the reins. “They’re strong, aren’t they?”

  “The line on a taut sail is worse,” she said, trying to find the carter among all the other people. “Where is he?”

  “Give him a little time. He can’t clear a path by galloping, Tishtry.” He was silent, but there was plainly something on his mind.

  “What is it?” she asked when he had been fretting over it.

  “I ... I’ll miss you. I liked sailing with you. That’s all.” Under his dark tan, his face was rosy.

  Tishtry had to blink back sudden tears. She had not wanted to think of saying good—bye to Holik, and now he had reminded her that they would part before the day was over and might never see each other again. “I’m not gone yet,” she said gruffly to cover the loneliness she felt. “But you were good to me. I am grateful for that.”

  Holik stared down at his feet. “I won’t forget you, Tishtry, not ever. And when you’re famous, I’ll tell everyone that we sailed together when you were on your way to Salonae. They won’t believe me, but that won’t stop me telling them.”

  Tishtry coughed, but the tightness in her throat did not go away. “I might overturn my chariot and be sent back to Barantosz in disgrace. You never know.”

  “You’ll be famous. I can tell. They’ll all cheer you, every one, and you’ll be honored by the Emperor himself.” His voice dropped to a mumble.

  At this Tishtry laughed while she felt color suffuse her face. “There are times I dream of it,” she confessed. “But when I am awake, I can’t imagine Nero bothering over someone like me. He has a chance to see the best that the entire Roman Empire can offer.”

  “Well, you are fine,” Holik said doggedly.

  “You’ve never seen me in the arena. You’ve never seen me on a horse,” she reminded him, though her pleasure was greater than her pride at the touching faith he showed in her.

  “It doesn’t matter. I’ve seen you in a storm at sea, and that tells me all I need to know.” His chin was thrust out as if he were angry with her, not paying her a compliment.

  ‘There’s the carter,” she said, relieved that they would not have to say anything more to each other that would make them both uncomfortable.

  “Here,” the carter said as he brought his mule close to them. “One of you hold the horses and the other help me load up. You’d better hold the horses, girl; they tell me they’re yours.”

  Tishtry did as he said, glad that she was about to get back to the work she knew best. As soon as the cart was loaded, Holik came and took Dozei and Amath from her without saying a word. Tishtry was both comforted and distressed by this. It was best that they say little, she reminded herself. They had to reconcile themselves to parting, and it was easier if they did not reveal too much to each other. This sensible attitude could not keep her from being downcast as she followed the carter and Holik through the crowded, narrow streets of Salonae.

  CHIMBUE Barantosz arrived in Salonae six weeks after Tishtry, flustered by the voyage and distressed by the size of the city. “They say you need more training,” he complained to Tishtry after she had finished performing for the day. “Naius says it, and two of the other bestiarii say it. They tell me you’re too good not to have the training.” He rubbed his squat hands together and shook his head so that his jowls wobbled like dewlaps.

  “I do,” Tishtry said. She had realized it as soon as she had seen what the other trick riders could do. She wiped her forehead with the back of her wrist, wishing she had been permitted to bathe before seeing her master.

  “But you’re so much better than you were,” he said, clearly not understanding the problem.

  “And if I am to go further, I must be better still. The charioteers here have told me that they like what I do, but they do not think I am ready to advance. Find me a teacher, and I will learn everything I can.” She put her hands on her hips. “And I do need two more horses.”

  “I can’t afford them,” Barantosz protested. “By the demons of the air, you don’t know what you have cost me already.”

  “Give me the reckoning, and I will know,” Tishtry said, since she had a little knowledge of counting.

  “It is not so simple,” Barantosz countered evasively. He lay back on his couch, fanning his face. “The Legions have been slow to purchase horses. They want more mules, and here I am with twenty—three mares in foal. You could not have chosen a worse time to need anything from me.”

  Tishtry was wise enough to say nothing in answer to this blustering. She changed the subject deliberately. “I have been taking time to improve my Latin. Most of the arena slaves use Greek, but if I am to do more, the Latin will help.”

  “Yes, yes,” he said absently. “That is wise of you.”

  “But it will be of more use to me if I have the opportunity to advance,” she pointed out, bringing her master back to the matter at hand.

  He made pudgy little fists of his hands. “You pester me and pester me, and I can’t think when you do that.”

  “I didn’t mean to pester you,” Tishtry said quickly. “It is only that I am anxious to justify your faith in me.”

  “Of course, yes.” He sat up again, his face turning plum color. “I do not know what I can do, girl. You will have to wait, that’s all. Until I make more money from the horses, you will simply have to wait.”

  Tishtry’s heart turned cold, for she knew that Barantosz could procrastinate for years, and in that time she would lose the advantage her youth gave her. “Master, I beg you to reconsider. If you wish me to bring you more money, you must give me the opportunity to do more. As it stands, I am caught here, and there is nothing I can do that will ...”

  Barantosz waved her to silence. “You are not to talk to me this way. I own you, girl.”

  “You could sell me,” she said before she could stop herself. As soon as the words were out, she caught her lower lip in her teeth.

  “Stop talking nonsense!” Barantosz ordered her. “Your father will not want to hear that you have lost all sense of conduct.”

  “My father ...” Tishtry wanted to have news of Soduz, but had dared not ask. How she longed to know how her family were doing, who was well, who had been ill!

  “He’s in good fettle now that his ankle is better,” Barantosz said, and volunteered no more information. “Go awa
y, Tishtry. I am tired from my journey. I will speak to you later.”

  Tishtry withdrew, worried, and feeling very alone as she wandered back toward the stables where her team was kept.

  “So you saw the master, did you?” Naius asked maliciously. “You won’t get him to invest more in you, you know that.” He held up his half—finished skin of wine. “Want some?”

  “No. I have to exercise my team still.” They had been cooled by the stable hands, but Tishtry had taken to working them on the lunge after they had performed. She thought it made them less nervous, but was wise enough to know that it might be only her nerves that were soothed by the exercise.

  “Too bad that Roman didn’t convince the master to sell you. He might have been willing to get you a coach. Barantosz is likely to send you home in a year and breed you.” He drank from the wineskin. “Don’t take it too badly. Barantosz would deny anyone.” With a rude gesture, he was gone.

  Tishtry walked to the door of Dozei’s stall and looked in at the sorrel. “You were spooked today,” she said to her horse. “That isn’t like you.”

  Dozei turned his head and looked at Tishtry, his huge brown eyes regarding her steadily. Then he snorted and waggled his head before stretching down to nibble at the straw.