“Incorrigible imp,” he said, and made no attempt to mask the pride he felt in her.
* * *
The senior groom came out of Dozei’s stall and motioned to Tishtry and Himic. “Well. I’ve had a look at his foot, and I must admit I don’t like the look of it. You were right to call me in.”
“What’s the matter?” Tishtry asked. She glanced toward the sorrel, worry making her face appear much older.
“There’s a weakness in the off rear pastern joint. He’s favoring the hoof, no doubt about it, and it is not as flexible as it should be.” He pursed his lips. “I’m going to suggest that his foot be soaked in hot water and that a poultice of mustard and egg white be applied to it every morning and every night for the next ten days. He should be ridden, too, but not drilled, and it would be better if he ran on grass instead of sand or bare earth. In time his leg may improve, but do not hold out hope for it.” He hooked his thumbs into his belt. “He is valuable enough while he races, but if he cannot run well, your master must replace him and you will not have much money to buy another horse.”
Himic interrupted this discouraging news. “Our master will replace the horse in her team and will provide her with a fifth one as well, so that if any of the others is harmed, she can continue to perform.”
This surprised Tishtry, who had been trying to find a way to suggest adding another horse to her stable for more than a week. “When did he decide this?” she asked, paying little attention to the head groom.
“When he bought you. The question was how advanced you would become, and so Calpurnius has hesitated on the purchase until you are ready to stipulate the sort of animal you are capable of handling.” He looked back at the head groom. “What of the sorrel: do you think he will improve in time?”
“Candidly?” the man asked. “With care, I think he will get better, but I doubt if he will ever again be able to work in the arena with the team. The leg has been damaged, and there is nothing I can do or say that will change it.” He looked at Tishtry in a thoughtful way. “I am sorry to tell you this, girl, but you must face it sooner or later, and your master would prefer it be sooner, I think.”
Tishtry nodded. “Yes, and it may be best for the team. I don’t want the other three to fall into bad habits because of Dozei. The team is used to him, though, and new horses will be a problem as well.” She went to the stall and reached over the gate to pat Dozei’s rump. “He’s a good fellow.”
Dozei gave a rumbling whicker and raised his head a bit, though he seemed to be unhappy.
“You have handled him well, girl,” the head groom assured her. “It is largely a matter of fortune and breeding with these horses. Some last longer when everyone expects them to collapse after one season; others that you would think would go on for years cannot sustain more than a few turns around the sands before they are useless to everyone.”
“That’s true enough,” Himic agreed. “I had one horse, a black—nosed gray. To look at him, you would have thought him incapable of pulling anything heavier than a child’s cart. But with my quadriga, he pulled the rest of the team through more trouble than any animal I have owned before or since. A big ugly brute he was, with a head like a bucket and sloping shoulders that made you wonder how you’d keep a yoke on him for more than an hour. He had more stamina than any other horse I’ve owned.”
Tishtry sensed that the two men were doing what they could to make her burden easier, and it gave her the first sense of friendship she had experienced since she had been through the storm with Holik. “Dozei is a good horse, but it is unwise to force him to perform if it hurts him and gives the team bad habits. It is best to take him out of the arena while he has worth enough to merit keeping him.”
“Yes,” Himic said, more in approval of her decision than seconding what she said. “I will arrange for him to be pastured here, so that the team will not be broken at once. It is always awkward when there have been just the four horses together for some time. You are used to what they do, and they are used to one another. Having a fifth horse will be an improvement.”
The head groom coughed diplomatically. “You understand that the master might ask you to sell your sorrel if he would prefer not to pay for his keep.”
“I know it’s possible,” Tishtry said carefully, already anticipating the arguments she would have to use to avoid that eventuality. “He is my horse, and if it is required, I suppose I can afford the payments if it comes to that.” It would take funds from her savings to free her family, but her horse was almost as important to her. She did her best to turn her thoughts from the disappointment her father would feel if he learned of her predicament.
“The new horses will make it easier,” Himic said. “You may change your mind after you’ve developed the new team.” He put his hand on Tishtry’s shoulder as they walked out of the stables. “Dozei is a good horse. You taught him well and you have done nothing to abuse him. Some horses last longer than others. You know this, Tishtry.”
She stared away from him. “I know it, yes. I had hoped that I wouldn’t be in this situation for a while. And since I’m not performing just now, the expenses trouble me.” She did not confide her fear that Calpurnius might grow tired of paying for her, and sell her just to be rid of the cost of keeping her and her horses.
Himic apparently understood her worry. “You are a great asset to Calpurnius. He is willing to wait a bit for your finest performances. Until now, your old master took advantage of your immediate skills, never thinking that in time, you would need to develop more of your abilities in order to increase your value. He never understood that aspect of owning an arena slave. He sought to enrich himself without any risk, and for that he was prepared to hold you back. Calpurnius is not like that. And,” he added more thoughtfully, “you should be aware, girl, that in time, when you have become far more valuable, he will look to sell you. It is not his way to keep performers like you. He is willing to train you and to send you to more competitive amphitheaters, but he is not willing to keep you once you have realized your worth. I have seen him do this many times, and I know it will be the same with you.”
Tishtry heard this out with more alarm than she wished to admit. In vain she told herself that being sold was the lot of all slaves, and that if Calpurnius used her wisely, she could benefit from it as much as he did. In her heart she felt the same betrayal that she had when Barantosz had sold her. She swallowed hard. “Then I pray the gods he will not part with me too soon, so that I will bring him the profit of my training.”
With a slight, sad smile, Himic nodded. “Good girl.”
* * *
“What do you think of them?” Calpurnius asked as Tishtry completed her first inspection of the two new horses.
She could not admit she was very pleased. “The black—Neronis? is that his name?—needs to lengthen his stride, but that red roan is splendid.” She gave this second horse an affectionate slap on his flank. “Tehouti, that’s what he’s called.”
“My purchasing agent had full records on your team, their size and strides, and he did everything he could to match them.” Calpurnius braced his arms on the top rail of the practice ring. “Himic tells me that in another month you’ll be ready to go back into the arena. What do you think?”
“I’d be willing to go today, but with new horses, I don’t dare.” She swung up and over the fence with practiced ease. “And there is an arena slave, a bestiarii whom Himic says I must see. Some Greek fellow, I understand. He has a team of dancing horses, they tell me.” She sounded skeptical, but secretly was very curious. How could horses be made to dance? And if they could be made to dance, was it something that her own team should learn to do?
“That would be Dionysos. Aegidius Modestinus Valericus owns him, and has had great success with him. He has been performing in Patavium for several months, and Valericus recently decided to bring him here.” Calpurnius looked at the red a
nd black horses in the practice ring. “Himic tells me that they have very good feet and strong legs. That should stand for something.”
“I hope,” Tishtry said, then knew what was expected of her. “You were most generous, my master, to provide these new horses, and I am grateful that you gave them to me.”
Calpurnius shrugged. “With the sort of performing you do, they would not be much use to anyone else in any case. I fully expect to be handsomely repaid for your team in the revenue you bring from your winnings and your performance fees.” He started away from the ring, signaling Tishtry to come with him. “I have accepted a commission for your appearance in ten days. Do you think you can be ready by then? Himic has informed me that you have improved your performance, but that does not mean you’re prepared to show the world.”
“I’m willing,” Tishtry said promptly, wondering where this was leading.
“I trust this is true, for there are many side bets being placed on you, and I stand to make a tidy sum if you justify my faith in you. Do you have at least six new tricks to perform in the arena?”
“Seven, in fact,” she said proudly. “One of them is very dangerous, and Himic has helped me find a way to make it even more spectacular than it is.” She had to trot to keep up with him, for he not only walked swiftly, but was more than a head taller than she. “I spring off Immit’s back, do a double backward somersault and land on my feet in the quadriga.”
“Truly?” Calpurnius had stopped walking and stared at her. “Are you sure you will not be hurt?”
“No,” she said. “But I have done it more than twenty times without mishap, and I am as confident as I can be that it will go precisely as I have practiced it.” She did her best to appear unconcerned with the risk. “If the team were to shy, or I was to trip, or the quadriga hit something in the sand, then I might be injured, but such things happen rarely.”
“I’ll talk to Himic about this,” Calpurnius told her, his mouth setting in a stern line.
“Yes; do. He knows better than I do how well I perform it.” She braced her hands on her hips. “In another half year, I will be able to do better than that. I am certain of it.”
DIONYSOS gave a signal and his ten horses rose on their hind legs together, first turning to the left, then the right. The one on the end, a clay—colored stallion from Gaul, moved ahead of the rest, hopping on his rear feet with every snap of Dionysos’ whip. At another sign, the horses dropped back to all fours, and began a slow rack in an interlocking loop pattern.
“They’re wonderful.” Tishtry sighed to Himic as she watched the performance. “They make my team look like dray beasts.”
“Oh, it’s not that bad, surely,” Himic said, attempting to reassure her.
“You wait. That is what the crowd will think, and who can blame them?” She leaned her forehead on her hand. “Calpurnius will sell me for sure, and I’ll end up mucking out stalls in Tingis or Olbia, or some other remote end of the Empire, and I’ll have to sell my horses and I’ll never get my family’s freedom.”
“He’s good, but he’s not that good,” Himic said more bracingly. “He can’t ride anywhere near as well as you do, and that ridiculous double—rank—of—five hitch of his is about as maneuverable as an oxcart.”
“But look what his horses can do,” she wailed softly. “Even at his very, very best, Shirdas can’t do half of what that tan stallion of his does.”
“Then perhaps you should think of teaching your team a few more tricks,” Himic suggested, careful to make it sound as if he did not expect this of her.
“Perhaps,” she echoed morosely. “And look at Dionysos himself! He’s like one of those Greek statues, with a profile that must drive every woman under fifty to distraction.” She made her hands into fists. “Golden curls, huge blue eyes, and his tunica dyed to match his eyes. Valericus must be overjoyed to have such a slave as that.”
“Calpurnius is pleased to have you,” Himic reminded her, trying to encourage her. “And you may not be a work of art like that youngster—”
“I look a complete barbarian beside him,” she corrected Himic sharply. “There is no need to flatter me. I know that I am no beauty, and even if I were, I would have to look better than Aphrodite to compare with that Apollo there.”
“The Emperor has blond curls and blue eyes, too, and though he is handsome enough, he is nothing to rival Dionysos. That may be why Valericus is reluctant to take him to Roma, for fear the Emperor would be offended.” Himic laughed quietly. “It will take a great deal of cleverness on Valericus’ part not to offend Nero with that glorious youth.”
Tishtry cocked her head to the side. “Why?”
“Because Nero does not like to have any who rival him, and believe me, that slave would cast the Emperor into the shade. Valericus must arrange it so that Nero himself orders Dionysos to the Circus Maximus, or he will find himself in great disfavor.”
“Well, Nero certainly has nothing to fear from me,” Tishtry said wryly. “Unless the Romans are mad for squat women with clubbed hair.”
Himic patted her shoulder. “Very good, Tishtry. You are learning a little wisdom at last. Beauty is a great danger for slaves. Remember that.”
“What reason have I to remember it?” Tishtry asked wistfully.
“Not for yourself, perhaps, but for others. In time you will be grateful that you need concern yourself with little more than your performing skills. There are many others who would gladly trade with you.” He studied the golden curls that Dionysos took such obvious pride in. “Slaves are not permitted to refuse the claims of their masters, or those their masters favor. With one as beautiful as that Greek boy, Valericus would be a fool not to take advantage of Dionysos’ good looks, and Dionysos will have no opportunity to accept or refuse the attentions his master permits. I doubt you wish to live that way, Tishtry.”
She was frowning as she listened. “No,” she said at last. “I would not like to be my master’s plaything. But there are slaves who earn their freedom in catering to their masters’ wants.”
“Wouldn’t you rather buy your freedom through your own abilities?” Himic asked gently.
Tishtry could not help smiling. “Yes.”
“Then don’t look at him with so much envy,” Himic ordered.
“Can’t I envy his horses?” Tishtry protested.
“Only if you believe you cannot do better yourself,” he responded, chucking her on the jaw as they watched Dionysos acknowledge the applause of the crowd.
* * *
“Where are you from? Your Greek is terrible.” Dionysos regarded Tishtry arrogantly as she prepared to enter the arena.
“I’m Armenian. My first master comes from near Satala in Cappadocia.” she answered, trying not to mimic his tone.
“By Poseidon, that is the end of the world. No wonder you are so lacking in graces.” He bowed to her with a condescending smile.
“Yes, we have not yet had the chance to become effete,” she agreed with sweet malice just before she gave the sign to Himic to release her team so that she could rush through the Gates of Life onto the sands. She could feel her face redden because of the insult Dionysos had given her, and her swipe had not given her enough satisfaction to make up for what he had said. She knew that he had intended to rattle her so that she would not perform well on this first appearance in the arena in several months, and that alone gave her the necessary will to concentrate on her performance. She braced her feet in the special racing chariot Calpurnius had provided her and slapped the traces over her team’s backs. She refused to permit that smug, conceited Greek any more enjoyment at her expense.
She heard the welcoming roar of voices, and she took her team around the arena once, holding them to their perfectly matched trot every step of the way. Neronis was yoked up in Dozei’s place, but by now the horses were used to each other. She fel
t her nervousness melt away as she began her performance, moving from the chariot onto Immit’s back. As the team stretched into a canter, Tishtry raised her head and flashed a smile at the stands.
Her first two new tricks brought hoots of approval from her audience: while standing on her hands, she walked from the back of Shirdas, to Immit, to Neronis, to Amath, then ended with a backflip that carried her to Shirdas again. Here she paused long enough to get her breath, then she grabbed a handful of Shirdas’ mane and swung under his neck to Immit. Here she reached for the mare’s mane, then vaulted onto Immit’s back, and repeated the loop under Neronis’ neck and onto Amath’s back. The drumming of their hooves was louder than the shouts of approval from her audience, and Tishtry was a little startled to see that some of the crowd were throwing blossoms into the arena in appreciation of her new stunts. She returned to her old routine for a bit, then did the splits across the backs on her running team. This brought another wave of shouts and a fresh shower of blossoms.
When Tishtry finally did her back spring with the double somersault that ended with her standing once again in her quadriga, the ovation was staggering. In all her years, she had never heard anything like it for a bestiarii. Usually such enthusiasm was reserved for gladiators and other fighters. She brought her team to the front of the editor’s box, where her team dipped their heads to the man who was sponsoring the Games that day, which evoked a little more tumult from the crowd.
“Most worthy!” the editor shouted in order to be heard at all.
“For the glory of my master and the gods,” Tishtry replied, as was proper. Then she wheeled her team and set them at a smart trot for the Gates of Life. As she left the arena, she saw Dionysos’ face, contorted with disgust and fury, watching her from the shadows by the Master of the Bestiarii’s shed.
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