and curses that go back to before the establishment of the Faith. This is the only place left where you can hear public venerations of Isis and Serapis and others of the dethroned Ancient Gods. Often, the phrases used are so old and garbled that most are unaware of the blasphemy.
Then, as the teams enter and go one lap about the Circus, the abuse becomes more tailored to the alleged faults of the chariot eers. The first team that day to enter was the Green. Through the internal gateway beneath the Imperial Box the team entered to thunderous cheers and groans, the charioteers in green robes, the two horses to each chariot also dressed in green. As they passed by the Green section, the charioteers dismounted and took the plaudits of their faction.
With neatly trimmed beards and gravely impassive faces, they stood by their chariots – these stripped back to the absolute minimum needed for a riding platform. They stood beneath a shower of rose petals, and were treated to an elaborate choral ode in their honour.
Then, from across the Circus, came the first sustained mass of abuse. Directed at the team leader, Paul, and in a rolling chant, carried by perhaps ten thousand voices, it went something like this:
Ye Nymphs lament, Ye Cupids too,
And every man of feelings true
And decent. For, such her meanness,
Fate has robbed Paul of his penis -
His penis that he loved so well;
His penis that could often swell
From one to maybe two or more
Full inches, if not quite to four.
It never felt the warm embrace
Of any vulva, nor in place
The firm grasp – by law denied us -
Of a playful young cinaedus.
But his left hand as well it knew
As a foot its favourite shoe.
And limp now, nor more to present,
There will it rest, all passion spent.
Ah Savage Fate – cruel to devour
His solace of a silent hour -
Behold the product of thy power:
Tucked in bed, lies Paul unsleeping,
Ever red his eyes from weeping.
As the last measure ended, the chanting dissolved into screams of laughter and individual abuse. There was a volley of green dildoes from the Blue Faction, and a less organised repetition of the final lines.
His face creasing into a smile, Paul took the assault in good spirit. Indeed, it was hard not to. Someone among the Blues had a good ear for the Latin classics and had done a fine job of parodying Catullus in the fixed syllabic lines of modern Greek. Paul took up one of the dildoes and waved it derisively back at the crowd. Then he pulled up his robe to show the whole Circus what the truth was regarding his manhood.
I was too far away to see the details, but they pleased the Greens. The approving roar must have been heard outside the City walls.
Matthias, leader of the Blue team, got the same treatment. His epigram went as follows:
Beside Matthias, have no fear,
Your wives and daughters may sit near;
And lustful glances, if he cast,
Can bring to them no harm at last.
Nor for your sons you need take fright:
Matthias is no sodomite -
Or, much as he’d love to insert
Himself, he’d never dare assert
Himself sufficient to succeed:
A timid little man indeed!
And he, to complete your data,
Is neither a lewd fellator,
Nor some other fornicator.
You’ll find his pleasures are very,
Very, very solitary:
For every other vice unfit,
Matt eats and masturbates in shit!
Well, that got everyone going nicely. I thought the chaotic shouting that followed this recitation would never end. So far, though, it was all good-humoured fun. Even Matthias had to smother a laugh at the inventiveness of the epigram someone had taken the trouble to compose against him. He knew that if the verse made it into one of the anthologies, it might be good advertising throughout the Empire.
Martin sat beside me like a frozen block of his lemon water. He was never one for big crowds, except at a good church service. Authari was impressed by the spectacle, without understanding much of it. But I joined in the cheering and laughing as if I’d been going to the Circus all my life.
Rome had nothing to match this.
At a burst of louder cheering and catcalls, I turned round to see Philip and some of the other students. Dressed in wonderful clothes – Philip himself was wearing shoes all of woven gold thread – and sprawled along one of the higher rows, they had a fine view of the racecourse and over the Imperial Box to the palace and the City beyond. They had brought food and drink and were sharing a jolly breakfast. Philip beckoned me up to join them but Alypius pounced before I could move.
‘You stay in your allotted place,’ he breathed from beside me.
Even so, they did send down a jug of reasonably unwatered wine to keep me going through the remainder of the festivities. Alypius brought it, concealed in the folds of his robe. Most welcome, this. Martin for some reason had got Authari to pack only fruit juice in our hamper.
The Factions now burst again into chanting – yet more celebration of the qualities of their champions. So long as they don’t turn ugly, proceedings in the Circus follow a ritual as set in its essentials as in a church.
At last, however, the teams began to move towards the far end of the racecourse and the shouting diminished in volume. There was a flurry of movement on the Senatorial Terrace. Everyone there was on his feet and facing away from the racecourse, looking up. Even the Patriarch was standing.
On each side of the Imperial Box above them, seven men in golden robes had appeared. They stood looking around and waiting for reasonable silence. Then they raised their golden trumpets. A peal of bright sound rang out across the Circus.
There was silence.
A herald stood forward in the Imperial Box. He raised his arms to maintain the silence.
‘We unite’, he cried in a slow, clear voice that reached to the topmost rows behind me, pausing at each phrase to draw breath, ‘in greeting our Lord and Master, the Most Holy and Orthodox and Ever-Victorious Flavius Phocas – Caesar Augustus, Autocrator, Dominus et Imperator, appointed by God Almighty Himself, Ruler of the Universe.’
32
I’d seen representations of Phocas any number of times. There was a crude image of his face on all the coins. There was an icon of him in every public building throughout the Empire. And, of course, there was the golden statue of him atop its column in Rome. His presence was evident in all things.
