SHADOWS IN BRONZE

ground as I crossed the diagonal starting line. I reached the central barrier, the spina, feeling that I stood out like a pimple on a barrister's nose-but Famia was right: nobody ever notices the slaves who sweep up dung.

They were running one of those show pieces where bareback riders stand astride two horses at once- dramatic, though comparatively slow. The trick is to have the horses well trained, and to keep a good rhythm; my brother could do it. (My brother was the flashy, athletic type with a streak of blatant stupidity; he tried anything that risked his neck.)

Standing up against the marble podium, the huge size of the Circus was breathtaking. The width across was half the length of a normal stadium, and from the white chalk of the starting line the far end seemed so distant I had to squint. Immediately above me as I ambled up the length of the spina, towered magnificent shrines and statues; Apollo, Cybele, Victory. For the first time I appreciated the workmanship on the great gilded bronze screen which stood between the senatorial seats and the arena itself. Beyond them yawned two tiers of marble terracing and a third tier of wood, then the closed-in upper gallery with standing room only. As I made a random pass with my bucket, I noticed how the sand had a glistening mica rim near the podium and the spina, where coloured chippings from past gaudy occasions had worked to the edges of the track. They never have awnings at the Circus; you could frizzle up an omelette on the sand. Everywhere had a constant odour of warm horseflesh above the lunchtime garlic and ladies' cologne.

The spina was ornamented with mosaics and gilt, against which I must have appeared a small, dark dot, like some tiresome, meandering bug. In the space of two races I shuffled up as far as the huge red granite Egyptian obelisk which Augustus had set in the very centre of the spina; then I edged on nearer to the finishing line and the judges' box. This was where the seats were always most warmly packed. At first the mass of faces melded into one great fudge of humanity, but as my confidence grew I began to see details: women shuffling their footstools and hoisting their stoles over one shoulder, men red-faced and bilious in the sun after lunch, soldiers in uniform, children squirming restlessly or fighting in the aisles.

There was a break between races, filled with tumblers and acrobats. Spectators moved about. I squatted against the podium, dry-eyed in the dust, while I began a methodical survey of the second tier. It took me twenty minutes to find him. As I did I thought he spotted me too, though he looked away. Once I pinpointed him, it seemed impossible that I could have missed his bad-tempered physiognomy before.

I sat still and went on searching. Sure enough, two rows lower down and ten places along I found Anacrites himself. Some of the time he was watching Pertinax, but mostly he stared round at the other seats. I knew who he was looking for! At the far end of the row where Pertinax was sitting and again higher up were two spies I recognized who formed a triangle with Anacrites, penning in the man I wanted and keeping him safe from me. None of them looked at the arena while I was crouching there.

I stood up. So did Pertinax. I started to cross the track towards the gilded screen. He moved along the row of seats. He had seen me. I knew it, and so did Anacrites, though he could not work out where I was. Stumbling over other people's feet, Pertinax reached a gangway. Even if I climbed over the screen, in among the indignant nobility on their marble thrones, he would be off down the stairs and out of the nearest vomitarium long before I got near. Meanwhile Anacrites suddenly shouted to one of the aediles' heavy squad and gestured unmistakably at me. I was not only losing Pertinax, but about to be arrested myself.

Then another shout aroused me, amid pounding hooves. I looked up into the huge grinning teeth of a beribboned black stallion bearing straight down on me. Trick saddle-men: this time two men in barbarian trousers, linking arms as they stood upright on a single horse. With a fiendish cry and a wild flash of eyeball one leaned out sideways as the other balanced him. They scooped me up like a disreputable trophy. We shed the second rider then careered on, with me as terrified ballast waving my dung shovel and trying to look as if this mad ride was the best fun I had ever had.

The crowd loved us. Anacrites hated it. Not being a fool who fancied himself as a horseman, so did I.

We swept right round the three conical goal posts and the altar of Consus at the end of the spina, slewing at a nerve-racking angle as we turned. Then we sped back along the whole length of the stadium on the far side. In a screech of polished hooves I was dropped at the starting gates. Famia dragged me in.

'Jupiter, Famia! Was that idiot a friend of yours?'

'I told him to look out for you-we're on soon!' My brother-in-law seemed to be assuming I was interested in the progress of my own cockeyed horse.

•

We were next. There was a shift in the atmosphere; word had it this was a race to watch. Famia said big money was riding on Ferox. The champion did look special-that high-stepping gait, the powerful build, and the deep-purple sheen on his wonderful coat. He looked like a horse who knew this was his great day. As I watched Bryon mounting their jockey, he and I exchanged a good-mannered nod. It was then that I noticed someone, someone not studying Ferox but intently scanning the crowd which was inspecting him. Someone looking for Pertinax, without a doubt. I muttered to Famia, 'Just seen a girl I know-' Then I slipped through the crowd while my brother-in-law was still grumbling how he would have thought that on this one occasion I could leave the women be…

LXXXVI

'Tullia!'

'Falco.'

'I was looking for you yesterday.'

'I was looking for Barnabas.'

'Will you see him again?'

'Depends on his horse,' the barmaid said dourly. 'He thinks he has a winner-but he left his bets with me!'

I drew Tullia by the arm right across the Cattle Market Forum to the shade and quiet beside that little round temple with the Corinthian columns. I had never been in it or noticed who its divinity was, but its neat structure had always appealed to me. Unlike the more brash temples further from the river, this lacked the usual swarm of seedy trade and seemed an improper place to be propositioning a big-eyed young girl in her sparkly-hemmed holiday gown.

'I have something to suggest to you, Tullia.'

'If it's filthy, don't bother!' she whipped back warily.

'Had enough of men? Then how would you like to make a great deal of money for yourself?'

Tullia assured me she would like that very much. 'What money, Falco?'

If I said half a million she would not believe me. 'A lot. It should go to Barnabas. But I reckon you deserve it more…'

So did Tullia. 'How do I get it, Falco?'

I smiled quietly. Then I explained to the barmaid how she could help me corner Pertinax, and obtain for herself a fortune that was as pretty as her face.

'Yes!' she said. I love a girl who does not hesitate.

•

We walked back to the horses. Little Sweetheart was gazing about him as if all this was wonderful. What a comic. The first time Famia put up his jockey, my wonderful animal shrugged him straight off.

'Which one's that, Falco?' Tullia enquired.

'Little Sweetheart. He belongs to me.'

Tullia chuckled. 'Good luck, then! Oh-I'll give you these!' She handed me a leather pouch. 'His betting tokens.