but their momentum snapped the trailing rein and they sped off, hauling behind them the wreckage of the chariot and the broken, unconscious driver.
‘I love the first corner,’ Gaius shouted above the roar to his companions. ‘Your Gentius made a smart move, Vespasia; I thought we would lose our money before the race had barely begun.’
‘Yes, but he put one of his own faction out and your Blues are now two lengths ahead of the rest,’ Vespasia replied as the favourite Blue team followed its hortator into the first 180-degree turn.
Euprepes slowed his team down to take the bend as close to the turning post as possible; he leant back on the reins and out to his left to prevent the chariot from tipping over. He swung the team round, cracked his whip over their withers and accelerated them down the narrower side of the spina with the ten remaining chariots in hot pursuit.
‘He mustn’t tire his team too soon, Gaius, there’s over three miles to go,’ Titus shouted.
‘No, but Vespasia’s Whites and the Red second team are pushing him hard and the lead Green is also picking up speed,’ Gaius puffed, his flabby face red with excitement.
The Blue second and third teams came screaming out of the narrow bend just behind the Green. They cracked their whips over their horses’ ears and yelled them on; the extra turn of speed pulled them almost level. Determined not to be caught between the spina and two rival teams the Green driver pulled the reins to the right, causing his team to shoulder barge the Blues next to him. Unable to pull over because of his colleague outside him, the Blue driver decided to risk himself rather than back off and, pulling his knife out ready to cut the reins, hauled his team to the left, pushing the Green chariot into the spina. Its delicate wheel shattered on impact and tipped the chariot against the wall. The driver drew his knife, cut through the reins in an instant and, without looking back, bailed out into the path of the following White team, disappearing under their hooves in a flurry of dust and blood. Deprived of his weight his chariot flew up into the air and twisted round, pulling down its team in a frenzy of thrashing legs and arching backs, before hitting the Blue driver, knocking the knife from his hand and him clean out of his vehicle. The following White team ploughed straight into the wreckage, smashing the legs of the two inner horses as they tried, but failed, to jump the stricken chariot’s pole barring their way. The last four chariots managed to swerve around the crash. A gang of slaves rushed out to clear the debris before the teams came round again.
Euprepes was approaching the second 180-degree turn that would complete the first lap; he could see his hortator ahead of him signalling that there was no wreckage around the blind corner as he slowed to take it. Both Gentius and the Red team closest to him sped past, choosing to take the longer route at more speed.
‘They’re going to try and pass him on the outside,’ Vespasia shouted, forgetting, for a moment, her decorum as the first of the seven bronze dolphins set in a row high above one end of the spina was tilted down to mark the completion of the first lap.
Despite the frenetic excitement Vespasian’s gaze kept straying to the imperial box in the hope of the chance of one more glimpse of those beautiful eyes, but they were kept firmly fixed on the race; though he sensed that she was restraining herself from looking round.
He turned back to the race. The eight remaining teams had rounded the narrower corner at the far end of the arena and were now racing back down towards the senators’ enclosure. Their hortatores were desperately signalling the position of the Green and White crash and the party working frantically in the dust trying to carry away a freed chariot. The slaves looked with terror at the fast-approaching chariots and sprinted for their lives to the safety of the sides, abandoning the wreck ten paces away from the spina. Two of the hortatores jumped the obstacle, earning a loud roar of approval from the crowd. Euprepes, realising that there was only room for one chariot to pass between it and the central barrier, steered straight down the middle of the gap. Half a length back to his right the Red, a brazen-haired Celt, looked nervously at Gentius just outside him, but as the wreck approached Gentius refused to give way, leaving the Celt no choice but to slow and follow Euprepes through the gap. His loss of momentum not only enabled Euprepes and Gentius to pull away but also helped the chasing Blue who had taken the outside route behind Gentius to draw level with him as they rounded the turning post at the end of the second lap.
The second dolphin was lowered and Vespasian ventured another look towards the imperial box. She had gone. Vespasian looked closer; there was Tiberius passing some remark to Asinius on his right; beyond them sat Antonia. The only other people in the box were Sejanus and four of his Praetorians, all standing towards the back.
Gaius noticed his nephew’s distraction. ‘Stop looking for her, dear boy, she’s probably gone on an errand for her mistress. Come on, you’re missing the race. It’s nearly halfway through.’
A roar from the crowd as the second Green team came to grief brought Vespasian’s attention back to the track as the third dolphin was lowered. The Blue chariot of Euprepes was just holding off the White of Gentius, with the Red Celt boxed in behind by Euprepes’ Blue team-mate as they raced up the far straight. Only seven chariots were still going as Euprepes rounded the bend, narrowly missing four slaves carrying the unconscious Green driver out.
With Gentius, the Red Celt and his Blue colleague in close pursuit, Euprepes cracked his whip and mercilessly exhorted his sweating team on to an even greater pace. The fourth dolphin was lowered and Vespasian glanced back across to the imperial box; the slender figure of Caenis had returned. She handed a wooden box to Antonia, glancing, as she did so, in Vespasian’s direction before sitting back down behind a small table next to her mistress. He felt his heart leap again; she knew he was watching her.
‘I don’t think Euprepes is going to be able to hold off the challenge much longer,’ Gaius bawled at Titus, barely audible over the rising wave of noise that was engulfing the circus. ‘He’s taken his team to their limit already, there can’t be much left in them.’
Down on the track the racers rounded the narrow turn for the fifth time. Gentius, almost level with Euprepes, was keeping the pressure on. Behind him the other Blue chariot, happy that the Red was stuck safely behind the two leaders, had pulled out and was trying to draw level with Gentius in order to squeeze him out on the next corner. Seeing the threat Gentius pulled to the right, clipping the Blue’s nearest horse’s front leg with his wheel. The creature reared up in agony, racing along on its hind legs trying to beat away the pain, causing the rest of the team to skew around the incapacitated animal. They tumbled over each other, sending up clouds of dust and overturning their chariot, which broke free from the pole. The driver had just enough time to cut the reins before the maddened team scrambled to their feet and pelted off, hell for leather, in the opposite direction down the track straight towards the last three oncoming chariots. The crowd leapt to its feet roaring their approval at this novel turn of events. The runaway team’s hortator had no chance of catching them as they surged on, driverless, to impending catastrophe.
Recognising the danger rushing towards them at a fearsome pace the three chasing drivers split formation in the hopes that the directionless tearaways would pass between them, but the loose team shied and veered to the left, straight into the path of the middle one. Eight horses met head on with a crunch of breaking bones and shattering timber. The driver catapulted over the whinnying mass of horseflesh as it floundered in a twisted heap and landed with a heavy thud on the churned-up arena sand. He lay still. Howls of appreciation rose from the transfixed spectators.
Vespasian looked over to the imperial enclosure as the fifth dolphin dipped to see Tiberius patting Asinius on the back, congratulating him on an excellent spectacle. Beyond him Antonia was dictating a letter to Caenis; how she could concentrate through such excitement amazed him but, he supposed, the affairs of state could never wait.
‘That was fantastic,’ Sabinus cried as yet another gang of slaves armed with knives rushed on to disentangle any of the horses worth saving and put the rest out of their misery.
‘My Gentius is going to win this, you’ll see.’ Vespasia was looking triumphant as the two leaders rounded the narrow turn for the second to last time.
The two lead drivers, covered in dust and sweat, battled with each other down the near track. Both were tiring now and each knew it. The grim determination on their sand-spattered faces hardened into grimaces as they approached the wide bend for the last time and heaved their teams around; a mistake now and all that they had fought for in the last six circuits would be lost; there were no prizes for coming second.
The roars of the spectators echoed around the Seven Hills of Rome as the sixth dolphin tilted and the final lap began. Caenis was no longer next to her mistress and Vespasian strained to see what had become of her over the heads of the senators around him. Failing to get a clear view of the goings-on in the box he turned back to the
