The Charioteer – Story from History

Story from History – The Charioteer

Rome was asleep. It was past midnight. One by one all the lamps were extinguished plunging the city in darkness. A pale moon hung limply to the sky accentuating the darkness of shadows cast. The elongated strip of wavering light prostrated upon the road outside the public drinking house was an island in the dark sea. Drunken songs occasionally wafted out to stir the still night air. The city slept.

Only two persons, apart from the patrons of the public house, were awake. One was a patrician and the other, a nobody. But both stayed awake due to the same reason.

Pontius Claudius, the patrician, lay in luxury, in his sprawling four-poster, staring at the billowing white silk curtains, laced with gold. His wife was away. His mistress lay curled on her side, nude under her white silk covers. The woman mumbled in her sleep and snuggled closer. Claudius pushed her off and went up to the window, wrapping a toga around him. Outside the city slept like a spent lover. Out there, somewhere, his dream was being squandered. His quadriga will not run in the race on Jupiter’s Day.

The horses snorted. All of them loved Gaius, the lanky young man, of Thracian descent. Gaius was a slave in the household of Pontius Claudius. Ever since he was quite small, he had been taking care of horses. He loved the horses and chariot racing. Recently, for about a year or so, he had been directly involved with racing. Only a few months ago he had driven his owner’s team to victory on his debut race and had been acclaimed in racing circuits as a prodigy. All said that he was rising star in the Veneti (aquamarine) factiones, to which his owner’s team belonged. There were four factiones, Prasini (the Green), Russata (the Reds), Albata (the Whites) and his own Faction, Veneti (the Aquamarine). The Prasini and the Veneti were the most high profile Factiones. Whenever they encountered each other on the racing tracks, tension ran high.

Gaius had won three races in a row. His owner had been so happy that he had declared that if Gaius won the next race, he would be given his freedom and would continue racing as a salaried freeman. That big event was to begin in a day from now, but a misfortune was keeping him awake the whole night.

Gaius roamed about aimlessly in the darkened stables. He went over to the stall where his team of race horses stood. He leaned against the post of the first stall and absently stroked the silken neck of the horse there. The horse snorted in pleasure.

“Andremone,” Gaius murmured, calling the horse by his name. “We are desolate. Where could he have gone? Ah, I wish you could talk!” The horse nuzzled up to him, as if to offer his consolation.

The ‘awesome foursome’ they were called in the racing circuits – the black quartet of Pontius Claudius’ Aquamarine quadriga team. All were from the same litter and were almost identical in appearance, being jet black in colour with a white streak on the foreheads. Lovingly they were named Andremone, Musculosus, Piripinus and Calimorfus. Amongst these four, Calimorfus, as the funalis, was the key-member. He functioned as the pivot during the short and sharp turn at the turning points in the course or metae.

Calimorfus, affectionately known as Cali, was missing for four days now. Without him the quadriga meant nothing. No replacement could be found or trained at such a short notice. This stunning news had carefully been kept under wrap so far. Any spillage would spell out disaster and riots. Gaius used to sleep in the stable that housed the racing steeds. Eve then Calimorfus had gone missing. Claudius had issued an ultimatum to Gaius.

“If that horse does not run on the day of the festival of Jupiter, then, by the name of all gods, I’ll flay you alive!”

At day-break the pensive and forlorn Gaius trudged out of the gates of the Claudius hacienda. The morning was bright, grass green and birds were chirping in the orange trees. Outside the huge iron gates, Rome was awash in the golden light of the morning sun. But all this glory was wasted on the young man, for nothing seems right to a heart heavy with grief and anxiety. Even more than his own well being, the thoughts that ate into him were what was Cali doing? Had he eaten? How was he? There was no doubt that he had been stolen. But who was responsible and how had it been possible? …unless… He drove the thought out of his mind. How could it be an inside job? All loved Cali and the team. All were eager to see them romp home, victorious. Then?

Gaius’ feet carried him over to the Circus Maximus, the venue of the next day’s chariot racing. A sizable crowd was assembled outside the Circus, in spite of the early hour. Traders yelled themselves hoarse, peddling their fare. Shops had opened up, selling fruits, flowers, leather goods and such other oddities of household use. Far to his right a blacksmith was doing steady business of shoeing horses and making swords and other weapons. Next to him a carpenter was busy filing a beam into silky smoothness.

Suddenly someone bumped into Gaius. He turned to see a pair of beautiful eyes fluttering at him. Slender, white arms reached out at him and dainty fingers held his calloused hands fast. The girl smiled at him as she placed one of his hands on her young breasts.

“Feel them, my love! Take them as you please,” whispered the girl. A prostitute! She, too, was busy peddling her fare. Gaius shrank back.

“I am an ordinary slave! I can’t afford you. Please find someone else,” he said in alarm.

“I know what you are. I also know who you are. You are Gaius the Charioteer. I love to see you racing in this Circus. I hope you win tomorrow.”

“Who knows?” Gaius sighed. Probably he would not be racing at all tomorrow.

“You are sad? Is anything the matter?”

“No. Nothing. Why should it?” Gaius asked.

The girl sighed and moved away. She stood still for a while. Then furtively, she looked about her and said.

“I hear things. I know things. Meet me, my dear. Meet me after the Sun had crossed the zenith, in the woods beyond the Palatine Hills. I shall tell you what I know.” She smiled as she melted away in the crowd.

Gaius sighed, shook his head, and entered the Circus Maximus. Some charioteers were already out there, training their teams and getting the measure of the course. Newly constructed marble stands for the spectators sparkled in the morning sun. The Emperor Trajan had been gracious enough to build them of marbles after a devastating fire had destroyed the old wooden stands. Statues of Jupiter, Neptune, Apollo and Diana adorned the spinae. Tall obelixes marked the metae. Gaius’ fingers twitched in an urge to hold the reins. The glorious morning beckoned him. Step by step he went up ahead to stand right at the edge of the racing tracks.

Three teams were hard at practice this morning. Maybe others will come in later. Amongst the three, the quadriga of chestnut horses caught his eyes. He knew this team. It belonged to a middle aged patrician, a war-hero, called Pius Antonius. Antonius had his palatial establishment near the Forum, at the heart of Rome. This was their ancestral home. He also had a villa far away from the crowded city, where he went every now and then to shake off all grime of city life

The chestnut team was good, very good. Gaius knew the charioteer. He was a villainous looking ruffin, a freeman called Scipio, after the great Roman general. He was better known by his nickname, Scorpio, for his sting was as bad as his looks. An utterly unscrupulous charioteer, he often slashed other charioteers with his whip or dashed into other cars on purpose. He rode for the Faction Green (Prasini).

Scipio noticed Gaius standing there, disconsolate, as he rounded the far meta. He reined in his horses as he neared the younger man.

“What ho, dear Gaius? Not in practice today? Or will you come in later?” asked he. “Or maybe you are not competing this time, eh?”

Gaius looked up sharply at his most vicious opponent in the tracks.

“Don’t you dare give me the looks, you whippersnapper, I know what you know and I also know what you don’t know!” With that he gave out a vicious guffaw and set his team galloping with a violent crack of his whip. Gaius stood there for a while, mulling on what he had just heard, then, finding no answer, traced his steps homeward. A lot remained to be done at the stables.

Gaius was fortunate in that not much intellect was needed in the daily chores at the stables. He cleaned the stalls, replenished the hay and fodder, gave the horses a rub down, and polished the tacks. All this he did mechanically. In his mind he was seeking answer to the riddle that the Scorpion had posed. He could not make any head or tail of it. Who stood to gain if Cali did not run? The Greens, of course, and that meant the Scorpio! But why should he give any lead in the matter of Cali being unable to run had he been directly involved? What if he was not directly involved? Then was there anyone else who could be involved? Antonius? But how could a war-hero stoop so low? Anyway, things aught to get somewhat clear by this afternoon. He recalled his encounter with the prostitute. Perhaps she really knew something. He shelved this line of thought aside and changed tracks. He began to run over mentally all that had passed that fateful night.

That night, Gaius was very tired. A strenuous workout with the horses under the watchful eyes of his master had taken its toll. He had planned to retire early. Veronica, the slave girl, assigned to him, had come up with food. Now, this girl was something. Full of bouncy energy, she took care of him well enough and was extremely proficient in bed. Gaius remembered the day when his mistress, Lucia, had first assigned her to his care. Veronica had been Lucia’s personal maid, and she was that still.

It was the night after the first victory. There were celebrations galore at the hacienda. Wine flowed like water and food was abundant. There was plenty of singing and dancing too, as this was the first victory run of his master. Gaius had been the centre of attention and he, too, had a little bit to drink. His master, with his cronies, soon was sprawled on cushions laid haphazardly about, and all were totally soused. It was near midnight, when the revellers began to fall asleep one after the other and the minstrels had gone hoarse through constant singing. Lucia, the mistress, herself in quite an inebriated state, had stood up and had proceeded towards her bed-chamber. She did not sleep with Claudius, but had her own chamber for quite some time now. On her way she had stopped and had murmured some instructions in the ears of her personal maid, Anastasia.

Gaius looked about him in wonder. In his long stint at the hacienda he had never before stepped inside the sanctum of the first lady’s personal chamber. By the time Gaius had entered the room, Lady Lucia had already changed into a loose fitting, flimsy, night-gown. She smiled at Gaius as he entered and beckoned him to come forward.

“So, boy-wonder! How you have grown! Now you are a man! Here, come closer. Let me take a look at you.”

At Lucia’s behest, Gaius’ purple cloak was unclasped at the neck and removed. Next Anastasia came up to remove his loin cloth and he stood there completely in the nude, acutely embarrassed. Lucia ran her appreciative glance all over his body.

“My, my!” she said. “You really have become a man! Just look, Anastasia, isn’t he wonderful?” Lucia’s laughter jingled out like a chandelier shattering to pieces. “He needs to be taken care of.” She signalled with a jerk of her head and a girl entered the room.

“Veronica,” she ordered. “Gaius is our precious possession. Take care of him in every way. I am sure you know how to do it all.”

Thus Veronica wove a net around Gaius’ night life. Every night she brought him his food, not the regular repast that the slaves had, but wholesome, nourishing stuff, and after that made love to him. She did not stay back, though. After making love she left, taking away the used utensils. A bondage had sprung up between them. It was nowhere near love. But was more base, more carnal.

They had not made love that night. Gaius had felt unaccountably sleepy. He seemed to have blacked out shortly after eating. When he awoke the next morning, he found that the stable door was wide open, the wicker-gate of the stalls, unlatched and Calimorfus gone. As he made an attempt of standing up, he had to catch hold of the stall-rail. His head was spinning and he had a king-sized headache. He stumbled against something, which rolled away with a clatter. A pitcher! Empty! But when had he drunk?

Claudius was livid! He accused Gaius of dereliction of duty and had flogged him, tying him to a post out there in the garden. Gaius bore it all. Incredulity at the loss of Cali, the horse he had loved most, together with the impassive expression that he had seen in Veronica’s face while he was being flogged, had served to benumb him. Claudius had stopped after the fifth stroke saying that he needed him intact for the races and that Gaius was to find the horse for him. He had pronounced his ultimatum thereafter.

There was almost no shadow under his feet. The sun was directly overhead. Gaius’ tired feet carried him beyond the Palatine Hills, into the woods. He had given up hope of seeing his friend, old Calimorfus, ever again. Standing in the woods, he looked about him. At first he could see no one. Then a glimmer of white came into view within the lattice-work of light and shade. The girl smiled at him. She caught his hand and made him sit beside her on a grass bank.

“Don’t be so sad and empty, dear Gaius, this day will be something you’d remember as long as you live,” said the girl. Then with a fleeting smile she added, “I am called Galina, if you are interested.”

Gaius slumped there, sad and dejected. His whole world was crashing down upon him.

“Come to me, Gaius,” Galina called. Gaius looked up at her. Slowly, ever so slowly, she took off her tunic. She stood there, looking just like the embodiment of Venus.

“Take me, my love, I yearn for you.”

Later, totally spent, but satiated, they lay side by side on the grass bank. The sun played hide and seek with them through the leaves of the tree overhead. Galina sat up.

“For the first time in my life have I offered myself with love. You gave me something in return which no one had ever given me before. You have treated me with respect. You have treated me as a woman. Now, I tell you something that will change your world.

I have seen your horse, the black one with a white marking on his forehead.”

Gaius sat up, instantly alert.

“Where have you seen him? When?”

“In the country house of Pius Antonius.” Gaius took a sharp intake of breath. Galina raised her hand to cut him off. “Two nights ago, there were festivities in the country house. My service was enlisted as a serving girl and other entertainments. There I heard that they were celebrating their victory on Jupiter’s Day, in anticipation. I heard certain remarks that made me suspicious. I was sure that your horse has been stolen and is secreted out there in the grounds somewhere. Later I went out into the grounds on some pretext. Far away, behind a clump of bushes I heard the snorting of a horse. I gave a low whistle and he whinnied in response.” Gaius jumped up and began putting on his clothes.

“Where are you going?” asked Galina.

“Why? To Antonius’ country house, of course!”

“Are you mad?” Galina pulled him down. “The guards will cut you into pieces and feed them to the dogs! Sit still. I have a plan for you.”

The night was dark and hazy. A dark, shadowy figure crept up the slope of the Palatine Hills, walking a horse behind him. It was past midnight, so nobody was around. As he went over to the far side, a hushed hissing sound was heard. The shadow stopped in his path. Another shadow materialized from the trees to join him. Now both of them vaulted over to the back of the horse and they galloped away, the sounds of the hoof-beats effectively muzzled by the thick stockings of jute wound round the horse’s hooves. The shadows in black and the black horse with no tell-tale pale areas simply melted into the darkness.

Gaius, for it was he, was well armed with a short sword used by legioneries and gladiators, known as gladius and a small but deadly dagger, known as pugio. He was attired in the full regalia of a charioteer, complete with a leather helmet, leather arm and shin guards and knee pads. His aquamarine, full-sleeved vestis quadrigaria, covered by a corset of leather bands, was camouflaged by a black cloak. Galina was less encumbered, just wrapping a black mantle over her black tunic. She also had a pugio tucked in her waist-band. In her left hand Galina tightly held on to a small bag containing dog-food. Off they galloped towards the villa of Pius Antonius at top speed.

Before leaving the hacienda, Gaius had some specific instructions for the team of seven slaves who worked in the stable and in the grounds. They were to take the rest of the quadriga, fully readied, to the Circus Maximus in the early hours of the next morning. They were to answer no question regarding the whereabouts of Gaius, or the black stallion from their stable.

Gaius dropped out of sight at the foot of the villa wall. A well branched ancient tree was there, spreading its branches over the wall itself. Gaius shinnied up this tree, while Galina made the horse fast to one of its lower branches. When Gaius had reached up to the level of the wall, Galina threw the bag of dog-feed up at him, which he caught dextrously. Next Galina followed him up. Gaius vaulted down and looked about him, on the alert, gladius drawn. Galina landed softly beside him, with the merest whisper of a sound. Then they waited with bated breaths. They, however, did not have to wait for too long. Soon hoarse panting could be heard. Dogs were coming for them. Galina calmly took out the chunks of beef and offal she had been carrying in her bag and tossed them in the direction of the speeding canine guards. The dogs pounced on the meat without paying the intruders any attention. One by one they stumbled and fell over silently. The meat was drugged and the first hurdle was crossed.

While Gaius tip-toed over towards the direction where Calimorfus was supposed to be, Galina ran on towards the main gate. She knew that there would be two sentries on duty. Sentries they were, to be sure, but they were men, after all. Soon enough, murmurs were heard from the direction of the gates. Gaius hurried forward. He had to skirt the single-storied building to go to the far side, where Calimorfus was sequestered. While passing under the open window of the house, Gaius heard voices and froze. Not voices, exactly, but moaning of lust. The woman’s voice was so familiar that Gaius could not help peep inside. His heart also leapt out of his throat. She was the wife of his master, Lucia, in bed, with Antonius. So he was her paramour! Lucia propped herself up ran her finger down Antonius’ chest.

“When you win tomorrow dear, it will be due to me. Remember that. I had arranged for everything. There’s nothing I won’t do for you, my love!”

Gaius moved away stealthily. He had seen and heard more than was good for him. He swallowed hard to control the gush of bile running up his throat and sped off.

Calimorfus was agitated on seeing his friend and master. Gaius calmed him down, gave him the lump of sugar he had brought for him and unhitched his stay. Then he walked him off towards the gate.

Galina was lying in the arms of one of the sentries, while the other man was sitting bemused. He never saw the shadowy figure creep up to him from behind. The gladius cut across his throat at the same time Galina’s pugio buried itself under the left rib-cage of the other one. Both died without a sound. Galina was splattered with blood. She wiped herself dry on the guard’s tunic and vaulted over Calimorfus’ back, her own tunic bundled up under her arm.

They changed horses at the bottom of the large tree, where Galina made herself presentable. Then off they went like whirlwind.

The eastern sky was blushing like a new bride and the sun was rising in all its splendour as they climbed up the final crest of hills. Rome lay beneath them, eagerly waiting for the day’s festivities to begin. Far away they could make out the procession winding its way from the Capitol and passing through the Forum, to the trill of trumpets and beat of drums. The chariots of the gods could be made out. The largest was, of course Jupiter’s. Then there were those of the Dioscuri Twins, Cibele, the mother of the gods and Neptune, the god of horses. They rode down at breakneck speed, heading straight for the Circus. Near the Circus, they parted way. Gaius went directly towards the porta Triumphalis in order to enter much ahead of the procession itself. While Galina wheeled her mount towards the Claudius hacienda. There she left the black horse at the gate. The horse dutifully trotted in and headed towards his own stall in the stables.

The jostling crowd, gathered in front of the porta Triumphalis, the main entrance to the huge Circus Maximus, scattered as Calimorfus thundered in. The usual din of a holiday crowd was silenced for a while. Then it broke into an expectant chatter. A juggler missed the balls tossed up and they went bouncing away in all directions. The street urchins had a field day.

Calimorfus needed no directions. He knew the way well enough. With unerring precision he headed straight for the flat end of the Circus known as officium, where the carceres or stables were located.

The six support staff of the Veneti team of Claudius, were a dejected lot. They had worked mechanically getting the other three horses ready, along with the racing chariot, but they did not have their heart in their actions. Calimorfus’ absence had broken their hearts. They knew that Gaius will not return. They knew that this team will not run.

By daybreak the news of Cali’s absence had spread like wild fire. The bookies were devastated and so were the larger number of the Veneti supporters. They had another team from their Faction, no doubt, but Gaius was Gaius! The Prasini supporters, on the other hand, began pruning their feathers like haughty cockerels. The lead charioteer, Scipio the Scorpio, was seen hovering around with a smug smile, twirling the whip in his hand.

An uproar rose from the stands. The curious Claudius’ staff ran out to see what was wrong. A black horse with a white streak on his forehead was thundering down the tracks. Bent low over his back was a known figure in Aquamarine uniform! “Calimorfus”! Their cry sounded like a battle cry above all din! The procession entered the Circus through the porta Triumphalis.

Trumpets trilled and bugles blared. The dignitaries came in one by one to take their designated seats in the stands. The trumpets sounded once again. All rose in their seats. The columns of the Praetorian Guards presented arms. The Emperor Trajan entered with his entourage amidst chants of “Caesar, Caesar.” The Emperor raised his right hand. Instantaneous silence reigned. Trajan took his seat in the Imperial Box, the pulvinor.

With the roll of drums and the call of trumpets the chariots rolled in one by one, to take up their designated slots at the starting line.  The crowds yelled their heads off. A herald announced the names of the charioteer and the owner. The charioteers raised his whip-hand in salute to the Emperor. The spectators shouted themselves hoarse.

But all the shouts were nothing compared to the welcome that Gaius received. There was one figure in the patrician stands that yelled as much as any plebeian. Pontius Claudius was ecstatic! But the seat to his left was vacant, as was an important chair to the left of the Emperor. Gaius was unmoved at all this. He stood in his chariot, erect like a god and as handsome. His calm visage did not show any sign of tiredness. He gripped the reins in an iron grip and in his right he held his whip in utter nonchalance. He never needed to use it. His horses, he controlled with a touch of reins and loving, verbal commands. His whip was for self protection against assaults from other charioteers less scrupulous than he.

Gaius’ eyes roved. They roamed over the stands searching for someone in the crowds. Galina was jumping up and down in excitement. But Gaius could not find her in the teeming populace.

The Emperor’s handkerchief or mappa fell. Amidst thunderous roar from the thousands of voices drowning out the trumpets, the full seven lap race began. Chariots trundled, hooves thundered and charioteers began blazing the trail! Soon began the disasters. Chariots crashed into each other, horses got tangled and fell with flailing limbs. Heads got bashed in. By the time the fourth metal dolphin dipped his head in the lap-counter, two men were dead and four, maimed for life.

The Awesome Foursome lived up to their reputation. They were indeed awesome and Calimorfus surpassed himself in speed, agility, reflex and guile. Gaius raced with only one purpose in mind. From the very first turn, he shot in the lead and this position he maintained all through. He raced with such a single-minded concentration that even the Scorpio could not reach him within whip-length.  His romping home by more than a horse’s length was a dramatic anticlimax. The crowd went berserk!

Gaius dragged his feet homewards, twirling his all important laurel wreath in his hand. A slave had emerged last night, a freeman was returning. Galina was waiting for him. She ran up to embrace him. He stood there with his head on her shoulder.

“Galina, I am so tired. Will you take care of me please?” he asked.

“I will, my love, I will.”

“Always?”

“Always.”

__END__