The Circus Maximus Murders!!! Chapter XIV
Originally posted June 3, 2001
Author: L. Silva Didius [Reposted with permission]


I awoke before dawn with the "Blacksmith of the Gods" hammering out a nasty rhythm behind my eyes and a basket of kittens using my mouth as their favorite litter box. I washed my face and combed my unruly locks into a semblance of neatness, then went to stand on my balcony to catch the early morning breeze. I like this time of day, just around dawn, I always have. It's like a scroll that is anxiously waiting to unroll itself before my eyes and I thanked the goddess Aurora for creating this moment for my personal enjoyment. I knew that somewhere along the line today I would have to straighten out the mess I was in with Aelia, that is, if she would let me. When Aelia was angry, and had dug her heels in, she could teach "Stubborn 101" to the Legion's mules. But first things first. I walked back inside my lovely new apartment.

I looked over at my armor hanging on its stand. The thought of wearing that portable bake oven to the Circus was less than appealing and as for dressing up in my brand new toga........ forget it. It had cost half of my monthly salary to replace my moth-eaten old toga with a pristine new one. There was just no way that I was going to offer it up as the target for every wine cup held by an excited or drunken fan, and every child overcome by too much sun and a bellyful of sweet melon. I finally chose a knee-length brown tunic trimmed in gold filigree and a matching brown leather belt. I hooked a dagger onto my belt loops and shoved a smaller knife down my right boot. I finally hooked the gold brassard embossed with the wolf's head around my neck. The golden brassard signified my rank as a Centurion in the Military Police and the wolf's head signified that I was assigned to the Cohort in Roma. It was also the reason why we were called "The Emperor's Chain Dogs."

Personally, I don't like the color brown. It's just too drab for my tastes. But it was the safest and most neutral color to wear in "The Max." There are four basic colors associated with the major racing teams -- called factions: White, Green, Red and Blue. The colors correspond to the four seasons: Winter, Spring, Summer and Autumn. The Emperor Domitian added, and financially supported two new Factions: the Purple, and the Gold, but they never really caught on with the public and they pretty much died out once the Emperors closed their purses to them. Thousands of rabid fans show support for their teams by wearing clothes and accoutrements in the same colors as that of their favorite Faction and during racing season, passions both inside and outside "The Max" often run to extremes. Since Tarquinius Priscus first celebrated his victories over five centuries ago by holding chariot races in the Murcian valley, hundreds of riots and near riots have broken out in the Circus and spread to the XIV surrounding regions. Thousands of innocent people have been injured or killed simply because they had the bad luck to be wearing the wrong color when a rampaging crowd rolled through their neighborhood. So even though I was personally a big fan of "The Reds," I wasn't a big enough fan to let myself be made the target for a hastily thrown potted plant simply because my loincloth happened to be the wrong color.

Normally four full Cohorts of Praetorians are assigned to crowd control at "The Max." The Emperor Nero didn't feel that they were needed and had them returned to the Castra Praetoria. But rioting on the following day, and the subsequent screaming threats by all four Racing Factions to pull their teams out of the Circus, forced him to have them called back. It's very expensive to own and operate a Racing Faction, and the owners weren't about to spend so much as a brass Quadrans (the smallest usable coin) to replace horses and equipment lost to looting and rioting. Horses of course are the single greatest expense that the owners have. Horses are carefully bred and their lineage is of the greatest importance. The majority of horses used in the Circus are stallions. The best ones come from Africa Province or Hispania Province and are transported at great expense to Roma on a specially designed transport ship called a "Hippagogus". Horses begin their individual training at the age of three, their team training at the age of four, and run their first race at the age of five. Not every horse is capable of the pace demanded in a seven lap race nor is every one able to ignore the noise beating against their ears from 250,000 screaming throats without panicking. Only one out of four ever make it to their first starting gate. But those who can meet the demands of the Circus are worth their weight in gold and a winning team, ten times that amount. Just like the drivers, some horses become so popular that they are recognized on sight, memorialized in poems, depicted on mosaics, and are eventually put out to stud for a Senator's ransom. If there is one thing I'm sure of, a thousand years from now, perhaps long after the Empire itself has crumbled into the dust of the ages, chariot racing will still be the most popular sport in the entire world.

The fold of the Janiculum Hill that I faced gradually changed from pearly gray to soft pink as the sun rose on the opposite side of my apartment building. Well I'd dragged my boots long enough. I turned the key in my lock and head downstairs for my date with Marian the Librarian or to be more accurate -- Zoe the Archivist.

Copyright © 2000-2002, L. Didius Silva. All Rights Reserved.