laugh.” Otho’s eyes crinkled in a smile. “You were too brave for that.”
“I’m not sure if it’s bravery if you don’t have a choice, Senator.”
“I assure you, it is. Courage is defined by how we meet unfortunate circumstances—inevitable or not.”
Last lap of the race. Marcella forced her harried attention down on it. Diana was on her feet now, shouting as the Reds darted up to fight for the lead with sixteen legs blurring and the charioteer flapping his reins. The crowd surged up and Marcella found herself surging with them, palms sweaty from nerves that had nothing to do with the race. Otho and his sophisticated crowd never showed excitement; they just murmured and arched their plucked brows, but Lollia shouted encouragement and Diana was shouting right along with her as the Reds and the Blues battled neck and neck, eight horses strong across the track. The last turn, and Marcella gasped along with everyone else as they took it at deadly pace, but the Reds somehow squeaked clear, the charioteer white-eyed and lashing his team all the way.
Marcella looked down and saw that she was banging her hands against the rail. Fortuna , she thought in some amusement, the race got me too. Vinius looked as sour as ever, and Tullia was tight-lipped to see anyone having fun, but decent boring Piso stood muttering under his breath and Cornelia clung to his arm in excitement, and behind them the impassive centurion named Densus was swearing like a stable hand and clenching his fists as he urged the Reds on. Even Senator Marcus Norbanus looked up from his paperwork in mild interest. The pounding of hooves thudded like a heartbeat.
No conversation now as the teams pulled into the straightaway. Just Blue and Red battling it out, axles clashing, the outside horses snapping at each, both charioteers laying their whips on. Every soul in the circus was on their feet, shrieking, screaming, begging for a victory. Sour-faced Emperor Galba was busy shuffling his lists and counting his sesterces when the Reds pulled ahead, confounding all the odds to beat the Blues in the climactic race of the Ludi Plebii.
The circus exploded.
Diana yelled in triumph and flung her arms around the nearest person, who happened to be Marcella. She laughed and hugged her craziest cousin back, ruffling the mess of untidy hair. Cornelia and Piso were hugging each other too, Lollia was tossing little Flavia up in the air, and Otho looked amused. Below, the Reds charioteer blinked as he was presented with his victory palm. The Blues charioteer snapped his whip spitefully over the heads of the exhausted Reds team, making them jump and making every Reds fan in the circus from Diana to the lowest pleb leap up shrieking obscenities.
“By Jove,” Otho said as Diana shouted down at the Blues charioteer, “I’ve not heard such fine cursing since my days in the legions.”
The party was spilling outward now, and Lollia bubbled invitations to everyone to come to her house, where the winning charioteer would be hosted. “I will not have racing riffraff in my home!” Old Flaccid sniffed.
“Then I’ll throw a party for him at my grandfather’s house,” Lollia said sweetly, and Marcella laughed behind her hand to see how Otho’s entourage of beautiful glossy people brightened at the prospect of a free meal from the table of such a famous host. Senator Vinius kept hissing imprecations, flapping his wrinkled hands, and Lollia rolled her eyes openly. Marcella gave Old Flaccid another month before Lollia wangled herself a divorce.
“I thank this is my cue to go.” Otho bowed over Marcella’s hand. “I’ll be at the party later, of course—when do I ever miss a good party?—but for the time being I should go apply myself to all the dullards so they’ll all think I’m capable and well informed.”
“You are capable and well-informed, Senator,” Marcella said. “I hear you did a very good work as Governor of Hispania last year.”
“Really? I
“I’m not sure if it’s bravery if you don’t have a choice, Senator.”
“I assure you, it is. Courage is defined by how we meet unfortunate circumstances—inevitable or not.”
Last lap of the race. Marcella forced her harried attention down on it. Diana was on her feet now, shouting as the Reds darted up to fight for the lead with sixteen legs blurring and the charioteer flapping his reins. The crowd surged up and Marcella found herself surging with them, palms sweaty from nerves that had nothing to do with the race. Otho and his sophisticated crowd never showed excitement; they just murmured and arched their plucked brows, but Lollia shouted encouragement and Diana was shouting right along with her as the Reds and the Blues battled neck and neck, eight horses strong across the track. The last turn, and Marcella gasped along with everyone else as they took it at deadly pace, but the Reds somehow squeaked clear, the charioteer white-eyed and lashing his team all the way.
Marcella looked down and saw that she was banging her hands against the rail. Fortuna , she thought in some amusement, the race got me too. Vinius looked as sour as ever, and Tullia was tight-lipped to see anyone having fun, but decent boring Piso stood muttering under his breath and Cornelia clung to his arm in excitement, and behind them the impassive centurion named Densus was swearing like a stable hand and clenching his fists as he urged the Reds on. Even Senator Marcus Norbanus looked up from his paperwork in mild interest. The pounding of hooves thudded like a heartbeat.
No conversation now as the teams pulled into the straightaway. Just Blue and Red battling it out, axles clashing, the outside horses snapping at each, both charioteers laying their whips on. Every soul in the circus was on their feet, shrieking, screaming, begging for a victory. Sour-faced Emperor Galba was busy shuffling his lists and counting his sesterces when the Reds pulled ahead, confounding all the odds to beat the Blues in the climactic race of the Ludi Plebii.
The circus exploded.
Diana yelled in triumph and flung her arms around the nearest person, who happened to be Marcella. She laughed and hugged her craziest cousin back, ruffling the mess of untidy hair. Cornelia and Piso were hugging each other too, Lollia was tossing little Flavia up in the air, and Otho looked amused. Below, the Reds charioteer blinked as he was presented with his victory palm. The Blues charioteer snapped his whip spitefully over the heads of the exhausted Reds team, making them jump and making every Reds fan in the circus from Diana to the lowest pleb leap up shrieking obscenities.
“By Jove,” Otho said as Diana shouted down at the Blues charioteer, “I’ve not heard such fine cursing since my days in the legions.”
The party was spilling outward now, and Lollia bubbled invitations to everyone to come to her house, where the winning charioteer would be hosted. “I will not have racing riffraff in my home!” Old Flaccid sniffed.
“Then I’ll throw a party for him at my grandfather’s house,” Lollia said sweetly, and Marcella laughed behind her hand to see how Otho’s entourage of beautiful glossy people brightened at the prospect of a free meal from the table of such a famous host. Senator Vinius kept hissing imprecations, flapping his wrinkled hands, and Lollia rolled her eyes openly. Marcella gave Old Flaccid another month before Lollia wangled herself a divorce.
“I thank this is my cue to go.” Otho bowed over Marcella’s hand. “I’ll be at the party later, of course—when do I ever miss a good party?—but for the time being I should go apply myself to all the dullards so they’ll all think I’m capable and well informed.”
“You are capable and well-informed, Senator,” Marcella said. “I hear you did a very good work as Governor of Hispania last year.”
“Really? I
Similar Books
