that are still a problem, but I’m sure that with your help we can guarantee that all three teams will fail to finish.’
‘Have my three teams bring them down?’
‘Too risky; one might get through and, also, it would look a little strange if the Greens spent the entire race having a go at the Blues whilst the Reds just storm ahead.’
Euprepes considered this for a few moments. ‘You’re right; we’ll just do one.’
‘And the other two?’
‘A malfunction and a hail of curses?’ the faction master suggested.
‘Perfect.’ Magnus stood and proffered his forearm. ‘I knew that a man of your experience would have the answers.’
‘So it’ll be just you and me who know about this?’
‘No, Servius my second knows, as well as a very helpful centurion in one of the Urban Cohorts and also a couple of others who will be betting in the senators’ enclosure.’
‘So they won’t be making our bookmakers suspicious.’
‘Exactly; if we spread small bets over quite a few of them we’ll clean up without anyone being any the wiser.’
‘Thank you for coming to me with this, my friend; let me as a show of gratitude give you a tip for the races the day after tomorrow.’
‘A Green one-two in the second race?’
Euprepes’ eyes opened wide in surprise; he laughed and slapped Magnus on the shoulder. ‘I can see you are very well informed; however, you’re not as well informed as I am. I’ll give the orders for our first and second teams to cross the line in reverse order so it will be a Green one-two, second team first, first team second.’
‘Euprepes, you are a very kind and understanding man.’
‘As are you, Magnus.’
Magnus waited on the steps of the Temple of Mars, in Augustus’ statue-lined forum, watching the arrival of twelve patrician youths singing and waving long swords in unison in a slow, rhythmic dance. Watched by a solemn crowd, they moved forward with regular leaps in time to the slow beat of the almost unintelligible song. Clad in ancient embroidered tunics of many colours and plain, oblong breastplates under short red cloaks and spiked, tight-fitting leather headdresses, the leaping, armed priesthood of the Salii paraded their sacred bronze shields around the city in celebration of the god of war’s birthday. Eleven of the shields, shaped as if two round hoplons had been fused together one on top of the other, were replicas of the twelfth, the original shield said to have fallen from the heavens back in the time of King Numa, Romulus’ successor.
‘They say that whoever is in possession of the original shield will dominate all the peoples of earth.’
Magnus turned, surprised by the voice so close behind him; he saw Pallas.
‘Which is why they made eleven copies; a potential thief wouldn’t know which one to steal.’
Magnus tutted. ‘In which case, I’d steal all twelve.’
‘Yes, I don’t think the ancients really thought that one through. However, my friend, my mistress has thought your request through and is willing to deliver your tip in today’s racing to her nephew.’
Magnus grinned in relief. ‘That is most considerate of her, Pallas.’
Magnus and his Crossroads Brethren joined in with the rest of the Greens in their corner of the Circus Maximus, screaming themselves hoarse, as the Green second team followed by the Green first team began their last lap with an unassailable lead. Way behind them their nearest rivals, a Red and a Blue, cracked their four-lash whips over the withers of their teams in a vain attempt to squeeze a little more speed from them. Although there was only a prize for the winner, both trailing drivers were well aware that many of their faction’s supporters would have the minimum bet of one of their colour coming in the first three at odds of evens or less; neither wanted to upset their supporters by appearing not to be trying.
The two leading Greens, however, did not have that worry; they cut through the dust of the track at a
‘Have my three teams bring them down?’
‘Too risky; one might get through and, also, it would look a little strange if the Greens spent the entire race having a go at the Blues whilst the Reds just storm ahead.’
Euprepes considered this for a few moments. ‘You’re right; we’ll just do one.’
‘And the other two?’
‘A malfunction and a hail of curses?’ the faction master suggested.
‘Perfect.’ Magnus stood and proffered his forearm. ‘I knew that a man of your experience would have the answers.’
‘So it’ll be just you and me who know about this?’
‘No, Servius my second knows, as well as a very helpful centurion in one of the Urban Cohorts and also a couple of others who will be betting in the senators’ enclosure.’
‘So they won’t be making our bookmakers suspicious.’
‘Exactly; if we spread small bets over quite a few of them we’ll clean up without anyone being any the wiser.’
‘Thank you for coming to me with this, my friend; let me as a show of gratitude give you a tip for the races the day after tomorrow.’
‘A Green one-two in the second race?’
Euprepes’ eyes opened wide in surprise; he laughed and slapped Magnus on the shoulder. ‘I can see you are very well informed; however, you’re not as well informed as I am. I’ll give the orders for our first and second teams to cross the line in reverse order so it will be a Green one-two, second team first, first team second.’
‘Euprepes, you are a very kind and understanding man.’
‘As are you, Magnus.’
Magnus waited on the steps of the Temple of Mars, in Augustus’ statue-lined forum, watching the arrival of twelve patrician youths singing and waving long swords in unison in a slow, rhythmic dance. Watched by a solemn crowd, they moved forward with regular leaps in time to the slow beat of the almost unintelligible song. Clad in ancient embroidered tunics of many colours and plain, oblong breastplates under short red cloaks and spiked, tight-fitting leather headdresses, the leaping, armed priesthood of the Salii paraded their sacred bronze shields around the city in celebration of the god of war’s birthday. Eleven of the shields, shaped as if two round hoplons had been fused together one on top of the other, were replicas of the twelfth, the original shield said to have fallen from the heavens back in the time of King Numa, Romulus’ successor.
‘They say that whoever is in possession of the original shield will dominate all the peoples of earth.’
Magnus turned, surprised by the voice so close behind him; he saw Pallas.
‘Which is why they made eleven copies; a potential thief wouldn’t know which one to steal.’
Magnus tutted. ‘In which case, I’d steal all twelve.’
‘Yes, I don’t think the ancients really thought that one through. However, my friend, my mistress has thought your request through and is willing to deliver your tip in today’s racing to her nephew.’
Magnus grinned in relief. ‘That is most considerate of her, Pallas.’
Magnus and his Crossroads Brethren joined in with the rest of the Greens in their corner of the Circus Maximus, screaming themselves hoarse, as the Green second team followed by the Green first team began their last lap with an unassailable lead. Way behind them their nearest rivals, a Red and a Blue, cracked their four-lash whips over the withers of their teams in a vain attempt to squeeze a little more speed from them. Although there was only a prize for the winner, both trailing drivers were well aware that many of their faction’s supporters would have the minimum bet of one of their colour coming in the first three at odds of evens or less; neither wanted to upset their supporters by appearing not to be trying.
The two leading Greens, however, did not have that worry; they cut through the dust of the track at a
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