A Day at the Races

A Day at the Races          

Truly there is no sport more magnificent than this.

As the harsh blare of the trumpets sounded, I took in a deep breath and embraced the atmosphere present in the stables. Frantic slaves attempting to control shying horses, proud charioteers adjusting their armour, competitive gamblers working out betting odds. I was possibly the only man there who was not buzzing with excitement. I was not apprehensive, but apathetic. I enjoyed racing, the thrill of the chase could be replaced by no mere game or battle, yet that day I felt no rush of adrenaline or excitement.

This would be my 131st race in the Circus Maximus and I knew today’s race would be the same as all the others I had done before. I had memorised all the dangers, tight corners and turns. I knew when to brake and when to whip my horses on. Everything I did was methodical, which was why I was such a good racer. I only rode with the best horses and the best chariots. I was worshipped like an idol by thousands of civilians, plebeian and royal, for my racing. There were those who would cheer and those you would harass me, as I was not a member of their favourite team. I was loved. I was an icon. I have never lost a race. Occasionally I would come second or third, mostly when my horses were in bad form, but these placements were rare.

Once the slaves had gathered my armour, I took my signature whip and made my way to the centre of the stable courtyard. It was a swirling mass of horses and handlers waiting for their masters to arrive. I calmly walked to the far left of the square and met my slave, who was attempting to soothe my agitated horses. My finest steed, Aera, a beautiful, coal black mare, seemed to be the most frightened. I approached her and tenderly stroked her nose. She shyed away and gave a slight rear. This was unusual, she was an experienced horse. She should be well adjusted to the chaos that was the Circus Maximus stables.

“What happened that frightened my horse?” I asked the slave.

“Torch flames,” He replied. “Got a bit close. Cindered her mane a bit, see? She’s fine, just a bit spooked. She’ll calm down in a minute, you’ll see. Anyway, she’ll run faster, all fired up like.”

I did not approve of him talking about my horse this way. She could have been severely hurt. I reprimanded the slave and made him dress me in my armour. I noticed some of my rivals riding out on their chariots already, along with the emperor’s riders who would open the event. I would be against six other teams, with two chariots for each. The trumpets were still sounding and increasing in tempo. They were coming from the Pulvinar, I could tell, for they were very distant. The other competitors started to mount their chariots once hearing the noise and rode toward the Carceres. I was in no hurry; the races would not start until the emperor arrived to open the games. I checked my wheels to make sure the slave had done a sufficient job and groomed my horses quietly as the other charioteers rushed by.

When I heard a sharp crescendo in the trumpet notes I climbed onto the cart and my slave led the horses out behind the bustling crowd. We left the stables and were greeted with the cool, clean air outside the Carceres. I dismissed my slave and rode towards the starting gates. I joined my team at the far right of the gates.
A breeze blew harsh grains of sand into my face and upset the horses. I put on my helmet and took in my surroundings once more. The bejewelled emperor sitting in the top Pulvinar box, the light shining off the magnificent golden dolphins, the booming screams of the hysterical crowd. The chariots were perfectly aligned at the starting point waiting to start. Some of the horses were nicely foreword-going, needing to be pulled back by their masters, while others shied away from the roar of the crowd. Many were terrified of the noise and excitement, natural for a flight animal. My steeds seemed alert and content. Aera had calmed down slightly, yet seemed apprehensive in the ring. I was quite sorry that I could not calm her, as I could not reach her flank in my chariot. This was one thing I did not enjoy about racing, the distance between horse and charioteer. I always felt separate from the animals, and therefore I felt I had limited control.

The trumpet sounding ceased. The emperor raised his hands to call for silence. The entire arena turned their heads towards the Pulvinar to hear his words. Of course, it was impossible to hear him from out distance, yet we could just make out the echoes of his words.

“Citizens….in the name………glory of Rome………the race today shall………be an honour……….the victor shall…….Hail Caesar!”

At that point the crowd let out a deafening roar. The horses around me reared and whinnied. Each chariot was being tended to by their slaves, who were checking the stability of the wheels and adjusting the tack. Petals were being thrown from the spectator’s seats and huge, crimson flags waved by the guards. The trumpeters continued their fanfare on the Spina, weaving around the colossal statues of the Gods. Various slaves and soldiers placed themselves at the gates with stretchers and bandages. As always, there was a guarantee of bloodshed. Accidents happen.

The guards bordering the Spina raised their spears. The Emperor raised his hand holding a white handkerchief. The guards and judges craned their necks to watch the cloth fall. The charioteers prepared to race. I gathered my reigns and readied my whip.

The handkerchief dropped.

An explosion of hoof beats. The incredible rumbling was deafening. The horses sped off generating sandstorms of dust beneath their feet. My horses did not need prompting, but burst into an immediate gallop. My chariot jerked to life and flew behind my steeds. There was no longer a Circus Maximus, just a blur of stone and faces. When racing, I could only concentrate on what was directly in front of me, for at the speed I went, it was impossible to focus on anything else.
I drove my horses far into the centre of the track, blocking my opponents from gaining momentum. I continued in a diagonal direction, forcing other chariots to slow down so they would not crash into me. Some would call it recklessness. I called it tactics.    

My chariot had reached the front of the other racers. Delighted, I let my whip crack in the air to spur my steeds on. I felt the vibrations from the pounding of hooves behind me and felt there was another chariot catching up to me. I wanted to go faster, but we were approaching the metae and had to slow down. I pulled back on the reigns and managed to bring all four of my horses to a controlled canter. The turning corner was the narrowest part of the track, and I could not risk crashing into the spectator seating. The horses raised their heads from being pulled by the harsh ropes, the metal bit digging into the sides of their mouths. I could just make out my grey gelding slavering at the mouth, foam spraying at the sides of his head and flying at me. I didn’t care about his pain. Nothing matters at this speed. I just had to make sure I didn’t send my cart spinning out of control. The horses turned dramatically as we rounded the bend. I had to be careful they didn’t tip the chariot sideways with the shift of weight. I quickly spurred them on at the crack of my whip and passed the golden dolphins. I had finished the fist lap in the lead.

I continued beating them. I had to maintain this pace until the next corner in order to keep my place. I felt another rumble of beating hooves; my rival chariot was catching up. I thrashed my horses forward, yet despite their incredible velocity, my opponent gained on me with ease. I shot a quick glance at him. I could only make out his deep bay animals galloping flat out in the sand. We were going at fantastic speed, and his horses were running dangerously fast. They were larger and more powerful than mine, they had longer strides. At a straight gallop they could easily outrun me; however, I used their power to my advantage. Once again, I heaved at the reigns to bring my horses to a stop. I used all my might; there was no danger of bringing them to a trot. The horses were reluctant and pulled against me, but resumed their controlled gallop. I strained to keep them at this speed and control all four animals at once. There was another bend coming up, and I needed to steer as well. I wrapped the ropes around my arms whilst pulling on the reigns. I used all the energy in my left arm to direct the horses around the corner at a reasonable speed. I planted my feet firmly in the chariot as we spun around the tight bend, barely missing the edge of the metae.  My opponent stormed forward, his horses going at a desperate sprint. What happened was exactly what I predicted. The chariot was going at such a fantastic speed that the horses could not turn well and had to make a sharp bend. The lead stallion lost balance and coordination and collapsed in the sand, causing its companions and the entire chariot to crash into each other, skidding to the side of the track. I could tell by the frenzied cheering of the crowd that they would not be racing again.

The horses instinctively gained pace as we approached the flat. I urged them on as we passed the Golden Dolphins once again. I could not hear the clang of metal as the second one was brought down against the pounding hooves. I was at least half a lap in front of the other team so I felt no need to hurry. We were flying at breakneck speed, yet I positioned myself so I had a view of my horses. I noticed there was a loose reign flapping around my chestnut’s legs and quickly pulled it up whilst maintaining my balance. We were travelling so fast, even a slight trip could bring the entire team of horses down.

Once again we rounded a corner and sprinted down the sand trail. I took note of the deep hoof prints littering the ground and steered my team to the edge of the arena as I couldn’t risk any of my team falling. I noticed a tiny speck in the distance increasing with size as we gained pace. I made out flesh and wheels and suddenly realised it was an upturned chariot. Slaves and guards were running on and off with stretchers and carrying various parts of the chariot. I grabbed the reins and desperately turned my horses. The chariot skimmed the edges of the wreckage closely, some protruding metal skimming the edges of the wheels. I realised with a jolt that the debris from my competitor’s chariot had caused several other accidents, and I had to remember to approach corners with even more caution, in case unexpected ruins lie ahead.

I brought my horses to a rapid sprint and thrashed the reins to urge them on. I noticed some charioteers ahead a lap behind me. My arrogance caused me to try and overtake them. I whipped my team on and began to catch up to a blue chariot with black Arabian horses. I aimed to overtake and brought out my diagonal blocking technique. I recklessly skimmed the rim of the wheels in front of his horses pounding legs. Laughing raucously, I thrashed on my team to continue their incredible pace. I suddenly felt a shocking jolt from my back right wheel. I needed to focus on what was in front of me so I didn’t crash. I was among a group of other chariots and was in a dangerous position. The jolt then became a series of bumps causing the right side of the chariot to rise and fall methodically. The horses became agitated at this disturbance. I couldn’t take my eyes off the other horses. If I so much as skimmed the wheels of another chariot, the opposing forces would send both vehicles flying.

The horses were now beginning to get frightened and kept trying to bend their necks to see what was disturbing them. I was also having trouble standing upright with the rise and fall of the wagon. I made sure my path was clear and shot a backwards glance at my right wheel. I was shocked to find the Arabian charioteer I passed earlier had lodged a whip handle into the inside rim of the wheel. This was incredibly dangerous. I had to remove the handle quickly, before it destroyed my vehicle. I held onto the reins with my right hand and lent down to the right. I stretched out my arm, feeling disheartened by the ground rushing feet beneath me. I pulled myself back up and grabbed the rim of the chariot box. If I reached any further I would lose grip of the ropes.

Another lap passed and the rocking continued. The whip handle was showing no sign of loosening. The horses kept galloping madly despite the copious amounts of sweat flying from their flanks. The wheel obstruction was disrupting the course of the vehicle, causing it to drift slightly to the left. The change was subtle at first, but gradually it became more obvious to me that it was a severe hazard. I reached down again, desperately trying to reach it with no avail. I could not scream for help as the beating hooves would drown out my voice. The cart was gravitating towards another chariot.

I yelled a warning to the other charioteer to avoid me, but I could not be heard. My chariot briefly touched the other’s wheel, causing its entire cart to jolt upright and for mine to skid to the opposite direction. My horses were pulled in the opposite direction and began skidding out of control. The team was heading for another chariot behind me. I furiously pulled on the reins but the animals were out of control. I felt them knocking into each other as we flew past another team. I didn’t know that happened to the other chariot, all was concentrating on was colliding into the back of the rocketing vehicle approaching me.

Fear raced through my veins like icy water as the metae appeared in the distance. I desperately tugged at the reins to slow my manic horses, tangling myself up in the various ropes. I franticly reached for my knife tucked beneath my greaves, wrenching them out sharply and gashing my thighs. I hacked furiously at the ropes, desperate to free myself in a tangle that could ensure my death. The chariot jolted violently causing me to involuntarily throw my dagger through the air. I glanced back helplessly as my only salvation skimmed over the sandy ground. The jolt was followed by several more, until my entire wheel crumbled into an explosion of splintered wood. The chariot fell to the right corner, dragging violently on the ground, causing sparks to fly at the intense friction. I lost balance and fell to the side, clinging onto the side of the vehicle hanging on for dear life.
I pulled myself to the edge of the speeding wooden behemoth. The horses were in a terrified rage. Pulling away from each other to free themselves from the chariot of death dragging behind them. Tangled in numerous ropes and clutching the sides of the cart, I could only watch helplessly as my team collided with the racing chariot next to them.

The crash was spectacular and horrific. My horses were pulling in opposite directions from each other, causing them to spiral uncontrollably around the corner and crashing into the cart parallel to them. The horses fell into the chariot crushing the wood and rider and causing the other horses to collapse. The explosive force caused my vehicle to catapult into the air. As the chariot corkscrewed through oblivion, the ropes binding me snapped and I plunged straight into the centre of the carnage. The hollow of the cart crashed directly on top of me, crushing my legs and instantly killing two of my horses. The crowd roared in delight.

I heard the rumbling of horses and chariot racing past the wreckage. I faintly heard the furious screaming of guards ordering slaves to remove the damage from the course, so other horses didn’t crash into us. I struggled to make out the silhouette was a bony slave dragging the mangled corpses of animals from the fray. The slave grabbed my arm and wrenched me carelessly out of the wreckage. I glanced to the left of me and saw Aera struggling for breath under the weight of the various piles of wood. This was the last thing I saw before I passed out, and the last memory of my final race.