Four Horses For Tishtry (13 page)

“Calpurnius?” Tishtry repeated, recalling the Roman who had talked to her in Troas.

“Gnaeus Calpurnius, a Roman tribune; he has seen you in the arena before and he believes he can make something of you.” Barantosz lifted his hands to show that he was innocent of such foolishness. “You are to continue here for a time, and then he will make other arrangements for you. If you do not live up to his expectations, he may sell you again, or breed you, hoping your children will be worth the money he has spent.” He reached for the pitcher of wine that stood on the table in the arbor where they sat. “You have much to be thankful for, Tishtry, and I think you should let your new master know of it as soon as possible.” He glared at her.

“What of my family? Will I still be able to purchase their freedom?” She felt stiff as she asked the question, and her tongue seemed too large for her mouth. “I gave my word that I—”

“Yes; yes. I remember all about that, and I have turned enough profit on your sale not to interfere with your plans.” He paused. “And it is Roman law that you are entitled to purchase your freedom and the freedom of your family, and funds for that purpose cannot be taken or taxed or confiscated by anyone. Calpurnius reminded me of this, though I am well aware of it.” His features turned sulky. “The price for your family was fixed and I cannot change it. You may be sure that you will have to pay the amount we agreed upon, and no more. If one of your father’s two wives has another child, well, that will be for him to settle with me, but I swear that I will not sell him or any of his family for five more years. I will accept no offer from anyone else, and I will say so. That is part of the contract of your sale, and Calpurnius will enter it in his contract, if he should sell you.” He drank most of his wine at one gulp. “There. Are you satisfied?”

Tishtry did not know what to say in answer. She looked at the new collar that was waiting for her, and saw her new master’s name inscribed on it. “I am grateful, Master.”

“Call Calpurnius that now. And by all the gods of the sky, do not do anything that will bring him dishonor or shame. You are to be willing and cooperative with him, and to …”
He stared past her toward the wall of the compound that stood beside the amphitheater. “He can help me sell horses, this Calpurnius. If he is well disposed toward me, it will do much to improve my fortunes. Remember that, and remember that I still own your family.”

“I will not forget,” she vowed, unsure of the threat in Barantosz’s words.

“You are to be sent tonight to the villa of Salvius Virginius Marco, where you will be told what your master expects of you. Your team will stay where it is, since it is Calpurnius’ intention to have you perform here for a little longer.” He indicated the new collar. “Put that on, or must I have one of my slaves do it for you?”

Obediently, she picked up the silver collar and placed it around her neck, saying as she did, “I will conduct myself honorably, Barantosz. You have no need to fear that I won’t.”

Barantosz sighed. “You had better. I have too much to gain from your new owner to tolerate any difficulty from you.” He turned away from her. “Now hurry; Calpurnius will want to talk with you.”

“As you wish,” Tishtry said, feeling a bit dizzy as she left the arbor. So she was now a slave of the Roman tribune Gnaeus Calpurnius. What would that mean to her?

Barantosz’s voice came after her as she walked away. “And for the gods of the air, improve your Latin!”

“THAT’S STILL
not good
enough!” Himic shouted as Tishtry pulled her horses through a narrow gate set up in the practice ring. “You’re letting Shirdas tug the others, and that’s not right!”

Tishtry jumped back into the lightweight chariot and drew the team to a halt. “It’s better than it’s ever been before,” she protested stubbornly.

Himic responded mildly, “I’m not arguing that; but it’s still not good enough. You can do better, and I expect that you will.”

“Is that an order?” she demanded.

“Our master can order you—I can only instruct.” He approached her. “In eight weeks you have done very well, girl, but you have better in you, and Calpurnius has said that he will want you to be at your best form when you enter the arena again.”

“Whenever that is,” Tishtry said glumly. When Calpurnius had withdrawn her from performance, she expected her recess to be brief, but it had stretched now to almost two months and there was no end in sight. She had begun to resent the time she practiced, since it seemed to serve no purpose.

“I will tell him when I believe you are prepared enough,” Himic said, as he had said many times before. “You have done well, remember that.”

She touched her new chariot. “This is better than the old one; I’ll grant that, and it’s lighter. That’s part of the problem,” she admitted. “I haven’t got used to how light it is, and that throws my timing off.”

“Naturally,” Himic said, limping beside her as she took her horses at a walk around the ring. “But you must master the chariot before you get the new horses you wish. That is our master’s decision, and we must abide by it.” He signaled her to go on. “Make them trot together. Their paces are good, but they must drill like soldiers if you are to seem anything more than a clever barbarian to the Romans.”

She sighed, but did her best to make her team move in unison. She noticed that Dozei was not as quick as the others, and she frowned at the sorrel. For the last week, he had been favoring his off rear hoof. She decided that she would have to ask Himic to look at it, in case there was some damage. “Come, you four,” she said, flicking the
traces so that the team went from a trot to a canter. The transition was not smooth, and she knew that Himic would not be pleased. “I know!” she called out, forestalling his criticism.

“Then do something about it,” he shouted back, raising his arms to encourage her as she swept by him. “Make them work!”

“They
are
working!” Tishtry shouted back. She set her jaw and tightened her hold on the traces. It infuriated her when anyone criticized her horses, and it was maddening to be treated like a beginner, knowing nothing about handling a team. She had been driving and riding horses for as long as she could remember, so she knew that she was better than almost anyone she had seen perform so far. “Dozei. Up!” she shouted as the sorrel lagged again. She used the traces to guide the team more tightly, holding them under firmer control than she usually did. Then she brought her team to a walk. She made sure her balance was perfect before taking them through their paces again: walk, trot, rack, canter, and gallop, striving to keep them absolutely in unison. This time they did better, and she began to relax, permitting herself to smile as she reined them down from gallop to walk. She halted them a few strides away from Himic and waited, keeping her team in perfect order as her aurigatore looked them over.

“Not too bad. You’re going to have to train them to stand together, but that time you showed real improvement,” he said after he had studied the way she
held her team. “It’ll make your stunts easier, too, once you’ve got them out of their bad habits. Now, I want you to take them on the lunge, all four of them, and get them used to moving together at your order. The Romans expect that of trick riders, and if the horses do not perform well—and a team like this one especially—they’ll discount anything the rider can do.”

A month ago, Tishtry would have argued with him, but now she accepted what he said with resignation. “All right; I’ll work them four abreast on the lunge. Anything else?”

“You’re going to have to learn to hold them tightly together. I want you to be able to put the chariot through those gates quickly and with room to spare. After that, we’ll add a few new tricks to your repertoire.” He favored her with a thumbs—up signal. “You’re doing very well, and so I’ll tell our master.”

“Well, that’s something,” she said with an exaggerated show of relief. “I was beginning to fear I would never live up to your expectations.”

He shook his head. “You haven’t done so yet, but you’re getting closer all the time,” Himic said calmly. “You’re not prepared for Roma, but by this time next year, no doubt you’ll—”

“Next
year?”
Tishtry challenged him. “It won’t take that long.”

“It might,” Himic said, refusing to dispute the matter with her. “I want you to have Petros massage you after you’ve had your bath: you’re tense and that’s affecting your driving. You can’t afford to be tense when you’re trying to hold four horses galloping flat out.”

Tishtry could not disagree. “All right. But I want to spend more time doing my own tricks. You haven’t let me do one handstand this week, and I’m afraid I’ll get weak.”

“All right. Tomorrow, if you can get your team to move in unison, you can do four somersaults and a handstand as a reward. Will that satisfy you?” He offered her a hand down from the chariot.

“No, but if that’s the best you can do, I suppose I must endure it.” She tossed her head saucily and came to take the reins from his hand.

“Incorrigible imp,” he said, and made no attempt to mask the pride he felt in her.

* * *

The senior groom came out of Dozei’s stall and motioned to Tishtry and Himic. “Well. I’ve had a look at his foot, and I must admit I don’t like the look of it. You were right to call me in.”

“What’s the matter?” Tishtry asked. She glanced toward the sorrel, worry making her face appear much older.

“There’s a weakness in the off rear pastern joint. He’s favoring the hoof, no doubt about it, and it is not as flexible as it should be.” He pursed his lips. “I’m going to suggest that his foot be soaked in hot water and that a poultice of mustard and egg white be applied to it every morning and every night for the next ten days. He should be ridden, too, but not drilled, and it would be better if he ran on grass instead of sand or bare earth. In time his leg may improve, but do not hold out hope for it.” He hooked his thumbs into his belt. “He is valuable enough while he races, but if he cannot run well, your master must replace him and you will not have much money to buy another horse.”

Himic interrupted this discouraging news. “Our master will replace the horse in her team and will provide her with a fifth one as well, so that if any of the others is harmed, she can continue to perform.”

This surprised Tishtry, who had been trying to find a way to suggest adding another horse to her stable for more than a week. “When did he decide this?” she asked, paying little attention to the head groom.

“When he bought you. The question was how advanced you would become, and so Calpurnius has hesitated on the purchase until you are ready to stipulate the sort of animal you are capable of handling.” He looked back at the head groom. “What of the sorrel: do you think he will improve in time?”

“Candidly?” the man asked. “With care, I think he will get better, but I doubt if he will ever again be able to work in the arena with the team. The leg has been damaged, and there is nothing I can do or say that will change it.” He looked at Tishtry in a thoughtful way. “I am sorry to tell you
this, girl, but you must face it sooner or later, and your master would prefer it be sooner, I think.”

Tishtry nodded. “Yes, and it may be best for the team. I don’t want the other three to fall into bad habits because of Dozei. The team is used to him, though, and new horses will be a problem as well.” She went to the stall and reached over the gate to pat Dozei’s rump. “He’s a good fellow.”

Dozei gave a rumbling whicker and raised his head a bit, though he seemed to be unhappy.

“You have handled him well, girl,” the head groom assured her. “It is largely a matter of fortune and breeding with these horses. Some last longer when everyone expects them to collapse after one season; others that you would think would go on for years cannot sustain more than a few turns around the sands before they are useless to everyone.”

“That’s true enough,” Himic agreed. “I had one horse, a black—nosed gray. To look at him, you would have thought him incapable of pulling anything heavier than a child’s cart. But with my quadriga, he pulled the rest of the team through more trouble than any animal I have owned before or since. A big ugly brute he was, with a head like a bucket and sloping shoulders that made you wonder how you’d keep a yoke on him for more than an hour. He had more stamina than any other horse I’ve owned.”

Tishtry sensed that the two men were doing what they could to make her burden easier, and it gave her the first sense of friendship she had experienced since she had been through the storm with Holik. “Dozei is a good horse, but it is unwise to force him to perform if it hurts him and gives the team bad habits. It is best to take him out of the arena while he has worth enough to merit keeping him.”

“Yes,” Himic said, more in approval of her decision than seconding what she said. “I will arrange for him to be pastured here, so that the team will not be broken at once. It is always awkward when there have been just the four horses together for some time. You are used to what they do, and they are used to one another. Having a fifth horse will be an improvement.”

The head groom coughed diplomatically. “You understand that the master might ask you to sell your sorrel if he would prefer not to pay for his keep.”

“I know it’s possible,” Tishtry said carefully, already anticipating the arguments she would have to use to avoid that eventuality. “He is my horse, and if it is required, I suppose I can afford the payments if it comes to that.” It would take funds from her savings to free her family, but her horse was almost as important to her. She did her best to turn her thoughts from the disappointment her father would feel if he learned of her predicament.

“The new horses will make it easier,” Himic said. “You may change your mind after you’ve developed the new team.” He put his hand on Tishtry’s shoulder as they walked out of the stables. “Dozei is a good horse. You taught him well and you have done nothing to abuse him. Some horses last longer than others. You know this, Tishtry.”

She stared away from him. “I know it, yes. I had hoped that I wouldn’t be in this situation for a while. And since I’m not performing just now, the expenses trouble me.” She did not confide her fear that Calpurnius might grow tired of paying for her, and sell her just to be rid of the cost of keeping her and her horses.

Himic apparently understood her worry. “You are a great asset to Calpurnius. He is willing to wait a bit for your finest performances. Until now, your old master took advantage of your immediate skills, never thinking that in time, you would need to develop more of your abilities in order to increase your value. He never understood that aspect of owning an arena slave. He sought to enrich himself without any risk, and for that he was prepared to hold you back. Calpurnius is not like that. And,” he added more thoughtfully, “you should be aware, girl, that in time, when you have become far more valuable, he will look to sell you. It is not his way to keep performers like you. He is willing to train you and to send you to more competitive amphitheaters, but he is not willing to keep you once you have realized your worth. I have seen him do this many times, and I know it will be the same with you.”

Tishtry heard this out with more alarm than she wished to admit. In vain she told herself that being sold was the lot of all slaves, and that if Calpurnius used her wisely, she could benefit from it as much as he did. In her heart she felt the same betrayal that she had when Barantosz had sold her. She swallowed hard. “Then I pray the gods he will not part with me too soon, so that I will bring him the profit of my training.”

With a slight, sad smile, Himic nodded. “Good girl.”

* * *

“What do you think of them?” Calpurnius asked as Tishtry completed her first inspection of the two new horses.

She could not admit she was very pleased. “The black—Neronis? is that his name?—needs to lengthen his stride, but that red roan is splendid.” She gave this second horse an affectionate slap on his flank. “Tehouti, that’s what he’s called.”

“My purchasing agent had full records on your team, their size and strides, and he did everything he could to match them.” Calpurnius braced his arms on the top rail of the practice ring. “Himic tells me
that in another month you’ll be ready to go back into the arena. What do you think?”

“I’d be willing to go today, but with new horses, I don’t dare.” She swung up and over the fence with practiced ease. “And there is an arena slave, a bestiarii whom Himic says I must see. Some Greek fellow, I understand. He has a team of dancing horses, they tell me.” She sounded skeptical, but secretly was very curious. How could horses be made to dance? And if they could be made to dance, was it something that her own team should learn to do?