"The Games."
"Those are human sacrifices?" She halted again; blocking the flow of the dispersing crowd behind her. Someone cursed at her in Latin. Hastily she stepped aside. "Malcolm, you're not serious? Nobody in any of my history classes ever said anything about human sacrifices in Rome and I didn't find anything like that in any of the reading I did do. I mean ... the Romans were supposed to be civilized!" She stared down the hill toward the hulking facade of the great Circus. "Why would civilized people do something like that? I don't understand. Malcolm, it doesn't make sense and it ought to, if it's true."
Malcolm's eyes glinted. "I seem to have reawakened that curious itch to learn I first glimpsed in London. All right. Let's see if I can shed some light. Centuries ago, probably during Etruscan times, the Circus Maximus began life as a natural amphitheater of ritual sacrifice. The games, mostly races, were part of elaborate funerary rites. When we watch the Ludi Megalenses in a few days, keep that in mind We are not merely watching spectator sports. The Games are not a Roman form of NFL Football. We'll be watching a sacred drama.
"It's exciting drama and the spectacles help the emperor keep the unemployed masses quiet by giving them something to do, but it's still sacred at its core and most people in this time recognize the ritual for what it is-if not overtly, then at some level of awareness.
"You asked if the priests of Cybele were volunteers or prisoners. The participants in Roman games are largely prisoners: criminals and slaves, prisoners of war. It's always easier on the king to substitute slaves for the real thing when the king must die. And in this particular time and this particular place, that is precisely what must happen."
The dust and noise of the bright April morning faded from Margo's awareness. She had difficulty taking in everything Malcolm had said. She understood much more clearly now why he'd said most guides held advanced degrees. They had to, in order to explain to tourists what they were watching. But I can't spend years at this before my first scouting trip! What she needed to become was a generalist. She could learn a little about a lot of things and fake it whenever she had to.
Meanwhile, she'd learn everything Malcolm would teach her.
"Huh. So now what?"
"Now," Malcolm grinned, "I think it's time to scout out some lunch."
"Now there's a plan I like!"
Malcolm laughed and took her back down the sacred Palatine Hill in search of her first genuine Roman meal.
Grey light had barely touched the sky when Malcolm stepped out of the Time Tours inn. Wagons and carts, caught like vampires by the sunrise, had been unharnessed and abandoned where they stood. Slaves and yeoman farmers carted off the goods by hand.
"The next three days," Malcolm told Margo as she joined him, "are going to be very much a repeat of yesterday."
"More weird parades?"
He shook his head. "No. That's reserved for the day of Attis' sacrifice. But Attis is a popular cult, particularly amongst the poor in the slums and in the port cities. A lot of people will walk around in a festive state of mourning, if that makes any sense, flailing themselves same as the priests yesterday and weeping for the tragic fate of their god."
She wrinkled her nose. Malcolm chuckled. "Get used to weird sights if you want to scout. Now, since the real fun doesn't begin until the Hilaria, and since that doesn't start for three days, I have a different plan of action in mind."
"That being?"
"Ostia."
"What's that? Another sacred ritual where some poor schmuck gets to play king of the hour?"
"No," Malcolm smiled "Ostia is the port city downriver from Rome."
"Oh! Oh! That means a sightseeing trip outside Rome?"
Malcolm resisted the urge to tousle her hair. "Yes. Claudius has been building new harbor facilities. I want to see them. You should, too, just to get a grasp of Roman engineering." He chuckled. "The engineers told the emperor the harbor would be ruinously expensive, but it had to be built because the main harbor is silting in. I can hardly wait to see it, even if it won't be finished in Claudius' lifetime. It's said to be spectacular."
Margo had brightened visibly. "That sounds super! How do we get there?"
"We hire a boat."
She grinned. "Great! Show me!"
Malcolm made arrangements with a local merchant willing to hire out his little lenunculi since he was on holiday for the festivals. The boat reeked of fish, but handled beautifully.
"You know how to sail, I guess?" Margo asked
"Yep. So will you, by the time we get to Ostia."
She groaned, but took to the lessons cheerfully once they were on the water. Malcolm taught her the rudiments of terminology while he navigated the heavy traffic in the Tiber. Once they were downstream from Rome and into quieter water, he started the hands-on lessons. She was clumsy at first and nearly put them into the near bank a couple of times but eventually caught on. He let her steer for a while and relaxed in the warm morning sunshine.
"You like it here," she said after a while.
Malcolm peeled an eyelid and found her watching him pensively. He smiled "Yes, I do."
"Even though they're barbaric and put people to death in the arena?"
He considered how best to answer. "Every culture's barbaric in some fashion. It's a matter of perspective. The reverse is generally true, as well. Every culture has something fine and useful to offer. It's a matter of how you look at it. The trick in scouting is to figure out what you're looking at, to decide what: if anything-you can gain from that particular culture and time period, then to make off safely with whatever you've found, whether it's scholarly information or something more lucrative. Like, say, a potential new tourist gate or some treasure that's about to be lost through natural or man-made calamity. The more you know about when and where you are when you step through, the likelier you'll be able to identify what's useful."
"You don't care much about the money, do you?"
He chuckled and tucked his hands more comfortably behind his head. "You're beginning to figure me out, young lady. Nope. Not like some scouts and guides, anyway." He winked. "That's not to say I'd be averse to picking up a nice little treasure if I had the chance. But for me, it's the learning that's the kick. It's why Kit's rich and I'm broke. He likes to learn, too. Isn't a scout alive who doesn't. But he cares more about the money than I do and truthfully ... I think he's a lot luckier than I am."
"People make their own luck," Margo said with surprising vehemence.
He glanced into her eyes, then smiled "Well, yes. Maybe they do. You're here, after all. And I'd have bet money you'd never get this far."
She flushed. "Thanks. I think."
Malcolm laughed. "Well, considering the first thing you did in La-La Land was get lost in Residential ... Straighten the rudder, Margo. We're headed for the river bank again."
She put out her tongue and steered for the central current again. It was a glorious day for a sail, perfect weather and perfect company, but as they neared the new port, river traffic grew much thicker. Malcolm took over and steered a course toward the far bank to get the best view possible when they neared what should be the spot for the new harbor facility.
"There are a lot of boats coming up river," Margo commented.
"Ostia's the grain port for Rome. Italian agriculture's in trouble, mostly for economic reasons. Almost all of Rome's food supply, grain in particular, is imported In fact, Rome imports far more than she exports. Take that, for instance." He pointed to a heavily laded corbita, a kind of heavy freighter, passing majestically on its way upriver. "Those amphorae probably contain wine or olive oil, I can't see the markings at this distance to be sure. Those bales are Egyptian cotton and imported luxury goods." A barge towed by scaphae followed Huddled on its decks were miserable, half-naked men and women in chains.