Sand over packed earth-except for down near the starting gates where the surface was paved-the track caught the sunlight with an unnatural glitter. She noticed slaves carrying baskets down the track, sprinkling something shiny onto the sand Some kind of glittering mineral, maybe? She'd seen flakes of mica in granite catch the sun like that. Expensive, but pretty.
A long barrier wall perhaps six feet high ran down the center of the track, decorated with tall marble columns which held gleaming female statues some winged, some wingless. Miniature temples held altars to gods Margo couldn't identify. Crossbeams supported stone eggs and dolphins. A gleaming gold statue even she recognized as Cybele ring a lion stood near one end Next to the Magna Mater rested a cluster of marble trees, but they didn't look like Attis' sacred pine. She wondered what they were.
In the center of the barrier wall rose a towering Egyptian obelisk. Now who brought that here? It must have been quite a feat, getting it across the Mediterranean by sailing ship. A golden flame set onto the top caught the morning sunlight like fire. On the long Aventine straightaway rose a magnificent colonnaded temple built right into the stands. Below it rested a platform. Bet that's the judges' box, she decided, spotting a white line chalked in the sand just beneath it.
Visible beyond obelisk and statues, another temple gleamed in the morning sunlight. High above it the Imperial palace rose on the Palatine Hill. Whatever it was, this second temple had been built directly into the lower tiers of seats with a series of columns and a beautiful triangular pediment above a broad stone porch. A number of empty couches awaited occupants. I wonder if that's where Claudius sits.
Down at the starting gates, grey and red marble columns decorated the arches of the starting stalls. There were twelve, barricaded at the moment with double wooden doors. Metal grills blocked the tops. An elaborate viewing box with a stone balustrade took up the center portion of the marble facade. Low, round pedestals supporting tall, squarish pillars topped with stone heads stood between each gate. White chalk marked lanes led from the starting gates to another white line that crossed the whole width of the track at the end of the barrier wall.
Wonder what that's for?
Just below Margo's seat, down on the track itself, stood a small square shrine with columns, resting on circular stone steps. A little tree of some sort grew up from the earth of the track itself beside the shrine. Between the track and the podium wall ran an immense, ten-foot-wide moat filled with water. A high metal grillwork rose from the podium wall in front of the first tier of seats all the way around the elongated horseshoe of the arena.
The turning posts weren't actually part of the central spine, Margo realized. Three tall, tapered stone columns rose from half-moon shaped pedestals. Each tapered column, covered with bronze plaques, ended in an eggshaped tip. They reminded her uncomfortably of a man's...
Huh. Given Roman preoccupation, with sex, l wouldn't be at all surprised.
The stands filled up quickly. Margo was surprised how fast an enormous crowd could enter, the Circus. She tried to estimate the seating capacity, multiplying by the lines scored into the bleachers, and came up with more than a hundred fifty thousand. Surely that was too high? A group of laughing men and women took seats behind her, jabbing her uncomfortably in the back with their knees. Margo had to sit with her own knees tucked almost to her chin to avoid hitting the people in front of her. Well, maybe I didn't guess too high. They were cramming people in like sardines. She hoped the wooden bleachers didn't collapse under the weight.
The stands were almost full when a blare of trumpets signaled activity at the far end. Men on foot appeared, bearing tall standards that glittered brightly in the sunlight. Golden eagles surmounted rectangles marked SPQR. A roar rose from a hundred-fifty thousand throats. The whole stadium surged to its collective feet. Margo stood up, too.
What? Where?
Quintus Flaminius was pointing down the track.
A man had appeared behind the eagle standards, limping awkwardly onto the track from an entrance down near the starting gates. Robed in gleaming white, with broad purple stripes along the edges of a white woolen toga, he was the instant focus of attention. The crowd had gone wild Whoever he was, he moved on unsteady legs. Drunk? Margo wondered. Surely not?
Then the women behind her babbled something about the Princeps. Margo gasped. Claudius! She hadn't expected the emperor to walk at the head of the procession. She'd pictured him as riding in a gilt chariot or something. Maybe that was reserved for generals who'd won battles. Claudius moved carefully, doggedly, lacking anything like stately grace as he led the procession into the great Circus.
Unexpectedly, Margo's heart constricted. She hadn't realized the twisting of his face, so painfully visible in the Time Tours photograph, had extended to other physical difficulties. No wonder Malcolm had refused to laugh at him. The courage-and pain-that procession must be costing him ...
Margo gulped and felt her cheeks burn. She had run away from her problem rather than face it head-on the way Claudius faced his illness. Look where that had led her. She bit her lip. Tonight, she promised herself. I'll find him tonight after the games, after I get away from Flaminius.
Behind Claudius came musicians: drummers and pipers filled the arena with rolling thunder and skirling music while brassy horns sang out in voices so wild Margo's back shivered. Behind the musicians came carriages and hand-carried litters on which rode the Roman gods and goddesses. She had no idea who they all were, but their statues caught the morning sun in as splendid a pageant as Margo had ever seen.
The procession made its way around the mica-glittered track in a complete circuit, ending at the marble temple on the Palatine side. Claudius ascended a staircase slowly, followed by bearers who carried the images of the deities up to the platform to "watch" the games. Claudius himself took a backless stone chair near the front of the platform. He lifted his hand and the crowd went insane.
Popular guy.
Margo discovered unexpectedly that she was glad.
A hush fell across the great Circus. In the sudden quiet she could hear the scream of high-strung horses, the thud of hooves against wooden doors. The smell of sweat and adrenaline drifted on the wind along with the distant snarls of wild beasts. Margo leaned forward.
A well-dressed official of some sort had appeared in the balustraded box above the starting gates. Other figures were visible as well, fussing over some sort of machinery. A white cloth fluttered from the official's hand She wished irritably for a lowly pair of binoculars. It looked very much like someone was turning a barrel on a spit and drawing something out of it, but she couldn't see what We should've found seats closer to the start.
Other men had climbed onto the barrier wall, some of them dressed well, others clad in simple tunics. Ladders were run up to the crossbeams holding the eggs and dolphins. Several moments passed while the tension mounted Men who could only be field judges took their positions. Then, before she was ready for it, the white cloth dropped
A snapping sound cracked through the breathless arena. The crash of wooden doors flung wide reached her even at the far end of the Circus. Then twelve chariots dashed into view, horses flying four abreast as they raced down the chalked-out lanes. Margo was on her feet with the rest of the crowd. The chariots tore across the pavement toward the first white line in the sand. Trumpets sang out as they flashed past. Then twelve racing chariots like doll's teacups on wheels broke position and flung inward toward the barrier wall.