The Race

    As I walked onto the hippodrome in Antioch and its cheering crowds, I wondered how I let Acco talk me into this insane race. It was a week ago, I had just finished a race in Magna Leptis and was celebrating my victory in the local brothel. I sat in the waiting lounge, sipping the local vintage and waiting for Johanna, my evening choice, when Acco sat at the table. Acco was from Gaul, with black hair cropped close to his skull. He was a charioteer before becoming my agent, and he still had the athletic build of a racer. He flagged down a server and ordered an ale.

     "A good race today, Severus," he said, sipping his ale."How much was the purse?"

     "About ten thousand sesterces," I replied, looking to see if Johanna was ready.

     He leaned in. "Have you heard of the Steel Chariot?"

     “The what?”

     “The Steel Chariot. A German made it. It’s a chariot pulled by a steam engine.”

     All I cared about was celebrating my victory in Johanna’s chambers, not this Steel Chariot. “What’s this to do with me?”

     “You’re going to race against it next Veneris.”

     I spit out my wine in surprise.“I’m what?”

     Acco pulled out a cloth and wiped wine from his face.“This German, Benedictus by name, has been going around the Empire, racing charioteers from all over. His backers promise a prize of two hundred thousand sesterces to the racer that can beat him. So far, no one has claimed it.”

     I would have argued further, but Johanna had arrived to collect me. I didn’t think about it until the day before the race.

     Sitting behind one of the gates was a sleek metallic beast: the Steel Chariot. It was almost as long as a chariot and the horses that pulled it. It was painted red and gleamed in the sunlight. The back of the car was open like a standard chariot car, with a stick topped with a wooden wheel where the reins would normally be. A side panel was raised, exposing the engine. A man was stooped under the panel, adjusting the engine. He stopped and stood as I approached, regarding me with piercing blue eyes. Just then, my wranglers came onto the track, leading my team to the starting gate as the crowd erupted into fresh cheers as my team took its place. He wiped his hand on a rag and offered it. “You must be Severus. My name is Benedictus,” he said, raising his voice to be heard over the crowd in the stands. “ I’ve followed your career since you were a novice in Capua. I’m honored that you took me up on my challenge.”

     “The pleasure is mine,” I said with a sincerity I did not feel as I shook his hand.

     The race official strode up to us. “If you will mount your chariots, we will begin in a few moments.”

     “May Bona Fortuna smile upon you,” Benedictus said as he got into his car. I wished him the same and got into my car. Iapetus, the Carthaginian who tended to my horses, handed me the reins, which I wrapped around my waist. He then handed me my racing helmet and gloves. 

     “Iapetus,” I said, donning my helmet and gloves. “Any suggestions?”

     Iapetus turned his one good eye towards me. “They kept us away from that thing, so I don't know if it has any weaknesses. There are no horses to whip or cut, so concentrate on the driver. It doesn't look like it's prone to tipping.”

     “They say Benedictus hasn’t lost a race yet,” I said, looking over at Benedictus. He had donned a helmet and strapped a pair of goggles over his eyes. Throwing sand in his eyes was out.

     “That’s because he hasn’t raced you, Severus.”  With that, he left. The horses champed at the bit and I braced myself and waited for the race to start. The editor stood on a platform mounted on the gates. She raised her arm and dropped the white cloth she held in her hands. The gates opened and the race began. My horses flew out of the gate and headed down the straight towards the first turn. I glanced behind me to see where the Steel Chariot was. It was off to a slow start, but I could see it picking up speed.

     I cautiously applied the whip to my team. I didn’t want to tire them too soon. Benedictus wouldn't have that problem. Lucky bastard.

     Benedictus had just caught up to me as we entered the first turn. I glanced over at his chariot. He held leather reins in his hands that disappeared into the metal beast that was pulling him. I leaned to the left, pulling my team into the inner curve of the turn. The Steel Chariot took the turn badly, veering off and careening into the outer wall. The crowd roared as Benedictus struggled to get off the wall. I shot out of the turn, picking up speed down the straightaway. I had a two two-length lead when Benedictus left the turn.

     The Steel Chariot belched black smoke from pipes on its side as it picked up speed. It had almost caught up with me as I entered the second turn. Again l took the inside curve. Benedictus did better this turn, managing to stay clear of the wall. As I entered the straightaway, one of the brass dolphins tipped. One lap down. Six more to go.

     My team was in fine form, working together more smoothly than ever.  The speed of the chariot, the roaring crowds, and the ever-present dangers of racing were like a drug.  My senses felt sharper, my mind racing.  I wondered if Benedictus felt the same.

     Each time Benedict came close, I studied his racer, looking for something, anything I could exploit.  He kept just far enough back that I couldn't reach him with the reins or the whip.  As we neared the bottom turn, he tried to make a break toward the inner curve, but I veered left and cut him off, forcing him to again take the longer outer curve.

     As we neared the end of the second lap, I got the feeling that Benedictus was toying with me. He'd almost catch up to me in the straightaways and fall back in the turns, hoping that I'd get complacent and sloppy. I wasn't about to underestimate him. 

     It was after the sixth lap that I saw a potential weakness.  A line running from near the engine to where Benedictus stood was starting to come loose.  If I could wrap my whip around it, I could rip it away.  I had no idea what would happen, but there were only two more laps to go.  The desire to win was a fever that burned through me.

     As we neared the final turn, I let the horses slow, hoping that Benedictus would think that they were nearing their limit.  After a few moments, he took the bait and surged forward.  As he passed, I raised my whip and lashed out at the line that twisted and bounced like a loose lute string.  The gods were with me, allowing my whip to get entangled with the line. I pulled with all my might, feeling something give in my shoulder as I did so.  The line tore free, spurting a red liquid that looked like blood.

     The Steel Chariot began to slow down almost immediately.  Before we raced past, I saw Benedictus stomping furiously on a pedal on the floor of his car.  I crossed the finish line and the crowd began to chant my name.  I then took my victory lap so that the horses could cool down.  I passed Benedictus, his Stell Chariot sitting in a pool of red liquid, like some slaughtered beast.  Benedictus looked up at me and raised his hand in salute.  I returned the gesture and moved to where I would be presented with the palm leaf.  As I made my way to where the editor waited, I wondered how I was going to spend my two hundred thousand.