Heavily-scented guards pressed around Meagan. No wonder claustrophobia is a Latin word, she thought as they jostled her. This was happening too quickly. “Of course I will visit you, Horace. Do I have to go?”

“We could escape.” The baritone voice was husky as he leaned close. “I have family in Lazio. We could be married. We could…” Horace stopped himself, seeing her head shake slowly.

Meagan was surprised by the matter-of-fact proposal. She had not until that moment fully realized she was of marriageable age. Of course she would be considered mere property in the arrangement, but the offer touched her. “Horace, I can’t. It’s not my choice. I … I don’t belong here. Please understand, I cannot.”

Horace raised his gaze to the sky and recited softly, “Her voice rings through me like a song on a lyre, yet it is only an echo on the wind.” He looked down again, his expression carefully composed. “Does it sound like the great Horatius, even a little? It is mine, for you.”

A tear streaked down Meagan’s face. “Please, Horace …”

“You make me think of the dog of my boyhood, Highest Lady. I always thought my Hercules was very stupid because he chased birds. Now I know why.”

“Horace,” Meagan smiled as she wiped her eyes. “As advice, never tell a girl she reminds you of a dog.”

The expression on his ruined face was soft. “It is to see them fly.”

A tightness grew in Meagan’s chest. “You saved me, Horace. Don’t forget that.”

“It was only my destiny. I will remember you.” Horace stepped forward and kissed her forehead. He bowed as guards pushed her on.

A cleared space followed Meagan like a spotlight as she was escorted through the tight crowd. A beaming Master of Horse called warmly, hurrying closer. “There she is, Excellency! My assistant!” The man’s voice was familiar but his manner was not: he was being nice. “Are you well, sweet child?” the man doted. “I hope you had no trouble with the Blue fans!”

Seated on the high bench was a smiling Emperor. His voice was gentle. “Bring the slave closer, Cornelius.”

Excerpted from Eclipsed by Shadow, the award-winning first volume of “The Legend of the Great Horse” trilogy. (Hrdbk pg. 172)

Book II: The Golden Spark is available! Book III announcements coming soon…

Read the 1st Chapter (free) online!

Copyright © 2008 John Royce

The chariot teams maneuvered into a line of ornate starting boxes. The cheering dipped as the last chariots pulled inside, and exploded as the gates swung open and twelve chariots surged forward in a ragged line.

Two teams tangled in the opening rush and faltered as the Imperial chariot surged forward. From Meagan’s distance the field was a pack of scrambling color, but the Imperial black horses were easy to spot. She leaned in sympathy as they galloped to the first turn. The driver Braedin cut back and Cerberus dug against the traces—the crowd roared as the Emperor’s chariot tilted and skimmed across the flying sand. Saxon leapt around the turn, gouging up great sprays before heeling to the inside track. The chariots scattered across the curve and disappeared around the turn.

Chariot racing was more like sledding than a race of speed. Horses were never able to reach top speed in the heavy sand, so the teams jostled for position as they galloped from end to end, braking and wheeling around each turn. The center spina obscured the view of the horses galloping on the opposite side of the track, which added to the tension as half the crowd screamed in imagination of the unseen action.

Meagan waited anxiously until the field came back into view. Progress of the horses on the far stretch of track could be followed, for the chariots raised clamor and dust as they passed. Workers darted out of the way of the chariots, while behind them others worked to clear the fallen. Water boys ran up and down the center spine, wetting the track.

Horses streamed into Meagan’s view amid plumes of sand. The two lead chariots ran well ahead of the Emperor’s team, but the trailing field was bottled behind the Imperial horses, reluctant to meet Cerberus. One team tried to pass, making an attempt to come inside. The crowd rioted to see the gains the rivals were making, four horse heads stretching in unison, moving up with each stride. Braedin slashed his opponent with his whip and ducked when his turn came.

When the advancing team was close enough Braedin edged Cerberus to the inside. The stallion lunged, and the surprised rival horses swerved to foul their inside neighbors. Chariots locked wheels, and the collision cleared a section of chariots in a series of crashes that each earned a shocked scream from the crowd. The survivors swept from sight around the curve. A roar greeted the horses on the other side of the stadium.

Excerpted from Eclipsed by Shadow, the award-winning first volume of “The Legend of the Great Horse” trilogy. (Hrdbk pg. 166)

Book II: The Golden Spark will be published soon.

Read the 1st Chapter online!

Copyright © 2008 John Royce

We can recognize our common (if unsavory) humanity in the prevalent Curse Tablets of ancient Rome, which were inscribed on thin lead tablets and hidden in advantageous spots … chariot racing was a hotbed of sabotage and curse tablets.

Here is an actual Roman curse typical of the day:  ‘I command you, demon, and demand from you this hour and day and moment, that you torture and kill the horses of the Greens and that you kill in a crash their drivers.’

Other authentic Curse Tablets were more elaborate and featured detailed instructions:

‘I conjure you, holy beings and holy names, to join in aiding this spell, and bind, enchant, thwart, strike, overturn, conspire against, destroy and kill the charioteer and all his horses tomorrow in the circus at Rome. May he not leave the barriers well. May he not be quick. May he not outstrip anyone. May he not make the turns well. May he not win any prizes, and if he has pressed someone from behind, may he not overtake him; but may he meet with an accident; may he be bound, may he be broken; may he be dragged along by your power, in the morning and afternoon races.

Superstition is an ancient custom and, then as now, not always a pleasant one.

In the year 100 A.D.

The Emperor’s chariots belonged to the Green corporation, and it was impossible to forget. Green banners flapped against squat mortar buildings and green ribbons adorned iron-grilled gates. Guards and supervisors wore leek-colored tunics and the horses worked in green-dyed wrappings and pads.

Inside the Emperor’s compound, stern horsemanship was executed with clockwork precision. Daylight hours were filled with the rumbling of chariots and shouts of men. First feeding was sharply at dawn and repeated at regular intervals throughout the day. Fresh water was supplied continuously and the stalls cleaned in rotation.

Horses helped Meagan through the dark days. The familiar rhythms of their care was an anchor to the world she had always known. Stall cleaning was her duty: slaves of better rank carried out feeding and grooming. The horses’ mangers were stuffed with fragrant hay and grains, but every morning a stained cart was wheeled down the rows, from which meat and eggs were distributed to mix with the feed. Romans believed feeding sparrow’s eggs, ground feathers and birds’ blood logically made a horse run faster.

“No, they do not,” Meagan had protested in broken Latin. “Horses are … are…”

“Horses are what?” asked a sneering voice behind her. She turned to see the baleful gaze of the Master of Horse. A waft of pungent perfume seeped from his toga. “Please, tell us. Horses are … what?”

“I-I don’t know,” Meagan said, flustered. She wanted to say “vegetarian” but could not think of the Latin word.

The man blinked up at her and wrinkled his nose. “Better not to offer opinions in the Emperor’s stable, I think. Others might find out we use idiots here.”

Meagan observed the other workers’ downcast eyes and remained silent. Later, she would learn the Master of Horse was called Posthumous, a name commonly given to a son born after his father’s death. Others’ descriptions of his character added colorful phrases to her vocabulary.

Excerpted from Eclipsed by Shadow, the award-winning 1st volume of “The Legend of the Great Horse” trilogy. (Hrdbk pg. 128)

Book II: The Golden Spark will be published soon.

Read the 1st Chapter online!

Copyright © 2008 John Royce

Naufragia was ultimate disaster, an end not only to hopes of victory but to lives, careers, destiny. A favorite champion could be undone in an instant—every moment of a chariot race was fraught with potential disaster. The extremes of emotion provoked by collisions and near disasters shocked spectators into wild states of euphoria and despair.

A crash was the ultimate calamity for a chariot, but with the growth of the spectator sport Rome twisted the calamity into attraction. The shock of destruction that punctuated the spectacle drove spectators into frenzy, and became a catharsis for the tensions surrounding the race. Spectators grew addicted to the emotional drama of the Circus, filling their increasingly empty lives with it’s loud distraction as their society declined.

Fate was capricious and all of life was subject to naufragia! Honor, duty, love, courage, all one’s hopes, all effort, all resources—naufragia!—gone in an instant.

Naufragia was the point of distraction. As the lives of ordinary citizens were drained of promise by their darkening Empire—they cheered for naufragia! Deprived of property and rights, they cheered—naufragia! And in the end, distracted, frenzied, caught in its own social dysfunction and spectating madness, Rome itself became the grand metaphor of its own distraction—naufragia!

Rome was the first Republic and the grandfather of Western culture. It was a society that flourished as a “melting pot” of peoples with citizen representation in government—and grew the world’s first Middle Class—before corrupting into a tyranny that ended in the destruction of human consciousness. There were two Romes: the long period of growth during the Republic, and its shorter stagnation and decline as an Imperial power.

Celebrity charioteers were a feature of Imperial Rome, and it is Imperial Rome that holds the common imagination today. There has been a reawakening in modern times of ancient forces, whether these forces are (or can be made) positive or not. The destructive element of Rome’s manic celebrity was the power of distraction. Chariot racing was the “circus” of Juvenal’s famous quote about “Bread and Circuses“:

…for the People who once upon a time handed out military command, high civil office, legions — everything, now restrains itself and anxiously hopes for just two things: bread and circuses.