The Byzantine Wager

Chapter 71 - More Mischief

Chapter 71

More Mischief

The mercenaries doused their torches in the cistern, to allow their eyes to adjust once again. Up the stairs, the only light came from the slightly less than full moon - the speckled silver wheel of Selene's chariot making its monthly circuit - a few wispy clouds, but the night was clear. Pons gave instructions and hoped everyone was sober enough to do their parts. He parted from the others and skipped from shadow, to moonlight, and back under the tenebrous arches, then paused to take his bearings.

To his right lay the inner part of the U-shape of the sphendone with a massive tack room. Harnesses, ribbons, feathers, placards, and ornamentation for the next day's races were laid out.

To his left and the outer part of the U-shape was a storage alcove with chariots lined up, ready for their teams to step up and be harnessed for the following day's parade to the starting gates.

It was at this point that Pons realized his folly. In Cyn's haste to collect his winnings after the final race they had not waited to see the lots drawn for position in the next day's contest. His plan was to cut part way through an axle with the saw. But which chariot? The harnesses were colored and beribboned, but not the cars. The placards with the team's racing record were in the tack room beside the harnesses, not beside the cars. Eighteen identical wicker chariots were before him with more spares and broken ones in the rear.

Another thought struck him. How will I know which chariot I have sabotaged tomorrow when it comes to the betting? They all look the same. Sabotaging the harness would be out of the question, the drivers and grooms would notice cuts or frays while bridling the horses.

No, it would need to be a chariot. Glancing about in the gloom he saw what he needed. On a shelf lay a pottery urn of axle grease to cover the damage. Nearby was a tally board with chalk.

Someone would have bad luck. Pons chose the thirteenth chariot. He marked the inside of both the chariot's metal wheel rims with the chalk. He knelt beside the left wheel and made half a dozen rasps with the saw blade. How deep to cut? Enough to make the wheel come off when stressed, but not so deep that the car cannot make the parade and past the starting gate.

It was at this point that he became aware of a low, rumbling growl. Advancing from the dark, past the stalls where the horses were now softly nickering, paced a hound.

* * *

"You must stop me if you have already heard this tale, in order that I not washte my breath. My voice rashps with age, and I am telling you this amusing story for free." Nestor slurred his preamble.

He and Zinthzinphitees staggering and supporting one another drunk was a common enough sight at any hour, and the only thing suspicious about their being in the common room of the charioteers barracks in the north end of the Hippodrome's undercroft was that they had brought a wineskin to share with the few drivers and grooms who lingered late.

"Our mighty Emperor Andronikos, first of his name, did shummon to attend a banquet in the city, the world's most powerful men. Noble and worthy lords from near and far came. At the feast they fell to talking of matters military - both shtrategic and tactical. Hic. They boasted of which of them had the most daring cavalry, the most accurate archers, and the most valiant infantry. Through all the convershations Emperor Andronikosh listened, but remained shilent and merely shtroked his beard. Hic." Nestor mimed the action.

"'Prove to me the loyalty of your men!' the Emperor challenged his guests. Hic. He directed the greatest of them, Frederick - King of the Germans, and Shaladin - Shultan of Damascus, to the column of Arcadius in the forum which bears his name, and bade them to climb to the top, each accompanied, like himself, by their chosen soldier."