Scene Four

The fig was not breakfast.

Not even close.

Rufus licked the juice from one finger and continued toward the stables. He could smell them before he reached them.

Horses. Hay. Leather. Sweat.

Honest smells.

The stable yard was already working. A groom hurried past with a bucket. Somebody shouted for a brush. A mule kicked a stall hard enough to rattle the whole row.

Nobody seemed surprised.

“Titus!”

No answer.

Rufus walked farther into the stable.

“Titus!”

He heard a low voice from one of the stalls and followed it.

Titus stood beside a large gray gelding. The horse held one hind foot off the ground while Titus kept one hand against its neck.

“Easy.”

The horse’s ears moved.

“That’s it.”

It lowered its head.

Only then did Titus look around.

“Oh. Morning.”

Rufus looked from Titus to the horse.

“What was wrong with him?”

“Stone.”

“What?”

“In his hoof.”

“I didn’t see one.”

“You wouldn’t.”

“I would have.”

Titus smiled. “No.”

Rufus considered arguing.

The horse sighed.

“I think he just agreed with you.”

“I know.”

“You know?”

“He usually does.”

Rufus narrowed his eyes at the gelding.

“So, tomorrow.”

“The races?”

“The horses.”

“They’ll be exercising.”

“Can we watch?”

“If nobody notices.”

Rufus grinned. “They never notice.”

“They notice you.”

“Sometimes.”

“Usually.”

Rufus considered that fair enough.

“Moshe can’t come.”

“The Sabbath.”

“You knew?”

“He told me yesterday.”

Rufus sighed. “Everybody knows things before I do.”

“You don’t wait long enough to hear them.”

That seemed possible. Rufus decided not to investigate.

He looked toward the practice track beyond the stable wall.

“So, who’s here?”

Titus tried not to smile.

“Andronicus.”

Rufus forgot breakfast.

“What?”

“He came in before sunrise.”

“The Andronicus?”

There was only one.

Andronicus won when winning wasn’t possible. He came up the rail from last place, took turns other drivers wouldn’t attempt and made the whole city rise from its seats.

Rufus had never seen him closer than the far side of the Circus.

“He’ll work the bays today,” Titus said.

Rufus stared toward the end of the stable row.

“We’re going.”

“We’re working.”

“We can work while we’re going.”

Titus laughed. It was a rare sound.

“You’d better help, then.”

“Doing what?”

Titus handed him a curry comb.

“The gray.”

Rufus looked at the comb. “I’ve never groomed a horse.”

“You’ll learn.”

Rufus looked at the gray.

The gray looked back.

Neither appeared impressed.

The horse was patient with him. Rufus dragged the comb the way Titus showed him, down with the hair and not against it.

“You’re going too hard,” Titus said.

“I’m being thorough.”

“He isn’t a wall.”

Rufus eased off.

Titus moved along the row, grooming three horses in the time it took Rufus to manage one. His hands were quick and certain. He knew what each horse would do before it did it.

“The bays are at the end,” Rufus said.

“Stay on the gray.”

“I only want to see them.”

“Stay on the gray, Rufus.”

There was something different in Titus’s voice.

“They’re his, aren’t they? Andronicus’s.”

“They belong to the faction. Andronicus drives them.”

“That’s what I said.”

“No, it isn’t.”

Titus stopped working.

“Men own those horses. Men you don’t want to meet. The master answers to them. If anything happens to one of those animals, he answers to them too.”

“I’m not going to hurt one.”

“Stay on the gray.”

“I heard you.”

“Then do it.”

Rufus meant to.

He worked on the gray until Titus moved to the far end of the row. The bays were only a few stalls away.

Rufus looked at them.

Then at Titus.

Then back at the bays.

He set down the curry comb.

The bays were larger than he expected, tall and deep through the chest. One turned its head and looked at him.

Rufus had seen Andronicus as a green blur across the Circus.

This was the animal beneath him.

He stepped closer.

The bay did not move away.

Rufus raised one hand and touched its neck.

Just once.

Just so he could say he had.

The curry comb was still in his other hand. He laid it gently against the bay’s shoulder, exactly as Titus had shown him.

“Off.”

Rufus never heard the master approach.

A hand caught him by the shoulder. A moment later, Rufus was on the ground with stones beneath his palms.

The master took the comb from him.

“That’s Argentum.”

Rufus pushed himself up.

“He’s worth more than your life, boy. He’s worth more than mine.”

Titus came running from the other end of the stable.

The master turned toward him.

“What are you doing, letting this boy near my horses?”

“He’s—”

The first blow landed before Titus finished.

Rufus got between them.

“It was me. He didn’t know. I came in through the back.”

The master shoved him aside.

“He told me to stay with the gray,” Rufus said. “He told me three times.”

Another blow struck Titus.

Rufus grabbed the master’s arm.

“Hit me.”

The master pulled free.

“It was my fault. Leave him alone.”

The master struck Titus again.

“Hit me!”

He didn’t.

That was when Rufus understood. The master had already told him what he was worth.

Argentum mattered.

The master mattered.

Titus mattered enough to punish.

Rufus did not.

He kept talking anyway.

“I touched the horse. Titus told me not to. He didn’t do anything. I did it. Hit me.”

The master finally released Titus.

He was breathing hard.

“Get him out,” he said. “I see him here again, it won’t be a beating next time. For either of you.”

He pointed toward Argentum.

“That isn’t me talking. That’s the men who own that horse. Do you understand?”

Titus nodded.

The master returned to the bay. He ran his hands down each leg and checked the animal for an injury that wasn’t there.

Titus straightened slowly.

One side of his face was already swelling.

“I’m sorry,” Rufus said.

“Just go.”

Rufus waited.

Titus didn’t look at him.

Rufus went.