6
Scene Six
The trick was not letting anyone see that it hurt.
Titus had learned that by the second day. A boy who favored one side attracted attention, and attention was the last thing he wanted.
He carried water with both arms even though his left shoulder hurt whenever the bucket shifted. His ribs were worse. He could breathe normally if he didn’t breathe too deeply.
The bruise on his face couldn’t be hidden. Fortunately, marks on stable boys were common enough that nobody asked.
Today was the Circus.
Titus entered through the stable gates beneath the stands. The horses waited in holding pens while the crowd gathered above them.
More than a hundred thousand people.
The noise reached the horses before the race did.
The bays were already sweating. Their ears moved toward every sound, and the whites of their eyes showed in the dark.
Titus put one hand on the nearest animal’s neck.
“Easy.”
The horse’s heart beat hard beneath his palm.
“I know.”
Its ear turned toward him.
The people in the seats saw faction colors, chariots and famous drivers. They didn’t see the animals waiting beneath them.
Titus did.
He stayed beside the bay until its breathing slowed.
He thought about Rufus.
Rufus had wanted to see Andronicus. He had wanted to stand near the rail and feel the horses pass.
Instead, he had been banned from the stable.
Titus wanted to be angry with him.
He wasn’t.
He remembered Rufus grabbing the master’s arm and demanding to be hit. Rufus had caused everything, then tried to take the punishment.
The master wouldn’t give it to him.
“Just go,” Titus had said.
Rufus had gone.
Titus hadn’t meant forever. He had meant before the master came back. There had been no time to explain that, and now Rufus could never return.
“Boy.”
Titus turned too quickly. Pain caught beneath his ribs, but he kept it from his face.
A man stood at the entrance to the pen.
He was not dressed like anyone who worked in the yard. His tunic was better, and he stood without waiting to be invited inside.
Then Titus recognized him.
Andronicus did not look the way he did from the seats. Up close, he was smaller than the city made him and older than Titus expected. His hands were wrapped and scarred from years of holding reins.
His eyes went to Titus’s bruised face.
Then to the way he held his left side.
“You handle the bays,” Andronicus said. “I’ve watched you. You’re the only one in this yard they don’t fight.”
Titus didn’t know what to say, so he said nothing.
Andronicus stepped closer and looked at the horse.
“Who did that?”
Titus understood the question.
He also understood that there was no safe answer.
“I fell.”
Andronicus watched him.
“You fell.”
“Yes.”
The charioteer looked toward the upper yard.
“The master here today?”
“Yes.”
Andronicus placed his hand on the bay’s neck beside Titus’s. The horse allowed it.
“A horse about to run shouldn’t be calm by accident,” Andronicus said. “Someone made him calm.”
Titus kept his hand where it was.
“I’ll tell the master I want you on my horses.”
It should have sounded like good news.
Titus wasn’t sure it was.
Perhaps being wanted by Andronicus would protect him. Perhaps the master would resent that Andronicus had noticed him.
“Thank you,” Titus said.
Andronicus turned to leave, then stopped at the entrance.
“What’s your name?”
“Titus.”
Andronicus repeated it once.
Then he was gone.
The bay’s heartbeat had slowed.
At least the horse was no longer frightened.
Titus rested his forehead against its neck and wished Rufus were there.
Rufus understood dangerous men.
Titus understood horses.
He would have to learn the rest himself.
Above them, the crowd rose, and it was time.Serial text goes here.