Free The Chariots Slave by R. Lynn

Thaddius slumped onto the hay bale beside him.
With his head rested on his hands he focused on breathing,
long deep breaths.
    His head was a swarm of thoughts: Sellah, new drivers,
Simeon, being Dominus. He couldn’t focus; he needed to
take his mind off everything. He could try wine and women,
    

but for some reason he had not had a taste for either lately.
But he did need the mental release, and he knew of only one
other way to do so—Diana.
    It wasn’t wise for him to race now that he was Dominus.
But it wouldn’t hurt taking a biga or a quadriga out for a
couple of laps. Having made up his mind, he strode
purposefully toward the circus. The anticipation of once
again standing in a chariot and commanding Diana and the
team quickened his pace. It had been four months since he
had done so, and four months since his father’s death.
    As he rounded the stable walls, a scene of disaster spread
out before him. Men cried out in pain and fear as they
desperately clung to the leads of a rearing horse. Even though
it was fastened to the chariot, it bucked wildly, pulling men
off the ground and kicking at anyone within range.
    Thaddius quickly surveyed the area and noticed some of
the men bandaging fresh wounds. The other two horses
pulled to the side as they tried to be free of the ties that bound
them to the cart and to the wild horse. This only acted to
block the men from securing the right side, and it caused the
cart to tip precariously high.
    “Stop!” Thaddius yelled as he ran down the hill toward the
men. “Let go of the line, the cart’s tipping!” In their panicked
focus the men did not hear Thaddius’s warning and continued
their attempt of pulling down the rogue horse.
    This fuelled Thaddius’s need to get to the track and save
the cart from tipping completely over and injuring one of his
prize horses. He ran faster than he had known possible and in
no time made it to the heart of the calamity.
“Stop!” he repeated as he ripped the lead out of the hands
of the man beside him. Instantly, man and horse submitted
    

and an eerie stillness fell upon the circus. “Get the cart before
it tips,” he directed to the men as he turned toward the center
of this struggle. The horse.
    “Diana?” His eyes widened as he realized the wild horse
had been his most trusted and best trained.
“What happened here? Why does she react so?” Not for
one minute did he believe the problem had anything to do
with Diana. The fault lay with the men who tended to her.
Hoping to keep her state of calm, Thaddius ran his hand
over her strong neck, comforting her as he waited for an
explanation.
“Apologies Dominus,” one of the stable hands said. “This
is what I meant by she refuses to pull any drivers. As soon as
one sets foot in the cart she begins rearing. Of the three new
drivers brought here this morning, we have only one who is
undamaged.”
Taking in a deep breath, Thaddius absorbed the words and
looked about him. His men were frazzled, worn out. But
instead of letting his anger take control, he couldn’t help but
smile. “Leave us!”
“My Lord?” one of them asked, unsure of the us Thaddius
was referring to.
“All of you, return to the stables and pick two new horses.
We will test our last driver with a fresh biga.”
The men hurried toward the stables, eager to be away from
their surprisingly well tempered Dominus and his angry
horse. When they were out of his vision, Thaddius turned to
Diana.
“Let me guess. Not one of them is good enough to ride
with you?” he asked.


    The mare answered by stamping a hoof and shaking her
dark mane. She was an intelligent horse, and he did not doubt
that she understood the gist of what he was asking.
    “Diana, I need you to work with me. I must have a driver
in the next games. This trigarium is well esteemed in Rome.
And to keep it as such, we must continue to put forth good
competition and a good show. If you will