The Hippodrome

The Hippodrome of Constantinople

http://www.mmdtkw.org/VHorses.jpg

Citizens and Senators! Welcome to the Hippodrome!

As a friendly reminder to all patrons, supporters of the Blues are requested to sit on west side of the arena, while supporters of the Greens are requested to sit on the east side of the arena. Improper seating may result in grievous bodily harm at the hands of the opposing faction. As always, the Basileus' box (Kathisma) is located in the south, dividing both sections, and is directly connected to the Great Palace by a private staircase.

Chariot Races will be run in the Hippodrome on a regular basis. As is tradition, there will be four chariot teams competing in each race. The teams are well-known to all Romans by their colors, the Blues (Venetii), the Greens (Prasinoi), the Reds (Rousioi) and the Whites (Leukoi). While at one point all four teams competed separately, the Reds and the Whites have long since lost their prominence as independent teams and both act as a 'second' team for the greater factions of the Blues and Greens. The Reds are the second team of the Blues, and the Whites are the second team of the Greens. A victory for either of a faction's teams is considered a victory for the faction as a whole.

The races themselves will be seven laps of the Hippodrome. The chariots will be pulled by either two or four horses, depending on what the factions agree upon before the race begins. The names and notable skills of the four Charioteers (Agitators), along with any other pertinent information about the teams, will be announced at the time the races are scheduled.

Senators are free to make any kind of wager they would like on the outcome of the chariot races. Bets may be made based on which faction will be victorious, which individual team will be victorious, or any other aspect that is deemed worthy of gambling over. Races will be announced several days before they are scheduled to take place, so there will be plenty of time for the placing of bets. Senators are reminded that these bets are private affairs, and enforcement of the terms of the bets must be accomplished by the gamblers themselves. As is well known, the Blues and Greens have a notoriously hostile rivalry, and corruption and foul-play may impact the outcome of the races themselves. In such an event, Senators are urged to keep their followers in line to prevent damage to the city from mass rioting.

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Historical Background on the Hippodrome:

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

J. B. Bury's History of the Later Roman Empire
BBC's Guide to Everything (Excellent Article, with great details about how the races were run)
Wikipedia
Computer generated images of the Hippodrome can be found here and here.

Note on Chariot Races:

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

The events and outcome of the races will be determined by multiple dice rolls. Teams will have set odds of overtaking an opponent on every lap. Primary teams will have better odds than secondary teams. However, there are multiple factors that can influence the races. All charioteers will have personal characteristics that will give them advantages and disadvantages in certain situations. These will increase or decrease their odds of a successful die roll. Advantages could be things such as doing well with two-horse chariots, being a good starter, or excelling in the last lap of a race. Disadvantages could be things such as doing poorly with four-horse chariots, being weak on laps 3 through 5, or being intimidated by a particular opponent. In addition, there is a small chance that each faction will attempt to cheat. Cheating can take many forms, from minor things like throwing something into the face of an opponent during the race, to major things like sabotaging an opponent's starting gate or bribing a Pit-Stop Soaker (Sparsor) to 'forget' to wet down an opponent's axle, possibly causing the chariot to catch fire. Chariot racing is also a dangerous sport, and it will be possible for chariot teams to wreck and even for Charioteers to be killed. None of the odds for the die rolls will be made publicly available, but a general description of the race will contain clues as to which teams will have advantages or disadvantages in certain situations. The race itself will be described in the form of a running commentary.

Strator Vissarionas ek Lesvou strides into the common entrance of the Hippodrome with some confidence and an uplifted nose. A rather foolish looking cap is pulled down in what he clearly thinks is a rakish manner over his forehead, but a hint of a scar can be seen protruding beneath it onto his forehead. He is immediately swarmed by a small army of petty merchants, all shouting the superiority of their wares and offering everything from meat pies to crude flags in the colors of the teams. The young man is taken somewhat aback, and rather than just push through he takes one of the men by the shoulder and loudly proclaims,

'Why as it happens I've come just for one of those red flags chased in blue! Here, here, let's clear a space and step aside so we can conduct our business in peace!'

The horde slowly breaks up, with many disgusted and disgruntled looks at their luckier brother. Eventually, after a brief bit of haggling, Vissarionas hands over a few coins and takes the miniature red flag. A careful watcher, or one familiar with the Hippodrome, will note that he was significantly overcharged for the crude little construct. Looking about Vissarionas picks a direction and starts walking, climbing a set of stairs and eventually emerging into the stands above the main stadium.

At first his facade of noble indifference holds up, but as his eyes sweep from end to end, taking in the glorious statues and the sheer scale of the structure a faint look of awe comes over him. For many minutes Vissarionas can be seen just standing there, taking it all in with wide eyes and an open face. Eventually his gaze narrows, and he begins to seek out grounds more appropriate to a noble...

:egypt:

Pavlos is in a bad mood. The way he is violently chewing on a peanut is one indication of this. Another is the scar that runs from the left corner of his mouth down across his chin and neck, making the left half of his face appear to be set in constant disgruntlement. The third indicator would be the dark look he is casting across the room where he is laying sprawled on a divan, enjoying the cool shade of this recluse for the Senators, the din of the crowd outside muted.

Attacking a second peanut ferociously he doesn't even spare a glance to the youngling entering, choosing instead to follow his own brooding thoughts.

Hypatios makes striaght for the Nobles' box. On his way he sees a man agressively destroying a peanut and chuckles. He also notices that everyone else in the box has a scar on their face somewhere and mutters to himself

Must just be bad fighters...

Makedonios takes a break from the swearing ceremonies in the Order chambers to come and check out the Hippodrome. Mid-twenties with flowing blonde hair, the man strides through the market. He is adorned with a small scar on his face from when a Turkish sword nailed his helmet too hard and shards broke off. He is dressed simply and plainly and wears a plain white cape with a purple Orthodox cross on it.

Strolling up to a stand, the young noble asks for tea. While standing there, he feels his cape move slightly. With the moves of a veteran, his hand shoots down and grabs the wrist of a small boy who was attempting to lift the Comes's change purse. Expecting a beating, the boy cowers. Makedonios lets go of the boys wrist, purchases a small plate of dates, and hands it to the boy. Patting him on the head, Makedonios walks away with his tea. The boy just stands there in shock and munches on a date.

Makedonios walks around looking for a good place to sit. He sees a noble box at the far end that is out of the way from some of the hustle and bustle. The box is empty and he takes a seat, puts his feet up, and sips his tea. Makedonios sees Vissarionas looking for a seat and waves at the young Strator to come join him.

After securing a room at a nearby inn, Lisas heads straight to the hippodrome, making a bee-line for the nobles box as child attempts to take his coin purse, though aware, Lisas allows this to happen as he floats into the box and orders some wine, leaving behind a dissapointed child who now owns one empty sack.

Sunlight shines on his boyish face as he pulls out his real coinpurse and orders some wine, the barman looks slightly annoyed at serving someone so young before passing over Lisas' prefered vintage.

Impressed and slightly intimidated by the battle scars of the other patrons, he takes a table in the corner by himself, and pulls out a small book detailing how to judge a chariot team before a race starts

http://amaust.romanrepublic.org/RomanChariotBig.jpg

Romans! Citizens of Constantinople!

In honor of the reign of Basileus Aleksios Komenus and the imminent opening of a new Senate session, I am proud to announce the resumption of racing in the Hippodrome! On the first day of June, you shall witness a great spectacle of sporting delight. Come one, come all, to the Hippodrome on Sunday, Sunday, Sunday! This epic clash between the Blues and Greens will be using fast and agile two-horse chariots, a constant crowd-pleaser!

For the Blue Faction, the Blue Team charioteer will be the man you know and love, Constans Kaspax! Renowned for his kindness and charity, he is the very embodiment of chivalry. He has set an example that all Romans should heed, and has hand-picked an entire team of assistants who are honest and true in all aspects of life. Yet, let it not be said that Constans Kaspax lives by virtue alone. He is a master of the early race and often dominates the crucial opening laps!

Also for the Blue Faction, the Red Team will be led by the ironically named Longinius Nicerite. Ironic, as this stub of a man is nearly a dwarf! 'Longinius' indeed! Can he even see over the horses? That might explain why he performs poorly in the closing laps; he gets tired of standing on his toes!

For the Green Faction, the mighty Green Team will be led by the man you known and love, Falkon Xerus! This famous racer hardly needs an introduction from me, for his accomplishments are known throughout the Empire! He brings with him his equally famous chariot, Belisarius, one of the strongest and most reliable the Hippodrome has ever seen! Yet for all this, the mighty Falkon Xerus has fallen on a string of bad luck. Acts of God and the Whims of Fate have thwarted this man in his recent races. Will he finally break out of this slump, or is he truly cursed?

Finally, last but not least, the Green Faction's White Team charioteer is a man young of age but showing great promise, Phocas Dandalo! He does not have the experience of the other racers, but what he lacks in age he makes up for in spirit! Phocas Dandalo has already shown himself to be a hard driver. He expects much from his horses, and he has the skill the get it from them! The only question is whether such strenuous running will sap the endurance of his team and leave him at a disadvantage in the closing laps.

This exhibition race will be run on Sunday, June 1st. All who wish to observe this historic spectacle are urged to attend!

At last Vissarionas notices Comes Makedonios and walks in his direction. There is still a touch of awestruck wideness to his eyes, and before he can reach the noble box he passes a poster detailing the upcoming race. Vissarionas pauses for what would seem an unecessarily long time puzzling out the meaning of the scroll, and it becomes obvious that reading is not a skill his tutors over-emphasized.

With his foppish cap still perched somewhat absurdly on his head Vissarionas then continues on to join Comes Makedonios in the noble box at the far end. Immediately on entering Vissarionas snaps off what can only be described as a perfectionist's version of a drill salute to the Comes, and holds it while saying,

"Grandmaster, sir, Strator Vissarionas at your service, sir!"

:egypt:

Makedonios smiles warmly at his newest Sergeant. He motions for him to have a seat.

Please sit down. Do you want anything? The tea is quite good with a hint of mint.

I couldn't help but noticed that you stared at the poster a certain way. Forgive my forwardness but could you read it? It's detailing a race that is coming up to celebrate the new Senate session. While gambling is forbidden among men such as you and I, I do enjoy the sport of a good race.

In my opinion, Constans Kaspax is a good man and I hope he wins.

Vissarionas smiles somewhat nervously and replies,

"Thank you Grandmaster, I may have a bit of tea later. M'lord I confess reading is not my strong suit. I knew most of the words, to be sure,' here Vissarionas sounds a bit desperate not to embarass himself, and I gather that it's about a race, but I do have a few bits that I'm not sure at all about."

Vissarionas's eyes unfocus a bit as he recalls the troubling parts, and he very carefully spells the word 'd-w-a-r-f.'

"If you don't mind, what does that mean, and what does it have to do with, ahh, seeing horses? I am seemingly a fan of the Reds, you see, though this is my first time in the city really."

Here Vissarionas waves the poorly made little red flag he purchased, causing some of the blue trim near the pole to unravel a bit.

"So if the Red charioteer, this Longinius fellow, is going blind or something I may look a bit foolish holding this thing."

The fact that it does not occur to Vissarionas to purchase a different flag, or even simply discard the one he is holding, possibly reveals a thrifty or stubborn nature. Or perhaps it is simply a lack of imagination.

:egypt:

Hypatios can't help but snigger at the fully grown man behaving like a child.

Markianos Ampelas stumbles into the hippodrome. He is unkempt and several wine stains can be seen on his garments. He raises his arms.

"Go blues! Woooooo!!!"

He then walks (though not in a straight line), to a seat with a good view, and orders some more wine.

Makedonios maintains his warm demeanor towards his Sergeant.

You have nothing to be ashamed of. There are many books in the Order's headquarters back in Nicosia. I believe Iakovos has already found the library. You can ask any of us for assistance if you need.

As for the word you ask about, that has to do with people being really short. It is feared that he might be so short, that he can't see over the horses. But I wouldn't fear waving the flag around here. Reds are basically a part of the Blue team. And we're in a blue area. Or were at least so far back that no one really cares what flag you wave.

Michail enters the Hippodrome unseen, silently ordering some mutton before turning and speaking softly to the small group of Senators and Strators mulling around before the race.

"Dear friends, some of you may not know me, I am only recently come to my majority, but I have visions of a great empire! I grew up a commoner, but you shall not find me common, anymore. I propose the forming of the house "The democratic house of Noorokuest." But I shall not bore you good people, feel free to seek me out if you have interest in either agreements or if you share a similar ideal. I speak for the good of the empire. Thank you gentlmen."

Michail dissapears into the throb of shouting fans, leaving his manservant, George, behind, startled as always at his master's quick departure.

A gentleman sits in the back row, not paying much attention to the games, but instead entertaining a group of young children, whose parents were too enamoured with the races, with some simple slight-of-hand. He makes a denarius disappear behind a child's ear, and the lad is baffled until he finds the shiny object in his pocket, and then the boy's face lights up, and he runs off to tell all his friends about the magical man who gives money away. An onlooker wearing the garb of a churchgoer notices this carefree play, and after being somewhat amused for a while, his face darkens when he doesn't understand how the tricks fooled him. When the gentleman makes a toy disappear in his hand, and it is found several rows down, without ever having left his spot, the parishoner stands up and begins to chastise the gentleman.

"What sorcery is this that you are using to frighten the children? Showing such impiety in a public place is an afront to the Lord God Almighty! I demand to know your name."

The Gentleman turns to the churchgoer and looks most puzzled.

"I am Efstratios Monomachos, a veteran soldier of the Roman Empire, and I promise you I am not a man of impiety at all. Why do simple tricks, which are meant solely to amuse children, offend you so? Where is it written in the Holy Book that games for the amusement of children are against the Lord's teaching? Surely God is not offended by the smiles on their faces, nor the generosity of offering alms to the poorest among us? As for sorcery, I am sure that the pious fear no such thing, so long as they have faith in the true Lord. Mighty God could obliterate any evil man, at any moment, no matter how "powerful" that wizard's "sorcery" was. We should not fear those who claim to practice magic, we should warn them that magic and trickery are nothing compared to honour, truth, duty, and respect for the Lord. Showing wayward souls the light, rather than turn our backs on them, should be the way. I have never seen anyone actually cast a spell on anyone, so I do not fear "magicians". Nor should you, pious sir."

The churchgoer looks irritated, and simply mutters "blasphemer" and walks away, shooing the children from this man.

Efstratios mutters "ignorant and self-righteous...", and watches the children walk away. With everyone around him gone, the gentleman takes a small flask from his cloak, and sips heavily from it. He is mildly aware that he's had a number of drinks already today, but the drink keeps him happy, and sometimes gives him the patience to deal with those who condemn before understanding. The unpleasantness already fading from his mind, he takes out his dagger and attempts to balance it on the end of his finger. He'd nearly kept it vertical for eleven seconds before the roar of the crowd made him lose his concentration.

"Perhaps a place more quiet," he muttered to himself. "and perhaps one with a full bar..." A servant girl walks by with a tray of edibles to hand out to the crowd. "I'd like to sample one of those..." Efstratios said, not even bothering to see what the young lady was carrying. He takes one last swig from his flask, and whistles towards the young children. When they look over, he slips his dagger between his teeth, and does a handstand. The children oooh and ahh, and begin clapping.

The gentleman walks on his hands down the center aisle, down each step, until he reaches the bottom. With a flourish, he does a cartwheel and lands on his feet, and sets his dagger back in the hilt. Then he tosses each of the children a denarius and as they bend over to pick them up, they notice he has disappeared entirely. The spectators are too busy watching the races to notice.

Evening was finally beginning to fall. Vissarionas had wandered off to look at something or other and Makedonios was still sitting in his seat. He noticed a man far off walking on his hands down stairs.

He signaled for someone to bring him more tea. When the lady came over, she let a letter drop from the bottom of the tray where she had been holding it. The letter fell to Makedonios's lap and he smoothly moved his cape to cover it.

Sipping his mint tea, he opened the letter and read it. Slipping the letter into his tunic, Makedonios got up, carried his tea cup in a saucer, and left the noble box.

Philippos enters the Hippodrome, and signals to one of servants to bring him some tea, then takes a seat, alone. He sits staring at the ground, and seems to be deep in thought.

A serving lady approaches Philippos, but he doesn't notice her. After a few moments she speaks, "...Sir, your tea." Phillippos, startled, looks up and takes the tea then nods for the servant to leave. He takes a sip of the tea and again seems to drift off into thought.

Methodios Tagaris walks in the nobles' boxes of the Hippodrome. A giant of a man (he easily is taller by a foot than the tallest of the men around him), a dark tan gained from long hours in the sun, piercing blue eyes and blond hair that reveal some Norman blood in his ancestry, he is wearing a simple white sleeveless tunic, barely fit for a Senator, a dark purple cape clasped on his shoulders by two fibulae in the shapes of two-headed eagles.

Walking to the rail overlooking the racetrack, he spots a race official and barks.

"Nikodemos !! Old brother !!!"

The official turns around, a baffled look on his face. He then sees who called his name and his face lightens up. The two men embraces, like long-lost brothers and engage in an animated conversation.

Tagaris is seen showing the poster announcing the coming race and the official nodding at several points.

Finally, the official leads Tagaris away and down to the track where the latter bows down to the sand, taking a fistful of it, smelling it before letting sift slowly between his fingers.

Seemingly content with this inspection, Tagaris and the man Nikodemos head back to the boxes where selecting an unoccupied stall they sit down and order some spiced wine.

They engage in a lively conversation, the gestures made by the two men an indication to any on-lookers that they must be reliving some past battles.

On hearing his Grandmaster's response about the dwarf and mention of the quantity of books owned by the Order of St. John Vissarionas becomes lost in thought, and with a bow and muttered excuses wanders off to see more of the stadium, and to consider the fact that he is rooting for a midget to win a chariot race.

During his meandering he witnesses with uncomplicated delight some of the tricks performed by Efstratios Monomachos, and catches bits of the various sayings of the other nobles. There is a childish quality in his gaze, and a touch of desperation in the way he struggles to uphold a noble bearing. After having walked most of the length of the stadium Vissarionas has begun to sweat, and unthinkingly he removes his cap to wipe his face, briefly revealing a wide and hideously unpleasant scar which covers the crown of his head, where no hair grows.

Realizing after a moment what he's done, perhaps from the gasp of a nearby child, Vissarionas furtively tugs the cap back onto his head and appears to tuck into himself, drawing in his shoulders and neck. Glancing around to see if any of the older men noticed he walks quickly to an exit and uncerimoniously departs.

:egypt:

Savvas ek Militou walked into the hippodrome. All of the sudden he stood still and looked around him, a stupid grin on his face.

He waited for a servant to bring him some more wine. Before he went to his seat, he hesitated and almost fell on his knees. After he found his balance back, he stumbled further.

"Sir, your wine!", the servant said to him, feeling a bit uncomfortable in the presence of the drunk nobleman.

"I almost forgot! Yes, more wine! Hahaha!", Savvas said and he stroke the servant over his head and shoulders while taking the goblet. When he tried to kiss the young man, the servant gave him a disgusted look and pushed Savvas away.

"Hey you!" Savvas yelled. "Who do you think you are!"

He tried to hit the servant but stumbled and fell on his knees, spilling some of his wine on the garments from another nobleman of lesser birth.

An older servant discretely carried the drunk Savvas to his seat, apologising for his behaviour to the distressed nobleman. Murmuring something about those damn peasants being allowed in the noble box, Savvas slowly fell asleep, spilling the rest of his wine over his fancy garments.

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

OOC:sorry can't read that post, my vision is too blurred from the huge and offensive red blob beneath it :clown:

Sometime before the race starts, Anna Komnenos makes an appearance in the Kathisma, wearing a formal attire. She wears a dark embroidered and jewel-trimmed camisia under a light-colored short tunica, also heavily embroidered and jeweled. The ensemble is completed by an elaborate belt with decorative panels.

With a bored look on her face, she scans the crowd before fixating her gaze on the sky. It is obvious to any casual observer that she holds little interest in the races and that it is entirely possible she is not here of her own volition. A moment later, she is already lost in her thoughts, her mind wandering amongst the clouds.

Appearing well rested and once more in full possession of himself, Vissarionas returns to the Hippodrome with a somewhat more dignified entrance than his previous one. When the swarm of merchants, smelling an easy mark, begin to congregate Vissarionas simply draws out his ragged red flag with blue piping and waves it at them mock menancingly, as though it were a sword. All of them retreat, some laughing, some grumbling, and most simply indifferent.

That matter dealt with, Vissarionas gazes around for an appropriate place to sit. His uncertainty is more palpable now, and his unfamiliarity with the environs of the Hippodrome causes him to pause a touch too long. A roughly dressed peasant stumbles out of the crowd and bumps into Vissarionas none too gently, while at the same time a child uses a tiny, curved blade to slice away the noble's purse from behind.

It's over in an instant, but Vissarionas has the instincts of a soldier and the reflexes of a healthy sixteen year old. Allowing himself to move along with the impact of the larger peasant Vissarionas is swept around in place, taking the child by the forearm with his left hand before the scamp can escape and hooking his right arm under the stumbler's left while slipping his leg into the peasant's path. The result sees Vissarionas spin around wildly and drop his crude flag, but the peasant smashes to the paving stones with a bone jarring impact, while the child is suspended well off his feet in Vissarionas' grip.

A glance at the moaning 'bump' man is enough to dismiss him as a threat, and a quick scan and glare, along with moving his right hand to his dagger, backs off the tough looking pair of reinforcements that were moving in to aid their downed mates. Meanwhile the child has been struggling to reverse the curved knife so that it could be used against the arm suspending him in the air, but his efforts are so frantic that he ends by dropping the little blade. A whimper of fear escapes him, drawing Vissarionas' attention.

Lowering the boy until he can walk on his own, Vissarionas nonetheless does not release him and draws him along to a nearby set of box seats. Smiling widely now he sets the child down in a seat and releases his forearm, while saying,

'Now then, that was a sharp move back there! You've got good hands. Tell me, do those chaps share the coins with you?'

Perhaps it's the foolish cap, or just the nobleman's wide open face, or perhaps even the simple fact that Vissarionas hasn't asked for his purse back, but the boy can suddenly smell opportunity in this exchange. He struggles visibly to calm himself, and replies,

'M'lord, please, have pity! Let me go! They forced me! I'm not a thief, I just got no other way to eat! If I do as they say they buy me a bit of food now and again.'

'A bit of food, for such dangerous work and skilled little hands? You're getting a worse deal than I myself did when I first came to this place,' Vissarionas smiles companionably and quickly relates the story of his purchase of that silly flag lying on the stones a few paces away.

'You see the stadium can be a dangerous place for a man alone. I am a stranger to this city and I can see that readily. What's your name?'

'They call me Rafi m'lord.'

A look of true delight crosses Vissarionas' face, 'After the Archangel Raphael the healer? Why, how wonderful, you have a blessed name my boy. I suspect our encounter may have been the will of God Rafi.'

'I have a favor to ask you.'

Grinning in a conspiratorial manner Vissarionas gestures back to the flag, 'If I walk back over there the merchants will swarm again. Fetch me my flag and I'll buy you any food you wish from the cart merchants. Don't mind those thugs who told you to steal, they will not bother you. I give you my word on that point as a sergeant in the Order of St. John!'

Before the boy can answer Vissarionas moves out of the way so that he can exit the seat box if he wishes. Confusion, pity, concern, and fear war in the child's features, but with a measuring look at the nobleman the boy rises slowly and walks carefully to the flag. The 'bump' man from earlier has dragged himself away, but the pair of toughs are still in the shadows, and one of them advances to hiss,

'Fool! You've still got his bloody purse! Come here!'

Vissarionas cannot hear what the thug has said, but he can see the man well enough. Standing back at the box he simply looks at the thief, the honest, straightforward look of a battle tested soldier in which even the hardest street man could see his own death written as surely as a sunrise. Holding his gaze Vissarionas lifts his hand and points down the length of the stadium, then suddenly brings his hands together in a loud clap. The muscle man jerks like he's been slapped, and walks away hastily, hunching into himself.

Rafi has stood halfway between the two, mutely witnessing the contest of wills. When he heard the purse mentioned his hand snuck down to ensure it was still secured inside his crude garmet. The purse felt heavy and full, seemingly belying Vissarionas' relatively simple noble garb. The boy was torn. If he fled, he would not be able to keep the coins; someone bigger would find him and take them no matter where he hid, but if he went back to the nobleman the street people would no longer accept him either. Word would spread that he had broken the unspoken code of the street. His life hung in the balance.

Looking down Rafi can see his curved cutpurse's blade lying beside the red flag, where he'd dropped it trying to cut his way free from Vissarionas. It was a good tool, and using it skillfully filled Rafi with pride, but he knew the sole purpose of the blade was evil. The ill made absurdity of the flag lying beside the neat little knife argued for staying with the evil he knew rather than risking the nobleman's aid. Glancing back he can see Vissarionas, who now wears a faint, patient smile. The naive noble and his laughable cap promised better things, but promises could easily be lies. Still unable to make up his mind, Rafi falls back on his oldest memories of his mother, whose advice was always the same; 'God knows the answers Rafi. If you can't find them, pray and he will guide you.'

Rafi's kneels and closes his eyes, reaching his hand out blindly, but keeping his eyes closed only briefly because to keep them shut too long on the street could be deadly. When his eyes open again the flag lies directly in front of him, already nearly under his hand. Without a second thought Rafi takes it, stands, and returns to Vissarionas' side.

'Your flag m'lord! I believe the race is about to start, do you need someone to place a bet for you?'

Here Rafi removes the purse from his shirt and holds it out for Vissarionas to take along with the flag.

With a gentle shrug Vissarionas takes the flag and replies, 'Betting is forbidden to members of the Order of St. John. Open the purse Rafi, and see what your haul would have been.'

With an irresistable curiosity overtaking him Rafi undoes the knot and spills a few of the objects within into his hand. A dozen or so smooth, flat stones, the sort you might see on the riverbank, spill into his palm. Stunned the boy turns them over and over in his hand, catching the sunlight on bits of sand still encrusting the rocks.

With an apologetic grin Vissarionas says, 'A trick my father taught me, meant to impress merchants into giving a better deal in the hopes of gaining further business. Works a little too well I'd say.'

The two boys laugh together entirely without reserve, drawing odd glances from passersby. Eventually Vissarionas recovers, and attempts to assume a more serious mein.

'I need your help Rafi. I'm new to town, here for the first time to join in the great debate in the Senate, but already the city has taken advantage of me and made me look a fool in the eyes of my master. I need someone who knows the area, knows the lay of the land. Someone who can run messages for me, and warn me about problems I can't see coming.'

'Will you do that for me? I can promise you regular meals, a place to sleep, and my personal protection. I will speak to the master of my order about possibly securing you a tabard or sigil of the Order and making you an official messenger, but for now if anyone should seek to bar your way tell them Strator Vissarionas ek Lesvou is your patron.'

Rafi's eyes have widened considerably, and when Vissarionas finishes he blinks a few times as though to clear his head. With a clearly audible muttered prayer, Rafi says,

'An honor m'lord! Anything you need!'

Vissarionas' pleasure is obvious, 'Excellent! Now, the first thing I need is someone to explain these chariot races to me. Start with the red team's charioteer. What on earth possessed a man who can barely see over a horse to become a racer?'

:egypt:

http://content.answers.com/main/cont...ariot_race.jpg

Citizens and Senators, take your seats, for the race is about to begin!

The four teams of two-horse chariots have made their way to the starting gates.

For the Blue Team, Constans Kaspax!
For the Red Team, Longinius Nicerite!
For the Green Team, Falkon Xerus!
For the White Team, Phocas Dandalo!

The Starter has raised the flag, he is waiting, waiting... AND THEY'RE OFF!

First out of the gates, charging hard, is the Blue chariot, no surprise there, but he is followed very close behind by the young Phocas Dandalo, who is whipping his horses hard right out of the gate. Woe to the Greens, for the mighty Falkon Xerus has botched the opening and is bringing up the rear, behind short Longinuius!

Blue and White are charging equally hard on this opening lap, but neither can gain an edge over the other. Meanwhile, Falkon Xerus is pushing hard on the outside of the red chariot, in an attempt to make up for his horrible start... and... and... HE'S PASSED! Falkon Xerus has moved the Green Team up into third place, and is within striking distance of his faction-mate in the white chariot.

They're turning into the second lap now, and... wait, what is this?! Phocas Dandalo, the youth, is overtaking Constans Kaspax! It's a close pass... a close one... just barely avoiding a collision. I think the horses even nipped at each other on that pass! In any case, the white chariot now leads the race, and Falkon Xeres is again pushing hard, trying to secure the top two spots for the Green Faction!

As they move into lap three, Constans Kaspax is fighting back! Yes, he's pushing against the leader, Dandalo, who is whipping his horses with no remorse! They're running like the devil's behind them, and with that much whipping, maybe he is! But Kaspax is faster! Yes! Yes! Here he comes, Kaspax is overtaking Dandalo! He's nearly passed, no wait, they're too close! THEY'VE COLLIDED! BLUE AND WHITE HAVE COLLIDED! Kaspax has reigned his horses back, leaving Dandalo in the lead, and it appears his chariot has broken a spoke! That left wheel is wobbling greatly, he's lucky it hasn't come off altogether! That is a severe blow for the Blue Team, such damage will make the race very difficult for the Blue Team.

But wait, what is this?! Kaspax has no fear, no fear at all! He's deep into the fourth lap with a broken spoke and yet he's charging again! Not even a rest for his horses! AND HE'S PASSED! CONSTANS KASPAX HAS RETAKEN THE LEAD! This is amazing, citizens, after taking such damage on the last lap... God must truly be with the Blue Team! What's this in the back?! It cannot be! The dwarf, Longinius, is moving up on Falkon Xerus himself. Xerus is back in last place! What a disappointment for the Green faction! Such a poor performance for the primary Green driver.

Rounding the bend into the fifth lap, Dandalo is still whipping his horses like there's no tomorrow! And perhaps there won't be for him, because their strength appears to be fading. Longinius himself is moving up on the white chariot and HE'S PASSED! The white team horses are flagging greatly, Xerus is taking his chance on his tiring faction mate, as well! White is back into last place and the Blue Faction has first and second! What a performance from the unexpected Nicerite!

The short man is looking about himself, he realizes his good position and must be as surprised as the rest of us! He's swerving a bit, losing his nerve perhaps, but Falkon Xerus can't seem to get past him. No, he's been blocked! Red continues to hold second place, and Constans Kaspax is extending his lead!

Turning into the final lap now, it's down to a battle for second and third. The blue chariot has broken away from the pack and has surely won the race, while the white chariot's horses are barely even running anymore, so tired are they from the excessive whipping of young Dandalo! But the middle is not yet resolved... Nicerite is still holding off Xerus, keeping the top two spots for the Blue Faciton, but Xerus isn't having any of it! He's moving hard! They're almost to the finish line, but green is breaking wide left! 100 yards left, and they're nose to nose! It's so close I can't tell which is in front... they're almost to the... XERUS IS PAST! The race is over! Falkon Xerus snatched second place at the last possible moment, giving the Green Faction a bit of satisfaction in an otherwise horrendous race.

In first place, for the Blue Faction and Blue Team, Constans Kaspax!
In second place, for the Green Faction and Green Team, Falkon Xerus!
In third place, for the Blue Faction and Red Team, Longinius Nicerite!
In last place, for the Green Faction and White Team, Phocas Dandalo!

That was a race to be proud of for the Blues. Constans Kaspax performed splendidly! Right out from the beginning, and bold moves to retain the lead. Even with a damaged left wheel, he still held on for the victory. Little Nicerite should be proud as well, overtaking as he did both of the Green Faction chariots during the course of the race, and fending off the veteran Xerus greatly aided the lead charioteer, Kaspax.

Tarasios Sarantinos rises and formally applauds the race before departing.

Vissarionas and Rafi depart together after the race, having greatly and obviously enjoyed themselves while consuming sweet dates. The bond between them is already quite strong. Unbeknownest to either their exit is watched by a hooded man standing in the shadows, who follows the exuberant pair out at a careful distance.

:egypt:

Having hardly watched the race at all, Anna Komnenos takes her leave as soon as the thunderous applause signals there is a winner.

Markianos Ampelas has now gone completely insane. He is no longer sitting in his chair. He is no longer even standing upon it as he did through much of the race. He is now jumping up and down in it. He roars at the top of his voice, sometimes shouting praise for the blue team, obscenities at the green team, sometimes laughing, sometimes making sounds akin more to a wild animal than to a human, and sometimes thanking Jesus, Mary, and every Saint he can name for granting this glory to the blue team. His enthusiasm does not erode with time and as people file out of the hippodrome. He gives hugs to every obvious blue supporter that passes, and hugs and kisses to every cute servant girl. He will likely be the last to leave.

Armatos enters the Hippodrome, eager to check out this magnifient facility. So sooner has he entered then he is mobbed by a dozen pickpockets. Despite his best efforts, by the time they are gone his money is missing. Armatos quickly leaves with a scowl on his face.

The noise of the cheering crowd woke up Savvas.

He felt terrible and quietly left the Hippodrome.