The Chariots Slave (26 page)

Simeon paced back and forth before the group. “No!
Sellah is not competing, that is final!”
“But Simeon,” Sellah cut in, “I am the only one whom she
allows on the cart.”
“It is too dangerous, Sellah.” His worried eyes worked
over her face. How could he not fight to protect her. It was all
he had known to do.
“Do not worry for me, I will be fine.”
“Sellah do you understand what you are saying? Watching
the sport is one thing, driving in it is another! Out of the forty
charioteers that entered, only twelve remain, and we are only
at the fifth arena.” He paced back and forth searching for
anyone to agree with him. “Father please, tell her it is
foolish.”
“Sellah, Simeon is right, it is foolish,” Vettius’s kind eyes
searched her eyes for any sign of hesitance, and when he saw
none, he knew she had made up her mind. “But it is also
foolish to let Barachius win, for life under his rule will be
worse than death in the arena,” he finished.

Simeon was not impressed with his father’s response and
kicked at a nearby rock.
“Thank you, Vettius,” Sellah whispered as she looked to
Simeon for permission. “Simeon, you must understand that
your father is right. If I don’t try, we lose. What other options
do we have? Tell me, if you can think of one, anything, then I
will listen.”
Simeon held his brow as he tried to think of anyone that
could take her place. But try as he might, no other choices
were available. He had attempted to drive Diana numerous
times, and the horse would not allow him access either.
“Sellah please, I can’t lose you. I lost Esther, and I am not
strong enough to lose you as well!” he pleaded as he fell to
his knees and hugged her waist.
She knelt down before him and lifted his face, so that he
could look into her eyes. “Fate has sent me here for such a
time as this. I must trust the gods’ plan.”
“We can run away! Come lets go now,” Simeon pleaded
as he desperately clutched her hand.
“And if we are caught?” she asked, trying to show him life
on the run was no way to live either.
“I will fight for you. I will protect you!”
“I know you would. But right now, it is my job to fight for
you, for this domus, for all these people. Simeon, look around
you, there are dozens of lives at stake here. Not only mine.”
Simeon lifted his head and looked at the men standing
around him. She was right. He hated to admit it, but she was
right…

she looks more like Thaddius,” Vettius instructed Accalia
who diligently tended to Sellah. Ever since Sellah told
Accalia what she was going to do, Accalia would not leave
her side.

“If I put another robe on her, she will overheat. We cannot
risk her fainting and falling out of the cart.”
Sellah rested her hand on Accalia’s arm. “I am fine, please
one more robe.”
“This is foolish, Sellah, I beg you to rethink this?” Accalia
pleaded as she firmly gripped Sellah’s shoulders.
“Believe me, I have already tried,” Simeon grumbled from
his perch at the back of the room.
Although he let Sellah go ahead with her plan, he was not
happy about it and let everyone know by his lack of help.
“Here,” Vettius said, interrupting the conversation to
shove gloves into Sellah’s hands. “You should wear these to
hide your feminine hands.”
“What of her face?” Simeon asked, “and her hair?”
“We can bind my hair, and we must find a helmet to cover
my face.”
“No charioteer uses a face cover. It will be obvious,”
Simeon tried to reason, hoping he had found the objection
which would unravel her plan.
Vettius left Sellah and walked over to Simeon. “They will
assume Thaddius does not want his injuries shown, nothing
more,” he explained as he placed his arm around his son.
“Walk with me,” he instructed.
Simeon dragged his feet as he was pulled away from
Sellah by his father. “Shouldn’t we stay and help?” he asked.



“We are helping, we are finding a helmet with a covered
face. There is one in the villa from when Thaddius practiced
with swords,” Vettius explained.
“Why do you need me to go? I should stay with Sellah.”
Vettius stopped short and pulled Simeon around to face him.
“Son, pining over someone who does not belong to you will
only end in heartbreak.”
On hearing his father’s words, his face dropped. “But I
have asked her to marry me.” He didn’t understand what his
father was trying to say.
“And what of her response?” Vettius asked.
“She… she wanted to take some time and think it over.”
“You are a good man. Do you not deserve a woman who
already knows in her soul she wants you? Hesitation is not a
sign of love.”
“I will wait until she does then. Why are you saying these
things?”
“Because I love you and I worry for you,” Vettius
reminded as he pulled his son into his arms for an embrace.
“I am fine. If I had to compete against Thaddius himself
for her heart I would!” Simeon pulled out of his father’s
arms.
Vettius did not say another word. It was that exact thing
that had him worried. He could tell that Sellah had feelings
for both men, though in different ways, but he could also tell
she would not act on them.
No, Sellah was a martyr; the proof could be seen by what
she attempted with the tournament. She would rather die
alone than hurt either man. He would bet his life on it.

the cart and toward the chariot. They had kept her concealed
there so the other competitors would have less time to notice
that she was not the same size as Thaddius.

“Remember, if anyone says anything to you, do not
respond. Grunt or nod your head, but do not speak!”
Simeon and Vettius escorted her over to the back of the
chariot. Diana and the other three horses were already hitched
and decorated in the team colors. She pulled out of Vettius’s
arms and walked over to Diana.
“I need your help. I’m scared,” Sellah admitted into the
horse’s ear. Diana blew warm air out of her nose and nuzzled
into Sellah’s neck. It was a familiar action, and it helped to
comfort Sellah.
“
Thaddius,
you need to get on your chariot,” Simeon
instructed as he heard the trumpets resound.
It took Sellah a moment to realize he had been addressing
her. She stroked Diana’s nose one more time for good
measure and turned to the men.

Because of all the layers of robes, it was hard for Sellah to
lift her legs high enough for the step on the wheel. Vettius
and Simeon ended up having to lift her up onto the chariot.

“I see you have not fully recovered. Your slaves need to
help you onto your cart.” Jiao sneered, as he pulled his team
up next to Sellah.

She bit her lip in reminder to keep silent and shook her
head in frustration.
“He is fine. Fine enough to beat you once more!” Simeon
spoke up.
“So you need your slaves to lift you and fight your battles.
Is there anything you are capable of doing on your own?” he
taunted.
Sellah reached down to the dagger strapped to her waist
and loosened it from the scabbard. She then proceeded to
slam it into the wooden rail of her chariot and point at Jiao.
“Always a show off!” Jiao snorted before directing his
team away from Sellah.
When he was out of ear range, Simeon started to laugh.
“That was such a Thaddius thing to do.”
She forced a smile. Realization of what awaited her in the
arena finally sunk in. Her body felt awkward and foreign on
top the chariot. She was out of her element here. She grabbed
at the reins, and the worn leather was another reminder that
she lacked the experience the chariot’s normal driver had.
She mimicked what she had seen Thaddius do and looped
them around her left forearm securing herself to her team.
How she wished his strong arms were wrapped around her,
were supporting her. But now atop the chariot she was alone.
It was all up to her.

Her feet were drawn like magnets to a spot where the paint
had worn down to raw wood. She put one foot in each place
and couldn’t help but notice the difference in size of feet by
the way her feet were lost in his imprint.

Grabbing onto the side of the chariot with her other hand,
she knew she was ready. Her moment had come. All she had
to do now was find the courage to speak the word that sent
Diana and the team into motion.

Upon hearing his voice, Sellah was snapped away from
her thoughts and looked at her supporters. Accalia, Simeon,
and Vettius stood beside her, watching her with anxious eyes.
They all had so much at stake in the next few minutes.

“It is time,” Vettius reminded.
As she could not speak for fear of others hearing, she
raised her hand and placed it over her heart, over the amulet

It was obvious that they were struggling to hold back
tears. It was in their eyes, in the reflection of the love they
had for her, that she found the strength to do what was
needed. She might die. But if she had her way, they would
live.

The horses started out in a trot and the movement of the
chariot almost rocked her from her feet. She clung onto the
side while she looked back over her shoulder at her three
dearest friends.

And she watched until she saw Accalia crumple to the
ground in tears and Vettius rush to her side. Simeon did not
move but stayed frozen in pain as he watched Sellah ride

Diana was so accustomed to the order of races that Sellah
did not have to direct the team’s path. The horse expertly
guided them through the arena and up to one of the starting
gates.

The other charioteers talked among themselves until they
saw the blue team’s only rider pull up. They did not even let
her get to her gate before they started spewing taunts.

Her heart beat rapidly, and she was sure by the way the
men stared at her that they knew she was not Thaddius, or
worse, a girl. But when the trumpets ceased to play and the
magistrate began to speak, she knew the time had passed for
the other drivers to make complaint about her to one of the
officials. This was it. She was mere moments away from
racing.

The magistrate raised the mappa cloth high above his
head. The spectators yelled out the names of their favorite
drivers. The circus was a waving sea of green and blue. And
being at the center of all this on the sands of the circus was an
experience Sellah could not find words to describe.

She clung tightly to the side of the cart and readied her
knees for any sudden movement. As soon as the mappa
touched the ground the gates would open and Diana would
lead her into the unknown.

Tilting her helmet enough to see the magistrate through its
crack, she watched as he opened his fingers, dropping a small
simple cloth that would determine the rest of her life.