Sunday, March 4, 2012

Porcius runs into his mother’s bedchambers, yelling and flailing his arms in an excited fashion. Fabia urgently wakes up, thinking that Porcius was hurt and tries her hardest to dicipher Porcius’ outbreak. She sighs when she realizes that he wants her to take him into town for the Ludi Romani. She hates the games, dreads September, and prays to the gods that her son will forget it. But how could he when its all that the whole city talks about.
He gasps outside the Circus Maximus and looks up at the monumental arena. It stands proudly in the valley between Palatine and Aventine Hills, looking much larger than it did from the window in his room. Porcius can sometimes hear the cheers and jeers from his room up on the hill, but this is the first time he’s actually going to watch a chariot race from inside the circus. His excitement consumes him as he steps inside.
He makes his way passed crowds placing bets and finds his seat with his mother. From there he can see the Circus at its finest. The arena could hold 385,000 people, and he had no doubt that the seats would be packed today. In the middle of the arena, is a long strip decorated with statues, small architecture, trophies, and seven eggs and dolphins. Porcuis asks his mother what they were for, and she tells him that the strip is called the spina and the dolphins and eggs move in order to keep track of the laps.
Porcuis looks down to the starting gates, the carceres, and noticed that all twelve were full, each with a chariot with 4 horses. He’s heard that the more horses there are on the arena, the more likely there will be crashes, especially in the beginning of the race. Both fear and excitement fill him up as he secretly wishes he could be a charioteer. He knows that usually slaves hold the reigns and use their prizes to buy their freedom, plus, his mother would never allow it.
A trumpet sounds. The crowd cheers as Julius Caesar stands and drops his napkin, signaling the start. A lever is pulled and the carceres jerk open. Horses spring forth, tangling up in their reigns as wells as other. The race is on and Porcius heart is racing right along with it.