Scorpus, Superstar Charioteer

Scorpus is a fun-loving guy who likes to joke and laugh at his own. Sometimes known to wear silver tridents in his braided beard hair, he is very fond of women, his fans, horses, winning and partying. A lithe, strong man with quick reactions, sharp still at age 35, he was a beloved driver to all but the most hardcore Blue partisans. He was a natural clown, always playing to the crowd.

 

Scorpus introduces himself to Gaius and Messalina at a marvelous party of a senator, whom Gaius suspects may be his secret client. With a lecherous eye, and hands, on Messalina, Scorpus invites the pair to an afterparty, telling the pair, “This party is dying, the attendants are putting in branches, not logs. Here is wood on fire, there is water on fire. Here they let people like Messalina and I in as novelties – we might as well dance a number for Quintus! There, the dancers who performed here are the guests. There are men like me, charioteers and others of the track you will know.”

 

Here is an excerpt from Chapter 13, Monks, Actors & Criminal, where he finds Gaius in a Green fans’ tavern and warns him about Ammianus, staying to hold court for his adoring fans …

“Stop this at once!” came a command from the door. “Instead of killing one of my fans, let Scorpus buy you a drink, young swordsman,” and he pulled a silver trident from his beard and tossed it to the youth. When he lowered his sword to catch it, the shopkeeper hit him hard in the face. The lad dropped the trident as he buckled to the floor.

​

“Thanks!” said the shopkeeper scooping up the trident. He raised his cup: “To Scorpus, master of the whip, master of the shits,” and he drank down his wine, then bounded over to hug Scorpus.

Three bodyguards pulled him off. Scorpus made his way to our table, others’ hands touching at his boar skin cloak as if it were the robe of the emperor. One of Scorpus’ other bodyguards had a word with the proprietor who announced that Scorpus would remain for a short session with his fans if they would leave him in peace for a few moments. The fans left off quickly and the room buzzed with excited talk.

​

Tedius quickly rose and pulled his stool out for Scorpus who took it.

​

“I like this man of yours, Gaius Galen? I saw him two days ago at Sister Flacilla’s when I arrived with five workmen and a wagonload of plastering tools and materials to fix up the second floor of her Refuge, as Messalina had suggested at the party.”

​

Tedius jumped in to relate, “This charioteer soon had a blob of plaster hardened on his toe, and had women laughing and running from him in their bedrooms – and even Sister Flacilla giggling and fending off his advances as he came after her with a trowel, saying he wanted to touch up a few spots.”

​

“I bet she would be a game one, if she forgot she was a Sister, of sorts,” said Scorpus. He glanced at his bodyguards and the three tightened around our table, providing privacy.

​

“Your housecleaner told me you were here,” Scorpus said to me. “Not much time, word of my presence is spreading in the street and a crowd will be here soon. I’ll deal with them. Your Messalina mentioned to me a name while I was making a mess of their hallway: Ammianus.”

​

Scorpus leaned close to the table. “This Ammianus, I know him as the Actionare’s man. But he is more, I am told. Much more.” He looked around. “We are hearing rumblings, credible enough that my fellow drivers are beginning to pay attention.”

​

In seriousness, Scorpus was a different man from the one I knew at the party. He continued.

“I am not sure what your involvement is with this man, only that Messalina said Rufus Cornelius Alban mentioned him in a peculiar fashion to you the other night. She knows nothing about him, and I didn’t tell her more.”

​

Scorpus wanted me to speak. I didn’t. He leaned back a little and pulled at his beard.

“You’re right to keep quiet, I probably wouldn’t tell me either.” Now came the big laugh as he confiscated my goblet and emptied it. “I like you Gaius and your Messalina. I came to warn you about your link to Ammianus. He is dangerous, and you need to watch yourself carefully with him.” He sat up straight and signaled his bodyguards. “Now to my adoring fans.”

​

“Stranger than hell,” said Monaxius under his breath as Scorpus left us. The charioteer embraced the young tough he had yelled at, who had pulled himself up off the floor. Scorpus called for, “the best wine in this stinking hole – but it is a Green stinking hole, thank God!”

​

He made the young man and the shopkeeper drink together – with him at a large table the proprietor had cleared away. The door was choking with people trying to pry their way in, the news of Scorpus gracing the lowly Green Corner Tavern ignited the neighborhood. He answered several questions, arm wrestled one fellow, playfully flipped a green hat off another’s head, and grabbed a piece of dried meat out of the hand of another and ate it. The young man with the sore jaw and the shopkeeper who caused it shared looks of disbelief that this was happening and toasted their good fortune. Scorpus’ bodyguards formed the people into a line so they could file past to touch his arm and wish him well. “For five minutes only!” his guard yelled out.

​

Thirty minutes later, the line was twice as long, and Scorpus had to beg a retreat. His bodyguards cleared his exit, made easy by those grateful for the famous man’s humility and generosity with his fans. His beard now shy of the dozen tridents, his belt gone as a souvenir, he gave his cloak to the proprietor on the way out, sailing it to him from the door like a flying boar over the counter.

​

We joined him briefly in the street, and I thanked him for making the effort to advise me and having to deal with his fans. He hoisted himself onto a sturdy farm horse.

​

“This is a good horse for the city sometimes,” he rubbed the beast’s neck. “It is good for me to be among my people,” and he spread his arms to include the many fans standing around listening to us. “Besides, everyone in that room, in this neighborhood now, knows that Scorpus is a friend of Gaius Galen Licinius. That can be of assistance.” He turned his horse to leave, calling over his shoulder, “Most of the time!” His laughter and his plow horse cut through his admirers filling the street. Flower petals rained down on him from a balcony overhanging the street.