The Man in the Arena

Emperor Diocletian had a great fondness for chariot races. Whenever the affairs of government became too tiresome, he would gather his entourage and head for the hippodrome. It was a feast for the eyes to gaze upon the racetrack from his luxurious vantage. In the middle of the track, a colossal statue Atlas bent under an unseen burden. It was relatively cool in the shade under the awning. Servants brought various delicacies: grapes, bread with olive oil, Greek cheese, oysters, pistachios, and of course wine. Diocletian was particularly proud of the elaborate logistics needed to ensure a steady supply of fresh oysters. They were kept alive in clay jars filled with sea water. There was always a wagon on the way to his palace from the fishermen's wharf some 50 miles away.   

There was usually plenty of spare time before the race began to gossip about the latest philosophy or poetry. Diocletian once asked his good friend and counselor Hadrian what he thought about chariot races. Hadrian merely replied that entertainment are all the things we do once the chores are done. Hadrian preferred the tranquility of the bathhouse to the hustle and bustle of the hippodrome. Diocletian promised him that they would all bathe once the races were done. It made more sense that way seeing as everyone ended up a bit dirty on the way to and from the arena. Diocletian liked to remind his courtiers that the key to happiness is nothing more than to do the right thing at the right place and the right time. These were not the cleverest words of wisdom ever spoken, but they were true nonetheless. 

A trumpet blared and the charioteers assembled at the starting line. They saluted Diocletian, and when he rose to return it, the flag bearer prepared to start the race. The flag man made his signal, and the chariots shot a head. Horses neighed, whips cracked, and great clouds of brown dust were kicked up by hooves and wheels. The races were 10 laps. A slave with a hook on long pole turned over a bronze dolphin to mark the end of each lap. By the beginning of the third lap, two chariots had pulled ahead of the rest and were now in a fierce duel to take the lead. Suddenly, one charioteer began to whip the other, who likewise returned the blows of his rival. This was considered an acceptable move, though there were always cases of escalation and revenge after the race was over. The reason the competition was so intense was that a charioteer made most of his money from winning, and winning a lot of races was one of the few ways in ancient Rome to get rich quick. 

Being the patron of a successful charioteer was a luxury only the richest of the rich could afford. The glory of a champion racer reflected upon his patron. Diocletian himself was general a loyal patron rather than a fair-weather friend. Once he picked a charioteer to sponsor, he always stayed with him until the driver retired, was disabled, killed, or otherwise left the arena. Chariot races were dangerous, although not quite as dangerous as gladiator fights. Horses were routinely hurt and killed as well. There weren't crashes every race, but they happened often enough to be a common sight. A race was never stopped after a crash as the wreckage was seen to add an extra challenge for the drivers and thus greater excitement for the crowd of spectators.   

From time to time, Diocletian himself what it would be like to race a chariot himself. The only time he had ridden in a chariot it was moving slowly at the head of a triumphal procession. He had just returned from the battlefield where he had won a great victory against the barbarians across the Danube. He was much younger and bolder then. No commander has ever thwarted the march of time. He decided that when the day's races were over, he would head into the arena and do one lap himself. He was certain whatever charioteer he asked for that favor would oblige him. Not only that, but when the crowd saw that even the emperor himself was not afraid to get a taste of racing, they would surely exult him and his prestige would be that much greater.  

There were another dozen or so races, a few with crashes and injuries. Clearing the track between races usually took at least a few minutes, and so did preparing for the next round. This gave spectators time to answer the call of nature and not have to worry about missing any of the action. Diocletian sipped some wine and ate another handful of pistachios. He marveled at his own good fortune. He had survived battles and shipwrecks, disease and famine, and all along he steadily rose the ranks to greater power. Even so, he remembered the first time he saw a chariot race as a boy and for a time dreamed of being a charioteer himself. Unfortunately, his father was absolutely opposed. Such a dangerous job was not suitable for the son of patrician. His family at the time had only moderate status, and all the hopes of his father were pinned on Diocletian winning military glory.  

Young Diocletian entered the army and became a centurion. He learned how march his men and put them in various formations. As well, he learned more practical matters of discipline and logistics. His diligence paid off until one day, 20 years later, he was in charge of an entire legion. Yet during all that time, he still remembered that first day at the hippodrome. That day, when the race ended, he ran down to meet the winner and shouted his name, Suetonius. Suetonius was a legendary charioteer and especially generous. Whenever the fans would rush to him and shout his name, he'd throw handfuls of sesterce coins their way. Young Diocletian had the luck of shouting his name and looking Suetonius right in the eye. After a friendly wave, Suetonius threw a coin so that it landed right at the feet of young Diocletian. Diocletian never spent that coin. It was his good luck charm during many hard days in the army. 

As the charioteers of the last race began to depart, Diocletian had his herald blow a call to attention. Then, with that bit of fanfare done, he made his way down to the arena to shake the hand of the winner and offer him a goblet of wine. 

"Well done, charioteer. I hope you do not mind if I take your chariot for one lap. I know the horses are tired, so I won't have them gallop."

"Be my guest, your majesty. Hail Caesar!"

Diocletian mounted the chariot and waved to the crowd. Then he snapped the reins to make the horses trot and a moment later brought them to a canter. The crowd roared with delight as he made his way around the turns and waved to them in the stands. His time had finally come, for today he truly was the man in the arena.