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gaze.
        Below them, the thundering horses reached the first corner. The light chariots scored long sliding arcs in the sand as they were pulled around by the plunging horses. The riders leaned over to balance themselves, held in place by nothing more than their skill and strength. It was an impressive display and Dacius slid neatly between two teams to take an early lead. Crassus frowned at the development.
        “Have you decided whom you will support for consul at the end of the year?” he said, forcing a neutral tone.
        Pompey smiled. “It’s a little early to be thinking of it, my friend. I am enjoying being consul myself at the moment.”
        Crassus snorted at the blatant falsehood. He knew Pompey too well to believe his denials. Under the pressure of his stare, Pompey shrugged.
        “I believe Senator Prandus can be persuaded to put his name on the lists,” he said.
        Crassus watched the racing teams, considering what he knew of the man.
        “There are worse choices,” he said at last. “Would he accept your… guidance?”
        Pompey’s eyes were bright with excitement as Dacius continued to lead the field. Crassus wondered if he was feigning the interest merely to annoy him.
        “Pompey?” he prompted.
        “He would not be troublesome,” Pompey replied.
        Crassus hid his pleasure. Neither Prandus nor his son Suetonius was a man of influence in the Senate, but having weak men as consuls would mean he and Pompey could continue to guide the city, merely exchanging the public aspect for the private. Returning to the anonymity of the back benches after leading Rome was an unpleasant prospect for both of them. Crassus wondered if Pompey knew he held debts on the family and would have his own form of control if Prandus was elected.
        “I could accept Prandus, if you are sure of him,” he said over the noise of the crowd. Pompey turned an amused expression to him.
        “Excellent. Do you know if Cinna will stand?”
        Crassus shook his head. “He’s all but retired since the death of his daughter. Have you heard something?”
        In his eagerness, Crassus reached out to hold Pompey’s arm, and Pompey grimaced at the touch. Crassus felt a spike of hatred for the man. What right did he have to assume such airs, when Crassus paid the bills of his great houses?
        “I have heard nothing yet, Crassus. If not Cinna, though, we must find another to stand for the second post. Perhaps it is not too soon to begin cultivating a new name.”
        As the fourth lap began, Dacius led by a full length, with the Thracian holding position behind him. Paulus was third, with the seasick Spanish horses bringing up the rear. The crowd bellowed their approval and every eye was on the teams as they rounded the far corner and galloped through the start for the fifth lap. The wooden egg was removed and the bawling voices were becoming hoarse.
        “Have you considered Julius? His term in Spain is almost over,” Crassus said.
        Pompey glanced over at him, suddenly wary. He still suspected Crassus of a loyalty to the young Caesar that he did not share. Had the man not waived the debts of the Tenth shortly after Julius took control? Pompey shook his head.
        “Not him, Crassus. That dog has teeth. I’m sure you don’t want… disruption any more than I.”
        Dacius had increased his lead and Crassus continued to speak, pleased to be able to ruffle the smooth placidity of his colleague.
        “They say Caesar has done very well in Spain. New lands under our control, new cities. I believe there has even been talk of a Triumph for him.”
        Pompey looked sharply at Crassus, his brow furrowing. “I’ve heard nothing of Triumphs and I have made myself clear. When his posting is over, I will send him somewhere else. Greece, perhaps. Whatever you are planning should be forgotten, Crassus. I witnessed my own men standing in the rain for