ROMAN SHORT FICTION

The Gamble at Circus Maximus: When Luck Turns Against Claudius

A day of unexpected fortune takes a dark turn for a Roman bettor, with the mano fico doing little to ward off misfortune.

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July, Anno DCCII Ab Urbe Condita (A.U.C.)
July, 52 BCE

It was a sweltering afternoon at the Circus Maximus, the kind of day that made the scent of humanity blend with the dust kicked up by the thundering hooves of the chariots. The crowd roared as if a god had descended from Olympus itself, but Claudius cared not for any gods. Today, it was the charioteers he worshipped, and he watched the spoked wheels spin through his narrowed eyes, his fist wrapped around his betting ticket.

“Come on, Greens, you beautiful bastards,” Claudius whispered, the gold coin resting heavy in his toga’s pocket. He had placed a bet most considered absurd — a risky combination that involved a dubious charioteer and an old horse who had lost more races than Claudius had…