Malcolm’s eyes glinted. “I seem to have reawakened that curious itch to learn I first glimpsed in London. All right. Let’s see if I can shed some light. Centuries ago, probably during Etruscan times, the Circus Maximus began life as a natural amphitheater of ritual sacrifice. The games, mostly races, were part of elaborate funerary rites. When we watch the Ludi Megalenses in a few days, keep that in mind We are not merely watching spectator sports. The Games are not a Roman form of NFL Football. We’ll be watching a sacred drama.
”It’s exciting drama and the spectacles help the emperor keep the unemployed masses quiet by giving them something to do, but it’s still sacred at its core and most people in this time recognize the ritual for what it is-if not overtly, then at some level of awareness.
”You asked if the priests of Cybele were volunteers or prisoners. The participants in Roman games are largely prisoners: criminals and slaves, prisoners of war. It’s always easier on the king to substitute slaves for the real thing when the king must die. And in this particular time and this particular place, that is precisely what must happen.”
The dust and noise of the bright April morning faded from Margo’s awareness. She had difficulty taking in everything Malcolm had said. She understood much more clearly now why he’d said most guides held advanced degrees. They had to, in order to explain to tourists what they were watching. But I can’t spend years at this before my first scouting trip! What she needed to become was a generalist. She could learn a little about a lot of things and fake it whenever she had to.