Myrtilos marvelled that the waxed pins he had put in the chariot wheels yet held, and a part of him wondered if the Fates had indeed sided with his master after all.
“Faster!” Oinomaos shouted as the night wore on and blood-soaked Nemea fell away behind them. By now, he had slain most of the suitors, but Pelops’ team was swift and skilled, and horse-driving Poseidon had instilled in him the talents of the race. “If I have to slay him at the finish, I will!” Oinomaos yelled aloud to bird and beast and mortal along the side of the road, his voice haunting their dreams, and chasing their days. “I’ll lay both their corpses upon Poseidon’s altar myself!”
“Such sacrilege!” Poseidon raged as he watched from the heights of Olympus. He had been watching the entirety of the race, urging his team o
