Gladiator Clash

“Er, I hate to interrupt,” Josephus said, “but you’re meant to be training to fight as gladiators right now.”

Isis stuck her nose in the air. “Fight? But I’m a princess.”

Josephus pointed at the men in the courtyard. “Not any more you’re not. Everyone here is a prisoner or a slave. Where have you come from anyway?”

“Egypt,” Tom said, pointing at Isis. “And Britain,” he added, gesturing to himself.

Josephus shrugged. “The Roman Army doesn’t usually send child prisoners to fight,” he said. “But then, they’re so cruel, nothing they do surprises me these days.”

Tom gulped. “Cruel?”

Isis was offended. “Prisoner? I’m a prisoner? I insist you free me right now!”

“You shouldn’t even be here,” Josephus said, prodding Isis in the shoulder. “No girls. No cats. Don’t worry, the soldiers will throw you out as soon as they see you.”

Isis tossed her plaits and balled her fists. “We’re on a very important mission. We must stay here together.”

“Please help us,” Tom begged Josephus. “We really can’t be separated.”

“I suppose I don’t owe the Romans anything,” Josephus said with a shrug. “OK, I’ll help. First, we must disguise Princess Bossyboots here as a boy.”

“A boy!?” Isis shrieked in disgust.

“Shhhh!” Tom and Josephus both hissed.

Josephus pushed the three travellers into a shadowy alcove and started to wipe off the kohl from Isis’s eyes with a rag.

“Get off me! You smell of rotten vegetables,” Isis cried, batting him away.

“Just keep still, Princess Bossyboots,” Tom said. He grinned as he tied back her long hair out of sight.

Josephus ducked into a nearby cupboard and emerged with rattling chains. “Sorry. I have to put chains on you, like the others, otherwise the guards will think you’re trying to escape.” He shackled them both at the wrists and ankles and pushed them, clanking, down the colonnade.

“What about my cat, Cleo?” Isis asked.

“Animals aren’t allowed in the training ground. She’ll get killed if she stays here,” said Josephus. “She can stay in my quarters, where the other animals are kept. Don’t worry, I’ll look after her.”

He steered Tom and Isis into a noisy room with a barred door. Tom saw that it was packed with chained prisoners, both young and old, chattering away in a variety of languages he’d never heard before. Some had pale skin, some had dark skin. Everyone wore different clothes. Clearly they came from all over the world. They were shovelling food into their mouths with their shackled hands.

“You’re lucky – you’re in time for breakfast. Try to blend in,” Josephus said, looking doubtfully at Isis, as he carried Cleo off in his arms.

Isis and Tom sat on the stone floor in silence, taking in their surroundings with wide eyes. Tom helped himself to a piece of bread.

“I hope Cleo’s all right,” Isis whispered to Tom. “At least she can cuddle up to the other animals.”

Just then a roar echoed around the barracks that made Tom shudder.

“Oh no! What was that? It didn’t sound very cuddly,” Isis whimpered.

One of the other prisoners leaned over. “That’s the wild animals,” he said glumly. “Sounded like a lion. Sometimes it’s tigers, bears… anything that can tear your toenails off with its teeth.” He stroked his stubbly chin thoughtfully. “I still can’t decide which is worse.”

“What do you mean?” Tom asked, gulping.

The prisoner shrugged. “Being killed by a gladiator’s sword or eaten by lions. What’s the better way to die?”

“I don’t even want to think about it, thanks!” said Tom.

The prisoner looked grim-faced. “Well, you should. Because none of us will make it out of here alive.”

“We need a plan. We’ve got to find the amulet and leave this place before we have to fight anyone,” Tom said.

Isis held up her hands and rattled her chains. “We can’t exactly go for a stroll, can we, Professor Smartypants?” she said.