Читать книгу Gladiator Clash - Chris Blake - Страница 8

“Eek!” Isis shrieked, shrinking back in fear. “You didn’t tell me you were a sorceror.”

“I’m not,” Tom said with a sigh, as he switched his bedroom light on and off. “It’s just a light.”

Isis slowly stepped into Tom’s bedroom, looking round it curiously. The ride home from the museum had been interesting, as Isis was convinced that the car was a magic, horseless chariot. Tom had tried to fill Isis in on everything that had happened since she died, but the Egyptian princess had a thousand questions about the modern world. Tom was exhausted from his attempts to explain everything from electricity to aeroplanes.

“I tell you what, let’s Google a few things on the computer,” Tom suggested. “Maybe we can find out more about your world too.”

Tom sat at his desk and hit a button on the keyboard. The bright colours of the monitor lit the room.

Isis jumped up and cowered behind Tom. “It’s a demon from the Underworld come to get me!” she shouted.

Tom laughed. “It’s OK,” he said. “It’s just my computer.”

Tapping away on his keyboard, fact by fact, Tom unravelled Isis’s past.

“So you’re from Ancient Egypt in 2800 BC,” he said. “That makes you almost five thousand years old.” Tom whistled softly.

“Let me see!” Isis said, looking over his shoulder. “Does it say that I was a brilliant dancer and could play the harp better than anyone else in the Nile delta?”

Suddenly, the ground beneath them rumbled and the air started to whip around the room like a mysterious whirlwind.

“Is this another modern invention?” Isis asked nervously.

“N-n-no,” Tom stammered. “Not that I know of!”

“SILENCE, children!” a voice boomed.

Tom peered into the gloom and saw two red eyes glowing menacingly at him. He shrank back in horror.

Isis swung around to face the owner of the voice as he stepped out of the shadows.

“Hello, Anubis,” she said. “You didn’t think I’d ever get out of that statue, did you? Well, never underestimate a princess.”

Tom looked up… at the god of the Underworld! He recognised the jackal-headed god from pictures he had seen in his dad’s books.

“Little Isis Amun-Ra,” Anubis said in a haughty voice. “Still cheeky after five thousand years? Well, prepare yourself. Your challenge is about to begin.”

Anubis folded his arms across his bare chest, raising an eyebrow at Tom. “You freed the princess from her statue, boy. Now you are destined by the gods to accompany Isis Amun-Ra on her journey through time to find her amulets.”

Frustration burst out of Tom in a flurry of angry words. “Now just hold on! That’s not fair!” He thumped the desk and glared at Anubis and Isis. “I’ve got caught up in this by accident—”

“You don’t have a choice,” Anubis growled. “To find the amulets, you will both journey far back in time to some of the most dangerous moments in history. Time will stand still while you are away, boy. Your parents will know nothing of your adventures.”

Tom’s ears pricked up at the word ‘history’. He loved reading about history. Here was a chance to go on a treasure hunt through history and see it with his own eyes, even if he did have to go with a bossy Ancient Egyptian princess. It was the chance of a lifetime!

Anubis held his long arms wide and the strange wind started to whip up again.

“Prepare for your first journey,” he said.

Tom, Isis and Cleo, nervous of where they might end up, held hands and paws in a circle. The powerful tornado started to curl around them, pulling them out of Tom’s world and into the unknown.

*

“Where are we?” Isis asked.

Tom looked round. They were standing in a long, gloomy, stone corridor, lined with archways on one side. He peered into a sunlit, dusty courtyard beyond. Men were stretching and jogging on the spot.

“It looks like they’re warming up to do sports or something,” he said.

A young man appeared, walking briskly towards them.

“Hello,” he said brightly. “I’m Josephus.”

“What’s your title?” Isis said, eyeing his grubby, short toga suspiciously.

Josephus smiled. “Why, I’m a slave, of course!” he chuckled. “Are you new?”

Tom and Isis nodded. Cleo meowed.

“Er… what is this place?” asked Tom.

“This is the city’s biggest gladiator training school, owned by my master, Atillius!” the young man explained.

Tom frowned, deep in thought. He looked at the strange clothes he and Isis were both wearing – simple tunics and sandals. And hadn’t he spied a man through the arches dressed in the long folds of a toga? Yes! Gladiators… slaves… togas…

“We’re in Ancient Rome!” he shouted. “Brilliant!”

Tom suddenly wondered how it was possible that he and Josephus could understand each other. He didn’t speak any Latin aside from a few words his dad had taught him.

“It must be part of Anubis’s magic,” Tom said aloud.

But Isis seemed to be a million miles away, staring at her hand in amazement. She started patting her arms and legs in delight. Tom suddenly realised why – instead of being wrapped up as a mouldy mummy, she was made of flesh and blood again.

Isis grinned at Tom. “I’m alive!” she cried, feeling the long, black plaits of her hair. “No more horrible bandages!” Then she looked down at Cleo, who had transformed back into a sleek cat, covered in tabby stripes. “Cleo! My little fluffpot!” Isis said, scooping Cleo up into a hug.

“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.”