But I couldn’t help thinking how convenient it would be if Dinu was out of the picture. Especially as Lollia was now completely ignoring me and gazing at him with wide-eyed panic.
I came to my senses.
How could I even think such a terrible thought?
Guilt made me yell, ‘Come on, Dinu!’ in English, without thinking about it.
Somehow he heard me and looked up.
When he saw me his expression changed from despair to delight. He freed his foot, jumped up and shouted, ‘Wimpy!’
Bob must have heard Dinu’s voice, because he whirled around and started slashing in a much more dangerous way.
‘Watch out, Dinu!’ I bellowed. ‘Use the net to get his sword!’
Dinu nodded, swung the net and missed.
Bob’s sword took the top off his trident, making it a no-dent.
The crowd gasped. Plecta screamed. Lollia squeezed my hand.
Dinu flung away the useless trident and swung his net again. This time he missed the sword but somehow managed to flick the net around Bob’s ankles. Dinu gave a tug and his opponent came crashing down. Right on his sword!
‘Argh!’ I gasped. ‘Own goal!’
Poor Bob screamed, twitched and then lay still. A pool of blood started to spread out on the sand beneath him.
Plecta screamed again and covered her eyes, but Lollia did something that astonished me.
She cheered.
And when the referee guy placed a wreath on Dinu’s head she stood up, cupped her hands to her mouth and cried in Greek, ‘We love you, Dinu!’
36
Fluff Beard
‘Quickly,’ said Epapras in Greek. ‘We’ve got to go now, before some rich matron tries to buy him. He’s going to be very popular. Follow me.’
He stood up and started along his row.
‘Come on, Alexandros!’ Lollia stood up. ‘We’ve got to redeem your slave.’
‘Do I?’ I muttered. But of course I did, so I sighed deeply and followed them along the row of grumpy spectators whose view we were blocking. Once onto the central aisle, Epapras led us higher instead of lower. At first I wondered what he was doing. But when we got to the top I saw an arched doorway and dim stairs going down.
This was the exit.
It was also the toilets, if the stench was anything to go by.
No wonder Lollia’s dad had forbidden her to go to the games. It wasn’t exactly the family funfair in Battersea Park.
I tried to breathe through my mouth, but it didn’t help much. Once I almost slipped in a puddle. My stupid Roman shoes had no grip – their sole was just leather.
I noticed Epapras was holding up the hem of his toga so it didn’t drag, and that it was starting to sag at the back, showing two vertical red stripes on his tunic.
At last we reached the bottom and were out into the grey afternoon.
‘This way,’ said Epapras, and led us around the curve of the big amphitheatre. ‘My father bought a bodyguard here last year,’ he explained. ‘That’s how I know where to go.’
He stopped at an arched doorway where two soldiers stood guard. They weren’t keen to let us through. ‘No entry!’ snapped one. ‘Performers and organisers only.’
‘My name is Aelius Claudius Epapras,’ said Epapras in Greek, ‘son of Aelius Claudius Nicon of Pergamum. My client has business with the lanista. I can either summon him to court or have a brief word now. I only need a few moments of his time,’ he added.
The guard rolled his eyes. ‘All right,’ he sighed, and stood aside.
A short time later we found ourselves at the entrance of a big dim space beneath the amphitheatre. It was the gladiators’ changing area, and it smelled of sawdust and sweat, with just a tang of blood.
The lanista stood with his arms folded across his chest, blocking our entry. He was a big man with curly grey hair, a squashed nose and hard brown eyes. He looked like a mafia boss from TV and I got a chill just looking at him. Lollia stood on tiptoes, trying to peep over his shoulder into the room full of gladiators preparing for their next bout.
I saw Dinu a moment before she did. He was sitting on a bench against a wall looking dejected, even though he had the victor’s garland on his head. He was still wearing the pale blue tunic from the Mithraeum and his bare feet were chained at the ankles.
‘There he is!’ cried Lollia. ‘Dinu!’
Dinu looked up, and when he saw me his face broke into a huge smile. ‘Wimpy!’ He jumped up from the bench. ‘You found me!’
‘That is my client’s slave,’ said Epapras to the lanista. ‘We demand that you return him immediately.’
‘What proof do you have?’ said the lanista. ‘Where are his papers?’
They were speaking in Greek so I chipped in, using my best rounded-vowel ancient Greek accent.
‘He is my slave,’ I said, ‘and I can prove it. We both come from a faraway land. Only he and I know the language. I can give him commands known only to me.’
The lanista raised an eyebrow. ‘Very well.’ He stood to one side.
As the four of us entered, most of the gladiators stared at us. I suppose we did look strange: a kid who looked like Eros, with a fluff-bearded lawyer and two girls.
I stared back. An uglier bunch of men I have never seen in my life. Over near the entrance to the arena, where it was brightest, a man in a leather apron was sewing up a wounded gladiator. The doctor stopped mid-stitch and his patient hoicked himself up on his elbows, which must have hurt like crazy. It was Bob the Boiler-Man – he was alive!
I turned to Dinu, who was now flanked by two of the biggest and ugliest gladiators. ‘If you want me to get you out of this,’ I said in English, ‘then do as I say. Remember, you’re my slave.’
‘Dinu!’ cried Lollia in Greek. ‘I love you!’
‘What did she say?’ asked Dinu. ‘She is beautiful.’
‘Nothing,’ I said. ‘She said nothing. Now focus!’
He grinned. ‘All right, Wimpy.’
‘And don’t call me Wimpy! Address me as either Kyrie or Domine.’
‘Yes, master,’ he said, using the Latin.
I turned to the lanista. ‘Watch,’ I said. ‘I will tell him to dance.’
I turned to Dinu and said in English, ‘Dance!’
Dinu thought for a moment, then did ‘The Carlton’ which – like I said – was popular at our school. He had a big cheesy smile on his face as he double-snapped the air to the right of his shoulder and then to the left. The chain around his left ankle jingled when he tried to kick his legs out.
Instead of making the sign against evil, all the gladiators laughed. Even Bob the Boiler-Man, who then winced in agony. Behind me I heard the girls giggle. I guess I had been doing it wrong back in the marketplace.
‘Next I’m going to tell him to pretend to be dead,’ I told the lanista (and anybody else who could understand Greek). To Dinu I said, ‘Play dead!’
With a shy glance at Lollia, Dinu got down on the sawdust-strewn floor, lay on his back with his hands folded across his chest and closed his eyes.
The gladiators applauded. Two came panting from their bout in the arena and looked around for praise, but everyone was watching Dinu. The two gladiators who were supposed to be up next also lingered by the exit.
Dinu was up on his feet again. He was looking at Lollia with a goofy grin on his face. She was gazing back with open adoration.
This had to be stopped.
I had a clever plan. I turned to the lanista. ‘Next,’ I said, ‘I’m going to ask him to act like a dog.’
A few of the gladiators laughed, and the two who were due to fight had to be shoved out into the arena.
‘What are they laughing about?’ said Dinu.
‘I want you to act like a dog.’
Dinu looked from me to Lollia and then back at me again. ‘No,’ he said. ‘It will make me look stupid.’
I took a deep breath. ‘Dinu,’ I said, ‘if you want to get out of here alive you have
to do this. Act like a dog!’
Reluctantly, he got down on his hands and knees and growled.
The gladiators roared with laughter, but the girls looked shocked. Dinu’s face went pink.
I told them what my next command would be.
At this even the lanista grinned and all the gladiators clapped as those who understood translated for the others.
‘Alex, no!’ whispered Plecta. ‘That’s cruel!’
‘Why do they laugh?’ said Dinu, still on his hands and knees. ‘What will you make me do next?’
I tried hard not to smile. ‘One last thing and then we’re free,’ I said. ‘You’ve got to bark like a dog.’
Dinu stood up and brushed the sawdust from his hands. ‘Absolutely not,’ he said. ‘They may kill me if they wish, but I will not bark like dog.’
37
Barking Mad
Of course I didn’t make Dinu bark. Like Plecta said, that would have been really cruel. Plus, Lollia put her hands together and gave me a pleading look.
So I relented and got him to pat his head and rub his stomach at the same time.
‘Now that my client has proved his claim on the slave,’ said Epapras to the lanista, ‘please release him into our hands.’
The lanista shrugged. ‘Of course,’ he said. ‘You may take him as soon as you have reimbursed me.’
It was a word I didn’t understand. ‘What does he want?’ I asked Fluff Beard.
‘He says he paid for him,’ said Epapras. And to the lanista, ‘How much did you pay for him?’
‘Two hundred sesterces,’ said the lanista.
‘I don’t believe you,’ said Epapras. ‘Nobody in their right mind would pay that much for a slave with no papers.’
‘I’ve got a hundred sesterces!’ Lollia held up a small gold coin.
‘No, mistress!’ cried Plecta. ‘That’s part of your dowry!’
Lollia drew back her left hand to slap her, but I caught her wrist.
‘I told you,’ I said. ‘I don’t believe in striking slaves.’
‘And that’s why your own slave doesn’t obey you,’ said the lanista. He took the coin from Lollia, pulled a key from a chain on his belt and bent to unlock Dinu’s shackles. ‘Take him and go! Before I change my mind.’
‘Thank you,’ said Epapras. But Lollia had already grabbed Dinu’s hand and was pulling him out of the gladiators’ changing room.
The rest of us followed.
As soon as we were back outside the amphitheatre, Dinu turned to me. ‘How did you find me?’
‘Dumb luck,’ I said. ‘The same way I found Lollia,’ I pointed to Lollia, who was looking back and forth at us.
‘What do you mean?’ said Dinu.
‘She’s the blue-eyed girl with the ivory leopard knife,’ I said. ‘The one the big bazillionaire is paying me five million pounds to find.’
Dinu’s jaw dropped. ‘She is worth five million?’
‘Not her personally – just the information I get out of her.’
Someone tugged at my tunic. It was Fluffy Beard. He was pointing at a fat middle-aged man making his way straight towards us. ‘Do you know that man?’ he asked.
The fat man wore a brown-and-red-striped tunic and an embroidered skullcap on his bald head.
‘Great Mother protect me!’ choked Lollia. ‘It’s Tertius.’
‘Who?’ I said.
‘The man I’m supposed to marry. Somehow he’s found me. Dinu! Come!’
To my astonishment, she grabbed Dinu’s hand and tugged. But he stood solid as a rock, not understanding what was happening.
‘Veni!’ she said in Latin, tugging harder. Either he understood, or he finally got the message. He nodded, and when Lollia pulled up the hem of her tunic and started to run, he and Plecta followed.
I looked back at Lollia’s middle-aged fiancé, who had also broken into a trot.
I looked at Epapras, who was frowning. ‘Don’t run,’ he said. ‘It will make you look guilty.’
I looked back towards Dinu and the girls. I was just in time to see them swerving into an alley between timber-and-plaster buildings. If I left it any longer, I would never find them again.
‘Triple furcifer!’ I cursed. Then, with an apologetic shrug to Epapras, I raced after them.
38
Cleopatra Eyes
I had been running up and down alleys for about five minutes when an arm shot out and I was tugged into a kind of dim porch before a blue painted door.
‘Got you!’ said Dinu.
‘Oh thank God,’ I gasped, resting my hands on my knees and trying to catch my breath. ‘I haven’t run so much since last sports day.’
‘Is he coming?’ asked Dinu, peeping into the alley.
‘No!’ I was still gulping air and trying not to pass out. ‘I think I lost him. And I thought I’d lost you too! I don’t know what –’
The words died on my lips as I raised my head to look at him. He was wearing Lollia’s tunic, and her sapphire palla was draped around his shoulders. Plecta had been using something like my gran’s kohl crayon to make his eyes look like Cleopatra’s.
‘Flippin’ heck!’ I said. ‘Why are you dressed like that?’
He grinned and shrugged. ‘So they don’t find us.’
I turned to look at Lollia. In the dim light of this dark doorway in a narrow alley, I could see she had put on his pale blue tunic and was undoing all the little plaits in her hair. Already half of it fell down in crinkly waves.
‘Look!’ said Dinu as he pulled the palla over his head. ‘Do I look like girl?’
My jaw dropped. ‘Yeah,’ I said. ‘You kind of do.’
‘Pretty girl?’
In fact the black around his blue eyes made him look surprisingly pretty. But I wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of hearing that, so I turned to Lollia. ‘What’s happening?’ I asked her in Greek.
She gave me a radiant smile. Her pale cheeks were pink. ‘You and Dinu are going to dress up as rich girls, and we’re going to pretend to be your slaves.’
‘Why?’ I said.
‘So we can hide in here,’ she said, pointing. ‘It’s a women’s bath-house.’
‘Wait … What?’
‘Hold still,’ said Plecta, and brought the kohl crayon close to my eyes. ‘This will only take a moment.’ I noticed her cheeks were flushed too.
‘Alexandros,’ said Lollia, who was still undoing her plaits, ‘take off your tunic and trade with Plecta.’
‘No way!’ I protested. ‘I’ve got nothing on underneath. Why can’t I wear this? it’s almost the same as Plecta’s, just a different colour.’
‘No. Girls’ tunics are longer.’
‘Look!’ I said, undoing my belt. ‘Without the belt it’s long.’
‘It has to reach the ground,’ said Lollia. ‘You must trade.’
‘I have an under-tunic,’ said Plecta. ‘As soon as you take off yours, I will give you mine.’
Reluctantly I put my belt and knife on the ground, then turned to face the corner of the porch.
‘Hurry!’ commanded Lollia. ‘If someone opens the door and sees us then we’ll be exposed.’
‘I can’t be more exposed than I am now,’ I muttered, quickly pulling off my tunic.
‘Here,’ came Plecta’s voice, and she handed me her longer tunic. I was half hoping it would be too small, but it fit me perfectly and even touched the ground.
She also gave me her belt, which was woven of brown, cream and red wool in a twisty pattern, and I gave her my plaited rag one. I kept my knife, however, sticking it in my new belt.
I turned to see Lollia undoing her last plait. With her golden hair falling in waves around her shoulders she looked lovelier than ever.
She adjusted Plecta’s palla over my head and showed me how to drape it by putting one end back over my shoulder. I let the other side hang down to hide the knife in my belt.
Suitably arrayed, I took a deep breath and knocked on the bath-house door
.
Presently a thin woman in a pale green tunic answered. ‘How much?’ I asked her in Latin. I tried to make my accent sound like Lollia’s.
‘Two dupondii,’ she replied, holding up two fingers.
I gestured to Plecta, who produced the right coins from a pouch around her neck. A mosaic on the floor reminded me to step over the threshold with my right foot first.
A dim corridor brought us into a changing room with oversized wooden pigeonholes on the wall for clothes. Two muscular ladies in pale green tunics and matching headscarves glared at us. Dinu had the sense not to stare back. Luckily he hadn’t started to shave and had nice smooth cheeks.
Needless to say, my cheeks were smooth as a baby’s bottom too.
Obviously we couldn’t follow the usual procedure of leaving our clothes in a locker. While I was wondering what on earth to do, Lollia turned to the bath-house bouncers. ‘My mistress has an urgent message for her friend,’ she said briskly. ‘We won’t be long.’
‘Tertius will never find us in here,’ she whispered in Greek as we moved out of the changing room.
The next room was dimmer and warmer, with small high windows and a wooden bench running around the wall. There was a pile of tea towels on a table in the centre. As I followed the girls, I glimpsed some women sitting on the benches wearing nothing but the little tea towels.
Dinu turned his head to have a better look, but I gave his blue shawl a tug and hissed ‘Don’t stare!’
The third room was the dimmest so far. Steamy too. Just as well, as out of the corner of my eye I could see a pair of totally naked women. But I kept my eyes firmly on the back of Lollia’s neck.
‘Ow!’ muttered barefoot Dinu. ‘Hot, hot, hot!’
Even through the leather of my shoes I could feel the heat of the bricks. There must be one of those hypo-thingies underneath. You know – the ancient Roman version of underfloor heating.
‘Wait for us here,’ said Lollia, pushing us down onto a bench. ‘We need the latrine.’
I translated for Dinu.
He grinned. ‘Here is good,’ he said, as Lollia and Plecta left the steam-room.
I glanced at Dinu and he glanced back at me. It was the first time we had been alone since we had been swept out into the Thames.
The Time Travel Diaries Page 11
