‘I know it’s a bit sudden, but orders is orders. Marcus Furius doesn’t want you cluttering up the cells. I was for giving you a proper execution, something for the family to remember, but he didn’t want any fuss. “Burn them,” he said.’
Ditherus stared at the two wooden poles surrounded by a pile of wood and twigs. ‘You … you can’t do this!’ he stammered.
‘Really, if it was up to me, I wouldn’t,’ sighed the jailer. ‘Burnings are terrible. My clothes will stink of smoke for days on end!’
Five minutes later Ditherus and Tidio were bound to one of the poles, back to back.
Bladderax had a bonfire all to himself. It had taken four of the soldiers to bind him with ropes, and several of them were nursing bruises and swollen eyes. Odium approached with a burning torch in his hand.
‘Master!’ Tidio whispered. ‘Now would be a good time.’
‘What are you talking about?’
‘The sword. Cut the ropes!’
Ditherus let out a long groan.
‘Tell me you didn’t,’ begged Tidio.
‘I left it in the cell.’
Tidio let his head droop forward. ‘Why didn’t you keep it with you?’
‘I fell asleep!’ said Ditherus. ‘I wasn’t expecting to be executed this morning!’
Odium squatted down, holding the torch to the twigs at the bottom of the pile. A thin wisp of smoke curled into the air. ‘Damp,’ he grunted. ‘I told them this wood was damp.’
‘We can come back another day,’ offered Tidio. ‘We’re not in any hurry.’
‘No, don’t you worry. Once this dries out it’ll be fine,’ said Odium.
To his left Ditherus could hear Bladderax heaving and grunting, attempting to wrench his pole clean out of the ground with a superhuman effort. The twigs below their feet began to crackle and snap.
‘Got any other ideas?’ asked Ditherus.
‘Nothing springs to mind,’ replied Tidio.
The soldiers had left the yard, leaving the jailer to watch by himself. The smoke continued to rise lazily from the fire.
‘It’s only smouldering,’ said Ditherus. ‘Maybe we can blow it out?’
‘I’m not sure that’s a good idea,’ replied Tidio.
‘We’ve got to do something! Come on!’
They both took a deep breath and blew with all their strength. The flames flickered into life. Twigs snapped as the fire licked at them hungrily.
‘Thanks, lads, that’s done the trick.’ Odium nodded, rubbing his hands. ‘You wait, we’ll have a proper blaze soon.’
Ditherus screwed up his eyes. The smoke was making them water – which was why he didn’t see the stranger enter the yard.
‘Gutsius, you old dog!’ laughed Odium, shaking him by the hand. ‘What brings you here?’
‘Business,’ replied the newcomer. His head was smooth as a brown egg and his deep, booming voice bounced off the walls.
‘Master!’ hissed Tidio. ‘Who’s that?’
‘I can’t see!’ moaned Ditherus, through clouds of smoke.
‘Listen! They’re talking!’
Ditherus strained to catch the conversation. The two men seemed to be bargaining over something. The one called Gutsius was waving his hands and shouting as if he thought the jailer was stone deaf.
‘STRONG ONES, mind you. Not the MILKSOPS you sold me last time.’
‘He’s buying slaves,’ said Tidio excitedly. ‘Master, the gods have heard our prayers. They’re going to spare us!’
‘They’d better get a move on,’ said Ditherus. The flames under their feet were growing higher.
‘I could show you Viscus in cell V,’ Odium suggested. ‘Apart from the limp he’s fine.’
Gutsius shook his head. ‘No use. I need them young and healthy.’
‘What about the barbarian, then? Nasty temper but strong as an ox.’ Odium pointed at Bladderax, who seemed to be trying to put out the flames by roaring at them.
Gutsius went closer to get a better look. The barbarian was just what he was looking for – big, brutal and probably brainless. All the same he didn’t want to pay too high a price, so he spat on the ground.
‘Not what I’m after. Too flabby.’
‘Flabby? That’s pure muscle!’ said Odium. ‘Anyway, you could cut down his meals. Save money.’
‘Yes, but barbarians are always trouble.’
Odium fingered the spot on his chin.
What about us? thought Ditherus. What’s wrong with us? A drop of sweat ran down his nose, hung for a moment and plopped into the flames with a hiss. The soles of his feet felt like they were on fire. Maybe they were on fire. Tidio was running through the names of all the gods.
‘Jupiter, save us, Mars, save us, Minerva, save us … ’
‘Not much I can offer you,’ admitted Odium. ‘They’re all old or diseased except the skinny pair that came in yesterday.’
Ditherus looked up.
‘Not much to look at, I grant you,’ said Odium, ‘but I could let you have ’em cut-price. Don’t tell Marcus Furius, though, he wants them dead.’
Gutsius walked over to inspect them. Ditherus tried to puff out his chest – but the smoke made him cough. Gutsius shook his head.
‘Skin and bone. I need MEN, not BOYS!’
‘Give us a chance!’ croaked Ditherus.
‘What did he say?’ asked Gutsius.
‘He says they can dance.’
‘I’m not running a circus,’ snorted Gutsius, turning his attention back to Bladderax.
‘If there’s nothing else, I’ll take the barbarian. I could take him off your hands for, say – three denarii. I’d be doing you a favour.’
‘Three? It’s robbery!’ protested Odium.
‘ARRGHH!’ roared Bladderax. ‘I HOT FEET!’
‘Four, then. Make up your mind or he’ll be overcooked.’
‘Ten,’ said Odium. ‘I couldn’t take any less.’
The bargaining continued. Ditherus let his head loll forwards in despair. The flames crackled in his ears. So this is the end, he thought. He’d never know whether one day he might have become a hero.
‘Goodbye, Tidio,’ he wheezed.
‘Five,’ boomed Gutsius. ‘It’s my last offer.’
‘Make it six and I’ll throw in the two shrimps free of charge.’
Gutsius laughed. ‘I must be going soft. All right, six; it’s a bargain.’
The two men spat on their hands and shook on the agreement. They might have gone on chatting for a while if a roar from Bladderax hadn’t got their attention.
‘ARGHHH! I BURNING TO SAUSAGE!’
A moment later there was a loud splash and clouds of smoke rose into the air, as the jailer doused the fire with buckets of water. The next bucket struck Ditherus full in the face and Odium grinned at him. ‘Well!’ he said. ‘Looks like your lucky day!’
Some hours later, Ditherus and Tidio sat in the back of a cart as it bumped and shuddered down a stony road. Their companions were sullen, scowling men with chains round their ankles. Ditherus had managed to rescue the Nemesis from his cell and kept it hidden inside his tunic. Tidio, meanwhile, was examining the blisters on the soles of his feet.
At last they came in sight of a grim building that resembled an army barracks surrounded by high walls. Two heavy wooden gates creaked open to let them through. Someone had scrawled on the wall, WELCOME TO HADES. And a little further down: ENJOY YOUR STAY.
‘What is this place?’ Ditherus asked, as the gates slammed shut with a roll of thunder.
Gutsius glanced round from the driver’s seat. ‘This, boy? Didn’t they tell you? This is Gladiator School.’
Chapter 6
School for Gladiators
The sun beat down. Ditherus did his best to try and listen to what Gutsius was saying. He hadn’t slept much the previous night. For one thing he was sharing a bunk with Tidio, for another his fellow recruits snored like a herd of warthogs.
Now he stood in the hot, dust
y practice ground with the other trainees, clutching his wooden sword and shield and wondering how he was going to survive the morning. Gutsius leaned on a stick with a knobbly head and surveyed his class. When he spoke his voice bounced off the walls all round them. He had a habit of bellowing out words to make sure no one dozed off to sleep.
‘So which of you WEAKLINGS think you know how to FIGHT?’ he boomed.
Most of the recruits slowly raised their hands.
Gutsius spat in the dust contemptuously. ‘Babies! Infants! Look at you!’
Ditherus glanced at his companions. They didn’t look like infants; most of them looked like they had criminal records.
‘YOU!’ roared Gutsius, pointing to a tall, hooknosed man. ‘OUT THE FRONT!’
The man came out, gripping his sword and shield a little nervously.
‘Knock me down,’ Gutsius invited. ‘GO ON! A big OAF like you! Show me how it’s done!’
The tall recruit gripped his wooden sword and aimed a blow at the gladiator master’s head. The stick in Gutsius’s hand swished through the air. The knobbly end caught the man on the side of the head and dumped him on the ground.
‘ANYONE ELSE LIKE TO TRY?’ asked Gutsius. A single hand was raised in the air. It belonged to Bladderax. The big barbarian barged his way through the crowd to the front. Gutsius peered up at the red-haired giant towering over him and cleared his throat.
‘Uh … what was your name again?’
‘I Bladderax.’
‘Good, excellent. Glad to see you’re paying attention,’ blustered Gutsius. ‘Back to your place, then, and keep up the good work.’
He turned back to his audience and continued his welcome speech.
‘Three days,’ he said. ‘In three days I’ll be sending you knock-kneed, spineless WHELKS into the ARENA! Where people – Mars help us! – will be paying good MONEY to see you FIGHT!’ He paused to wipe some sweat off his bald, glistening head. ‘SO every day from dawn to dusk we are going to be TRAINING HARD! I’m going to take you simpering MUMMY’S BOYS and turn you into GLADIATORS. INTO WHAT?
‘GLADIATORS, MASTER!’ the recruits shouted back.
‘YOU! Why are you waving your hand?’ demanded Gutsius.
‘Please, sir, may I go to the toilet?’ asked a voice at the back.
Gutsius raised his eyes to heaven.
They began the first lesson – training at the post. Ditherus was relieved to see his first opponent was made of wood. Sunk into the ground were a dozen round posts, and for the next hour the trainees performed a strange dance around them. Ditherus practised bobbing and weaving. He learned to lunge, point and leap backwards. His sword made satisfying swishing noises through the air, while Gutsius strode among them barking orders.
‘Thrust! Don’t pat it like a BABY’S BOTTOM! This is your ENEMY – he’s trying to KILL YOU! Ludicrus, you dozy pimple, the POINTY bit does the stabbing! For the love of Mars put your BACK into it!’
Ditherus felt he was making progress. He landed quite a number of good thwacks and jabs. Tidio, meanwhile, had lost his sword in some bushes and seemed to be taking his time finding it.
‘You! Chicken legs! Don’t just DAB at it! Where are you AIMING?’
Ditherus realised Gutsius was talking to him.
‘Um, I don’t know. At his tummy?’ he suggested.
‘His TUMMY, you MISERABLE MOLLUSC?’
The recruits roared with laughter. Ditherus felt his cheeks burning red.
‘You STRIKE where he’s not protected by armour. That’s HEAD! CHEST! ARMS! LEGS!’ Gutsius thwacked these areas on the wooden pole with his stick. ‘Show me, boy. ATTACK!’
Ditherus shuffled forward, gave the post a quick poke with his sword and sprang back as if it might bite him.
‘YE GODS, BOY!’ roared Gutsius. ‘Not like that! BLADDERAX, you show him!’
Bladderax stepped forward. With a bloodcurdling roar he rushed at one of the posts, slashing and hacking at it like a madman so that lumps of splintered wood shot off in all directions. He dealt the post a final death blow that made it shudder, and stepped back, breathing heavily.
‘Not bad,’ said Gutsius. ‘Now you, chicken legs. Show me.’
‘Yaaah!’ Ditherus cried, waving his wooden sword with such gusto that it slipped right out of his hand.
Gutsius picked it up from the dust. ‘NO, YOU LUGWORM! It’s a BATTLECRY, you’re not playing peek-a-boo with your baby sister! Put some FEELING into it!’
Ditherus screwed his face into a ball and narrowed his eyes, which was probably a mistake since his eyesight wasn’t that good. He launched himself like a missile.
‘RARRRRRRGH!’
Something hard rose up and struck him between the eyes. It was the training post, and he slid to the ground.
The other recruits sniggered and shook their heads.
‘Think it’s FUNNY, DO YOU?’ Gutsius turned on them. ‘Think you can do BETTER? Good, then let’s see how you do against REAL GLADIATORS!’
The sniggers died away. Up to now the class had been kept well away from the seasoned gladiators at the school, but they had all heard thumps and shouts coming from over the wall. Now Gutsius marched over to a door and banged on it three times with his stick.
The door swung open and through it came the ugliest, meanest warriors that Ditherus had ever seen. They were bare-chested, with muscles bulging like bags of bananas. Some had shaven heads and sported impressive tattoos. Skulls, dragons and sea serpents grinned from their arms and shoulders. Several seemed to have lost a few things – such as ears, fingers or teeth. Their swords, daggers and pointed tridents gleamed wickedly in the sun. Just looking at them gave Ditherus a strong urge to run in the opposite direction.
Gutsius’s eyes twinkled. ‘Right, my young lions, everyone find a PARTNER and let’s begin!’
Ditherus was paired with a handsome gladiator called Silvio. Luckily he seemed more interested in talking than fighting.
‘So,’ he said, tossing back his long golden hair and flashing his perfect teeth, ‘I can see you’re thinking “Is it really him?”’
‘Not really,’ said Ditherus.
‘It’s OK, I get it all the time.’
‘Get what?
‘People staring. Recognising me.’
‘But I don’t,’ said Ditherus.
‘Nonsense! You do! I’m Silvio. Silvio the Great.’
‘Sorry,’ shrugged Ditherus. ‘Never heard of you.’
Silvio stared in disbelief. ‘Don’t drag your sword,’ he advised. ‘Point it like this. And try to copy me.’
Ditherus did his best. Silvio was bobbing around like a rabbit but he never came close enough to actually land a blow.
‘Aren’t you a bit on the small side for a gladiator?’ he asked.
Ditherus rolled his eyes. People were always saying things like this. ‘I didn’t exactly volunteer. This was sort of an accident,’ he replied.
‘You’ll get used to it,’ said Silvio. ‘It’s not a bad life. Fresh air, three meals a day. If you’re lucky, one day you might be as famous as me. Are you sure you haven’t heard of me?’
‘Positive,’ replied Ditherus.
‘What about those bronze coins you can collect: “Gladiators of the Golden Age”? Surely you must have seen them? I’m Number XXV.’
‘Look,’ said Ditherus, growing tired of this. ‘Aren’t we meant to be fighting?’
‘That’s what we’re doing,’ shouted Silvio. ‘It’s all about timing! I’m like a cobra poised to strike.’
He performed a neat pirouette and lunged with his sword, which Ditherus easily swatted away with his shield. His head was still throbbing from running into the post, and he needed to sit down.
‘Goat’s milk,’ winked Silvio.
‘What?’
‘My hair. I wash it in goat’s milk. That’s what gives it the shine.’
‘That isn’t what I wanted to know,’ said Ditherus. ‘When’s our day off?’
Silvio threw bac
k his head and laughed. ‘Day off? Didn’t they tell you? You’re here till you die – which if you don’t keep your shield up could be pretty soon.’
Ditherus was horrified. ‘You mean we’re never allowed out?’
‘Never – apart from the Games. They give us cloaks for the parade, you know, trimmed with gold. You should hear the women screaming my name –’
‘Yes, yes,’ said Ditherus impatiently. ‘But why doesn’t anyone try to escape?’
Silvio waved his sword at the high walls. ‘Look around you, this place is a fortress. The guards are on a bonus if they catch anyone trying to escape. Now do you mind if we get back to the point?’
‘What point?’ said Ditherus.
‘Are you sure you haven’t heard of me?’
Chapter 7
Never Volunteer
You’re sure you’re all right?’ Tidio asked as they waited in the queue for lunch.
‘Stop fussing, will you? It’s just a graze,’ said Ditherus.
‘There’s a lump on your head the size of an egg.’
Ditherus felt his forehead gingerly. He still had a throbbing headache but it was his pride that really hurt. In front of the whole school he’d fought a wooden post and lost.
‘Still, I think you made a dent in it,’ Tidio grinned. ‘It could be a new way of fighting. The flying headbutt.’
They were almost at the front of the queue, where a slave in a filthy apron was ladling out a mess of stew. Ditherus felt a heavy hand on his shoulder and turned to see their former cellmate, Bladderax.
‘You push in. This MY place,’ snarled the barbarian.
‘No we didn’t,’ said Ditherus. ‘We were in front of you.’
‘You in Bladderax place. MOVE!’ bellowed Bladderax, giving Ditherus a shove that almost knocked him off his feet. Ditherus was about to argue but Tidio grabbed him by the arm.
‘Leave him, master!’
‘Did you see that? He pushed me!’ grumbled Ditherus.
‘He’s a barbarian, master, manners aren’t their strong point.’
Ditherus scowled at Bladderax’s massive back. ‘I have to start standing up for myself some time,’ he muttered.
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