by R. G. Bullet
“Well, yes. I am. I mean—we were—Decimus, but Augustus needs testers—”
“Just as I suspected,” Decimus interrupted.
Archy took the chance he’d been waiting for. “Sir!”
Sejanus lifted his hand to strike Archy but Decimus caught hold of his wrist and shot a gaze that carried the rage of a hundred men. Even the guard behind them flinched.
“Go on,” said Decimus.
Archy pushed himself up, his voice trembling. “We were caught and kept here. We didn’t do anything wrong. We were passing by and stopped to put out the fire.” His words tumbled out. “We were on our way to the market. They’ve got more of our friends working here too. Help us go free.”
Archy’s plea seemed to strike deep into the heart of Decimus. He understood Rome’s appetite for slaves, but children! He gave a singular glance at Sejanus—that’s all it took. Not a word was spoken. Sejanus beckoned over a servant.
“You heard the boy—fetch his friends.”
Decimus placed a heavy arm around Sejanus’s shoulder. “Tell me you’re not involved.”
Sejanus shrugged, holding out his palms, then the slimy smile that flashed on his face dropped. The kitchen became eerily silent. Decimus, his instincts still razor sharp, spun around to see the bulk of Bundo filling the doorway.
Chapter 36
Round One
Bundo barreled in, shoving Sejanus to the side and without a pause struck Decimus to the floor. They both fell hard.
Bundo dragged Archy off his chair. “Where’s the Shroud?” he demanded.
“I—I don’t know,” said Archy. Bundo was holding him so close that Archy was inches away from Bundo’s face—inches away from death.
Bundo tightened Archy’s tunic around his neck, twisting it like a tourniquet. The thin accomplice swept the table clean of plates and shoved Vincent off the chair. Bundo lifted Archy and slammed him back down onto the table.
“I’ll kill you now if you don’t start to speak. The Shroud—where is it?”
“I don’t know,” Archy croaked.
Bundo jerked Archy upright. “I’ve come too far. Now tell me where it is!”
Several of the servants screamed and rushed from the kitchen.
“I don’t know where it is. Let me go!” Archy tried to wriggle free but Bundo pinned him to the table with his elbows and reached for the knife.
Decimus sprang to his feet and smoothed down his toga. Bundo looked across at him, his eyes ablaze. Decimus held the stare.
Bundo released Archy and reared to his full height. The thin accomplice extended a stiletto from his sleeve and lunged at Decimus’s stomach. Decimus caught the scrawny arm, pulling the thin accomplice off balance, and slammed his fist down onto his skull, dropping him instantly.
Bundo rounded the table, still gripping the kitchen knife, and charged at Decimus. Decimus sidestepped Bundo like a matador and thrust his stubby fingers into Bundo’s throat. Bundo dropped the knife, clasped his neck and let out a rasping gurgle.
Vincent launched himself in a flying tackle and hit Bundo squarely in the back. The Kurul’s chief torturer fell like an oak tree, straight through the cellar doors and down the stairs, where he lay motionless at the bottom.
Decimus plucked the thin accomplice from the floor and hurled him headlong through the doorway. The accomplice flopped down the stairs like a rag doll, straight onto Bundo.
The servants stood with their mouths agape. Pots were strewn over the floor, and the kitchen staff cowered behind anything they could find. Sejanus was tucked into a ball under the table.
Decimus walked over to Archy and Vincent and lifted their arms up in a victory salute. The kitchen staff came out of the corners and began applauding. A servant brought Tullius, Georgia, and Tati into the kitchen.
“Vincent! What’s happening?” said Georgia, watching Sejanus crawl out from under the table.
Vincent pointed to the cellar. “We had a fight—that’s what happened. Look!”
Georgia stepped to the open cellar doors and peered down the stairs. “CRIPES! He’s the guy from the airport!” she cried.
Gazing into the depths of the cellar Archy tried to grasp the full implication of the Kurul’s presence. The sentinels had assured him that they couldn’t get into TimeQuests! The scene was a living nightmare. Now was the moment to leave. He turned to Decimus. “I have to get the rug. We’ve got to get all our things and go.”
Decimus hardly needed to look at Sejanus.
“Oh yes, your possessions—” said Sejanus sheepishly. “I was—drying them for you. Let me send the servant to fetch it all. OPILIO! Come here. How many times have I told you to fetch the children’s possessions? Now go, go!”
“Can’t we tie them up or something?” said Georgia, watching the thin accomplice rise up and down on Bundo’s belly.
Decimus edged between Georgia and Archy and started down the stairs. “I’ll end your troubles. Get me a knife—”
“No, wait.” Georgia cried. “You can’t!”
“—and some rope.” Decimus winked.
Vincent edged close to Georgia and placed his arm around her.
“Vincent,” said Georgia, turning her nose. “You stink.”
Vincent pulled up his badly stained T-shirt to smell it. “Ooof—you’re right. I do.”
Their belongings were brought in and laid out on the floor. Georgia thrust her arm down the side of her backpack. “Well, no one’s touched my shoes, and my journal’s fine.”
“What a relief,” said Vincent sarcastically, picking up his jacket.
Archy ripped the stuff from his backpack searching for the Shroud. “Where is it?” His face drained of color. “Where’s the rug?”
Sejanus ran his hand over his chin, avoiding Decimus’s stare. “I, I was drying it for you. I will go personally to retrieve it. Also, allow me to bring fresh attire for our young gladiator here,” he said, patting Vincent’s shoulder gently, making a great effort to melt the icy looks coming from Decimus.
Minutes later Sejanus returned with the rug and placed it on the floor beside Archy. Vincent and Georgia dashed over and touched it.
“It’s still damp,” said Georgia, helping Archy roll it neatly. They carefully checked and re-packed their backpacks with their belongings and minutes later were ready to leave the bathhouse.
“Come! You’re to accompany me back to my home.” Decimus plucked Tati off the floor with one arm and led the way out the main entrance to his grand carriage. Adoring fans clustered and cheered around them.
“I meant all of you,” said Decimus, looking back to Archy, Vincent, and Georgia. “No need to be afraid anymore.”
“I know, Decimus,” said Archy. “We’d love to but we have to go. I need to find Maximus Crassus.”
Decimus lowered Tati to the ground and stood with a puzzled expression on his face. “Why do you seek him?”
“I have to make a delivery.”
“A delivery? Don’t be a fool, boy. You’d do well to leave Maximus Crassus alone. He abhors children. He is a cowardly hyena that hides behind his Death Squad. Only an unwise child would approach him.” The veins on Decimus’s neck bulged as he spoke. “I’ll send one of my messengers for this delivery. You’re playing with fate.”
“I have to make it personally,” said Archy. “It has to be done.”
“Go, if that is your will. Make your way to his house beyond the market. On the other side you will see the Palatine Hill.” He pointed down the cobblestone road. “Once there, ask anyone and they will direct you to his house.”
The moment had come to say goodbye. Tati sensed it immediately and clung tightly to Georgia’s waist. Georgia bent to embrace her, tears welling in her eyes, making them sparkle. “No, Tati. Don’t make this hard. We must go. Decimus will look after you.”
Tati turned to Tullius, pulled at his tunic, and signaled with her hands.
“She wants to know if you’ll come back soon,” said Tullius.
Archy could hardly look at them. He didn’t have the answer and Georgia couldn’t lie.
“I don’t know, Tati, I will want to come back and see you as soon as I leave—but we live a long, long way away.” Georgia hugged her tightly. When she let go Tati pulled the tiny belt from around her waist and hung it around Georgia’s neck.
Decimus laid his hand on her shoulder. “Come, Tati—they will return. I can see it in their faces. I have great plans for these two while you are gone,” he said assuredly.
Tullius remained silent. He hugged Archy first, then Vincent and Georgia before he turned away.
Chapter 37
Error in Judgment
Tullius and Tati looked back from the top of Decimus’s carriage as it rattled off down the road, fans jostling along behind it. Their gaze fixed on Archy, Vincent, and Georgia as they waved until the carriage turned down a street and out of sight.
“Thank God for that—I thought they’d never leave,” said Vincent.
Georgia cuffed him hard about the shoulders. “Your sense of humor is sick, Vincent. What has Rushburys done to you?”
“It’s only a joke, Georgia. I’m sorry to see them leave too, but we have to get out of here. Those Kurul blokes are still close by.”
Archy watched his friends squabble and merely shook his head. At least some things were back to normal. He glanced at his watch. Vincent was right—they needed to move. They had exactly four hours left until the gateway opened.
The high stone walls of the bathhouse cast a shadow where they stood, but at either end of the street Archy could see the sun shining on the houses. It was a refreshing sight after being imprisoned in the miserable cellar. The morning was crisp, and Archy caught the scent of fresh-baked bread coming from the kitchen. He sniffed at the air like a dog catching a scent, realizing just how hungry he was.
Just then, an ox-drawn cart clattered out from a side alley with a man leading it from the front. He gawped at Georgia’s flowing golden hair.
“What’s he looking at?” said Vincent, noticing the man’s leathery skin.
“We probably look like aliens,” said Georgia. “Anyway, we’d better get used to it. Decimus said we’ve got to go through the market. C’mon, Archy, let’s go.”
Archy swung his backpack over one shoulder and then led the way in the direction of Maximus Crassus's house.
Entering the piazza the sunlight warmed his body and he felt a rush of energy.
They headed straight for the market, and the closer they got, the busier it became. The roads were jammed with four-legged traffic. Dogs ran around loose. A man herded a flock of sheep down a side alley. Archy counted dozens of horses and donkeys laden with produce, all making their way in the same direction. And Georgia was right. A lot of people did stop to stare at them.
They entered the market, which was covered by a series of tents, and were jostled along with the rest of the crowd, passing row upon row of stalls selling everything from food to earthen pots. They kept together in single file, moving quickly through to the center. They passed more stalls, some with huge carcasses splayed out on the ground. An endless stream of people brushed past them, balancing heavy bags on their heads or carrying baskets by their sides. An infusion of different smells filled the air.
They wove onward until the market thinned and they emerged into the sunlight again. They made their way to the base of the stone footpath, which wound up the Palatine Hill. The walk up was hard and the experience of the bathhouse had taken its toll on their energy.
Halfway up the hill they stopped and drank from a trickling water fountain. Georgia shared some chocolate bars from her backpack and they sat in silence, looking out over the panorama. It stretched for miles, with countless houses and huts among the massive stone buildings and temples, but before any of them could relax Archy had already jumped up, checking his watch. Three hours to go.
When they finally reached the top, they noticed the area was very different from anything they had passed before. The houses on the Palatine Hill were striking. Some had massive marble facades with guards standing at attention near the entrances. Other houses were set back off the road but were just as imposing.
Georgia asked one of the guards for directions to Maximus Crassus's house and he directed them to the end of a wide cobbled street.
“I can’t believe we made it,” said Archy, setting his backpack down on the ground in a park just in front of the villa. The walls were unusually high and so Archy climbed a tree to gain a better view. He could see the house between the cedar trees, a square marble block with a half-dozen columns at the front. It was an eerie, lifeless structure, like a giant mausoleum and lacked the magnificence and design of the other houses.
“This should be easy,” said Archy, climbing down. “I’ll bet he’ll be happy to get it back.”
Just before they got to the front gate of the villa, Archy unsheathed the gladius and reached up to pull a handle. A bell clanged somewhere in the distance and moments later a servant heaved open the heavy doors, poking his head out.
“What do you want?” he said.
Archy held out the gladius. “I have a delivery for Maximus Crassus. Can you ask him to come here?”
“Master Crassus is not here,” said the servant, looking down at the gladius with a haughty expression. “Leave it with me.”
“No! I must give it to him myself,” said Archy, the pitch in his voice becoming higher.
“If you want to see him, go to the amphitheater,” the servant said.
Archy wanted to see for himself. He tried to push his way in, wedging his foot in the door.
“Where is he?” Archy cried.
“I’ve already told you. The master will perform the executions,” the servant spat, shoving Archy back against Vincent and Georgia. “Guard! GUARD!”
Chapter 38
The Theater of Death
Archy, Vincent, and Georgia bolted from Maximus Crassus's house before the guard got to them. They ran down the hilly path until their legs felt numb. Vincent stopped, doubled over, heaving and wheezing for breath.
“Hold on, Archy,” Georgia panted. “He can’t take it.”
Vincent’s flushed, sweaty face looked like it had been spray-painted pink and Georgia did her best to fan him with her hands. “What’s the theater anyway, Archy, and how do we get to it?” Georgia asked.
“Amphitheater,” Vincent corrected, with a dry hack. “It’s the Coliseum.”
“The theater is the Coliseum!? That must be where the gateway is.” Archy’s stomach dropped. He’d imagined the Restitution would be easy, so when Vincent mentioned the word “Coliseum” his mind filled with horror.
None of them needed directions. The Coliseum walls rose above the surrounding buildings like a behemoth. The sun blazed down from a clear blue sky and the swelling crowds near the Forum were so thick they battled to reach the Coliseum. The immense exterior hid its horrors well, but couldn’t conceal the change of mood in the expectant throng gathering near the entrances.
The shouting and chanting from different clusters of people came from all directions. Archy could feel the ominous shift in atmosphere as they got nearer. Among the mass of people, the hawkers stood tall on their boxes, selling their wares across the sea of bobbing heads.
“People, come and look! Oranges! Wine! Honey bread! Get it here! Don’t pay the arena price! Enjoy the days of the Naumachia.”
A flock of starlings soared overhead, shrieking back and forth, and for brief moments it seemed to blacken the sky. Georgia and Vincent followed Archy into the Coliseum.
As they reached the top of the stone steps a sudden bone-shaking boooom filled the air. The three gawked at the arena. The center wasn’t a sandpit as they expected, but was filled to the brim with water, and its edges overflowed into the seats on the lower level. Two boats fitted with masts and rigging dominated the scene. One was half-submerged and an intense battle was taking place on its deck. A capacity crowd stood, cheering feverishly.
They watched, mesmerized, as a gladiator high up the mast lost his balance, bounced off the side of the boat, and sank out of sight. The mob relished every second, wanting more!
Archy and Vincent were awestruck by the scene. Georgia grabbed the boys by the arms, shaking them fiercely. “LET’S GO! We don’t have time,” she called, pushing them back down the stairs and to a lower corridor.
Archy quickened his pace, leading the way around the circumference of the Coliseum’s lower levels. “Look for the gladiators’ entrance,” he shouted over his shoulder.
They sped down yet another stairway and dashed through the labyrinthine stone passageways.
“This must be it,” said Archy, looking at set of thick iron gates. A sentry guarded the entrance and as they neared him he stood up straight.
“Vincent, give him one of your coins,” said Archy.
“No way! I’m not—”
“Do it, Vincent. There’s no time to argue,” Georgia urged.
“All right!” Vincent grudgingly held up a single gold coin. “Here!”
The guard gave a furtive glance to either side and then took it. “Well, well! The boy has gold! Where there’s one coin, there’s more.” He poked Vincent sharply in the chest. “Hand them over.”
“You’ve got to be kidding!” Vincent spat.
“Come, a fool and his money have shorter lives than gladiators.” The guard snapped his fingers impatiently. “You want to go in—meet your heroes?”
“I can’t believe this,” said Vincent, grinding his teeth. He took out the coins from his pocket and was trying to select the one in the worst condition when the guard snatched them all.
Vincent lunged at him. “Give them back!”
The guard stepped back and withdrew his sword. Archy darted between them. “It’s all right, it’s all right!” he said, pushing Vincent back into Georgia. “Just let us in, will you?”
