CONTENTS
INTRODUCTION
LAKE OF DOOM
STINK HOLE
ON THE ROAD
ON THE ROAD AGAIN
I CAME, I SAW, I THREW UP
ALL ROADS LEAD TO ROME
SHOW ME THE MONKEYS!
VENATIO!
FIRST DAY AT SCHOOL
BATTLE READY
FIRST BLOOD
THE GREAT ESCAPE
THE CHAMPION OF CHAMPIONS!
SHOWTIME!
SHOWDOWN
EPILOGUE
ROMAN NUMERALS
GARY’S GLOSSARY
NOTE ON THE AUTHOR
Dedicated to Alex Milway,
for his zealous encouragement.
Special thanks to Lizzie and Jack, the best
editor and designer I could ever wish for.
So, you think you know about ZEBRAS?
Well, you’re probably WRONG!
But Julius wasn’t quite like all zebras.
And, to make things even more interesting, he lived in …
EXCITING, RIGHT?
CHAPTER ONE
LAKE OF DOOM
Life on the dusty, shrubby African plains wasn’t all fun and games for Julius (i.e. eating grass all day). Every Wednesday, much to his disgust, his mum would drag him and his (very annoying, stupid) brother, Brutus, to the lake.
Julius HATED the lake… with a PASSION!
He thought all the animals STANK!
And that they were SOOO BORING!
Not to mention his fear of being eaten at every turn…
On the other hand, Julius’s brother, Brutus, loved the lake!
And nothing annoyed Julius more than his big, show-off brother.
So, one week, Julius came up with a nifty plan to try and get out of going. “Look, Mum, I’ve found this little puddle. It’ll do me just fine!” he said.
“No!” scolded his mum. “You’ll come to the lake just like everyone else.”
“But what about all those crocodiles…”
“You’d have to be very old or stupid for one of those to catch you,” she said.
“What about those ferocious lions, then?” Julius protested.
“Bah! You’re more likely to be hit by a flaming rock from the sky than get caught by one of those lazy beasts!”
“But that’s ridiculous,” said Julius. “I know plenty of zebras who have been eaten by lions. That has to be the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard!”
“Now, get to the lake this instant, or a lion with big teeth will be the least of your worries!”
Just as Julius was nursing his bruised bottom, Brutus strutted up to him. “Come on, bruv. The lake is brilliant! Far more exciting than your silly puddle.”
And before Julius could do anything about it, Brutus grabbed him by the front hooves and spun him round.
“Can you do amazing, backward somersaults into your puddle like we do at the lake? Let’s find out!”
“Nope, thought not! Come on, nincompoop – last one there is a warthog!”
And with that, Brutus pranced off with the rest of the herd.
CHAPTER TWO
STINK HOLE
“Come on, Julius, drink up. It will give you strength!” said his mum.
Julius sniffed the water, then creased up his face.
“If you don’t drink up, you won’t grow big and strong like your brother Brutus. You’ll become a weakling – easy prey for any hyena or lion.”
“But it stinks!” cried Julius. “What with all those crocodiles and hippos doing their whatnot in it. I don’t know how anyone can drink this filth.” His face twisted into a grimace as he took another sniff.
“Look at Brutus,” she said. “Do you see him being afraid?”
Nothing about Brutus surprised Julius. That idiot would lick the dribble from a hippo’s mouth if he thought it would impress his friends.
“I don’t care,” insisted Julius. “I still ain’t drinking it. You can keep your pooey water – I’m going home.” He turned on his hooves and started heading back up the ridge.
Julius didn’t fancy getting another kick up the bum. So, reluctantly, he turned back.
As the rotten aroma of the lake wafted up his nostrils, Julius tried to imagine he was standing at the foot of the most beautiful crystal-clear pool, filled with the purest sparkling water that had trickled down from an ancient glacier high up in the mountains.
He counted to three, then took a big GULP…
It tasted REVOLTING!
No stupid pretending was going to hide how vile THAT was.
“There, that wasn’t so bad, was it?” piped up a little voice.
Julius looked down to see a small, fat warthog with a toothy grin beaming up at him.
“Don’t worry,” continued the warthog. “You soon get used to it.”
How warthogs annoyed Julius. They always thought they were so clever. This was the last straw. Now he’d really had enough.
“NO, Julius!” she scolded. “We’ve only just got here. Stop being such a big baby!”
Bah! thought Julius. I’m no baby. I’ll show them! I’ll trot back home on my own and when they all finally turn up, they’ll realize I’m more than capable of looking after myself.
So, moving very slowly and quietly, Julius slipped away from the herd. He tiptoed up the hill, crouched behind a big boulder and surveyed the landscape, trying to figure out his next move.
“Where are you off to, then?” squeaked a familiar little voice.
“Leave me alone!” barked Julius, waving the warthog away.
“But there’re all sorts of lunatics with big teeth prowling around out here. You should be careful,” said the warthog.
“Well, you’d better get back to your friends, then,” snapped Julius. “We zebras are pretty capable of outrunning lions and the like, thank you very much. But I’m not sure I fancy your chances.”
“Don’t you underestimate us warthogs,” he warned, wagging his hoof. “We’re more than able to dodge the wild beasts of these plains. Why, in fact, I think you’ll find the average speed of an adult male warthog…”
Julius was heading back the way he’d come. Or so he thought. He wasn’t exactly sure. He’d been distracted by some tasty shrubs when he should’ve been watching where he was going.
Anyway, it doesn’t matter, he thought. I’m FREE! I can walk wherever I want now!
“Mr Zebra! Sir! I insist that you come back to the lake. It really is very dangerous out here!” said the little warthog, scampering after him.
Julius spun round. “Go away! Why do you suddenly care about me? If you speak to my mum and my brother, you’ll soon find out I’m not worth bothering with.”
“Your mother does sound quite insistent…” said the warthog, who was really beginning to worry now. But Julius marched on, defiantly.
Then, out of the blue, a frantic family of gnus thundered past.
They were followed by giraffes and antelopes, barking alarm calls and crying for help.
“You know, perhaps we should go back after all… I don’t want Mum and Brutus thinking I’ve been eaten or something,” said Julius, scooting back towards the watering hole.
“But wait!” called the warthog. “It’s not safe! There’s a lion on the loose!”
But when they jumped over the ridge and reached the lake it was absolutely deserted. No zebras, no antelopes, no animals left at all – nothing but clouds of dust.
Julius ran to the spot where he’d stood earlier with his mum and Brutus. “I don’t understand,” he gasped, looking at the chaotic mess of footprints in the dirt. It was completely impossible to work out which way everyone had gone.
The warthog gave Julius a gentle nudge. “Um, I think maybe
we should leave too…”
“But we have to figure out what’s happened!”
“Erm … I’m afraid there’s not enough time,” said the warthog, staring ahead and slowly backing away from the water’s edge.
Peering in the same direction, all Julius could see was the silhouette of a solitary lion emerging from the dust clouds. Nervously, he started to back away too.
“B-but how can one lion cause so much trouble? Surely there were others, too?”
“That is a nomadic lion,” said the warthog, knowlingly. “He works alone and is far more wily than your ordinary lion.”
From across the water, the scruffy-looking beast narrowed his eyes at Julius and the warthog and, baring his great white pointy teeth, he let out a low, rumbling growl.
They were about to turn tail when a chilling sound of snarling and barking echoed round the lake – a sound unlike anything Julius had heard before.
The lion was also startled and jumped backwards. Through trees in the distance, a pack of agitated wolves bolted straight for him.
Taking their chance, Julius and the warthog scrambled up the ridge in panic and ran as fast as their legs could carry them.
But as they leapt and landed, the loose red soil collapsed from under their feet and they plummeted down to the bottom of a huge pit.
“WHAT IDIOT PUT THIS STUPID HOLE HERE?!” screamed Julius, pushing the warthog’s hairy bottom off his face.
The warthog brushed himself down. “I have heard stories about these pits and, if I’m right (and I dearly hope I’m not), we could be in quite a nasty pickle.”
Julius was just about to ask what a pickle was when another large bundle of fur and bones thumped on top of him.
“’ERE! WHAT’S GOING ON?!” he shouted, desperately trying to heave the big lump off. “WHY DOES EVERY IDIOT HAVE TO LAND ON MY HEAD?”
Realizing who it was, they both frantically scrabbled up the sides of the pit and launched into high-pitched screams: “LION! LION! GET US OUT! GET US OUT!!”
But their wailing couldn’t be heard above the savage snapping and barking of the wolves. Then, nearby, a booming voice bellowed from above, “Away, boys, away! I need these creatures ALIVE!”
Julius slumped to the floor of the pit and sighed a deep sigh.
CHAPTER THREE
ON THE ROAD
As Julius quivered at the bottom of the dark hole, listening to the grim voices above, he felt a stream of emotions bubbling up inside him. He was scared and angry, and also very confused.
Number one, he thought. NEVER call a zebra a ‘stripy horse’. Zebras are nothing like horses!
Number two, he puzzled. What’s the story with the bloke with the dead bird on his head?! And why is he so shiny?
But before Julius could demand an explanation, two burly men threw a net over the three animals and hauled them out of the pit on a big pole.
“Throw them into the last box!” barked Dead Bird Hat Man, pointing his stick towards a line of carts in the distance.
His men heaved the bulging, squirming net over to the caravan and shook the beasts out into the back of one of the carts like breadcrumbs from a bedsheet.
In a desperate bid to get away from the lion, Julius and the warthog squished themselves up against the sides of the box. But, bizarrely, the lion didn’t seem the least bit interested in them and, instead, curled up on the floor, exhausted.
Poor Julius could not believe his rotten luck. There he’d been, enjoying his moment of freedom, when the next thing he knew he was being cooped up with a lion and a warthog!
“Don’t worry, my friend,” said the warthog. “Wherever they’re taking us, I’ll have plenty of stories and interesting facts to keep us entertained on the way.”
“HE’S STARTING ALREADY!! OH PLEEEEASE!!! SAVE MEEE!!!”
But Julius’s pleas were ignored by Dead Bird Hat Man, who simply galloped up to the caravan of carts and screamed, “Get these beasts moving! If we miss the boat, you’ll ALL be thrown into the arena!”
Julius pulled his head in from the window and sank to the floor of the cage with a sigh. “I don’t know what’s going on any more: boats, arenas, a shiny bloke with a dead bird stuck to his head? The whole world’s gone bonkers!”
“Well, for a start,” said the warthog, helpfully, “the chap with the bird feathers on his helmet is a Roman soldier. Possibly a centurion.”
Julius looked bemused. “A ‘sen-choo-we-oo’? What’s one of them?”
“Well, I’m very glad you asked!” grinned the warthog. “Now, from what I’ve heard, these Roman chaps come from a strange, faraway land and, basically, they want to take over lots of other strange lands – mainly by beating everyone up!
“The one in charge wears that feathery hat to make him look taller than everyone else! And his big stick shows you he’s boss. But, watch it – he’ll happily whack you if he doesn’t like you.”
Julius put his head in his hooves and started to sob.
“By the way,” said the warthog. “My name’s Cornelius. Very pleased to meet you.”
“Julius Zebra,” sniffed Julius, extending his hoof for a hoof-shake.
“Lovely to meet you, Debra,” said Cornelius.
“Not Debra, ZEBRA!” blubbed Julius.
Cornelius shrugged his shoulders and offered his little hoof to the shabby-looking lion, who was still lying in the middle of the box. “And you, sir?”
“Oh, no worries,” said Cornelius. “Keeping yourself to yourself. I understand, old chap.”
The cart began bucking and bumping as it trundled along the rough dirt track and away from the watering hole.
“But where are these Romans taking us? What do they want with us?!” whimpered Julius, holding on to the sides for dear life.
“Well,” said Cornelius. “I’m pretty sure I overheard something about an arena. So we’re probably off to the circus to watch the Games, which sounds ever so much fun and very exciting!”
The lion looked up at the mention of the circus and let out a big “PAH!”
“So, what happens at one of these circuses, then?” asked Julius, confused.
“Oh, all sorts of amazing things!” chirped Cornelius.
JUGGLING MONKEYS!
DOGS RIDING HORSES!
BEARS DANCING WITH OSTRICHES!
“And you know all of this how?” asked Julius, amazed.
“Oh, my brother’s friend, who knows a parrot, who’s a great chum with an ostrich, whose mum spoke to a gnu, who definitely, no word of a lie, knew a monkey whose uncle Bob was a juggling monkey.”
The idea of a circus perked Julius up no end. He might be stuck in a manky box off to who-knows-where, but if there were fun and games to be had, then maybe it was something to celebrate!
“Back home, when we zebras need cheering up, there’s an ancient song we like to sing. My mother sang it to me, and her mother before her…” Julius cleared his throat. “Everybody, after me … THE WHEELS ON THE CART GO ROUND AND ROUND…”
“Bah! Imbeciles!” groaned the lion.
“Ah, come on, grumpy!” snapped Julius, immediately thinking of the next verse: “THE GRUMPY LION ON THE CART GOES GRUMP, GRUMP, GRUMP!”
The lion leapt over to Julius and grabbed him by the throat.
“Calm down, grumpy guts,” Julius let out a nervous laugh. “It’s just a song – no need to get your whiskers in a twist!”
“Listen, this isn’t a joke,” growled the lion, pushing his nose up to Julius’s face. “Your stupid friend may think he knows everything, but he doesn’t. There’ll be no fun, there’ll be no games, there’ll be no coming home again. Where we’re going will be the end of the road for us.”
“What? No juggling monkeys?” snivelled Julius.
The lion just sneered in his face. “Know this, Debra, the only thing guaranteed is that you’ll never see your family again.” And with that he threw Julius to the floor.
“The name’s ZEBRA!” Julius muttered, pulling himse
lf up. “What is the matter with everyone?! Is that so difficult to understand?”
CHAPTER FOUR
ON THE ROAD AGAIN
The sun was beating down hard and the cart had become very hot and stuffy, bumping along the uneven road. Pretty much everyone was green from cart-sickness.
As the day wore on, Julius got thirstier and thirstier. So much so that he even started to crave the stinky water from the lake – and miss his family too.
All I wanted was to do my own thing, but not like this… he thought. Am I really off to some mad distant land to see the circus? How long will I be stuck in this smelly box? Will I ever see my brother and my mum again?
With all these puzzles racing through his mind, he curled up in the corner and closed his eyes.
Maybe I’ll wake up in the morning and it will all have been some horrible bad dream. And, with that, Julius dozed off to sleep.
He woke to the noise of chattering outside. It was night-time now. And, poking his head out of the small window, Julius boggled at all the different shapes, sizes and colourful costumes of people walking past. What’s going on? Where ARE we? he thought.
The caravan did a sharp turn round a rocky corner and Julius’s bleary eyes almost popped out of his head as he fixed them on the most amazing sight he’d ever seen…
“Oh, thank goodness…” He breathed a sigh of relief. “We can finally get out of this stupid little box. I really need to stretch my legs!”
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