The crowd cheered with excitement as the two armies clashed. It wasn’t exactly an accurate depiction of the Battle of Alesia – these things never were – but the audience relished it none the less.
On the front bench, Pliny was trying to keep track of his team, but there was so much dirt being scuffed up, in such big clouds, it was difficult to make out anything that was going on. He shouted out instructions anyway, in the hope that someone might hear.
In the middle of the chaos, Milus attempted to keep the Romans at bay. Fortunately his skills with a trident were second to none.
Behind him, Julius, Cornelius, Rufus and Lucia tried their best, but they were no match for the veteran fighters.
“I-I can’t keep them off any longer…!” cried Cornelius, exhausted. “Pliny was wrong – this is nothing like what we trained for!”
“My flipping arm hurts!” moaned Rufus. “All I’m doing is banging my sword against their shields. How is this fair?”
Seeing things falling apart, Julius tried to rally the troops. “Don’t slash your swords!” he shouted. “Poke, remember?!”
This gave Rufus the right hump. “I’ll poke you if you don’t stop bossing everyone around! Just because you got the loudest cheer!”
Julius spun round. “And what’s that supposed to mean?”
Poor Cornelius began to get lost in a flurry of swords. “Guys! Guys! Try fighting the enemy, not each other!!”
But it was too late. A big swing from one of the Roman swords clobbered Cornelius right on his helmet, sending him flying.
“OH, NO! CORNELIUS!” cried Lucia. But she too took a hit as the deluge of Roman swords finally overpowered her.
With Julius and Rufus bickering at the back, this left just Milus fighting the enemy. But even his mighty skills couldn’t hold back the tidal wave of blows, and he was sent packing as well.
“Come on, Rufus – it’s just you and me!” exclaimed Julius, realizing everyone else was out for the count.
One of the Romans stepped forward. It was, of course, Victorius. “Your lofty friend has hightailed it. A wise option.”
He was right. Rufus had legged it.
“It’s just you and us now.”
Everyone jumped to their feet, chanting, “ZEBRA! ZEBRA! ZEBRA!”
“Come on, then,” goaded Julius, fired up by the crowd. He raised his sword.
“No, zebra…” replied Victorius, flatly. “You are not.” And with that, he shoved his big shield into Julius’s face. Then, with a swing of his sword, he swiped Julius’s legs and tipped him over onto his back.
The Summa Rudis marched up to Victorius, grabbed his hand and held it aloft. “THE WINNERS!”
Poor Pliny sat hunched over with his face in his paws. It was a complete disaster! ABSOLUTELY USELESS! They had learned NOTHING!
The crowd were also unimpressed, loudly booing and chucking rotten vegetables at Julius and the others as they attempted to scramble away. This was not the heroes’ return they’d been expecting!
Over in Hadrian’s box, things were even more serious. The Emperor was red with rage! He had an angry mob on his hands and it was all Septimus’s fault!
“They’ll be ready, Hadrian! I promise!!” the Lanista reassured him.
“They had better be!” snapped Hadrian. “Or you’ll find yourself in a POENA CULLEI!”
CHAPTER TWELVE
THE GREAT ESCAPE
Back in the barracks, while everyone nursed their bumps and bruises, Felix frantically jumped up and down, shouting at everyone. “We HAVE to leave and we have to leave NOW!” he screamed, waving his arms above his head. “If we stay here, we’re dead! DEAD!”
A tiny figure scurried into the room.
Felix stood up to protest. “Now you listen to me, Pliny! We weren’t prepared for a big fight like that! We were trained as individual gladiators, not a troop of soldiers!”
Pliny put his little paws on his hips, furrowed his brow and looked Felix right in the eye. “And what would you know about it, eh? You ran like a flea from a dead rat!”
“Hadrian himself is on the warpath after such an HORRIFIC display! No true gladiator would run from the battle, no matter what the fight! At least those who stayed and fought can retain a smidgen of honour.”
Suddenly, the barracks door crashed open, almost getting ripped off its hinges. In the entrance stood a red-faced Septimus, contorted with rage. “WHAT IN THE NAME OF JUPITER’S FIERY BEARD WAS THAT?!” he screeched.
Dumbstruck with fear, no one dared talk. Or move. Well – apart from Felix, who felt his point still needed to be made. He raised a hoof and stood up. “Look, Septimus. As I was just saying to Pliny, it really was unfair to expect—”
But before he could finish his sentence, Septimus grabbed Felix, dragged him to the doorway and booted him so hard up the bottom that he flew high out of the school and into the clouds. No one was left in any doubt that Felix was well on his way to the forests of Germania.
Septimus turned to face the rest of the cowering creatures. “ANYBODY ELSE FEEL THEY’VE GOT SOMETHING TO ADD TO THIS DISCUSSION?”
“GOOD! NOW, GIVE ME 100 STAR JUMPS AND 20 LAPS ROUND THE ARENA. HOP TO IT! COME ON!!”
“And when you’re finished, we can discuss the WORLD OF PAIN I’ve got planned for your training regime and last pathetic week on this earth!”
Julius leapt up and down. His weary muscles, battered and bruised limbs and painfully sore ant bites reminded him that today was probably the worst day of his life. Fact. “There’s only so much more I can take of this!” he said under his breath, grimacing.
Lucia star-jumped her way over to him. “Don’t worry,” she whispered. “I’ve thought of an amazing plan! If all goes well, we could be on our way home by the morning.” She tapped her nose and, with a wink of her eye, star-jumped back to where she’d come from.
That evening, as the lamps went out in the Ludus Magnus, Lucia crept round the tiny barracks, tapping everyone on their feet as they lay in their beds.
Tiptoeing like tiny mice, Julius and the others followed Lucia to the school’s outer perimeter wall.
To their surprise, Rufus was already there, hiding in the shadows. And as they got closer, it was suddenly apparent that he was still wearing his Gaul-fighting costume from their disastrous battle. Moustache and all!
“Wait! What’s going on?!” exclaimed Julius.
“Hush!” said Lucia. “Put this on.”
She handed each of them a fake moustache.
“I don’t get it… Why are we dressing up as Gauls again?” Julius whispered as he pulled on a pair of checked trousers.
“Because that’s how Rufus and I disguise ourselves when we sneak out to watch the chariot racing,” replied Lucia. “We found that costume box weeks ago. No one has ever stopped us or given us a second look when we’re dressed up. We’ll just wear these costumes and stroll right out through the main gate. No problem!”
Suddenly all Lucia’s and Rufus’s mysterious absences from training made sense.
“But what about Pliny?” asked Julius. “Shouldn’t he come along, too, after everything he’s done for us?”
“Forget the mouse,” growled Milus. “He can come and go as he pleases. He’ll soon find some other idiots to talk to.”
Julius wasn’t convinced. “We should at least say goodbye. He’s worked so hard with us.”
Milus grabbed Julius by the moustache. “Listen, zebra. If we don’t leave now, we’ll be caught and any chance we had of getting home will be lost!”
“Yes, come on,” said Rufus. “If Septimus catches us out here, we’ll be star-jumping till sunrise.”
Lucia quietly leapt onto Rufus’s back and climbed up his neck.
And with that, she disappeared over the wall and off into the shadows.
The others quickly followed.
It was no easy task grappling their way up Rufus’s slippery neck. Cornelius even fell off a couple of times. But they were desperate to escape and h
appy to get away by any means necessary.
Once they’d eventually scrambled over the wall, they crouched in the darkness next to Lucia.
“Wait,” whispered Julius. “How’s Rufus going to climb up here? Isn’t he coming?”
“But I’m right here!” came Rufus’s voice, directly behind him.
Julius nearly jumped out of his skin! “What the…? Where did you come from?”
“Where did you come from?” he continued in a whisper. “I didn’t see you climb over the wall!”
Rufus pointed back down the street. “I used that little door – it connects the road directly to the barracks. Quite handy, really.”
“You IMBECILE!” snarled Milus. “We could’ve ALL used that! Why didn’t you tell the rest of us?”
Rufus looked quite hurt. “Well, where’s the fun in that? I thought it would be exciting to make a daring escape up a giraffe’s neck. Something to tell your grandchildren about!”
“Shh!” said Lucia. “Someone’s coming!”
Everybody slipped back into the shadows and kept very still.
“Uh-oh. Now we’re for it,” whispered Cornelius. “I think he saw us.”
“FELIX!?” they all gasped.
“Yep, it’s me!” he said gleefully. “Where are you all off to? Are you finally making the Big Getaway?”
“Wait a minute, shouldn’t you have been booted all the way to Germania?” asked Cornelius.
“Well, I didn’t quite make it that far, but I did end up over the city wall! It was quite a task getting back in here, I can tell you.”
“But why have you come back?” puzzled Cornelius.
“To escape, of course! We can’t hang around here any longer. ‘Only death awaits us!’”
“You fool, Felix!” rasped Milus. “You’d already escaped! You didn’t need to come back!”
“Oh, yeah…” Felix pondered a moment. “I never thought about it like that. Oh well, I’m here now!” he said cheerfully. “What’s the plan?”
Lucia gave him a spare moustache. “Just put this on and keep your voice down. We’re heading for the main gate and sneaking out disguised as Gauls.”
She crept into the road, checked that the coast was clear, then beckoned everyone to follow.
Felix scampered up to her while sticking on his itchy moustache. “What I will say, though, is try and avoid the Circus Maximus. There’s a HUGE chariot race going on. THOUSANDS of people are milling around. I think even Hadrian himself is there tonight.”
Lucia skidded to a halt, eyes bulging. She slapped herself on the forehead. “By the GODS! In all the haste to escape, I’d completely forgotten! Tonight is the Grand Final between the Whites and the Greens!”
Julius put his hoof on Lucia’s shoulder. “Lucia, we can’t take the risk. If we start mingling with the crowds, we’ll be found out for sure.”
Lucia gazed blankly at the floor and wiped a tear from her eye. “I know…” she sighed, looking up at Julius and sniffing.
He smiled and patted her on the back. “You know it’s for the best.”
Then, looking him right in the eye, she said, “I-I’m sorry, Julius…”
“Sorry? Sorry for what?”
And Lucia shot off up the road as fast as her little legs could carry her.
“She … SHE BIT ME! Lucia actually BIT ME!!” whimpered Julius, holding his arm.
“Well, she is a crocodile,” said Cornelius. “Biting zebras is kinda what they do.”
“Cor, she’s keen on those chariots, isn’t she!” remarked Felix.
“Lucia’s desperate to become a charioteer,” explained Rufus, who’d always escaped with her to the races. “And she’s got a real passion for the Green team. If they finally beat those rotten Whites tonight, it will be a sensation!”
Milus suddenly erupted with impatience. “AARGH! You lot TALK TOO MUCH!” And in a great huff, he ran off after Lucia!
Everyone just stood there, shocked.
“Well, how rude,” said Felix.
“We’d better try and catch them,” said Julius. “If we start getting split up, it’s only going to cause more trouble.”
As he and the others approached the Circus Maximus, they were indeed greeted by large crowds.
“Bah! We’ll never find them now,” puffed Cornelius. “We should just cut our losses and make a run for it.”
“This way!” said Rufus. “We always go through this little entrance. It has the best view!”
“I think you probably have the best view wherever you sit, Rufus!” said Julius.
As they barged their way through the bustle of spectators, Julius scanned the crowd for Lucia and Milus. There was a mad cocktail of people from all over Rome and the Empire beyond. Street sellers sat next to senators, who sat next to goat farmers, who sat next to centurions.
Everyone was singing and shouting about their favourite horses.
This is the closest to the smelly chaos of the watering hole back home I’ve ever seen, thought Julius.
A great “OOOH!” went round the seats as one of the charioteers crashed, his chariot wheels exploding into smithereens.
“Cor, this is actually quite exciting!” said Felix, hypnotized by the crazy scene. “Does anybody know what’s happening?”
Cornelius let out a little cough. “Well, my dear antelope, what you have here are four teams of charioteers – Red, Green, Blue and White…”
“Argh!” cried Julius. “We haven’t got time for one of your fact sessions!”
“Oh, hush now,” scolded Cornelius, carrying on. “They speed round the track seven times…”
“Why do I bother?” Julius mumbled, throwing his arms in the air.
Just then, amongst the rabble, Julius spotted Lucia. “THERE!” he pointed. “I’d recognize that moustache anywhere!”
He and the others jostled their way through the spectators towards their friend. She was happily watching the race; Milus was nowhere to be seen.
“Lucia! It’s us! Where’s Milus? Is he with you?”
But Lucia was deep in conversation and didn’t look up.
“Oh, don’t be mad with me, Lucia,” said Julius, as they all squished in on the crowded seats. “I forgive you for chomping my arm. Anyway, who’s your new friend? Aren’t you going to introduce us?”
Julius’s face was a picture of horror: his mouth dropped to the floor.
Felix whispered in Julius’s ear, “What’s with Lucia’s mad accent? Is that meant to be Gaulish? Sounds more like a yodelling hippo!”
“It’s not the accent I’m worried about,” said Julius. “Look who she’s talking to – it’s Dead Bird Hat Man!”
Felix stifled a scream.
The centurion leaned over. “Very nice to meet you,” he said. “I’m a big fan of your cheese and wine. A very welcome addition to our glorious Empire!”
Julius bowed and smiled, keeping his head down. “We need to get away NOW,” he hissed. “Or we can say goodbye to any hope of escaping! Come ON!” He nodded and winked towards Dead Bird Hat Man.
“Is there something wrong with your eye?” Lucia asked. “Now, if you don’t mind, my friend and I would like to finish watching the race.”
Felix and Cornelius joined in on the nodding and winking now.
“Are your friends annoying you?” asked Dead Bird Hat Man. “If they are, I can quite easily arrange for them to be thrown into the arena.”
“Ahem. No, eet eez nuthink,” replied Lucia in her best Gaulish accent. “They was just leafing anyways.” And she turned and gave them all the iciest of stares.
“Yes!” snapped Julius. “And YOU’RE coming with us!”
They all grabbed her and hauled her off her seat.
“GUYS! PLEASE PUT ME DOWN! I WANT TO WATCH THE RACE!” She wriggled and squirmed, trying to get free.
Time seemed to stand still as the centurion sat agog at the moustache-free face of Julius – and Julius stared back, frozen with fear, knowing the game was up.
&nb
sp; “YOU!!!” screamed the centurion. “THE STRIPY IDIOT! GUARDS! GUARDS! ARREST THESE BEASTS! ARREST THEM!!”
As the Roman guards raced towards the animals, Lucia turned to a despairing Julius. “Oh! He was that horrible centurion! I thought I recognized him. Well, WHY didn’t you tell me?”
Julius rolled his eyes in frustration. Their master plan for staying alive had been foiled. Completely. And now they were being hustled back to the Ludus Magnus to await their inevitable fate.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
THE CHAMPION OF CHAMPIONS!
A week later, Emperor Hadrian’s birthday was finally upon Rome and the whole city was bursting with sounds and colour! Ornate banners and flower garlands hung from every window down every street – streets that fizzed with the singing and dancing of happy citizens!
The biggest, loudest celebrations of all came from the Colosseum. It always roared with excitement, but today it was rammed to the rafters with the highest of spirits! Every dancing bear was deafeningly cheered; every juggling monkey (Yes! There WERE juggling monkeys!) was applauded till the walls of the stadium rattled.
When Rome threw a party, it REALLY threw a party and everyone – from senator to slave – was determined to have the best time of their lives!
But deep in the bowels of the Colosseum, the atmosphere was far from festive. Julius and his friends sat staring at the floor, barely looking up. Their mood was as solemn as a funeral, even when a great roar from the crowd shook the ceiling and crumbled plaster on their heads.
“Well, it’s been nice knowing you all,” sighed a despondent Felix.
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