“Look,” said Julius. “We know we’re all going to die, but we’d rather you’d just zip it.”
“Come on!” said Cornelius, swishing his sword. “We can DO this! All our extra training this week has turned us into LEAN, MEAN, FIGHTING MACHINES!”
But no one took any notice.
“We don’t stand a chance against the might of the Empire’s great gladiatorial champions,” Milus growled from the shadows. “We may as well just lie down and let them finish us off, once and for all.”
Julius sighed, cursing himself for getting into such a rotten mess all those weeks ago. How could he have been so stupid as to think he could gallivant off on his own like that? He’d give anything to be with his family now. “Perhaps they’ll come to rescue me after all,” he hoped, aloud.
“You bet your life they’re trying to find you,” said Cornelius. “Maybe my family are trying to find me, too…”
Just then, little Pliny waltzed in. “Well, this is cheery,” he said, checking out the grim faces.
Pliny was still annoyed at them all for trying to escape and NOT TELLING HIM! Not even his old pal, Milus. Oh, yes, Milus. The worst escape artist in Rome’s long, glorious history. He had been back at the barracks sooner than the others – picked up by a patrol just outside the Colosseum.
“You’d better pull your sorry finger out, ’cos you’re up against some pretty tough opponents today,” Pliny said.
“I fear nothing!” Cornelius declared triumphantly. “Not while I wear my lucky Subligaria!”
“Lucky? How can a nappy be lucky?!” snorted Julius.
“Well,” said Cornelius, sidling up to him. “I’m glad you asked.”
Julius let out a low sigh.
“Now, today is the Vernal Equinox…” Cornelius began.
“The … what? It is?” Julius puzzled.
“Indeed it is. This is when daytime and night-time are of equal length – something the gods view very favourably…”
“Wait a minute,” piped up Felix. “If it’s the er …Vernon Equiplops, or whatever it’s called, surely it’s lucky for everybody?”
“Aha!” boasted Cornelius. “This is where the gods were smiling on me in particular. As I was pulling my nappy on this morning, a little frog hopped past, croaking as he went. That, my friends, is a sign from the gods themselves that they wish me happiness and good fortune.”
But before Cornelius could reply, a figure appeared in the doorway. “Farewell, you incompetent buffoons.” It was, of course, Septimus. “I can’t be too harsh on you, though. You’ve earned me a pretty penny just by lasting long enough till today.”
He walked over and eyed them with his ferocious gaze.
“If by some miracle you do survive, which you won’t, never darken my doors with your fetid, stinking, ugly faces again.”
And off he went, as suddenly as he’d appeared, slamming the door behind him.
“You know, I think I’m going to miss that scraggy old face,” said Felix.
“I’ll say one thing for him, though,” said Julius. “He always did smell rather lovely.”
A great blaring of trumpets was followed by an enormous roar.
As the dust settled, Julius felt his stomach sink as if down a great well. “This is it!” he said.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
SHOWTIME!
The door swung open for a final time. It was the Dungeon Master. “Right, you lot, up to the main entrance. I like to keep it very clean up there. No pooing on the floor!”
So off they trotted, up the stairwell and along the dark corridors, threading under the arena.
A welcome, cool breeze greeted them as they reached a great arch. But a stench wafted on the air – the stench of sweating, stinking, hulking gladiators. The gladiators’ armour creaked and their shields scraped against the walls as they all turned round.
“Don’t forget the Golden Rules!” shouted Pliny, scampering behind them. “And be yourselves! Honestly, it will save your lives!”
This really is it, thought Julius as the great gate swung open to a cacophony of cheers and trumpets. He gulped hard. My fate awaits me…
And the gladiators all began to make their way out of the darkness and into the Colosseum.
“GOOD LUCK!” Pliny called out. “I’M GOING TO MISS YOU GUYS!”
Hadrian stood up to greet his birthday bashers. The stage was finally set for the Champion of Champions!
In the centre of the amphitheatre the Summa Rudis took his place. He raised his hand above his head – and everyone fell silent.
“CITIZENS OF ROME!” he bellowed. “TODAY YOU BEAR WITNESS TO THE MOST GLORIOUS OF GAMES! GLADIATORS FROM ACROSS OUR GREAT AND NOBLE EMPIRE WILL DO BATTLE FOR THE TITLE OF ‘CHAMPION OF CHAMPIONS’ AND THEIR FREEDOM!”
The roar of the crowd rattled through Julius’s armour, and his knees knocked together with nerves. He tried to push thoughts of failure to the back of his mind.
Whatever happens today, he thought, I want to make sure I fight with honour. If word ever does get back to Mum and Brutus, I want them to know I was a true zebra – not the useless wimp they knew before.
He quickly scanned the audience for their familiar stripy faces, but neither of them was there.
The Summa Rudis approached the gladiators’ bench and summoned Cornelius and a mountain of a man, called Destroius, to the stage.
“Argh! I can’t watch!” cried Felix.
“Good luck, Cornelius!” shouted Julius. “Remember your lucky nappy!”
Cornelius strode out defiantly. He was very keen to show off his new skills. He also felt particularly smart in his gladiator get-up.
Cornelius fixed his gaze on Destroius, who stood in stony silence waiting for the signal to start.
The trumpets parped and Destroius went straight in with a big swing of his axe, slashing the air above the plucky little warthog, who quickly ducked out of the way.
Cornelius danced around, thrusting his weapon and barking, “POKE POKE!” before catching Destroius in the armpit with his sword.
The crowd leapt to their feet, cheering.
“GO ON, CORNELIUS!” screamed Julius.
“KEEP STILL!!” boomed Destroius as he swung his huge axe a second time, smashing it into the sand as the little hairy beast hopped out of the way.
Julius began to feel hopeful.
He knew warthogs were nippy little fellows, but this was something else! Cornelius was running rings round Destroius!
Cornelius turned to Julius and gave him the thumbs-up. He didn’t see the axe hit him.
Everyone was stunned into silence.
“NOOOO!” gasped Julius.
“He … he’s flown right out of the arena!” spluttered Rufus.
“Cornelius broke one of the Golden Rules,” snarled Milus. “He took his eyes off the enemy.” The lion turned to Julius and gave him the sternest of looks. “Some idiot distracted him.”
Julius buried his face in his hooves.
“Well, so much for his lucky nappy,” gulped Felix.
Next, the Summa Rudis turned to Milus and a gladiator covered head to foot in armour and padding. “You two next!”
Milus picked up his trident and net and strode out to a big cheer from the crowd.
Never in his wildest dreams had Julius thought he’d want a lion to win a fight as much as he did now.
Milus’s opponent was Agrippa. He brandished the menacing weapons of the Scissor Gladiator!
The trumpets blared, the crowd roared and the two enemies snarled into action.
At first they skirted round each other like two crabs in a rock pool.
Then Agrippa thrust his bladed arm at Milus’s chest – but Milus skipped out of the way with ease.
They circled each other again.
Occasionally Agrippa slashed the air, inviting Milus to swing his net towards him. But Milus was quick. He leapt like an acrobat, clashing his trident into Agrippa’s shoulder before landing nimbly behind him.
/> The audience rose in awe, cheering each of the wild cat’s agile moves.
Even so, Julius remained a bag of nerves.
In a flash, Milus somersaulted – like an arrow shot from a bow – and back-flipped. He pulled his net over Agrippa’s helmet and shoulders and clasped the giant’s arms tightly to his sides.
“HE’S WON!” shouted Julius, springing up from his seat.
“Wait,” said Rufus, calmly. “This isn’t over yet.”
With a big GRUNT, Agrippa flexed his muscles and threw Milus to the floor. Then he scythed off the net with his knife as if he were brushing off a cobweb.
The crowd gasped.
But Milus wasn’t finished just yet. Using his trident as if he were doing a pole vault, he booted his opponent’s chest, knocking him right off his feet. Agrippa groaned, and Milus braced himself for a final vault to finish him off.
But in his moment of glory, Milus TRIPPED and fell flat on his face in the dirt.
Immediately Agrippa launched onto his back, holding him down and twisting his arm like a wrestler.
“He … he TRIPPED!” gasped Julius. “But he was just about to win! This is a DISASTER!” He buried his head in his hooves again.
“I think he tripped over Cornelius’s lucky nappy,” said Rufus. “Milus’ll be furious!”
“Forget that. It’s all over for Milus now,” cried Julius. “I can’t bear to watch.”
“Hey! Listen!” shouted Lucia. “The crowd’s booing. They’re not letting Agrippa kill Milus!”
Julius peeped through his hooves. It was true! All around the arena the audience were waving white hankies.
“Hadrian’s letting him LIVE!” he cried.
“But what will become of us?” sniffed Felix, who was fearing the worst.
“We’ll worry about that when we get to it,” snarled a newly determined Julius.
Just then the Summa Rudis pointed at them both. “You two next!”
“But wait – who are we fighting?” asked Felix.
At the sight of Julius, the crowd were on their feet.
“ZEBRA! ZEBRA! ZEBRA!” they chanted.
“They still love you, then!” Felix remarked.
Julius ignored him and promptly bonked him on the head.
“OI! What are you DOING!?” screamed Felix. “I thought we had a pinky swear?”
“Shut up, you idiot!” whispered Julius. “I’m trying to knock you out. Then I’ll refuse to kill you. It’s your only chance!” He smacked him again with his sword.
“CAREFUL!” shouted Felix. “That actually flippin’ hurt!” Then he took a swing with his own sword, clipping Julius on the nose.
“HEY!” cried Julius, holding his face. “What are you doing?”
“Same as you! I’ll knock you out and then promise not to kill you.” And Felix took another swing.
This time Julius held up his shield. “Listen, you fool,” he barked. “If you knock me out, you’ll face certain death against those ogres in the next round.”
“OK…” Felix paused a moment. “Let me knock myself out.”
“WHAT?”
“Let me knock myself out. Your bashing hurts too much.”
The crowd were outraged! This wasn’t a fight! A loud “BOO!” reverberated round the amphitheatre.
“I-I can’t do it!” sobbed Felix. “I’m too scared of pain!”
“Oh, for goodness sake!” hissed Julius. And with an almighty swoosh of his sword he walloped Felix to the ground.
The jeers turned to cheers as Julius stood triumphant.
Only Lucia and Rufus remained.
Will they make it past the first round? Julius wondered.
Lucia wasn’t the greatest fighter, but she had the distinct advantage of being a crocodile. And her rows of teeth quickly unnerved her opponent, the great swordsman Spurius, who surrendered as soon as she got to grips with him!
Rufus was up against a particularly big brute called Prudes, who fought as a Retiarius, much like Milus – with a net and trident. But Rufus had trained well and, not forgetting the Golden Rules and with a dash of long-legged creativity, eventually beat his opponent, too.
Up in his special imperial box, Emperor Hadrian was revelling in the horror and madness of the show. Septimus sat by his side, supping his wine.
“Ha ha! Good work, Septimus, my friend!” laughed Hadrian, slapping Septimus on the back, making him spill his drink. “This beats ALL my birthday bashes! These animals of yours have SPIRIT!”
“Yes, quite, Hadrian, but they are idiots! I’ll be glad when they’re gone.”
Hadrian grabbed a honey-dipped flamingo tongue from a bowl and popped it into his mouth. “Then you’ll be interested to hear about my brilliant idea, my dear Septimus.”
Back on the gladiators’ bench, Pliny was shouting at Lucia, who was fighting a very skilful swordsman called Attilius.
But poor Lucia couldn’t get near her opponent. As Attilius thrust forward with his weapon, Lucia shuffled out of the way – just in time – before panicking and following up with a BIG, crazy swing of her sword.
Pliny went ballistic! “AARGH!! WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!”
But it was too late.
Pliny plopped down on his seat, exasperated, and folded his little arms. “Why do I even bother?” he wailed. “How someone with big chops, full of razor-sharp teeth, can lose a fight is beyond me!”
Rufus was up next.
Julius gave him a big hearty pat on the back. “GOOD LUCK, RUFUS!” he shouted.
“I wouldn’t get your hopes too high,” Pliny whispered. “He’s up against Maximilian, second only to Victorius!”
Julius looked over at Maximilian. He really was a big brute of a man.
“He plays pretty dirty, too,” snarled Pliny.
Almost straight away, Maximilian taunted Rufus. “Call yourself a gladiator?” he shouted. “You’re more like a bundle of STICKS!”
Rufus didn’t like this and started smacking his sword against Maximilian’s massive shield.
The muscly gladiator jumped out of the way, laughing. “It must be windy!” he yelled. “Your pathetic branches are swaying weakly in the breeze!”
Rufus’s ungainliness was just what Maximilian wanted. He leapt towards the giraffe and STAMPED on his hoof.
“MY TOOTSIES!!!!” screamed Rufus, holding his hoof.
With Rufus distracted, Maximilian knocked him clean over into the dust and stood on him, triumphant!
As the crowd roared, Julius and Pliny sat with their heads in their hooves and paws.
“I told you!” said Pliny. “He’s a nasty one, that Maximilian!”
This, of course, left Julius as the final animal competitor. He immediately found himself faced with Milus’s victor, the slashing Agrippa. But Julius had seen how close Milus had come to beating Agrippa, and went into his fight fired up!
“BE A ZEBRA!!” shouted Pliny.
“BUT I AM A ZEBRA!!” Julius shouted back, confused.
“NO, I MEAN USE YOUR ZEBRA SKILLS. AGRIPPA AIN’T EXACTLY SPEEDY!”
Pliny was right. Agrippa was no match for the nimble Julius. He lumbered about the arena, hopelessly slashing the air as the zebra darted back and forth.
It didn’t take long for the confident Julius finally to take out the exhausted gladiator.
At last, the crowd had a proper ZEBRA WIN to cheer about!
But his next opponent wasn’t going to be so easy to overcome: it was Maximilian.
“Watch him,” growled Pliny. “I don’t think he’s going to be as merciful as the other gladiators, if you get my meaning.”
Julius gritted his teeth and bravely faced up to the imposing gladiator.
Ignoring the taunts, Julius held fast, keeping his eyes firmly fixed on his overconfident opponent.
Maximilian attacked Julius with ferocity, but Julius dug in and batted away the pummelling sword.
Up in the imperial box, Hadrian was transfixed. “He really is quite something, this zebra,�
� he cooed.
Even Septimus was pretty impressed. He leaned in close to the Emperor. “From a student of Ludus Magnus, you wouldn’t expect anything less.”
Hadrian sniffed the air. “For such an arrogant brute, you really do smell of the most exquisite flowers.”
Back in the arena, Julius was still standing up to Maximilian, who was now teasing him – lolloping, horse-like, in front of him.
“Even a pony wouldn’t be so reckless!” shouted Julius, smacking Maximilian’s sword clean out of his hand. Julius then inflicted a barrage of pokes on the shocked and weaponless gladiator.
Maximilian flailed and stumbled backwards before falling, unceremoniously, onto his bottom.
Thinking he had won, Julius turned triumphantly to his adoring crowd and punched the air with his hoof.
“LOOK OUT!” cried Pliny from the sidelines.
Julius turned just in time to catch the villainous Victorius kicking a new sword across the sand to Maximilian.
“YOU CAN’T LET HIM DO THAT!” screamed Julius.
But the Summa Rudis just waved Julius away.
“Well, we know who pays YOUR wages!” growled the zebra, turning on Maximilian in a ferocious attack. “I’m not letting you steal my chance of freedom THAT easily!” he raged.
A bamboozled Maximilian couldn’t fight back and, with a final hefty blow, Julius smacked the dastardly gladiator to the floor.
The crowd went crazy!
Not only had their hero beaten the big cheat, but Julius was now – unbelievably – through to the final!
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
SHOWDOWN
Julius Zebra Page 6
