Gladiator Clash. Chris Blake

Чтение книги онлайн.

      Tom suddenly wondered how it was possible that he and Josephus could understand each other. He didn’t speak any Latin aside from a few words his dad had taught him.

      “It must be part of Anubis’s magic,” Tom said aloud.

      But Isis seemed to be a million miles away, staring at her hand in amazement. She started patting her arms and legs in delight. Tom suddenly realised why – instead of being wrapped up as a mouldy mummy, she was made of flesh and blood again.

      Isis grinned at Tom. “I’m alive!” she cried, feeling the long, black plaits of her hair. “No more horrible bandages!” Then she looked down at Cleo, who had transformed back into a sleek cat, covered in tabby stripes. “Cleo! My little fluffpot!” Isis said, scooping Cleo up into a hug.

      “Er, I hate to interrupt,” Josephus said, “but you’re meant to be training to fight as gladiators right now.”

      Isis stuck her nose in the air. “Fight? But I’m a princess.”

      Josephus pointed at the men in the courtyard. “Not any more you’re not. Everyone here is a prisoner or a slave. Where have you come from anyway?”

      “Egypt,” Tom said, pointing at Isis. “And Britain,” he added, gesturing to himself.

      Josephus shrugged. “The Roman Army doesn’t usually send child prisoners to fight,” he said. “But then, they’re so cruel, nothing they do surprises me these days.”

      Tom gulped. “Cruel?”

      Isis was offended. “Prisoner? I’m a prisoner? I insist you free me right now!”

      “You shouldn’t even be here,” Josephus said, prodding Isis in the shoulder. “No girls. No cats. Don’t worry, the soldiers will throw you out as soon as they see you.”

      Isis tossed her plaits and balled her fists. “We’re on a very important mission. We must stay here together.”

      “Please help us,” Tom begged Josephus. “We really can’t be separated.”

      “I suppose I don’t owe the Romans anything,” Josephus said with a shrug. “OK, I’ll help. First, we must disguise Princess Bossyboots here as a boy.”

      “A boy!?” Isis shrieked in disgust.

      “Shhhh!” Tom and Josephus both hissed.

      Josephus pushed the three travellers into a shadowy alcove and started to wipe off the kohl from Isis’s eyes with a rag.

      “Get off me! You smell of rotten vegetables,” Isis cried, batting him away.

      “Just keep still, Princess Bossyboots,” Tom said. He grinned as he tied back her long hair out of sight.

      Josephus ducked into a nearby cupboard and emerged with rattling chains. “Sorry. I have to put chains on you, like the others, otherwise the guards will think you’re trying to escape.” He shackled them both at the wrists and ankles and pushed them, clanking, down the colonnade.

      “What about my cat, Cleo?” Isis asked.

      “Animals aren’t allowed in the training ground. She’ll get killed if she stays here,” said Josephus. “She can stay in my quarters, where the other animals are kept. Don’t worry, I’ll look after her.”

      He steered Tom and Isis into a noisy room with a barred door. Tom saw that it was packed with chained prisoners, both young and old, chattering away in a variety of languages he’d never heard before. Some had pale skin, some had dark skin. Everyone wore different clothes. Clearly they came from all over the world. They were shovelling food into their mouths with their shackled hands.