A slave stood slightly behind and to one side holding a golden crown above his head. He seemed to be whispering in the general’s ear.
‘The slave is reminding him that he’s a mere mortal and not a god,’ Balbina explained.
Caesar didn’t appear to be listening to the slave. He stared resolutely ahead, though once or twice he cast irritated glances over his shoulder at the soldiers marching behind. For following the chariot were ranks of soldiers, singing loudly and boisterously. To Felix’s astonishment, he thought he heard the words ‘smelly old Cheeser’.
‘What are they singing?’ he asked the old woman.
‘They’re singing rude songs about Caesar so that the gods won’t grow jealous of him.’ She clutched Felix’s sleeve. ‘Oh, this is a good one!’
Straining his ears, Felix heard the line ring out:
‘Old Julie Caesar has a big nose!’
It was a promising beginning, but he couldn’t hear what came next because right next to his ear Livia shouted: ‘Caesar!’
Jumping from the statue’s base, she started pushing her way forwards through the crowd.
Felix lost sight of her for a moment, as she was swallowed by the mass of people, then she resurfaced, still calling, ‘Caesar!’
Felix was shifting the carpet on his shoulder and tightening his grip on his stick, readying himself to jump from the statue’s base and follow her, when he spied a quicksilver figure slipping through the throng. Reedy!
‘Livia!’ Felix bellowed.
But his voice must have been drowned out by the rowdy singing of the soldiers.
‘A nose like a crocodile,
A nose as long as the Nile.’
‘Livia!’ he roared.
Felix jumped from the statue and flung himself into the crowd, shoving past the onlookers, stepping on toes, elbowing people, poking them with his stick, using the carpet as a battering ram. ‘Livia! He’s behind you!’
Reedy was closing in on her, reaching for her. If Felix could just—
‘Gotcha!’
Chapter 19
Felix gasped as he felt a hand close vice-like around his arm, and he looked up into the red face of Beefy.
Ahead of him, Livia was struggling to free herself from the grasp of Reedy, her calls to Caesar growing fainter and more plaintive.
As the men dragged them away from the crowd and into the relative quiet of the forum, Livia asked in a subdued voice, ‘How did you find us?’
Reedy laughed. ‘You think the governor didn’t guess why you ran away? He knew you’d be coming here to find your brother.’
‘And you’re about to see him again, just like you wished,’ Beefy added. ‘You too, chariot thief.’ He jerked Felix’s arm roughly. ‘But you won’t need a carpet where you’re going.’
Reedy laughed. ‘The Underworld!’
‘You mean my brother is …’ Livia hesitated before choking out the word: ‘Dead?’
‘Nah,’ said Beefy. ‘At least not yet. He’s in the dungeon.’
‘He’ll be dead tomorrow, though,’ Reedy said. ‘Once the wild beasts have torn him limb from limb.’
‘And torn you apart too,’ Beefy added. He shook Felix crossly. ‘I thought I told you to dump the carpet.’
Felix had no intention of leaving the carpet behind. He was hoping to put it to good use.
‘Seeing as it’s going to be the last night of my life,’ he said as he surreptitiously slipped his stick within the carpet’s folds, ‘you could at least allow me something comfortable to sleep on in the dungeon.’
Beefy chortled. ‘Fair enough, lad. The games will be even more enjoyable if you’re well rested!’
‘Why’s that?’ asked Reedy.
‘It’ll take the giraffes longer to run him down,’ said Beefy ominously.
The dungeons beneath the amphitheatre at the edge of town were cold and dank and dark, with just a little light filtering through a grate high in the wall.
After the gate clanged shut behind them, Felix and Livia stood for a moment, blinking, as they took in their new surroundings.
There was no movement, no sound, but as Felix’s eyes adjusted to the dim light he could make out shapes slumped on the narrow wooden benches that lined two sides of the cell.
Livia, who had been peering at the faces of the slumped figures, let out a cry. ‘Marcus!’
A tall, thin figure leaped from his bench at the same moment, yelling, ‘Livia!’
In two steps Livia closed the distance between them and flung her arms around a boy who was a little taller than her but had identical dark looks.
Although Marcus’s face was grubby and his clothes were ragged, his face was aglow with pleasure. ‘What are you doing here?’
‘I came to rescue you,’ Livia said excitedly. ‘I ran away from the governor, and just wait till you hear how we got here! There was a shipwreck, and we went to Alexandria, and we crossed the desert on a camel, and—’
‘Oh, Livia,’ said her brother sorrowfully. ‘I’m glad to see you – really, I am – but what were you thinking? You shouldn’t have come. Now you’re going to be eaten by crocodiles too.’
Crocodiles? Felix gulped, recalling the serpent-like creature with giant teeth he’d seen on the dock at Alexandria. He’d thought the ostriches were going to be bad enough.
‘I know,’ said Livia in a small voice. ‘I didn’t mean to get caught. But I had to see you, Marcus. And now Felix is going to die too, and it’s all my fault.’
At the mention of his name, Livia’s brother turned an inquisitive gaze on Felix. ‘Who are you?’ he asked bluntly.
‘I’m a friend of Livia’s,’ said Felix. ‘We met in Belgica.’
‘Don’t talk to me about Belgica,’ a mournful voice said from the corner.
‘Flavius here has come from Belgica,’ Marcus explained.
A small, bald man in a shabby toga raised a weary hand. ‘Flavius Dellius,’ he introduced himself. ‘I was given a cushy post in Belgica in reward for my brave actions at the Battle of Alesia.’
‘It’s a shame about the weather,’ Felix commiserated. ‘Other than that, though, it seemed like a nice place.’
‘I was quite looking forward to coming to Rome,’ Flavius said wistfully. ‘I was going to present Caesar with a gift symbolising his conquest over the Gauls and help to celebrate his triumph.’
‘How did you end up in here?’ Livia asked.
‘I lost the gift.’
‘Gosh, that’s a shame,’ said Felix.
Flavius nodded. ‘Caesar wasn’t happy.’
‘You think that’s bad? I lost the sceptre of King Juba,’ a second man added gloomily.
Felix peered at him through the near darkness. The voice was vaguely familiar. ‘Who are you?’
The man leaned forwards. ‘General Cassius Cluvius. I’d just arrived in Lutetia to take up a consulship in recognition of the part I played in the conquest of Africa. Then I received a message summoning me to Rome to deliver the sceptre of Juba to Caesar. I had passage on a ship, but at the last moment I decided not to take it. The ship went down in a storm and the sceptre with it. So instead of sitting by Caesar’s side watching the games, I’m going to be in them.’
‘Keep it down in there, you lot,’ an angry voice interrupted. ‘The ostriches are trying to sleep. And you should, too – you’ll have a lot of running to do in the morning. You’d be amazed how fast leopards are.’
Leopards? Were they those creatures with stripes and big teeth, or did they have a pointed horn? Felix couldn’t recall. It didn’t really matter, he supposed.
He picked up the carpet and carried it to the side of the cell. It felt lighter than ever. He decided to take that as a sign that his plan would work. It had to work …
Thanks to the carpet they spread beneath them, Felix, Livia and Marcus were not as uncomfortable as they might have been when they settled themselves on the cold earthen floor to sleep. The other two prisoners stretched out on the hard benches. Stil
l, no one passed a comfortable night. The roaring of the lions intruded into Felix’s dreams, as did a strange clacking noise that he feared might be the crocodiles gnashing their teeth.
The early-morning hours were spent in pacing, and trying to guess what might be going on in the arena above judging by the faint cheers that reached their ears.
Felix had a sick feeling in his stomach that had nothing to do with anything he’d eaten – he’d had nothing since the cabbage leaves more than a day before – and everything to do with nerves. While Livia and her brother sat in a corner and murmured, and the two men recalled the highs and lows of their eventful lives in Caesar’s service (this was the lowest point, they agreed), Felix was trying to plot their escape. It was difficult to plan, he was finding, when there were so many unknowns.
First, there were the animals themselves. What if they pounced as soon as Felix and his fellows entered the arena? That would give him no time to unroll the carpet.
Second, even if he did manage to unroll the carpet in time, would it be able to bear the weight of all five of them? He’d only known it to carry two people before, but he and Livia couldn’t possibly fly off and leave the others to their fate. In any case, Livia wouldn’t leave her brother, he was sure – and Felix couldn’t leave Livia. No, the carpet would have to carry all of them or none.
His thoughts were interrupted by a rattling of the gate barring the cell.
‘Not long now,’ a guard called. ‘The elephant battle is almost over, and you’re on next.’ He added gleefully, ‘The lions will be good and hungry; we’ve been starving them for days.’
‘What about the ostriches?’ Felix asked in trepidation.
‘Oh, the ostriches are especially ravenous.’
It wasn’t long after that the gate creaked open.
‘All right, you lot,’ said the guard. ‘It’s time.’
Felix picked up the carpet and his stick, and Livia slung the satchel over her shoulder.
‘Hey, you can’t take a carpet into the arena,’ a guard objected when Felix filed out of the cell behind the others.
‘Leave him alone,’ said a second guard. ‘Can’t you see he’s just a kid? Let him have his special blankie.’
Felix’s mind went numb as they entered the arena. His eyes were dazzled by the light after the hours in the dark cell, and his senses were overwhelmed by the sea of faces surrounding them on all sides and the deafening roar of the crowd.
From somewhere Felix thought he could hear the answering roar of lions, though he couldn’t see any animals.
Now was the time, Felix thought, before the wild beasts were let loose. If his plan was going to work, he’d have to move quickly.
He took the rolled-up carpet from his shoulder, set it on the ground and grasped the stick.
‘Livia,’ he said. ‘Let’s—’
But before he could finish his sentence, a guard started barking orders. ‘Line up, prisoners. Caesar wants a word with you.’
Two more guards approached and Felix barely had time to scoop up the carpet and carry it under his arm as he and the others were prodded into place before the box in which the dignitaries sat overlooking the stadium.
Then they were face to face with Julius Caesar, dressed in his ceremonial garb, a laurel wreath encircling his head. Felix could make out half-a-dozen senators in togas seated in the shadows behind him, and behind them some generals in uniform.
‘You have been brought to this place because you have displeased me,’ Caesar declared.
He glared at the five prisoners standing before him.
‘You, Prefect Flavius Dellius, lost the ring of Vercingetorix.’
Flavius Dellius was a prefect? And he had lost a ring?
That was a coincidence. Felix glanced at the ring on his thumb.
The prefect raised his palms helplessly. ‘I looked everywhere. Under the table, behind the couch …’
Felix held up a hand. ‘Excuse me,’ he said.
Caesar had already moved on. ‘You, Cassius Cluvius, were my right hand in Africa and I was prepared to make you my right hand in Gaul. But when I asked you to perform one simple task …’
‘Didn’t you like the substitute gift?’ the general asked in a wheedling tone.
‘Your substitute gift is extremely irritating. And speaking of irritating …’ He turned to Livia’s brother. ‘You, son of an Iberian chieftain.’
Livia gasped. ‘Did you hear that, Felix?’
Caesar continued, ‘You have been sent to me by the governor of Nemetacum, and though you have done nothing personally to offend me, I found your father extremely annoying. I beat him in the end though … didn’t I?’ He glanced at a man beside him for confirmation.
‘Yes, Caesar,’ the man agreed.
‘And I conquered Iberia?’
‘Yes, Caesar.’
‘Well, why didn’t I think to have a triumph for that too?’
‘Maybe next month,’ suggested his companion.
‘Good idea.’ Caesar addressed Marcus again: ‘In the meantime, young man, you will be fed to the wild beasts to symbolise my conquest of Iberia.’
Finally, he turned a perplexed gaze on Felix and Livia. ‘I have absolutely no idea who you two are.’
Livia declared: ‘I am the daughter of an Iber—’
‘Perhaps it’s not a good idea to bring that up now,’ Felix interrupted. ‘Tell him about Cleopatra’s coins.’
‘Oh,’ said Livia. ‘The coins. Of course. Well, you see …’
Felix quickly unrolled the carpet. Would it fly?
Squawk!
He looked up. Was there a chicken in the arena?!
Then he saw a flash of black feathers from the corner of his right eye. Spying a raven on the right was a good omen! With renewed confidence, he dropped to his knees on the carpet.
‘I’m Livia,’ Livia was saying. ‘Though that’s not my real name, of course. Not my Iberian name. And this is my friend—’
‘FELIX!’
Huh? Felix, still on his knees smoothing out the carpet, paused and squinted up into the crowd. At first he saw nothing except an indistinct mass of faces, but then he noticed someone high up in the stands jumping up and down and waving their arms above their head. It was his mother!
Felix leaped to his feet. ‘Hi, Mum!’ He waved madly.
‘Quiet!’ Caesar snapped. He was leaning forwards. ‘That carpet you’re standing on, boy – where did it come from?’
‘We bought it in Tadmor, sir.’ Best not to mention that they’d used one of Caesar’s own coins, Felix decided.
‘But the carpet seller said it came from Anatolia originally,’ Livia added.
‘I knew it!’ Caesar slapped the edge of the box in delight. ‘That’s Pharnaces’s rug! I’d recognise it anywhere. After the Battle of Zela, when the Pontics were routed, I went to the camp of their king, who had fled. In the king’s own tent, I stood upon this rug and composed a letter to a friend back in Rome. Veni vidi vici, I wrote. I came, I saw, I conquered.’
As Caesar was speaking, the ground beneath Felix’s feet had begun to tremble. Had someone released the elephants? Were they stampeding?
No, Felix realised; it was the rug. It was vibrating, almost as if it were simmering with rage.
Caesar’s delighted smile turned into a glare. ‘And then the pesky rug threw me off and I fell and hurt my knee.’ He smiled again. ‘Now here it is, appearing as if by magic to celebrate my triumph over its master.’
The rug bucked and Felix fell over.
Caesar laughed. ‘Ha! That’s definitely the rug I remember. Bring it to me,’ he ordered.
‘This is perfect,’ said Livia, stepping onto the carpet. ‘We can fly up and present him with the coins of Cleopatra and ask him to free us all.’
Felix tapped the carpet with his stick. ‘Take us to Caesar, please, carpet,’ he said.
But the carpet wouldn’t budge.
‘I think it’s sulking,’ Livia said.
T
hey stepped off the carpet again, and Felix quickly rolled it up and slung it over his shoulder.
Cassius Cluvius stepped forwards. ‘May I see that stick you’re carrying?’ he said.
And all at once Felix realised where he’d heard that voice before. ‘You’re—’
‘Don’t keep Caesar waiting,’ a guard snapped. He gave Felix a shove, and kept shoving, until Felix and Livia had reached the edge of the arena.
From there, another guard led them up the steps to the back of Caesar’s box.
At the entrance, Caesar’s companion beckoned to them. ‘Bring that rug here, boy.’
Obediently, Felix started down a small aisle that ran alongside the rows of seats. He was almost to the front when he noticed movement from the corner of his eye. A chubby toddler sitting on the knee of a disgruntled-looking senator was wriggling and reaching for Felix’s stick.
‘What’s that the young lad’s after?’ Caesar demanded.
‘My stick,’ said Felix.
The child was wailing now and waving its pudgy arms, hands grasping for the stick.
‘Well, give it to him,’ Caesar said impatiently.
Reluctantly, Felix handed it over. The minute the toddler had the stick in his hand his tears dried and he began to coo, waving the stick happily.
‘Actually,’ Felix said, ‘I think that stick belongs to—’
At the same moment, the senator announced, ‘This isn’t a stick.’ He dodged left then right as it narrowly missed striking his nose. ‘It’s a sceptre.’
‘Really?’ said Caesar, the carpet momentarily forgotten. ‘Whose?’
‘That’s what I was trying to tell you,’ Felix said, gesturing towards General Cassius Cluvius in the arena below.
‘Why, I do believe it’s Juba’s!’ Caesar said, peering at it. ‘The boy must have recognised his father’s sceptre.’ He turned back to Felix and Livia. ‘But I thought it was lost in a shipwreck. How did you come to have it?’
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