Cy’s hand shook as he laid the book out flat before him on the library table. The two torn halves didn’t match together exactly. And so it was that the boy sitting to one side looked as though he had turned his head to look away from the scene; his gaze travelled outside the shop, beyond the streets and time of ancient Pompeii to . . .
Cy’s heart did a half-beat out of time. The boy had moved. His mouth was open slightly, as though he was speaking.
‘Help!’ he seemed to cry out to Cy. ‘Help us!’
CHAPTER VII
CY WALKED SLOWLY home from the library with the book about Pompeii in his rucksack. His mind was struggling to keep up with everything that had happened to him today. He’d got up – he could remember that quite clearly. Then he remembered deciding, as there were only a few days left before school began, that it might be a good idea to do some work on his project on volcanoes.
Cy frowned in concentration as he tried to recall the next part of his day. His Dream Master had appeared . . . That was it! His Dream Master had been moaning on about his dreamcloak becoming worn out because Cy dreamed such vivid dreams, and then, and then . . . Cy’s thoughts and his pace began to quicken as the morning’s events came back to him. He had pulled out his own little piece of dreamsilk from below his chest of drawers, and by some strange happening it had become larger and more powerful than it had been previously! Then somehow both he and the Dream Master had been whisked to volcano after volcano in TimeSpace, until finally they were in vineyards outside a town, which Cy now knew to be Pompeii. He had hardly got into that dream when his mum had woken him up and dragged him off to the shops with Lauren, whereupon Cy had ended up in a shop in Pompeii . . . and now he was back here.
Cy hated dreams like that, all disjointed with bits that he couldn’t remember properly. He went over it again in his head. He and the Dream Master had travelled to some different volcanoes, eventually they had gone together to the vineyards, then . . .
Cy stopped still in the street. His heart and his head lurched together. Where was the Dream Master? He hadn’t been with Cy in the shop in Pompeii . . . and . . . he hadn’t returned with him to twenty-first-century Britain, that was for sure. So where was he? And – cold fear swept over Cy – wherever he was, he was stuck there. Because it hadn’t been the dreamcloak that had taken them through TimeSpace, it had been the little scrap of dreamsilk. And Cy still had that little scrap in his pocket.
His Dream Master was separated from his dreamcloak! The dreamcloak that Cy had left lying on top of his bed for anyone to find! And Lauren and his mum would have returned to the house ages ago! Cy began to run.
He crashed through the kitchen door. His mum was sitting staring at a mug of tea. She had on her I’ve-been-shopping-with-Lauren face and gave Cy a brief smile as he raced past her.
‘Did you get the information you needed at the library?’ she called after him as he took the stairs two at a time.
‘Going back tomorrow,’ Cy shouted. He flung open his bedroom door and felt a flood of relief. Everything was where he had left it. The dreamcloak was a mass of pale grey on his bed.
The room was clammy with the heat of the afternoon. Cy threw his rucksack on the bed and took out the library book about Pompeii. At that moment his bedroom door opened and Lauren came in. She had on the short cotton shift dress that she had worn to go shopping, but had draped her new school tie around her neck.
‘Knock before entering,’ said Cy.
‘Don’t be so rude,’ said his sister. ‘I only came to offer you some help, Sproglet.’
‘Help?’ said Cy suspiciously. It wasn’t normal for Lauren to be friendly to him. Although the fact that she had called him ‘Sproglet’ was a good sign. Usually the names his sister used when speaking to him were much worse, ranging from ‘Tiny Toad’ to ‘Cyber Stew’, with a few particularly nasty ones that she reserved for special occasions.
‘Yes, help. I guess I owe you a favour for throwing a wobbly earlier today so that Mum felt she had to cut short the ghastly shopping trip.’
‘Oh . . . right.’ Cy decided not to tell Lauren that, in his opinion, the main reason that Mum had given up on the shopping was Lauren’s own awful behaviour. ‘I don’t need any help right now,’ he said, moving forward to block her way.
Lauren side-stepped Cy and walked further into his room. ‘I thought you were researching some project or other?’
Cy could feel himself losing control of the situation. Lauren being kind was marginally worse than Lauren being a pest. When she was horrible to him at least he knew what to expect. Lauren in helpful mode was unpredictable.
‘No, everything’s fine,’ said Cy, and smiled a great big smile to show how fine everything was.
‘Well, now I know it’s not,’ said Lauren. ‘Otherwise you wouldn’t be grinning like the Cheshire Cat. You probably have to hand in your project when school begins. Our computer is being repaired and your writing is none too good, so I could help you with some stuff if you like.’
‘No. Thanks. But no, thanks. Really. Thanks. But no.’ Cy was aware he was gibbering.
A mad panic seized him as he watched Lauren wander about his room touching things. She caught sight of the little book on Pompeii still resting on his bed.
‘If you’re doing Pompeii,’ she said, ‘I’ve got some stuff in an old box file that might be helpful. I did that as a project when I was your age.’
‘Nope,’ Cy yelped. ‘’s OK.’
Before Cy could stop her Lauren flopped down on his bed. ‘It’s so hot,’ she said.
Cy gaped at her in absolute terror. She was lying right beside the dreamcloak! His fingers felt for his own scrap of dreamsilk in his pocket. He had his school project to do and a lost Dream Master; the last thing he needed was his sister somehow getting into his Pompeii dream and messing it up. I could push her off the bed onto the floor, Cy thought. He reached out his hand and touched his sister on the arm. The instant he did so, he knew that he had made a mistake.
‘Omigosh! Omigollygosh!’
The thought about Pompeii was in his head and he couldn’t get it out fast enough. The dreamsilk scorched his hand. There was a blazing spark and a tremendous fizzle of noise, and Lauren and he went tumbling through Time.
CHAPTER VIII
CY RECOVERED FIRST. The fact that he knew roughly where they would land helped. He snatched the book from Lauren’s hand and stuffed it and the piece of dreamsilk into his pocket as he looked around him. They were outside in a cobbled street, but it was not the Via dell’Abbondanza with its busy shops, where he had been before. This was a quiet residential tree-lined avenue. Thank goodness, thought Cy, no-one has seen us. If I can think fast enough I can get us back to my bedroom before Lauren realizes what has happened.
‘What’s going on?’ said Lauren, sitting up slowly. ‘Was that an explosion? Where is this place?’
‘Dreaming,’ said Cy firmly. ‘You – are – dreaming.’ He waved his fingers back and forth in front of Lauren’s eyes in the way he had once seen a hypnotist on television do. ‘Close – your – eyes. Go – to – sleep.’
‘Stop that.’ Lauren pushed Cy away and stood up. ‘Obviously if I am dreaming then I must be sleeping and I can’t fall asleep again, can I?’ She looked up and down the hot empty street. ‘If this is a dream then it’s pretty boring, and it’s even hotter here than in the real world, so I think I’ll just wake up, thanks very much.’
‘Fine,’ said Cy. ‘Great. Super.’ He reached for his piece of dreamsilk. ‘Just give me two seconds,’ he muttered, ‘to gather my mind together and focus us back where we came from.’
‘Who is this?’ said a voice behind Cy.
Cy turned and saw Rhea Silvia standing in the doorway of a nearby house. ‘My sister,’ he gulped.
‘Ahh, your sister,’ said Rhea Silvia softly. ‘That is where you have been. How kind you are. I will explain to my mother that you ran off to find your sister. It is very thoughtful of you to do this.’
‘Why, yes, I think he is,’ said Rhea Silvia. ‘I would wish that my brother Linus would look out for me if we were captured by our enemies. I will ask if I can have a personal slave. After all, Linus has one, so I don’t see why I shouldn’t have one also. Come –’ she beckoned with her hand – ‘let us sit by the fountain. You can help me sort out the purchases I made while shopping.’
‘A slave!’ cried Lauren as they followed Rhea Silvia into the central courtyard of the house. ‘Am I a slave?’
Cy closed his eyes. Now there really would be an explosion. He couldn’t imagine Lauren taking kindly to being a slave.
‘Yes,’ said Rhea Silvia. ‘You and your brother must be house slaves until you can earn your freedom.’
Lauren spoke to Cy in a whisper. ‘What interesting dreams you have, Cy, I had no idea.’
Cy’s mouth gaped open. ‘You don’t mind being a Roman slave?’
‘I think I might like it,’ said Lauren. ‘As long as it isn’t a galley slave. I know nothing about cooking.’
‘Eh?’
Lauren hit her forehead with the palm of her hand. ‘Duh. Joke, Cy.’ She glanced round her. ‘This looks like a very up-market household. What are my duties?’ she asked Rhea Silvia.
‘If my father will buy you, then you might dress my hair and help me with my make-up,’ said Rhea Silvia.
‘Way to go!’ said Lauren. ‘That’s for me.’ She stepped forward and peered closely at Rhea Silvia. ‘Your eye make-up is fantastic. How do you get that line to extend across your eyelid without smudging in this heat?’
‘Kohl,’ said Rhea Silvia, ‘from Egypt. I mix it with a little soap and then use a fine brush. But the brush must be of genuine camel hair.’
She in her turn was studying Lauren’s clothes. ‘Your clothes are . . . unusual,’ she said. ‘May I try this?’ She pointed to the school tie draped around Lauren’s neck.
‘You can keep it as far as I’m concerned,’ said Lauren. She handed her striped tie over, and then, seeing that Rhea Silvia had no idea how to make the knot, she did it for her.
Rhea Silvia leaned over and looked at her reflection in the water of the fountain. ‘None of my friends will have anything like this. I cannot imagine how anyone thought to team these colours together.’
‘Believe me, neither can I,’ said Lauren. ‘But your clothes are gorgeous. That is the most fabby colour I’ve ever seen.’ She fingered the cloth of Rhea Silvia’s new skirt.
Rhea Silvia looked pleased. ‘The material is from a town in the Lebanon called Tyre. It is the only place that you can get such a shade. They have the secret of the purple dye. Here –’ she offered the skirt length to Lauren – ‘let us go inside to my room and see how it looks on you.’
‘I thought you liked short skirts,’ said Cy as Lauren wrapped the floor-length piece of material around herself.
‘When in Rome,’ said Lauren.
‘Pardon?’
‘It’s an expression,’ said Lauren. And, as Cy still looked bewildered, added, ‘It’s a thing people say, “When in Rome, do as the Romans do.” It means adopt the style and customs of the people that you are with at the moment,’ said Lauren, and she flounced after Rhea.
Cy didn’t like to point out that they weren’t in Rome, exactly. They were actually in Pompeii. Best not to, though, he thought as he trotted after the two girls; it might panic his sister and he felt that he could panic enough for both of them. Also he didn’t intend to stay here for very much longer. He would have to stop Lauren getting too friendly with Rhea Silvia and try to have a moment alone with his sister. Then hopefully he’d be able to use the dreamsilk and get Lauren back to his room quickly enough for her to believe that this was a dream.
Cy spoke politely to Rhea Silvia. ‘My sister cannot become your slave. She belongs to a household far beyond the town, and has only been allowed out for a few hours to deliver a message.’
‘No way!’ Lauren hissed. ‘I want to stay here.’
‘It’s my dream,’ said Cy in a low voice. ‘What I say goes.’
Lauren made a rude face at her brother and appealed to Rhea Silvia. ‘I’d like to be your slave.’
‘When my father returns from Rome, I will ask him to buy you from your present owner,’ said Rhea Silvia. ‘Meanwhile perhaps you would tell me how it is that you braid your hair in that manner?’
‘Sure,’ said Lauren. ‘Want me to do yours like it?’
‘Cyrus!’
Cy turned his head and saw that Rhea Silvia’s brother Linus had arrived by the fountain. Cy paused. He would have to let his sister go into the interior of the house. As a slave he could not ignore Linus’s call. He ran back hurriedly to the courtyard.
‘You must look at my new drawing.’ The boy thrust his sketch under Cy’s nose. ‘I took your advice and made it more active. It is one of the gladiators.’
‘Terrific,’ said Cy, hardly glancing at Linus’s parchment.
‘He is a new fighter,’ said Linus. ‘Such trouble he is causing. He claims he is a great lord but he has no lineage or family to speak up for him. He was captured thieving from a house on the mountain slopes outside Herculaneum. Tell me what you think. Have I captured his posture?’
‘It’s good,’ said Cy, his mind still on Lauren. How long could two girls spend talking about make-up? A very long time, if the length of the sessions in the bathroom at home when Lauren’s friends Baz and Cartwheel visited were anything to go by. Cy glanced again briefly at Linus’s drawing. ‘It’s very—’ He stopped and looked again.
‘Omigosh! Omigollygosh!’ Cy pointed a shaking finger at Linus’s drawing of a gladiator in full combat gear. It showed a small angry kilted figure partly encased in body armour, with leather greaves to protect his legs; holding a shield and wielding a short sword. From underneath the helmet glared the face of the Dream Master.
‘Where did you see this man?’ Cy stuttered.
‘At the barracks behind the Temple of Isis,’ said Linus. ‘He is a new gladiator. They call him Dominus Somniorum. He fights on the holiday in two days’ time.’
‘Fights? In two days?’ Cy’s voice came out in a strangulated yelp.
‘Yes,’ said Linus. ‘In the Amphitheatre. He fights to the death.’
CHAPTER IX
‘TO THE DEATH!’
‘Surely you must know this.’ Linus looked into Cy’s stricken face. ‘Even far away in Britain you must have heard of the great gladiator fights of the mighty Roman Empire.’
‘Yes . . . but . . .’ Cy stammered. ‘I think I might know this man. Is there any way that I could speak to him?’
‘I could take you to the Barracks of the Gladiators,’ said Linus. ‘My friends and I know a way in where we watch the gladiators practising in the courtyard. If we go now we might catch sight of this new fighter.’
Cy hesitated. Could he safely leave Lauren while he went with Linus to visit the Dream Master? He looked at his piece of dreamsilk. It was turning pale. ‘A dream has its own time,’ the Dream Master had told him. If he waited much longer he and Lauren could be stuck in ancient times for ever. The Dream Master was right. It did require mental gymnastics and concentration to be a Dream Master. Cy felt totally inadequate.
‘You want to see him, don’t you?’ Linus had been watching the expression on Cy’s face.
Cy nodded. ‘Yes, but I don’t know if I have enough time. I’ve . . . I’ve . . . got to get my sister back home . . . er, to the house – household where she should be.’
Linus placed his hand on Cy’s arm. ‘It is August and very hot. Everyone sleeps for an hour or so after the midday meal. My mother has gone to visit my father at his mosaic workshop in Rome. My sister and yours will talk and then eat and then rest. We will have time if we run quickly. You could see the new gladiator and be back before they wake up. I will show you the way.’
Cy decided to take
the risk. He needed to see the Dream Master. He owed it to him to at least let him know where he was. Also . . . he needed advice.
As Linus had predicted, the streets which the two boys ran along were almost deserted. The few people that they met paid no attention to a young boy accompanied by his slave.
‘This way,’ said Linus. ‘At the crossroads we take the street towards the Odeon. At the next block, near the Temple of Isis, is an opening. It has not yet been repaired since the earth quaked and destroyed the buildings the year that my sister was born. If we take that passageway it will bring us out at the barracks.’
Cy followed Linus between the buildings until they came to a double-storeyed block set round a large grassed arena.
‘Here,’ Linus whispered. He pulled Cy behind a pillar. ‘The instructors know that boys come to watch the mock fights. They do not mind as long as we are not too noisy.’
Cy looked around. There were wooden posts embedded in the grass and men were hacking and chopping at these with their swords. Other men were grappling with each other, or fighting in pairs, or practising spear throws.
‘I don’t see him,’ Cy whispered.
‘If he is being difficult he may be confined to his cubicle.’ Linus pointed at the building. ‘The instructors are on the upper floor. The gladiators occupy the small cubicles underneath.’
‘Once they are outside, why don’t these gladiators run away?’ Cy nodded at the men who were on the grass.
‘It is a great honour to be a gladiator,’ said Linus. ‘Many men volunteer to fight.’
Cy and Linus began to walk round under the covered walkway. It didn’t take them very long to find the locked cell which contained the Dream Master. The little man leaped to his feet immediately. He pushed his face through the bars.
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