A slave hustled off and returned with a soft skin like a canteen, full of goat’s milk. Brendan took a sip and found it just as gross as the wine. He stuck with water.
Meanwhile, below the emperor’s viewing area, a half-dozen gladiators entered the arena and positioned themselves in a circle. One at a time, they began demonstrating their weapons, showing off swords, axes, and daggers in solo feats of spinning skill. Brendan was entranced. It was so cool the way the warriors moved, the way they had complete control over their weapons. Brendan found himself standing up and imitating them, pretending to hold a sword, which Occipus and his entourage found very amusing. When Occipus laughed, it sounded like a burp—and then he often did burp at the same time, which made him laugh more. It was all very hilarious to him and Brendan, less so to Cordelia, Eleanor, and Will.
Kristoff House was still in the center of the arena, looking like a misplaced toy. Cordelia was trying to figure out how to get down there as Occipus received a tray of meats that appeared to weigh as much as he did. He ate by throwing his food in the air and catching it with his wide, puffy-lipped mouth. The pieces that hit the floor he allowed to be consumed by the slave girls. When Occipus’s belly was full, the slave girls, along with the help of some burly male workers, picked up the emperor and carried him to a sofa. They laid Occipus down there and girls fed him grapes dipped in honey.
Only when Occipus seemed about to burst, burping constantly, surrounded by the odors of his own flatulence, did he beckon the Walkers and Will over, avoiding eye contact as he spoke.
“You see how happy the crowd is, yes?”
“Yes, Supreme Emperor,” Brendan said. Everyone else nodded. (Eleanor held her nose.)
“A happy crowd means a happy public,” said Occipus. “A man can live on one slice of bread and a thimble of water, as long as he’s entertained. So you see what a stroke of luck this is, all of you appearing in my Colosseum. Everyone is talking about your Hades house, fascinated by it actually.”
He pointed to Kristoff House, in the center of the arena. Chariots were racing around it now.
“They think it’s a trick. ‘An illusion,’ they say. ‘The Emperor spent a mighty bit of coin on that one.’ But I know better. I know that house just appeared out of thin air.”
The emperor stared at them all in turn, his eyes set back in fleshy lids.
“Which one of you can tell me how this house got here?”
“I can,” said Cordelia, “on one condition.”
“Which is?”
“Let us return to the house. All of our belongings are inside. Things that we need.”
“Do you think I’m an idiot? Bwark—” Occipus burped, then sloshed his mouth around and swallowed, as if something had come up. “If I let you back inside that house I may never see you again.”
“Would that be so bad?” Cordelia asked. “Look at us! We don’t belong here. Think about it . . . have you ever seen anyone like us? With our clothes?”
“I must admit, I have been admiring the little one’s shoes,” said Occipus, pointing to Eleanor’s pink Converse high-tops.
“That’s what I mean,” said Cordelia. “We’re from the future.”
“The future?”
“And we just want to get back.”
“You speak of sorcery.”
“Yes . . . I suppose. But it wasn’t our sorcery—”
“I knew it!” said Emperor Occipus. “That’s how you managed to transform my lions! So tell me . . . what is your secret? What else can you do?” He grabbed Cordelia’s collar. “Can you control the weather? Do you breathe fire? Tell me! With your power I will not only be supreme emperor of Rome . . . but the entire world!”
“Why is it that almost everybody we meet in these books wants to rule the world so bad?” muttered Eleanor.
“Because armies will fear me,” screamed Occipus. “Foreign leaders will cower in my presence. I will be respected wherever I go! Now tell me . . . how do you perform your magic?”
Cordelia froze. Occipus’s hands were horribly fat and clammy against her skin. Rodicus leaned over his shoulder: “Maybe she needs a little convincing, master. We can hang her up by her fingernails and cover her body with leeches. That usually makes them talk.”
“Hold on, there, Supreme Emperor,” said Will, stepping forward. “There’s no need for that. Allow me to show you one of our secrets.”
“What?” asked the emperor.
Will pulled a gray cigarette lighter out of his pocket—
“Wait, what is that?” Eleanor interrupted. “Will . . . you smoke?!”
“Of course not,” said Will. “I . . . I keep this nearby for emergency situations.”
“What kind of emergency situations?”
“You know,” said Will. “If I’m ever in a plane . . . and I’m shot down . . . I could be stranded in the cold . . . I’d need to light a fire.”
Will showed Cordelia and Eleanor the lighter. It wasn’t a modern lighter—it was an old-school World War I lighter made of tin. Occipus grabbed it.
“Explain this to me.”
“Supreme Emperor chap, you just place your thumb on that wheel . . . and look!”
Occipus lit the lighter. A small flame danced out. Occipus sloshed back and fell off the sofa. Everyone—his mistress, Rodicus, the slaves—gathered around to pick him up as Will picked the lighter up.
“It’s sorcery!” “A flame from that little box!”
“Give it to me,” Occipus ordered, standing up. Will handed him back the lighter.
“I will keep this,” said Occipus. “For it is written that any item inside the Colosseum becomes the property of the Supreme Emperor! Including your home!”
The Walkers and Will exchanged a worried look. Occipus snapped his fingers. “Rodicus.”
Rodicus dashed away.
“No!” said Cordelia, but it was too late. Below them, in the arena, an army of a hundred slaves or more streamed toward Kristoff House. They were carrying long ropes, fashioned with hooks. They attached them to the house and started dragging it away.
UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE
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Where are you taking our home?” Cordelia said.
“You mean my home,” said the emperor. “I’m moving it to an area where it can be easily searched.”
“Searched for what?”
“First of all, jewelry!” Emperor Occipus said. He held up his arms. They were clanging with jeweled bracelets. “I love precious jewels, foreign jewels most of all, and I’ll add to my collection. Secondly, I will confiscate any magical devices we find. Perhaps another fire machine . . . or a machine that can generate water . . . wouldn’t that be grand?” Occipus tested the lighter again; it gave him such pleasure. Cordelia was about to cry out—What are we going to do without Kristoff House? How are we ever going to get back to Mom and Dad?—but as she opened her mouth, Rodicus grabbed her.
“Hold your tongue. The Supreme Emperor hates being distracted when his favorite gladiator is in the arena.”
Rodicus pointed. Down below, with the house gone, it was easy to see the gladiators being quiet and still as a young man stepped into view. He was tall and muscular, not like those creepy bodybuilders who win contests with bulgy veins and skintight briefs, but lean and rock-solid, like an Olympian athlete.
He raised his sword and began a display of mastery. He cut the blade though the air, diving into somersaults, jabbing and slashing at imaginary enemies. The crowd cheered him on. He executed an upward thrust and stabbed down into the dirt. He called out a battle cry as his sword vibrated back and forth with a bwanggg.
The gladiator took off his helmet. He was young, with close-cropped hair, piercing brown eyes, a cleft chin, and a killer smile.
“Who’s he?” Cordelia asked.
“Felix the Greek,” Rodicus said, applauding loudly.
The emperor applaude
d as well. Everyone did. Brendan felt a twinge of jealousy.
Felix, in the arena below, looked up at the emperor’s sitting area. Cordelia felt as if he were staring right at her. She gave a slight smile. She could have sworn he returned it.
“Who is that?” Will asked, standing next to Cordelia.
“Some gladiator named Felix.”
“And why are you smiling at him?”
“Um . . . did you see what he did? It was really cool . . . like a solo ballet with a sword.”
“A rather girlish display, in my opinion,” Will said, and he didn’t have to say any more.
Is Will jealous? Cordelia thought.
“Bravo, Felix!” the emperor called. “Let the battles begin!”
Rodicus grabbed the giant bronze tripod cone: “Your Supreme Emperor is ready for entertainment!”
“Entertainment? So what was the rest of that stuff?” Brendan asked.
Felix put his helmet on. The black gate rose underneath where the Walkers were sitting. This time, instead of lions, some animals came out that made Brendan’s jaw drop.
The color was what startled him at first. The creatures were white. Brendan thought they were Siberian tigers, or giant snow leopards, because it didn’t make sense for polar bears to be in the Colosseum . . .
But they were polar bears.
Shuffling, angry, hot polar bears.
Guards whipped at the bears as they lumbered forward. There were two; they moved toward Felix, who raised his sword. The gladiators formed a ring around the bears and their fellow fighter.
“Oh man, I should have read more of Gladius Rex,” Brendan said. “I guess Kristoff went a little nuts with the exotic animals.”
“What are they going to do with the bears?” Eleanor exclaimed. “That guy’s not going to fight bears, is he? They’re innocent!”
“They’re hungry,” Brendan said.
“Wait!” Eleanor ran up to the emperor and pulled on his robe. “You can’t do this! It’s cruelty to animals!”
A shocked Rodicus grabbed her, but the emperor responded: “Cruelty? How ridiculous.” He pulled a string of meat from one of his back teeth. “What you call ‘cruelty’ is a natural part of the world. Have you ever seen a cat bounce a live mouse between its paws until the mouse dies? That’s not cruelty. That’s pure joy.”
“And you’re pure gross!” Eleanor said. “A horrible, bloated—”
Brendan put his hand over Eleanor’s mouth and gave the emperor a big, fake grin. “Your Supremeness, I got this.” He took Nell into a corner and whispered, “You ever hear that expression ‘when in Rome’? You’ve got to play along—”
“Play along? Those two beautiful polar bears are about to be slaughtered! You used to care about stuff like that! What’s happened to you? You’re becoming as disturbed as Blob-ipus!”
“I’m trying to keep us alive and I’ve done a good job so far. And if you want to stay safe I suggest you turn away from this battle. Then you won’t have to see what happens to the bears, or to that guy who’s fighting them. You know, the bears may win.”
“I hope they do. I’ll be glad-they-ate-him!”
Cordelia watched the bears approach Felix the Greek. The first one took a swipe at him. The crowd all gasped at once, as if the Colosseum were one big mouth. Felix ducked and slashed at the bear’s paw, but the animal drew away as the second bear charged him from behind. Felix jumped and the two bears tumbled into one another! They rolled and battled on the ground. The spectators laughed.
Eleanor yelled to the crowd, “That’s not funny! That’s mean! You’re all a bunch of—”
Brendan’s hand strategically covered her mouth.
The bears advanced on Felix. He tossed his sword from one hand to the other. Felix had a helmet but he didn’t have a shield or armor—only a leather jerkin that polar bear teeth could definitely chomp through. The bear on the left roared and charged—
And Felix flipped his sword backward and knocked it in the chin with the hilt!
The bear stumbled back as if punched. Felix whirled and took a swipe at the other animal, cutting off some fur underneath its chin.
“See, he’s not so bad!” Brendan told Eleanor. “He could’ve cut that bear to ribbons but he didn’t.”
The crowd cheered louder than they had for Brendan: “Felix! Felix!” The bears got ready for another attack.
Cordelia was riveted. The gladiator—a kid, really—had such a great smile. But if he weren’t as talented as his confidence indicated, he would end up Hamburger Helper. It would be such a shame. She understood suddenly why people went to bullfights. She found herself chanting: “Felix! Felix!”
The bears ran at the warrior full-on. He readied his sword. But this time the animals were smarter; when they got within striking distance, one of them leaped over Felix, slashing down with its claws, as the other barreled into him. Felix’s attention was split—he tried to attack up and down at the same time—and one bear took out his legs while the other knocked him forward. He hit the ground . . . and now the two bears were on top of him, their mouths heaving, long runners of spit hanging from their teeth, about to chow down.
“Stop!” Cordelia yelled. “Supreme Emperor, please make it stop!”
Occipus raised his eyebrows. Something in Cordelia was making a major impression on him. And he suddenly had a truly spectacular idea, one that would absolutely dazzle the crowd. Occipus whispered something to Rodicus, who smiled, then shouted into the ancient megaphone, “Stop the battle!”
The guards who had formed a perimeter around Felix whipped at the bears, forcing them back. The crowd booed. Occipus grabbed Cordelia’s wrist and started to lead her away from his viewing area.
“Where are we going?”
“Into the arena,” said Occipus.
“Hey, wait!” Brendan said, shocked. Will and Eleanor backed him up. “Don’t take my sister away!”
Occipus laughed: a deep burbling sound that resembled bubbling muck. Then he snapped his fingers and the guards grabbed Brendan, Eleanor, and Will.
“This is my Colosseum!” Occipus declared. “I can do whatever I want. And I want to bring Cordelia into the arena, to meet the man she admires!”
“Wait! No, stop—” Cordelia said, but Occipus was done talking. He dragged her down the dark staircase that led into the arena. His small hands were very strong and his determined, stubby legs moved quickly. In seconds, he pulled Cordelia onto the dusty field, where the polar bears were being led back inside the black gate. Felix stood at attention. As they got close to him, Rodicus narrated their progress from the balcony.
“The emperor is bringing Cordelia from New Brittania to meet Felix the Greek. She has just begged the emperor for Felix’s life! It can only mean one thing, esteemed citizens! Yes, that’s right . . . now the Supreme Emperor is clasping their hands together! The vows will begin shortly.”
“What do you mean, ‘vows’?” said Brendan.
“Wedding vows,” said Rodicus. “Our laws dictate that if a young maiden saves the life of a gladiator, she must marry him.”
“What?” asked a stunned Will.
“In a few moments,” said Rodicus, “the Supreme Emperor will perform the ceremony. Then Felix and Cordelia will be man and wife.”
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In the center of the arena, Cordelia was overwhelmed with noise and attention. The entire crowd was on its feet, wildly cheering for Felix—And for me, I guess? she asked herself. She hadn’t heard Rodicus say the word vows over the cheers; she didn’t realize what was going on. She just knew that Occipus’s clammy hand was holding hers and Felix’s together.
Felix, however, understood how to use the attention of the crowd. He took off his helmet and waved. Everyone cheered. He spoke to Cordelia without looking at her: “Thank you for saving me.”
“You’re
welcome,” said Cordelia. The crowd was so loud that they could speak freely. “I need to get back to my house. You know the one that just appeared in the arena? It’s my family’s. But the guards took it away with hooks and ropes—”
“I’ll help you get it back,” Felix said. He had a slow, even voice. “I’ll help any way I can. But the emperor will get angry if we leave before—”
“And now,” called Rodicus from the balcony, “the Supreme Emperor will begin the wedding ceremony!”
“Wedding ceremony?” asked Cordelia. “What wedding ceremony?”
“Uh . . . ours?” said Felix.
“Ours? Are you kidding me? Why would I marry you? We just met!”
“Roman law,” said Felix. “When a woman saves a gladiator from death, she is required to marry him. Didn’t you know that?”
“There’s no such law. That’s not historically accurate! It’s totally made up!”
“It was created by Occipus.”
Cordelia paused. Of course. We’re in one of Kristoff’s books. It’s all fiction. Kristoff made up this stupid rule just to make the plot of his book more exciting! And now I’m the victim of some writer’s whimsy!
“Felix the Greek,” said Occipus, still holding their hands, “do you take the lovely Cordelia of New Brittania to be your bride?”
Felix smiled into Cordelia’s terrified face. His eyes seemed to say: Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you. But it didn’t make Cordelia feel any better. She wasn’t going to be stuck in some arranged marriage, even if it was in a magical world and would never be technically recognized by the state of California—
“Wait a minute!” Cordelia said. “I’m only fifteen years old!”
“So?” Occipus said.
“I’m still a minor. It’s illegal for me to marry anyone! Isn’t that a law here?”
“Hmmm . . . ,” Occipus said. “Did you say you were fifteen?”
“Yes!”
“Well, Felix is seventeen. So no problem there.”
“What?” Cordelia turned to Felix: “How can you be a gladiator at seventeen?”
House of Secrets: Battle of the Beasts Page 12