Greek Warriors

by Chris Blake

  Time Hunters: Greek Warriors

  Chris Blake

  Travel through time with Tom and Isis on more

  adventures!

  Time Hunters: Gladiator Clash

  Time Hunters: Knight Quest

  Time Hunters: Viking Raiders

  Time Hunters: Greek Warriors

  Time Hunters: Pirate Mutiny

  Time Hunters: Egyptian Curse

  For games, competitions and more visit:

  www.time-hunters.com

  Title Page

  Prologue

  Chapter 1: Supermarket Sweep

  Chapter 2: The Greek Army

  Chapter 3: The Legendary Odysseus

  Chapter 4: A Gift Horse

  Chapter 5: Letting the Cat out of the Bag

  Chapter 6: An Unwanted Gift

  Chapter 7: All Fired Up

  Chapter 8: The King’s Ring

  Chapter 9: Cat-apult

  Chapter 10: Checking Out

  Who were the Mightiest Greek Warriors?

  Weapons

  Greek Warriors Timeline

  Time Hunters Timeline

  Fantastic Facts

  The Hunt Continues…

  Copyright

  About the Publisher

  Five thousand years ago

  Princess Isis and her pet cat, Cleo, stood outside the towering carved gates to the Afterlife. It had been rotten luck to fall off a pyramid and die at only ten years of age, but Isis wasn’t worried – the Afterlife was meant to be great. People were dying to go there, after all! Her mummy’s wrappings were so uncomfortable she couldn’t wait a second longer to get in, get her body back and wear normal clothes again.

  “Oi, Aaanuuubis, Anubidooby!” Isis shouted impatiently. “When you’re ready, you old dog!”

  Cleo started to claw Isis’s shoulder. Then she yowled, jumping from Isis’s arms and cowering behind her legs.

  “Calm down, fluffpot,” Isis said, bending to stroke her pet. “He can’t exactly woof me to death!” The princess laughed, but froze when she stood up. Now she understood what Cleo had been trying to tell her.

  Looming up in front of her was the enormous jackal-headed god of the Underworld himself, Anubis. He was so tall that Isis’s neck hurt to look up at him. He glared down his long snout at her with angry red eyes. There was nothing pet-like about him. Isis gulped.

  “‘WHEN YOU’RE READY, YOU OLD DOG?’” Anubis growled. “‘ANUBIDOOBY?’”

  Isis gave the god of the Underworld a winning smile and held out five shining amulets. She had been buried with them so she could give them to Anubis to gain entry to the Afterlife. There was a sixth amulet too – a gorgeous green one. But Isis had hidden it under her arm. Green was her favourite colour, and surely Anubis didn’t need all six.

  Except the god didn’t seem to agree. His fur bristled in rage. “FIVE? Where is the sixth?” he demanded.

  Isis shook her head. “I was only given five,” she said innocently.

  To her horror, Anubis grabbed the green amulet from its hiding place. “You little LIAR!” he bellowed.

  Thunder started to rumble. The ground shook. Anubis snatched all six amulets and tossed them into the air. With a loud crack and a flash of lightning, they vanished.

  “You hid them from me!” he boomed. “Now I have hidden them from you – in the most dangerous places throughout time.”

  Isis’s bandaged shoulders drooped in despair. “So I c-c-can’t come into the Afterlife then?”

  “Not until you have found each and every one. But first, you will have to get out of this…” Anubis clicked his fingers. A life-sized pottery statue of the goddess Isis, whom Isis was named after, appeared before him.

  Isis felt herself being sucked into the statue, along with Cleo. “What are you doing to me?” she yelled.

  “You can only escape if somebody breaks the statue,” Anubis said. “So you’ll have plenty of time to think about whether trying to trick the trickster god himself was a good idea!”

  The walls of the statue closed around Isis, trapping her and Cleo inside. The sound of Anubis’s evil laughter would be the last sound they would hear for a long, long time…

  The old lady’s shopping trolley was closing in on Isis Amun-Ra and her cat, Cleopatra.

  Tom watched in horror.

  “Get out of the way!” he shouted to Isis, waving his arms.

  But the mummified Ancient Egyptian princess just stood at the entrance of the supermarket, hands on her hips, and said, “Why?”

  The old lady wheeled her trolley straight at the two Egyptians.

  Tom ran over and pushed his friends out of the trolley’s path.

  “Are you trying to get killed?” he squeaked.

  “Don’t be silly!” Isis said cheerfully. “I’m already dead.”

  She ran in and out of the supermarket’s automatic doors, making them open and close.

  “Stop! People are staring,” Tom hissed.

  “Not at me!” Isis laughed. “Nobody but you can see us. Cleo and I are pretty nifty on our feet for five thousand years old, aren’t we?”

  Suddenly Isis squealed. She pointed at Tom’s mother, who was pushing a supermarket trolley with a wonky wheel towards them.

  “Look, Fluffpot!” she cried. Our very own chariot!”

  “Tom,” Mum said. “I thought I told you to wait by the trolleys!”

  “That’s right, you naughty boy,” said Isis, wagging her finger at Tom. “You should listen to mummy.”

  Tom groaned and shot Isis a look of frustration. Under his breath he muttered, “I’ve been listening to a mummy ever since I broke that statue.”

  A few weeks earlier, Tom had accidentally broken a statue of the goddess Isis at the museum where his dad worked, releasing the mummies of Isis and Cleo, who had been trapped inside it for over five thousand years. And now Tom was stuck with them until they’d found all six amulets that Anubis had scattered throughout history.

  “Shopping’s so boring!” Tom grumbled, as they passed under the neon-lit entrance to the supermarket. “Why did I have to come?” he whined to Mum.

  Mum was busy checking her list. “I need you to push the trolley,” she said, wandering over to the fruit and vegetable section.

  Tom grabbed the trolley’s handle. But just as he was about to stop next to the tomatoes and peppers, Isis shouted. “Come on, Cleo! Let’s ride the chariot!”

  Cleo mewed heartily. The two climbed up on to the banana shelf and sprang into the trolley, with Cleo nestling in the front section and Isis perched on the child’s seat.

  Isis reached up and pulled down some bunting that was advertising the bananas. She flung it round Tom’s body and gave it a yank.

  “Giddy-up, horsey! Pull me and Cleo to victory! YAH!”

  “Isis, no!” Tom said.

  “What’s wrong?” Isis asked. “You said you were bored. I’m only trying to liven things up a bit. I thought we could play chariot races.”

  Just as Tom was about to tell Isis what he thought of her pretending he was a horse, the supermarket manager loomed over him. He knew it was the manager because the red-faced man wore a badge that said: ‘Brian, Store Manager’ on it.

  Brian tapped Tom on the shoulder. “Young man! You are not to play with the bunting!” He pulled the tangle of yellow triangles off Tom’s coat.

  Then, worst of all, Mum came over.

  “Tom! What on earth are you doing?” Her face was pink with embarrassment. She waved a bunch of celery in the air, almost hitting Brian on the head. She turned to him and bit her lip. “I’m so sorry. He’s normally such a sensible boy.”

  Tom glared at Isis. He was sure she was smirking under her bandages.

  “Blah blah blah blah sensible boy!” Isis’s
impression of Mum was spot on. She giggled as Tom stormed off, pushing the trolley towards the meat counter.

  “You’d better behave yourself now!” Tom hissed at Isis when Mum wasn’t looking.

  “Wheeeee!” she shouted, as Tom rounded a corner. “I wiiiiill!”

  They pushed on towards the frozen food section. To Tom’s horror, as they turned into the coldest aisle in the shop, Isis grabbed an enormous pack of toilet roll from a shelf. She tore the pack open and started to wrap white toilet paper round herself.

  “What on earth are you doing now?” Tom cried. “You’re already all bandaged up.”

  Isis tutted loudly. “K-keeping warm. It’s f-freezing in here. Do you want me to f-freeze to death?”

  “You’re already dead, as you just reminded me!” Tom said.

  Isis ignored him and carried on unwinding the toilet roll.

  Tom was frustrated by her pranks.

  “I know you think you’re hilarious, but every bit of mischief you get into, gets me into trouble!” he said.

  “What? Like this?” Isis tossed a toilet roll at Tom’s head. She giggled as it bounced off him.

  “Yes. That’s exactly what I mean!” Tom said.

  “Fetch me a packet of fish fingers, will you, Tom?” said Mum. “And do stop talking to yourself. You sound like Dad.”

  Tom leaned over the freezer, and gasped as the ground began to shake. Shoppers carried on pushing their trolleys down the aisle as if nothing was happening, but Tom knew it could mean only one thing…

  “Anubis!” Isis yelped. She clutched Cleo close to her.

  “I guess we’re off on our next adventure!” Tom said, gulping. “Look!” He pointed at the jackal’s head that was emerging from beneath the frozen vegetables.

  Isis peeped into the freezer. “I d-d-don’t care where he sends us,” she said through chattering teeth, “just please let it be somewhere hot!”

  The god of the Underworld, with his human body and jackal’s head, rose up.

  His furry face sparkled with frost and his red eyes glowed hot, melting all the frost and ice in an instant. He let out a long, low growl.

  “A-Anubis,” Isis said. “Nice of you to drop by.”

  “Are you ready to begin your next adventure?” Anubis shouted.

  “But we haven’t been up the sweets aisle yet,” Tom moaned. “Mum always lets me open a family-sized chocolate bar before we get to the till. I was looking forward to it!”

  “Silence!” Anubis shouted. “Prepare to leave immediately!” A tornado of icy wind and frozen peas whipped up round Tom, Isis and Cleo. Tom felt himself being sucked into the tunnels of time. They were on their way to a whole new place and era.

  Tom, Isis and Cleo shot out of the time tunnel. They floated down, down, down… it was as if they had jumped out of an aeroplane wearing invisible parachutes.

  I love this bit, Tom thought.

  The air that whooshed past his cheeks was hot. Through barely open eyelids, Tom spied the ground below rushing up to meet them.

  Thump! Flump! Kerplump! The three travellers landed on something hot and soft.

  Tom sat up. The sunlight was blinding. The heat was fierce. Their last two time-travelling adventures had taken them to cold places – King Arthur’s medieval England and Scandinavia in Viking times.

  “Where are we?” he asked, shielding his blue eyes from the glare. The fingers on his left hand pushed down into powdery white sand. He and Isis were both wearing short tunics and sandals.

  “I don’t know, but it’s glorious!” Isis said, leaping to her feet and jumping up and down with glee. “It’s the first time I’ve been warm since we went to Ancient Rome!” She stretched out her arms and kissed the bronze skin that now covered them. “Hello, body! So nice to have you back.”

  Cleo mewed loudly and rubbed up against Isis’s legs. She was covered in the furry stripes of a tabby cat once more.

  “We need clues,” Tom said.

  He looked round. To his right, as far as he could see, were pale stone walls reaching up to the blue sky. To his left, the green sea was fringed by dazzlingly white sand. The beach was teaming with…

  “Soldiers!” Isis cried.

  Tom held his hand over her mouth and dragged her behind a sand dune. “Shh!” he said. “Not so loud. Let’s work out who these guys are before—”

  “First of all,” Isis scoffed, “it’s my job to talk loudly. I’m a princess! Second of all, they might be able to tell us where my amulet is.”

  Tom squinted at the soldiers’ uniforms. On top of bright red tunics they wore bronze breastplates that made them look as though they had rippling muscles. On their legs, they wore sandals with straps that held metal shin pads in place. They carried round shields with pictures on the front – some showed winged horses and some had the letter V upside down. But best of all…

  “See those plumed helmets?” Tom said. “I’ve seen those in Dad’s museum. They’re Ancient Greek army helmets. And that upside-down V was the symbol of the Spartan army.” He peered up at the pale stone walls. “Those look like the walls to some ancient city. But the Greeks are on the outside, so—”

  “They’ve got lovely horses,” Isis said. She climbed on to Tom’s back for a better look. “Stallions!” she said. “And they’re tied together in groups. I think these soldiers are getting ready for battle.”

  Tom nodded. He looked up at a tall wooden contraption that loomed high above the soldiers. It looked like a giant catapult made from enormous planks of wood, levers and ropes.

  “What’s that ugly thing?” Isis asked.

  Tom racked his brains for the name. He had seen a diagram of one in his history books. “It’s a trebuchet!” he said, suddenly remembering. “They plonk massive boulders into the hammock thingy on the end of the rope and catapult them against the city walls.”

  “The Greeks are planning an invasion,” Isis said, stroking Cleo as she scanned the beach. “So it’s going to be chaos at any moment. We’d better find out where to look for Anubis’s amulet quick!”

  Isis looked down at the magic gold scarab-shaped ring that she’d worn throughout her life. It had a hieroglyph of her namesake on it, the goddess Isis.

  “Oh, lovely goddess Isis! Please, please, pretty please, help us find the next amulet!” she said.

  The scarab ring began to make a whirring noise… and silvery-coloured words flew out of the ring and started to arrange themselves into lines. Soon the riddle was hanging complete in mid-air.

  Tom read it aloud to Isis:

  “The horse that roars a battle cry,

  A wooden gift from the Greeks,

  Will breach the walls that reach the sky,

  Lead to the jewel she seeks.

  The Trojan folk are under siege

  Inside old Priam’s city,

  Seek the prize upon the liege!

  Set in his ring so pretty.”

  “I’ve got it!” Tom said. “Or at least part of it.”

  Isis looked hopefully at him. “It sounds like a pile of nonsense. Go on. Explain it to me and Cleo.”

  Tom could just about contain his excitement. “Well, it mentions Trojans and Greeks and a horse. Have you heard of the Siege of Troy?” he asked.

  Isis cocked her head to one side and frowned. “I’ve heard of Greece, obviously. But I can’t remember much about Troy.”

  “Well, Troy was a really powerful nation too,” Tom said. “About one thousand six hundred years after you died, the Greeks went to war with the Trojans. I’m pretty sure that’s what the riddle’s talking about.”

  Isis snorted. “Sounds like the Greeks were always waging war with someone. What were they fighting over?” She asked, stroking Cleo’s silky fur.

  Tom chuckled. “You’ll love this! The different Greek armies sailed across the Aegean Sea with a massive fleet of ships… and all because Helen left her husband, King Menelaus of Sparta – a city in Greece – to be with Prince Paris. He was the son of Priam, the king of Tr
oy.”

  “They started a war over a girl?!” said Isis. She shook her head and laughed.

  As Tom tightened his sandals’ laces, he explained. “Helen was meant to be the most beautiful woman in the world. So when she left Menelaus, she broke his heart. Menelaus went bonkers and demanded that Paris give Helen back. But Paris wouldn’t, so the Greeks declared war. Simple!”

  “Egypt would never wage war over anything that silly,” Isis said. “Mind you,” she added thoughtfully, “I was the most gorgeous princess that Egypt had ever seen. If I’d been kidnapped, Father definitely would have sent his army after me!”

  She started to stroke her plaits, and Tom noticed a dreamy look in her eyes. He clicked his fingers in front of her face.

  “Wake up!” he said. “If you ever want to get into the Afterlife, we’ve got an amulet to find. And judging by the riddle, it’s behind those city walls. We’d better start coming up with a plan to get inside, because the Trojans kept the Greeks out for ten years!”

  Boink! Doink! Rattatatatat!

  A strange banging noise interrupted Tom. He and Isis crept along the sand dunes until they came to a dense clump of fir trees. A band of workmen was hammering away at an enormous sculpture made from tree trunks. Some of them were arguing with a group of soldiers.

  “Whatever is that thing?” Isis asked, pointing to the looming object.

  Tom grinned with delight. “It’s a horse. Can’t you see? Legs, head, tail!” Tom had read about the legendary battle of Troy. Could this possibly be the wooden horse that had changed the course of the Trojan War?

  Isis squinted at the pile of trunks. “That’s a horse? The Greeks weren’t very good with a hammer and chisel, were they? Not a patch on the Egyptians.”

  Before Tom could plan their next move, Isis and Cleo were strutting towards the craftsmen.