Double Trouble

by Judi Curtin

  I ran like I had never run before. I ran like an Olympic medallist who’d been training for four long years. I ran even though twigs were flying into my face and scraping my skin. I ran even though my legs were aching and I was gasping for breath.

  But it wasn’t enough.

  Before I’d gone any distance at all, I could feel the ogre’s hand grabbing Tilly’s rucksack, which I still had on my back. Desperately, I tried to wriggle free of the straps, but it was too late. The ogre used his other hand to grab my arm. I pulled and kicked and screamed, but he didn’t let go.

  He shouted at me in Latin, and I prayed that Tilly’s prediction of him not hurting us would turn out to be right.

  Then, when I couldn’t scream or kick any more, the ogre pulled me back to where we had last seen Tilly. Just as we reached that point, I saw one of Tilly’s feet disappearing into the branches of a huge tree not too far from the side of the road. Clearly the ogre hadn’t seen her, though, as he began to march through the trees, shouting and dragging me as he went.

  We trailed backwards and forwards for ages. Once or twice we passed really close to the tree where Tilly was hiding, but I didn’t dare betray her by looking up. (Even though part of me sort of hoped that she’d jump down and surrender, as I was totally afraid without her.)

  Eventually, the ogre gave up. He dragged me towards the road, and pushed me forward. I barely had the strength to walk by then, so running away was completely out of the question. I numbly put one foot in front of the other, never daring to look back, but always hoping that somewhere behind me Tilly was following, and that she had a plan.

  6

  When it felt like I had walked a hundred kilometres, it started to get dark. I was feeling even more scared than before, when we came to a huge farm. The ogre pushed me through the gates in the direction of a man standing outside a long, low building. The ogre walked towards the man and they talked for a long time. The ogre pointed at me and then pointed back along the road. I guessed he was telling the story of Tilly’s escape and I hoped they wouldn’t consider it worth their while to go looking for her.

  After a while, the ogre pushed me towards the building. I saw that the door was held closed by a big plank of wood that slotted into two pieces of metal on either side of the door frame. The ogre raised the plank of wood, opened the door and shoved me inside. Behind me, I could hear the thud of the wooden plank falling into place once more. For the first time, I felt a glimmer of hope. If Tilly was somewhere nearby, maybe she could come and open the door and release me as soon as the two men went away.

  I turned to face the room. Many pairs of eyes were staring at me. It was like the first day in a new school – only a million times worse. There were maybe twenty women and girls in the room, ranging from children who looked a lot younger than me, right up to women old enough to be my mother. Some of the younger girls giggled. The ones my age looked bored, and the older women looked at me with some sympathy.

  One of the older women came over to me. Her face was thin and wrinkled, but she looked kind. She said something to me in Latin.

  ‘Sorry,’ I said. ‘I can’t understand.’

  She smiled and said something in what sounded like a different language.

  I shook my head. ‘Sorry,’ I said again.

  She patted my arm and then pointed at herself and said ‘Marca.’

  That was clear enough for me. I pointed to myself and said ‘Lauren.’

  The woman put her hand over her mouth and laughed.

  ‘Lau-ren,’ she said.

  I nodded and smiled. I really didn’t want to be hanging out here for long, but while I was, I figured it was no harm to have a friend or two.

  Marca took my arm. I tried not to wince as she put her hand on the part that was still sore from when the ogre had pulled me through the wood. She led me to a line of low, narrow beds at the back of the room. Most had a few belongings on them, but one was bare except for two small, light blankets. Marca pointed at it. I wondered if I should lie down, then I figured that was a bit stupid as no one else was in bed. So I pulled Tilly’s schoolbag off my shoulders and put it on the bed. That must have been the right thing to do because Marca smiled and led me to the centre of the room. She sat on a bench next to a table and began to talk to the woman next to her.

  I sat down and looked around properly. Everyone was dressed much the same, in greyish, knee-length tunics, so I felt a bit stupid in my royal blue school uniform. On their feet, everyone was wearing leather sandals that wouldn’t have looked out of place in the window of our local shoe shop.

  It was totally weird. All these women had to be slaves, but they didn’t seem to mind very much. There were no chains, and no one was crying or moaning or trying to escape. Everyone was just getting on with stuff. Some were sewing, some were fixing their hair and some were sitting on the floor playing a game with stones. A group of girls my age were standing in a corner chatting. They could have been hanging out at the end of my road at home – I half expected one of them to pull a phone out from under their tunics and start texting.

  Then a door at the back of the room opened and two women came out carrying huge trays of food. I thought there might be a stampede, but everyone very politely and quietly came to sit at the table. The trays were passed round and everyone took some food. Marca turned to me and smiled. She took a piece of bread from the tray and handed it to me.

  ‘Panis,’ she said.

  ‘Panis,’ I repeated, and she smiled.

  The she reached out and took a boiled egg from the tray.

  ‘Eggus?’ I said, making everyone at the table laugh.

  Marca handed me the egg. ‘Ovo,’ she said.

  I repeated the word after her and she smiled again. I like learning new words, but I so didn’t want to be hanging around long enough to actually need them.

  I ate the egg and the bread, and drank some sweet juice from a wooden cup.

  After the food was cleared away, Marca talked to the other women and I took the opportunity to check out the room properly.

  It was long and narrow. Apart from the door I’d come in, there were only two other doors in the whole place. I looked through one and saw a small kitchen area, where some women were rinsing out cups and tidying away the leftover food.

  The other door was half open and I peeped through. It was dark, and at first I couldn’t see much. A few women were sitting on a bench that ran round three sides of the wall. They were chatting and laughing. I wondered why they had chosen to hang out in such a smelly room. Then, as my eyes got used to the dark, I realized that the bench had holes cut in it. While I was trying to take this in, two more slaves came in and, taking no notice of me, began to pull up their tunics. One waved at me and pointed at the empty hole next to her. Suddenly I understood. I shook my head and backed away quickly, hoping that Tilly would rescue me before I needed to go to the toilet.

  There were a number of openings in the wall of the main room – windows without glass. They were too narrow for me to fit through, but just in case someone extremely skinny showed up, there was also a big metal bar across the centre of each.

  Clearly there was only one way out of this room, and it was blocked by the heavy plank of wood.

  The situation would have been completely hopeless – if I didn’t have a clever, brave friend on the outside, just waiting for her chance to whisk me away to freedom.

  7

  I was curled up on my narrow slave’s bed, sleeping soundly. In my dream, I could hear Tilly calling my name. In my dream, I could feel someone pulling my hair. I sat up, suddenly fully awake.

  ‘At last! I thought I was going to have to set your bed on fire to wake you up.’

  I turned to see Tilly peeping through the narrow window behind me. I looked around. All the other slaves were asleep. I jumped out of bed and did my best to hug Tilly through the tiny, barred window. Even though we were separated by a
thick stone wall, just knowing that she was there made me feel better.

  ‘Have you seen Saturn?’ I asked as I finally pulled away from the awkward hug.

  She shook her head. ‘I’ve looked and called, but there’s no sign of him.’

  The thought of Saturn being lost was very scary, and the thought of Tilly and me being stuck in Ancient Rome without him was even scarier. I knew I had to change the subject.

  ‘You were right, Tilly,’ I said. ‘Splitting up was a great idea. And I’ve figured out a plan for you to rescue me. All you have to do is lift up the wooden bar on the outside of that door over there.’

  I was helpfully pointing towards the door, but to my surprise, Tilly didn’t rush over to open it.

  ‘So what are you waiting for?’ I asked.

  She sighed. ‘I’m waiting for you to tell me which part of your plan explains what I should do about the huge man and the two wolf-like dogs that are sitting outside that door.’

  I groaned. Maybe my mum is right. She always says that if something seems too good to be true, then it probably is. But there was no way I was giving up that easily.

  ‘Maybe you could poison the man and the dogs,’ I suggested.

  ‘With the vial of poison that I have conveniently tucked into my uniform pocket?’

  ‘Very funny. Not!’ I said. ‘Have you any other bright ideas?’

  She shook her head. ‘Sorry. Maybe we should wait until tomorrow. Maybe you’ll be let out for a walk or something, and you could run away.’

  ‘I’m a slave,’ I said. ‘I don’t think I’ll be given a whole lot of time for going on a nice walk or a little trip into town for a spot of window-shopping.’

  But I knew she was right. We were both tired and scared. Surely things would be better in the morning?

  ‘Fine,’ I said. ‘Let’s wait until tomorrow.’ I hesitated and then continued. ‘I’m a slave – it’s kind of a new experience. What do you think tomorrow is going to be like for me?’

  ‘I don’t know. But I peeped in earlier and none of the other slaves looks too unhappy, so maybe it’s not so bad.’

  ‘Maybe,’ I said, not really convinced.

  ‘And they gave you lots of food.’

  I suddenly had a horrible thought. ‘You don’t think it’s like the evil witch in Hansel and Gretel? You don’t think they’re fattening us up so they can eat us?’

  ‘Nah. The history book never said anything about cannibals in Roman times. You’ll be fine.’

  ‘You’re sure?’

  ‘Sure I’m sure,’ she said, and I believed her because I so very much wanted to.

  ‘Lauren,’ she said suddenly.

  ‘What?’

  ‘That bed looks really comfy.’

  I shrugged. ‘It’s not so bad.’

  ‘And Lauren?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘I’m starving.’

  Suddenly I realized that our history book was right when it said that being a slave in Roman times wasn’t always the worst thing that could happen to you. At least I had a bed and food.

  Then I remembered the kitchen.

  ‘Hang on,’ I said.

  I wasn’t really sure if I was allowed into the kitchen, but there was only one way to find out. I tiptoed across the room and into the kitchen. I grabbed a piece of bread from a table. In a cupboard I found a big jug of water and I poured some into a wooden cup. Then I returned to Tilly with my treasures.

  Poor Tilly, whose manners are usually so perfect, grabbed the bread and shoved it into her mouth. Then she threw back her head and drank every drop of water.

  ‘Thanks,’ she said, handing me the cup.

  ‘So what’s the plan?’ I said.

  She sighed. ‘I’m going to find a ditch or somewhere to sleep, while you snuggle up in your cosy bed.’

  I turned and picked up one of my thin blankets. ‘Here,’ I said. ‘This might make you a bit more comfy.’

  Tilly took the blanket and wrapped it round her shoulders. Then she turned and looked into the darkness. ‘Do you think there were wolves in Roman times?’ she asked.

  ‘Yeah, of course there were – remember Romulus and Remus?’

  Tilly gasped and I tried to reassure her.

  ‘The wolves took care of Romulus and Remus,’ I said. ‘So maybe they’ll do the same for you.’

  ‘Thanks,’ said Tilly. ‘Call me fussy if you like, but I don’t really fancy setting up home with a pack of wolves.’

  I giggled. ‘I’m sure it won’t come to that. Don’t worry, Tilly. You’ll be fine out there, and I’ll be fine in here.’

  ‘We’ll all be fine,’ said Tilly, sounding like she didn’t believe a word of what she was saying.

  Then we held hands for a second before she vanished into the night.

  8

  I was dreaming that I was at home making popcorn, when I woke to feel someone shaking my feet.

  ‘Go away, Mum,’ I mumbled. ‘It’s Saturday. Let me sleep.’

  Then I heard a voice and I knew that unless she’d spent the whole night at Latin school, it couldn’t be my mum. I sat up and rubbed my eyes.

  Marca was standing at the end of my bed, smiling. She pointed to the table, where most of the slaves were already eating. I followed Marca to the table, and she handed me a steaming bowl.

  Great … porridge. My favourite … not.

  I wondered if they had any cornflakes or Coco Pops. I wondered what the Latin for Rice Krispies might be.

  I took a small taste of the food and then edged the bowl away. Marca saw me and pushed the bowl closer again, miming eating it. I looked around and saw that everyone was devouring their food. Either they loved porridge, or they knew they weren’t getting anything else anytime soon.

  Marca reached for a jug and poured some honey over my porridge, using my wooden spoon to stir it in.

  I tried some and it didn’t taste too bad, so I copied everyone else and ate until my bowl was empty.

  Shortly afterwards, the big door opened and the ogre and three other men walked into the room. All the slaves lined up and, not wanting to draw attention to myself, I joined them.

  The ogre led the way to an open area, where we were divided into groups. (It so wasn’t like the first day in a new school. There was no welcome talk or anything. I was just shoved into one of the groups, and expected to get on with it.)

  My group was taken to a field full of onions. One of the men handed me a bag made of strong canvas. I copied everyone else and slung the bag over my shoulder. Then I did as they did, walking along the rows of onions, picking as I went and piling the bulbs into my bag. At the end of each row, I emptied them into a big, wheeled cart. All the time, two huge men with swords stood watching our every move and spoiling any hopes I had of sneaking away to look for Tilly.

  I thought of my last time-travel trip, when I’d met Mikey, who was working in his carrot field, and I wondered if all time travel involved boring farm stuff.

  Soon, though, I was too tired to think of anything. My arms were getting sunburned, my feet felt like they were on fire and I thought my back was going to break.

  After ages, some of the younger slaves came along with jugs of water, and I drank like it was the sweetest thing I had ever tasted. Then, before I had time to lick my lips, the men were shouting at us to continue with our work.

  When it felt like I had picked enough onions to keep our local supermarket going for weeks, one of the men shouted something and all of the workers walked to the cart, where they took off their bags and lined up.

  We were led back to our house, but instead of going inside, everyone sat in the shade of some trees outside. I looked all around, hoping to see Tilly peeping over a wall or something, but there was no sign of her. I scanned the trees hoping to see Saturn, but there was no sign of him either. It probably didn’t matter anyway, as we were being watched b
y the ogre and four armed men, and I knew there was zero chance of escaping.

  Some women brought out trays of food and everyone dived in. There was more bread, and cheese and grapes – it was a bit like the stuff my mum serves at the end of the meal when she’s having a very fancy dinner party.

  At the thought of my mum, I could feel tears come to my eyes. What would she say if she could see me sitting in the sunshine without sunscreen on? What would she say if she could see me working as a slave, picking onions while being guarded by men armed with scary-looking swords?

  After the food was gone, Marca came over to me. She looked shocked when she saw my red arms and face. She went into the house and came out holding a bowl of some kind of ointment. She made me hold out my arms and she rubbed the ointment on to them with gentle strokes of her long fingers. Then she put ointment on my face, carefully rubbing it on to my cheeks and ears. Suddenly her kindness was too much for me, and I started to sob. Marca put down the bowl and hugged me and stroked my hair. As she did so, she kept murmuring the same thing over and over. I wondered what she was saying. Probably something like ‘Don’t worry, the first ten years of being a slave are the hardest,’ which so wasn’t a consolation to me.

  After a while, I was too tired to cry any more. I looked around and saw that most of the slaves were lying down on the dusty ground. That seemed like a good idea to me, so I pulled away from Marca and tried to find a comfortable patch of bare earth on which to lay my head. Marca patted my arm for a minute, and soon I could feel her lying down beside me. Then I fell into a deep and dreamless sleep.

  9

  When I awoke, I knew exactly where I was and I so wasn’t happy to be there. I sat up and rubbed my eyes, wondering how soon it would be before we’d have to go back to work. I didn’t have to wonder about that for too long, though, as the ogre shouted something and all the slaves began to stand up, dusting down their tunics and stretching their legs.