‘Oh, never better!’ said the plump soldier unexpectedly, then burst into giggles when everyone looked at him.
Ditherus now had the bag in his hand. All he had to do was figure a way to sneak out of the room. The plump soldier was helping himself to grapes and had red juice dribbling down his chins. Ditherus suddenly remembered where he’d seen that moonish face before. Last time the owner was being sick in the fountain. Porcus Maximus (for it was he) caught him staring and turned pink, starting to splutter and cough. A grape had slipped down the wrong way. In a moment Marcus Furius was at his side, banging him on the back.
‘Your Worthiness! Are you all right? Shall I fetch some water?’
Porcus Maximus held up a hand while he got his breath back. ‘Hilaria, my dear, I fear I am discovered. It is I, your noble Emperor!’ He took off his helmet and beamed at them all. Hilaria raised her hands in astonishment.
‘Your Majesty! What a surprise!’
‘Ha ha!’ chortled Porcus. ‘What do you think of my little disguise? I borrowed the costume from Marcus here. Ha ha ha!’
Everyone (apart from Ditherus) thought the Emperor’s disguise was amazing. They had never seen anyone look quite as soldierly and handsome. Porcus settled himself on a couch and started to work his way through the food on the table, talking all the while. Ditherus saw his chance to slip away at last, but luck was against him. Just as he reached the door, his mother looked up.
‘Ditherus, dumpling, come and join us!’
‘Oh, there you are, young Didderus!’ beamed Porcus Maximus, who up to now had assumed the boy was one of the servants.
Ditherus hesitated. If he tried to leave now, it would look like an insult to the Emperor. There was nothing for it but to go back.
‘Come here, boy. I’m not going to eat you!’ Porcus beckoned a plump finger.
Ditherus wasn’t so sure, but approached and bowed low. He shifted the bag behind his back.
‘Majesty, you remember my son?’ said Hilaria proudly.
‘Of course,’ said Porcus, who remembered Titus and Smitus much better and was wondering if this son had shrunk in the wash. He held out a dimpled hand and Ditherus bent to kiss it.
‘WAIT!’ interrupted Marcus Furius. ‘What’s in the bag?’
The colour drained from Ditherus’s face. ‘Nothing.’
‘Good. Then you won’t mind showing me.’
Furius fished inside the bag and brought out the crimson cloth. The sword slipped out and fell on the marble floor with a loud clang. There was a shocked silence.
‘I can explain … ’ began Ditherus.
‘Really?’ Marcus Furius was smiling coldly as he handed the sword to the Emperor.
‘By the beard of Jupiter!’ exclaimed Porcus. ‘I know this sword!’
Furius nodded. ‘A Nemesis II, Excellency. Only one man owned a sword like this – Brutalus the Bold.’
‘Brutalus?’ said Hilaria.
‘The greatest gladiator in Roman history,’ said Marcus Furius. ‘Thirty-seven fights, thirty-seven wins – which is why every collector in Rome would like to own this sword. See the words on the blade? Mors Et Wimpum – Death is for Sissies. If you believe the legend, whoever fights with this sword is invincible.’ His eyes glittered as he held it to the light.
‘But I still don’t understand. What is my Ditherus doing with it?’ asked Hilaria.
‘A good question,’ replied Furius. ‘Particularly since it was stolen from the Emperor himself.’
‘Stolen?’ croaked Ditherus.
‘Most upsetting,’ said the Emperor. ‘It was taken from my collection last week.’
Ditherus felt his legs turn to jelly. This was definitely not good. Not good at all. Stealing was a crime, but stealing from the Emperor himself … only someone desperate or stupid would do that, which explained why everyone in the room was staring at him as if he was desperate or stupid.
‘Ditherus, you big silly!’ said Hilaria. ‘What are you doing with the Emperor’s sword?’
‘Yes. Do explain.’ Furius looked as if he was enjoying this.
‘I got it from the market … the man … the man at the market,’ stammered Ditherus.
‘Which man?’
‘I don’t know! I’ve never met him before.’
‘What was his name?’
‘I … I don’t remember.’
Furius snorted. ‘He’s lying, Your Majesty. The boy is a common thief.’
‘Oh, pumpkin, really!’ tutted Hilaria.
‘But, Mum, I didn’t … I bought it for five denarii.’
‘FIVE DENARII!’ exploded Furius. ‘For this – a priceless sword from the Emperor’s personal collection?’
‘It’s true!’
‘Lies!’ spat Furius. ‘You stole the sword and hid it in your bag. And I’ll tell you why – because you were planning to murder the Emperor!’
Ditherus’s mouth fell open. Everyone looked shocked. Not least the Emperor, who was so astonished he even stopped eating for a moment.
‘Marcus,’ he blinked. ‘You surely don’t think … ?’
‘Your Innocence, the sword was in his bag,’ said Furius. ‘What further proof do you need? Guards – ARREST THIS BOY!’
Two brawny soldiers seized Ditherus by the arm, lifting him off the ground.
‘No wait!’ pleaded Ditherus. ‘Mum, tell them!’
Hilaria turned to the Emperor. ‘Really, Your Highness. Couldn’t you just send him to bed without any supper?’
‘Yes, Marcus, couldn’t I?’ asked Porcus, reaching for a chicken leg.
Furius shook his head firmly. ‘The law is perfectly clear, Excellency.’
‘Is it?’ asked the Emperor, who usually found the law very complicated.
‘Treason is a serious offence. The punishment is death. Take him away!’
Ditherus was dragged kicking and struggling into the hall.
‘Tidio. Tell them!’ he cried. ‘You were there! Tell them what happened!’
Tidio hurried after them and laid a hand on Marcus Furius’s arm. ‘Please,’ he begged. ‘You’re making a terrible mistake.’
Furius shook off his hand violently. ‘And who are you?’
‘Me? I’m just a slave,’ said Tidio.
‘Then you should know better than to touch an officer of His Majesty’s guard,’ stormed Furius. ‘Arrest this man!’
One of the soldiers grabbed hold of Tidio by the scruff of the neck and dragged him along as the procession swept out of the door.
Hilaria stood at the gate, waving her hanky, as they marched off down the road.
‘Don’t worry, pumpkin!’ she called. ‘Trust in the gods. I’m sure it will all turn out fine!’
Chapter 4
Things Look Grim
The iron door swung shut with an echoing clang and the key turned in the lock. The jailer, a man who smelled as if he’d never heard of Roman baths, gave them a toothless grin and limped off up the stone steps, humming tunelessly to himself. Ditherus waited for his eyes to adjust to the darkness. The stone floor was strewn with straw, mud and something that looked like rats’ droppings. In the far corner under a tiny, barred window was a heap of filthy sacks. Otherwise the dingy cell was empty.
‘Well,’ said Ditherus brightly. ‘Things could be worse.’
Tidio shot him a look.
‘I’m sure we won’t be here long,’ Ditherus went on. ‘As soon as the Emperor sees his mistake, he’ll have us released. He’s not that stupid?’
Tidio made no answer. Actually, Porcus Maximus was amazingly stupid. He needed the advice of six ministers just to get dressed in the morning.
Tidio paced up and down rather stiffly, trying to think.
‘Master,’ he said. ‘The man at the market, had you seen him before?’
‘No,’ said Ditherus. ‘Why?’
‘Well, doesn’t it strike you as odd? You bump into a complete stranger who just happens to be selling a priceless sword.’
‘It was a stroke
of luck,’ admitted Ditherus.
‘And then it turns out this sword was stolen from the Emperor himself.’
‘I know,’ said Ditherus. ‘What are the chances of that?’
‘Exactly.’ Tidio nodded. ‘So what if it wasn’t bad luck? What if someone meant you to buy the sword?’
Ditherus thought it over. It sort of made sense. But there wasn’t time to discuss it because at that moment the jailer reappeared.
‘Supper,’ said Odium, pushing a plate of black bread and a jug of water under the door. Ditherus grabbed the plate hungrily. But before he could eat anything, the heap of sacks in the corner rose up, revealing that it wasn’t a heap of sacks, but a red-bearded giant dressed in filthy rags. The giant grabbed the plate off him.
‘MEAT!’ he roared.
‘Well, not exactly, but you’re welcome to share … ’ began Ditherus. The bread disappeared into the giant’s mouth in one gulp and he washed it down with the entire jug of water, much of it running down into his thick, tangled beard.
‘That’s Bladderax,’ the jailer grinned. ‘I wouldn’t argue with him. Nasty tempers, these barbarians.’
Bladderax finished the water, tossed the jug aside and belched like a thunderclap.
‘Meat! MEAT!’ he thundered.
Odium shook his head. ‘Now, now, Bladdy, you know there’s only bread.’
‘WANT MEAT!’ roared the giant. ‘I HUNGRY!’ He threw the plate at the door and it bounced off with an ear-splitting clang. The noise startled a rat and sent it scurrying across the floor. Bladderax pounced on it in an instant. There was a crunch as he bit off the head and began chewing it noisily.
‘Eugh!’ said Ditherus, turning away.
‘What about our supper?’ asked Tidio.
‘He ate it.’ Odium grinned. ‘Got an appetite, that one.’ He collected the empty jug and turned to go.
‘Wait!’ Ditherus begged. ‘What’s going to happen to us?’
‘Ah, well, that depends.’ Odium stroked a spot on his chin. ‘If you’re lucky, they’ll forget all about you. You could be in prison for years and years, like Bladdy there.’
Ditherus glanced over at the barbarian, who was picking bones out of his teeth. His beard was so long it hung over his belly.
‘And if we’re not lucky?’ asked Ditherus.
‘Then they put you to death. Still, cheer up, it might never happen. My mother always said smile and the world smiles with you.’ Odium grinned at them toothlessly.
‘But what about our trial?’ persisted Ditherus.
‘Trial?’ The jailer looked blank.
‘You know – where we get a chance to prove we’re innocent.’
The jailer shook his head. ‘Never heard of it. Who wants to listen to criminals complaining? Anyway the Tribune decides if you’re innocent.’
‘Then let me see the Tribune. Who is he?’
‘Marcus Furius,’ replied Odium.
Ditherus groaned.
The jailer had started back up the stairs, then paused and turned back.
‘Oh, almost forgot, there was a lady asking to see you. Rich. Nice teeth. What was the name? Hysteria … ’
‘Hilaria!’ cried Ditherus. ‘Tidio, we’re saved! She’s come to get us out!’
As usual, Ditherus’s mother took a long time coming to the point. She’d brought some cheese and olives on sticks left over from supper. Tidio and Ditherus ate hungrily as they talked.
‘The Emperor’s really very upset,’ she sighed.
‘He’s upset?’ said Ditherus. ‘Mum, I’m in prison!’
‘I know, dear, I don’t know what the neighbours will think. Try not to cram so many olives into your mouth at once.’
Ditherus tried to stay calm. ‘Did you speak to the Emperor?’ he asked.
‘Well, of course I spoke to him, pumpkin. He was at our house. It would be rude not to speak to him.’
‘But about the sword. Tidio thinks we were tricked.’
‘Well, if you will go buying second-hand swords, I’m not surprised,’ said Hilaria.
‘Mum, you have to convince the Emperor I’m innocent.’
‘I told you he’s upset, dear. It turns out he’s been collecting gladiators’ swords ever since he was seven, although personally I can’t see why you would.’
‘But is he going to release us?’
‘Well, not at the moment. He’s still terribly cross that you stole his sword.’
‘I didn’t STEAL IT!’ cried Ditherus.
‘There’s no need to shout at me,’ said Hilaria huffily. ‘I’m just trying to help. Now, listen, I’ve written to your dad; he’ll know what to do.’
‘Dad? But he’s in Gaul!’ said Ditherus.
‘Well, I know that, silly. I was there when we waved him off.’
‘Mum! It could take weeks for a letter to reach him.’
‘Sometimes we have to be patient,’ advised Hilaria. ‘And meanwhile, we trust in the gods.’ She got up to go. ‘I shall pray for you at the temple tomorrow. Make sure you’re eating enough and remember to wash behind your ears. Tidio, I’m relying on you to see he does. Goodbye, pumpkin, I’ll pop in tomorrow. And try not to look so worried.’ Hilaria gave his hand a last squeeze, blew a kiss and was gone.
Ditherus dragged himself across the cell and lay down on the hard stone block. Bladderax was snoring steadily in the corner.
‘We’re never going to get out, are we?’ he sighed.
Tidio began pacing again. He hadn’t sat down since they’d arrived.
‘Tidio, what is that lump?’ asked Ditherus.
‘Which lump?’
‘That lump on your back.’
‘Oh, you mean this?’
Tidio did something uncomfortable which involved fishing around under his tunic and a great deal of wriggling. When he straightened up he was holding a sword.
Ditherus stared in astonishment. ‘You’ve had that all the time?’
‘Yes, master. I picked it up when the soldiers were dragging you off. I had a feeling it might come in handy.’
‘But why didn’t you say so before?’
‘I was waiting for the right moment.’ Tidio rubbed his bottom gingerly. ‘You have no idea how sharp that sword is. I won’t be able to sit down for a week.’
‘Tidio, don’t you see what this means? We’re saved! We can escape!’
Tidio nodded. ‘I’m relieved to hear it, master. This cell is really quite damp. So tell me, what is your plan?’
‘Plan? Oh, my plan. Right.’ Ditherus had rather hoped Tidio was the one with a plan. ‘Well,’ he said, ‘we’ll use the sword, obviously. Maybe we could tunnel our way out.’
‘That might take some time, master,’ said Tidio.
‘Perhaps your plan involves our friend the jailer?’
‘Does it?’ said Ditherus.
‘Yes, and the bunch of keys he keeps on his belt.’
‘The keys, of course!’ said Ditherus. ‘All we have to do is wait for the jailer to come back, force him to hand over the keys and make our escape.’
‘An excellent plan, master,’ said Tidio. ‘I wish I had thought of it myself.’
‘Thanks,’ said Ditherus, who found he was much better at thinking of plans when Tidio was around.
There was only one small problem. While he’d read a lot of books about swords, Ditherus had never actually used one. Mostly he’d practised with sticks, cutting the heads off nettles and dandelions. Still, he told himself it couldn’t be that difficult. All he had to do was prod the jailer in the stomach with the pointy bit and demand the keys. If he was ever going to be a hero, it was time to get in some practice. It was either that or starve to death in prison with a rat-eating barbarian for company. He gripped the Nemesis, swishing it through the air a few times. Once more he felt an odd tingling sensation, as if the sword had a strange effect on him. Then again it might have been that he needed the toilet.
‘Right,’ he said, trying to sound confident. ‘This is how we’ll d
o it. Next time the jailer comes in, you keep him talking, Tidio. I will hide behind the door and take him by surprise.’
‘And if there are guards upstairs?’ asked Tidio.
‘Then we’ll just have to fight our way out.’
‘Yes, master, I was afraid you’d say that.’
They settled down to wait for the jailer to return. Hours passed. Through the barred window, Ditherus could see the sky growing dark and the stars coming out. He suddenly felt overcome by weariness. It had been a long day – the most exciting day of his life, though maybe exciting wasn’t quite the right word. Bladderax was still asleep in the far corner. Tidio was hunched against the wall, his eyelids drooping. Ditherus lay down on the stone floor to rest. He wouldn’t sleep because he needed to stay alert, ready to strike the moment the jailer returned. He would only close his eyes for a minute or two …
Chapter 5
Something’s Burning
‘Uhhh? What’s happening?’
Someone had gripped Ditherus roughly by the arm and was lifting him into the air. His eyes blinked open. He had a close-up of the dusty floor as he was dragged across it by two beefy prison guards. This did not strike him as promising. A moment ago he had been fast asleep, dreaming he was riding a white horse into battle at the head of the Ninth Legion, now he was heading down a dark corridor at breakneck speed. He caught sight of a pair of pale, thin legs ahead of him. The guards had Tidio too. Behind him he could hear cries and curses and roars of fury. Someone had evidently made the mistake of waking Bladderax.
Outside, Ditherus’s eyes blinked in the bright morning sunlight. They were in a narrow yard, surrounded by a high wall. Although it was baking hot someone had been to the trouble of building a couple of bonfires. Excellent, thought Ditherus, perhaps we’re having sausages for breakfast.
‘Ah, good morning,’ said Odium pleasantly. ‘Sorry to drag you out of bed but we’re in a bit of a rush.’
‘What’s going on?’ asked Ditherus.
‘We’re executing you,’ the jailer said, smiling.
‘WHAT?’ said Ditherus.
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