Gladiator Clash (Time Hunters, Book 1)

by Chris Blake

  “Well, you look like… a stupid big fish! So there,” he said.

  Isis opened her mouth to respond but was silenced by Rufus as he thrust a piece of silky material into her free hand. He passed the same thing to Tom.

  “What are these?” Tom asked, smoothing the fabric out, and saw that it was a banner of some sort.

  “They’re sashes. Atillius always likes to advertise his other businesses in front of the arena crowds. He owns you, so you have to do it. Put them on.”

  Tom frowned as he read the slogan written down the length of the white silky sash. He translated the Latin for Isis.

  “‘Expandable loincloths. Atillius has got even the biggest bums covered!’” he read. “Hey, Isis! We’re going to advertise big pants!”

  Tom started to guffaw with laughter as he slipped his sash over his head but Isis stood rooted to the spot, her face crumpled into a thunderous expression.

  “I… am… not… wearing… that!” she spat. She thrust her sash into Tom’s hands. “You wear it!”

  “I’ve already got one,” Tom said.

  “You have a bare chest. You should be thanking me. I’m offering you extra clothes.”

  Tom looped Isis’s sash over the point on her helmet so that it hung down over her face with ‘BIGGEST BUM’ visible. Several of the other trainees noticed and started cackling with laughter.

  Even as Rufus herded the trainees up the stone steps to the arena entrance, Tom and Isis were still squabbling over the sash.

  “I command you to wear it!” Isis said, eyes flashing with anger.

  As they stumbled into the boiling-hot midday sun of the amphitheatre, Tom and Isis were still scuffling.

  “I am not wearing your big bum sash,” Tom snapped. “I already have my own. And that’s that.”

  Isis tried to lasso Tom with her sash but missed. It fell into the dust between them. People in the crowd were pointing and laughing at them.

  Rufus cracked his whip. “Enough! Save your fighting for Hilarus.”

  The two fell silent.

  Tom faced the front and took in his surroundings properly. The huge Coliseum was packed with cheering spectators in rows of seats that seemed to climb all the way up to the blue sky. It reminded Tom of a football stadium.

  The fighters were led around the arena by a band. The musicians played a lively tune on instruments that looked a bit like skinny tubas, and long horns that were polished to such a shine that they made Tom squint. There were drums, cymbals and bells, playing a beat that matched the pounding of Tom’s heart.

  Behind the musicians came the experienced gladiators wearing special show armour made from silver and gold. They would fight before the catervarii.

  “They look tough,” Tom said to Isis. He eyed their rippling muscles enviously.

  “Pah! They don’t scare me,” she said, unimpressed.

  Tom stared in awe at their helmets that had jewel-coloured peacock feathers arcing from their foreheads to the nape of their necks. They reminded Tom of the ones in his dad’s museum.

  Even though he was dressed in a loincloth and Atillius’s big bum sash, Tom felt excited to be part of the procession. All of the fighters’ weaponry had been polished so that the sun glinted off the fearsome scissors, axes and daggers. Tom held up his own shining swords as the crowd clapped.

  In the audience there were men in white togas, children in tunics and women with the most elaborately curled hair Tom had ever seen. Tom felt like they were all cheering for him.

  Now I know how football players feel when they’re walking on to the pitch, Tom thought. It was so exciting, he almost forgot he was there to fight a battle to the death.

  “This is beyond brilliant!” he told Isis.

  Isis pretended to aim her bow at the crowd. “It will only be beyond brilliant if I get my amulet and don’t get killed… again!”

  Behind them came the actors whose job it was to put on plays in between fights, to keep the crowd entertained. Finally, at the very back of the parade, came Josephus and the animals.

  “I thought the animals weren’t fighting,” Tom said to Isis.

  “They’re not,” Isis said. “But Josephus told me that Atillius wanted the animals as part of the parade to impress the spectators.”

  Tom glanced back at the cages that had been wheeled into the arena. There, spread out on the best bit of straw and looking very much like the cat of a princess, was Cleo.

  He nudged Isis. “Look who’s decided to join in!”

  Isis grinned and waved at her pet. “My fluffpot! Look! Now there’s an impressive beast!”

  Tom peered at the normally ferocious lions, alligator, tigers and two bears, in the cages by Josephus. He noticed that all the animals were huddled in the corner of their cages. No roaring. No growling. And certainly no snarling.

  “You know,” Tom said, “they still seem scared of Cleo.”

  “Of course they do. Quite right too,” Isis said, twanging the string on her bow.

  *

  Once the parade had been all the way around the amphitheatre, the trumpeters lined up. Silence fell like a blanket on the crowd as the musicians tooted an important-sounding fanfare. Tom’s skin erupted into little goosebumps and then…

  “Put your hands together for the star of the show!” Atillius cried. “The great, the astounding, the winner of his last thirteen fights, the one and only… HILARUS!”

  The crowd sprang to their feet, cheering and clapping so loudly that Tom had to cover his ears with his hands.

  In strode Hilarus. He was punching the air and chuckling to himself, as if fighting off five gladiators at once was the best joke he’d ever heard.

  “‘Cheerful is the one you need to find,’” Tom said, remembering the riddle. “I can see where Hilarus gets his name from.”

  “He won’t be so cheerful when we get the amulet from his shield,” Isis said.

  Hilarus shone in the sunshine as though he was on fire. Chunks of honey-coloured amber, like precious candy, had been studded into his pure-gold breastplate and sewn into his skirt. Even the cloth of his tunic beneath the armour looked like it had been spun from gold thread.

  “Oooh,” cooed the crowd. Everybody jostled and elbowed one another out of the way to get a better look at the gleaming, golden gladiator.

  Tom was straining to see too, but not because Hilarus was his hero. There it was: a glittering orange lump in the middle of the gladiator’s round shield. More jewel-like than the amber that surrounded it, the stone was unmistakeably ancient and magical.

  “Do you see what I see?” Tom asked, breath coming short with excitement.

  Isis nodded, her eyes wide. She gripped Tom’s arm. “It’s the first amulet.”

  “Hurry up, already. When is it going to be our turn?” huffed Isis, pacing up and down. “Princesses don’t like to be kept waiting.”

  After the parade, the catervarii had been brought to a chamber under the arena.

  Tom kicked the sawdust strewn around the stone floor as they waited to be called into the ring. He wasn’t in such a rush for a showdown with the legendary gladiator. He could just glimpse Rufus’s sandal-clad feet, planted at the top of the same stone stairs that would lead him and Isis back into the fray.

  Tom’s heart was beating so loudly he wondered if the grumpy-looking guards flanking them could hear it. Listening to the crowd’s gasps and the clashing of weapons, he realised how dangerous their plan was.

  Suddenly, the crowd above them burst into deafening applause. Judging from the shouts of ‘Hilarus! Hilarus!’ the famous gladiator had won another fight.

  “End of the bout,” one guard said to the other. “And a messy one. The slaves will have a job getting all that blood out of the sand.”

  Tom gave a little whimper.

  “Scaredy cat,” Isis said. “I’m not the least bit frightened.” But she was still pacing and fidgeting with the scales on her armour. Tom was fairly certain that she was nervous. Just like him. But she
was doing her best not to show it.

  “Listen up, you lot!” Isis announced to Tom and the three other fighters who would face Hilarus. “We’re going to win. I don’t give two hoots about this Hilary! That big oaf is no match for me!”

  Just then, footsteps clicked from the direction of the stairs. Rufus returned. Tom gulped and breathed heavily through his nose.

  “All right, slaves,” Rufus said to the catervarii. “You’re on next.”

  In their group were Tom, Isis, a net-fighting retiarius who looked as though he ate children for breakfast, a scissor who was at least six feet tall and had arms like giant hams. The last member of the group was an eques, a fighter on horseback, like Isis. Only this man’s head was so big, Tom was amazed Rufus had found a helmet to fit him. He carried a long lance and would start the fight.

  “Fight bravely,” Rufus said. “Remember that you’re there to give the crowd a good time.” He grinned at Tom and Isis and added, “So try not to die too soon.”

  *

  As they marched up the stairs and back outside into the sunshine, Tom heard a foghorn of a voice booming across the amphitheatre.

  “And now, brace yourselves for the highlight of the show brought to you by Atillius’s Expandable Loincloths. It is time for five catervarii to face the undefeated, the blessed-by-the-gods, the golden man-mountain that iiiiisssss… HILARUS!”

  It was quite an introduction, Tom thought. He watched as the hero of the show strutted around the arena in his golden armour and feathered helmet, waving to the adoring crowds.

  “He looks like a giant chicken,” Isis scoffed.

  “Well, if he’s a chicken, that makes us sitting ducks,” Tom said.

  Hilarus played up to the spectators’ ear-splitting cheering by cartwheeling, clowning around and generally being a show-off. Meanwhile, his servants were collecting the money and gifts that the crowd were throwing into the arena for their hero.

  The trumpeter led the musicians in a fast-paced tune and suddenly it was time for the fight to begin. Hilarus stood before the catervarii with a grim face. He raised his broad sword up high. In his other hand he held his round shield, complete with the sparkling amulet centrepiece.

  “Attack!” Rufus cried behind them.

  The enormous-headed eques was the first to spring forward on his horse. Hilarus turned to face his opponent, holding his shield in front of his face as the eques’s long lance flew through the air towards him. The lance missed, clattering to the ground. Worse still for the horseman, a harsh trumpeting noise rang out unexpectedly somewhere in the arena. His horse reared up, whinnying and clearly terrified. The spooked horse streaked out of the amphitheatre, with his rider clinging on for dear life, leaving nothing but a cloud of dust in its wake.

  “Disqualified!” Atillius barked.

  Isis looked at Tom with narrowed eyes. “Four against one now…”

  Next came the scissor, creeping forward with his double-bladed weapon. He lunged at Hilarus, wielding the heavy blades through the air as though they were as light as feathers.

  “He’s good,” Tom said, nodding his approval.

  But Hilarus twisted and turned, this way and that, tumbling backwards like a gymnast out of harm’s reach. Suddenly the strong, meaty arms of the scissor fighter were of no use, as Hilarus wedged his own sword between the two blades of his opponent’s weapon. With a sharp flick of his wrist, Hilarus prised the double-bladed sword out of his opponent’s hands and tossed it through the air like a toy.

  The defeated gladiator stumbled backwards and groaned aloud, as his only means of defence hit the ground with a clank!

  The crowd erupted into deafening applause, and cheered for their hero.

  “Three against one,” Isis said, looking over at the net fighter who was baring a mouthful of rotten teeth. “Good job this isn’t a beauty contest. He’d never win.”

  Tom eyed Hilarus warily. He was smiling broadly and waving to his adoring fans. Unruffled, unhurt, hardly breaking a sweat. And there was the amulet, safe in the middle of his shield, dazzling orange in the afternoon sunshine.

  Tom gripped his swords in his sweaty hands. He muttered under his breath, “Have I got what it takes to be a hero?”

  As if in answer, Anubis’s mocking laughter rang shrilly in his ears.

  “A mere boy like you? A hero? Ha ha ha!” Sneering, snorting guffaws blocked out the noise of the cheering crowd. “Are you serious? What can you do?”

  “I can try my best!” Tom shouted.

  Anubis’s voice fell silent. The god was nowhere to be seen.

  Come on, Tom. Remember to breathe, he told himself. Keep your cool. Hilarus is just a normal guy. Imagine him looking stupid in his undies, like Mr Brain-ache Braintree when he tells you off for daydreaming in Maths.

  Sadly for Tom, Hilarus was anything but a normal guy. Close up, he was a giant. Worse than that. He looked like a giant who ate an entire cow at every meal. As he gripped his broad sword, the muscles in his forearms stood out like fat lengths of rope. His neck was as thick as a tree trunk!

  To his left, Isis’s horse stamped and whinnied. To his right, the net fighter was gnashing his teeth.

  “Attack!” Rufus shouted some way behind him.

  Hilarus gave a battle cry that was so scary, Tom was sure he could feel his heart racing around his chest looking for a place to hide. The golden giant thundered towards him. But fear made Tom suddenly braver.He remembered his plan.

  It’s now or never! Tom thought. “Look out, Hilarus!” he shouted. “It’s helicopter time!”

  Tom lifted both swords into the air as he spun round. Tom whirled across the arena towards Hilarus like a kitchen blender gone mad. He hoped that Hilarus was getting dizzy so that Isis could grab the amulet.

  But then the net fighter swung his net around in the air like a lasso and released it. The net swooshed past Tom’s head and then down over Hilarus… and his shield!

  “Ah, get it off me!” Hilarus bellowed. He strained and struggled under the heavy net, trying to throw it off.

  “Ha ha ha! Not so cheerful now, are you, Hilarus?” Isis called out. “But you do look pretty funny!”

  “I’ll keep him busy – you get the amulet,” Tom hissed at Isis.

  He lunged forward and slapped the flat of his right sword hard against Hilarus’s breastplate.

  “Ha! Take that!” Tom shouted.

  Hilarus jeered at him from under his net. “Trying to tickle me, are you, boy? You don’t look as if you’ve got the courage to defeat the great Hilarus!”

  He suddenly threw himself towards Tom. A writhing mass of giant shoulders and kicking legs sent Tom tumbling. With ice-cold dread, Tom felt Hilarus’s strong grip close around his ankle.

  “Who’s laughing now?” Hilarus snarled.

  “Get off him, you big clown!” Isis shouted at Hilarus.

  Tom looked up. Isis had an arrow stretched tight against the string of her bow. She was ready to strike. The arrow whizzed through the air. Doink! It glanced off Hilarus’s helmet. Hilarus released Tom’s ankle from his vice-like grip. Tom scuttled away quickly and watched as the hero stumbled to his feet, clutching at his head. He seemed dazed.

  The crowd’s frantic cheering for Hilarus hushed to a low murmur. Then came the booing and hissing.

  “Oi! He’s a legend. Leave him alone!” Tom heard a man shout.

  “I hope you fall off your horse,” another bellowed at Isis.

  “Hilarus!” came a girl’s voice. “We love you. Come on! Grind them into flour!”

  We’ve almost got the amulet, Tom thought. Hilarus isn’t so invincible after all.

  But in order to get at the shield, they needed to cut a hole in the net. Tom ran in and slashed at Hilarus with both swords. The swords were sharp, cutting through easily.

  The gladiator suddenly stopped thrashing about like a fly caught in a spider’s web. Tom thought for a moment that he’d hurt him. But then the gladiator stood up tall, pushing the net off. Uh oh. Tom h
adn’t just cut a hole, he’d accidentally freed Hilarus!

  All at once, heavy footsteps thundered behind Tom. He looked round to see the net fighter moving in for the kill at speed. Tom dodged out of the way as the two giants crashed into one another in a clash of metal and muscle.

  “Kick him up the bum!” somebody in the crowd shouted.

  Sure enough, Hilarus wrestled the net fighter to the ground and, as if to please his crowd of cheering fans, he kicked his opponent’s bottom with his enormous gnarly foot.

  Oof! The retiarius landed face first in the sand, sending one of his rotten teeth flying.

  “You’re not even worth blunting my sword for!” Hilarus bellowed.

  “The retiarius is defeated!” Atillius announced.

  The crowd collectively sighed with relief, then clapped and started cheering again. Now it was just Tom and Isis left.

  Seeing Hilarus spring nimbly back into position, Tom started to twirl around again, readying himself for another attack. But the golden hero was quick off the mark. Hilarus hurled himself headlong into Tom and jabbed his broad sword up against Tom’s two spinning swords.

  Clank! Hilarus knocked both swords right out of Tom’s hands. They clattered on the ground several feet away.

  “Oh no!” Tom cried. He turned to Isis. “My swords! I’m unarmed.” He watched, as Hilarus approached with a wicked look in his eyes. Any trace of good humour had disappeared.

  Tom stared desperately into the crowd. The blood was rushing in his ears. Come on, Tom! Think! he told himself.

  Hilarus held out his sword, pointing to Tom’s heart. “Do you surrender?”

  Tom looked at the sword’s tip and then at his chest. He opened his mouth, still wondering what to say, when the words, “No way!” popped out.

  “That’s the spirit, Tom!” Isis shouted. “Never surrender!”

  She galloped up beside him and with a surprisingly strong arm, snatched him up into the saddle.

  Once Tom was out of Hilarus’s reach, Isis reined in her horse and dropped him gently to the ground. “Teamwork! Remember?” she said, winking. “We’re going to get that amulet!”