“Not in front of the emperor you can’t,” the old man said, mumbling. “You know how he feels about birds.”
“Well,” the soldier said, “the emperor’s not here. I’m going to tell him I’ve found his slave. Then he may give me a reward—a large reward.”
The soldier hurried off.
The old man said, “Now I can go back to counting the feathers in the emperor’s pillow.”
He walked away slowly. He turned to look over his shoulder. “Watch out for the peacocks,” he said to Beth. “They bite.”
Beth gave the man a small wave good-bye. She looked at the ground. A red chicken ran past her feet.
“I’m not a slave,” she told the chicken. “I just look like one.”
It cocked an eye at her as if to say, “And I’m not a chicken. I just look like one.” Then it ran away.
At the far end of the courtyard, a gate opened. A young man came through. Beth thought he looked like a teenager. He began to make clucking noises. He rubbed his fingers as if calling the birds.
He walked over to her. “I’ve never seen you before,” he said. “The soldier said you were a bird slave. Are you here to feed them?”
The young man came closer. He wore a tunic. It looked as if it was made of soft white bedsheets. It had a purple stripe down the front.
“Answer me, slave,” he said.
Beth almost said no. But then she remembered the birdseed. She touched the pouch hanging on her belt.
“I have food for the birds,” she said.
“Then what are you waiting for?” he asked. He sounded annoyed.
Beth opened the pouch. She began to throw the seed to the chickens. The chickens clucked around her.
“They like your seeds,” the young man said. “Do you have a name, slave?”
“Beth,” she said.
“A common name,” he said.
Beth frowned. “Oh really?” she said. “And what is your name?”
“Honorius,” he said.
Beth put a hand over her mouth. She had to keep from giggling.
“That’s a funny name,” she said.
The young man turned bright red. He said, “You dare to laugh at your emperor?”
“Emperor!” Beth said. “You can’t be the emperor.”
There was a loud bang, and both of them turned toward the sound.
A large iron door in one of the stone walls opened. A large Roman soldier came through it.
“Your Highness!” the man said. He had a deep booming voice. He pounded a fist against his chest. Then, as the soldier came closer, he bowed. “I am at your service.”
“Greetings, General,” said Honorius. “I am glad you are here. Please put this girl in prison.”
The general looked at Beth and then back at Honorius. The general’s bushy eyebrows lifted high.
“What did you say, Your Highness?” the general asked.
“I’m sorry,” Beth said quickly. “I didn’t know you were a ‘Highness.’ I mean, you’re young.”
“Do you hear that, General?” the emperor said. “Punish her.”
The general ignored Honorius. He said, “Forgive me, O Great One. But you sent for me. I am to give you my report.”
“I did? You are?” Honorius asked.
“Yes,” the general said. “I am here to report that your army has won. The soldiers captured the barbarians. The prisoners are now in Rome.”
“Wonderful!” the young emperor said. Then he frowned. “And why is this important to me?”
“The games begin tomorrow,” the general said. “We will enjoy watching our enemies suffer and die.”
“Oh yes!” Honorius said. “But I won’t go without my birds. The birds must come with me.”
The general bowed and said, “Whatever you desire, Most High One.” He turned and walked away.
“Most High One?” Beth asked.
Honorius raised an eyebrow. “It is good that my birds like your seeds,” he said. “Or I would chain you up myself. You are a rude little girl. But today I will spare you.”
“Thank you, Your Emperor-ness,”
Beth said. And she silently thanked Mr. Whittaker for giving her the birdseed.
“Now,” Honorius said, “we must begin to gather the birds.”
“We do?” she asked. “Why?”
“You heard the general! We go to the games,” he said. “We can’t leave my darlings alone. You must collect them.”
“You’re taking me to the games?” she asked.
“I’m taking the birds to the games,” he said. “You’re coming to take care of them.”
Beth frowned and said, “But the general just said that people are going to die there.”
“Of course they will,” he said. He gave a snort. “What’s the point of a fight to the death if no one dies? Now get to work. It will take you most of the night to gather my birds.”
Beth gulped. “Most of the night ?” she asked.
“At the very least,” the emperor said.
The Armband
The next morning Patrick walked with Telemachus to Rome. More visitors were coming into the city. The road was dusty. It was filled with people walking or riding on horses or donkeys. Some people were in wagons pulled by mules or goats.
Patrick and the monk waited for their turn to enter the gate.
“Where should we look for my cousin Beth?” Patrick asked.
“The arena,” said Telemachus.
“Why would the soldier take her there?” Patrick asked.
The monk closed his eyes and smiled. “I don’t know,” he said.
Patrick said, “Then why—”
“Because God has told me to go there,” Telemachus said.
“He told you?” Patrick asked.
Telemachus nodded. “In my prayers this morning,” he said.
“But what if she isn’t there?” Patrick asked.
Telemachus stopped in his tracks. He turned to Patrick. “My son, there is no what if ? with God. When He speaks, we’re to listen and obey.”
When they got to the arena, the entrances were crowded. It was like a round hive with bees crawling in from all sides. It seemed as if everyone in the entire world wanted inside.
Telemachus and Patrick waited in a long line.
A man with a long robe and a scraggly beard was shouting nearby. “Tickets! The best in the arena,” he called. “Get your tickets here.”
Patrick tugged on Telemachus’s sleeve. “Maybe we should get our tickets from him,” Patrick said.
The ticket man heard him and came over. “Do you want to buy two tickets?” he asked. “I’ve got a few good ones left.”
Telemachus waved him away. “No,” the monk said. “We have no coins. We must sit in the free section.”
“That’s too bad,” the man said. “The free seats are crowded and hot.” He leaned in close to them. “Are you sure you have nothing of value?”
Value.
Patrick remembered what Mr. Whittaker had said. “I have something!” Patrick said. He lifted the sleeve of his robe. He slid the armband off.
Patrick held up the armband for the man to inspect. The rubies glinted in the sunlight. It looked valuable indeed.
“That will do,” the man said. His eyes widened with greed. “I can get you the very best seats with this. They are next to the emperor’s box.”
Patrick gave him the armband.
Telemachus reached out. “No, you mustn’t,” he said.
“It’s all right,” Patrick said. “Mr. Whittaker told me this would happen.”
Telemachus gave Patrick a curious glance. But the monk said nothing.
The man handed Patrick and Telemachus a small coin each.
“Here are your tokens,” the man said. “You may enter the stadium now. Just give the tokens to the guard next to the emperor’s box.”
“Thank you!” Patrick said. Now he would have a better chance of finding Beth.
Patrick and Telemachu
s stepped out of line. They walked into the stadium and down the hallways. People sitting at tables sold all kinds of things. There were drinks, food, and jewelry. There were seat cushions and blankets.
This is like a baseball game at home, Patrick thought.
Telemachus was wide-eyed.
One table was set up with weapons. It had wooden swords and shields for children. Patrick slowed down to look at them.
Telemachus pointed to a spear tip and an ax head. “What are these?” he asked the woman behind the table.
“These are from past games,” she said. “There are many collectors.”
Suddenly trumpets blew loudly.
“Ah!” the woman exclaimed. “The emperor is coming! Honorius himself!”
Patrick and Telemachus followed the crowd. Patrick had a sudden thought. Maybe Beth is with the emperor!
Patrick spun on his heel to go.
“Wait!” Telemachus called out. He grabbed Patrick’s hand. “We must stay together.”
Patrick and Telemachus followed the crowd into an upper hallway with arched windows. They found a space with a view looking down onto the city street.
More trumpets sounded. The gathering crowd cheered.
A parade with two rows of soldiers marched down the street. The parade moved toward a large entryway. The soldiers’ shields and upraised swords shone in the sun. Then came large flags and banners. Next came a group of soldiers carrying a large throne. It had poles for handles.
The emperor was a young man with dark, curly hair. His robe was bright purple with a gold pattern woven in. He had a thin gold crown on his head. He waved to the crowd. They cheered for him.
“Honorius,” Telemachus said to Patrick.
“He’s so young,” Patrick said. I thought emperors were old.”
Telemachus gave a little laugh.
The emperor raised his hand again. This time he held up a silver chalice. “To the good people of Rome!” he shouted.
Telemachus gasped. “That’s my chalice!” he said.
“What?” Patrick asked.
“The chalice the barbarian took from me,” the monk said. “How did the emperor get it?”
Patrick barely heard the question. His gaze was drawn to an object near the end of the parade. It was a large metal cage. It took six soldiers to lift it.
Inside the cage, birds flew around wildly. At the bottom, hanging onto the bars, was a slave girl.
“Beth!” Patrick shouted.
The Cart
Patrick raced for the staircase. He wanted to get closer to the parade—and to Beth.
“Stop!” Telemachus shouted.
Patrick ran down the stairs. He made it to the street level. Then he rushed out of the closest doorway.
The giant birdcage was still moving. The parade had turned. It was heading through a fancy entryway.
Patrick pushed through the crowd.
He moved closer to the cage. “Beth!” he shouted.
Beth looked at him. Her face lit up with joy.
“Patrick!” she cried out. She jumped to her feet. But the cage jerked, and she fell.
“Are you okay?” Patrick called. He jogged alongside the parade. He had to keep up with her.
“I’m fine,” she called back. “I’m taking care of the emperor’s birds.”
Patrick was relieved. She didn’t seem to be in danger.
The parade stopped inside the arena. The emperor waved to the cheering crowd.
Patrick moved in close to the cage.
“Have you found a monk?” Beth asked him.
“He’s behind me,” Patrick said. He turned to point out Telemachus. But the monk wasn’t there.
“Uh-oh,” Patrick said, “I lost him.”
Suddenly strong hands grabbed Patrick.
“Get back!” a soldier shouted. He lifted Patrick off the ground. Patrick saw the soldier’s face.
It was the same soldier who had carried Beth away. The same beard and moustache. The same dark, angry eyes.
“You!” the soldier said. “Trying to help this slave escape again?”
“Escape?” Patrick said. “But I wasn’t—”
“I warned you before,” the soldier said. He dragged Patrick away from the birdcage.
“Let him go!” Beth shouted.
“I wasn’t doing anything!” Patrick said.
The soldier took Patrick farther back in the parade. Then the soldier picked him up and threw him into a wood cart.
“See how you like life with the enemies of Rome!” the soldier said.
Patrick fell onto the bottom of the cart. His face was in the mud and straw. Voices grunted at him. Large feet kicked him out of the way.
“Stop it!” Patrick said. He tried to stand up. But the kicking feet and rocking cart knocked him down again.
“I wasn’t doing anything wrong,” Patrick cried. “Help!”
Large, thick fingers wrapped around his arm.
“Here, boy,” a man said. “I’ll help you.” He pulled Patrick to his feet.
Patrick looked into the face of the man who spoke. It was the barbarian with the wild hair. It was the man who had taken the silver cup from Telemachus.
“Aldric!” Patrick said.
Aldric studied him. “Do I know you?” he said. Then he seemed to remember. “You were with that little monk.”
“What are you doing here?” Patrick said. “We thought you had escaped.”
“I thought so too,” Aldric said. “But the soldiers found me again.”
“Is that how the emperor got the cup?” Patrick asked.
Aldric scowled. “I wondered what they would do with it,” he said.
Patrick looked around. The other people in the cart were dressed in rags. They looked sad and tired.
“What’s happening?” Patrick asked Aldric. “Where are we going?”
“To please the crowds in the stadium,” Aldric said.
Dozens of other carts followed. They were crowded with men headed for the games.
Patrick could still see Beth up ahead in the cage.
The emperor’s parade moved through the large archway. Now it was in the arena.
The cart jerked and turned. It headed down a ramp away from the parade. Patrick could no longer see the arena—he was underneath it.
“Why are we going in here?” Patrick asked. He was afraid to lose Beth again.
“Stay close to me,” Aldric said to Patrick.
“Yes, sir,” Patrick said.
One by one the carts stopped.
“Get a move on,” a guard shouted at the prisoners. “Climb out of the carts.” He cracked a whip over their heads.
The prisoners hurried out of the carts. Patrick was pushed with the men down a long hallway. It was lined with cells on each side. Some held more men. Others had caged animals.
Patrick saw dogs that snapped wildly. Foam flicked from their mouths. Lions paced in their cages.
A pair of tigers stared at him. Had one of them chased him only yesterday? And the boar was there with its long tusks.
A monkey screeched and threw itself at the bars.
“It’s like a zoo,” Patrick said. “What are the animals all doing here?”
“The same as us,” Aldric said. “We’re here to die for the glory of Rome.”
The Games Begin
The parade stopped at the emperor’s special seating area. The soldiers lowered Honorius on his throne. He moved to a chair at the edge of the box. He waved to the arena crowd again.
Beth was still in the birdcage. Soldiers placed it just behind the emperor. She searched the crowd. Had Patrick gotten away from the soldier?
A guard unlocked the birdcage door. Honorius came to the cage.
“Hello, my little pets,” he said. The emperor pointed out his favorite birds. He said to Beth, “Make sure they are near me—and happy.”
Some birds sat on perches. Others simply wandered around Honorius’s throne. They pecked the seeds Beth had thrown ont
o the ground. A white dove landed on her shoulder. It cooed in her ear.
She scowled at it. She had spent all night catching the birds. Now she was sick of them.
Trumpets sounded again. The crowd took their seats. All eyes looked down toward the arena floor.
Acrobats emerged from several doorways. They danced and did backflips. They climbed on one another’s shoulders. They balanced on thin poles with one hand.
Beth couldn’t help but peek at the show. But she also scanned the crowds for Patrick.
Next, jugglers appeared. They tossed up large balls and even burning arrows. One seemed to spit fire from his mouth.
“More! More!” the people cheered.
The metal bars in front of the doors had lifted. Slaves drove in animals with whips. Some of the beasts were chained. The slaves poked and prodded the lions, tigers, elephants, and zebras. They roared and trumpeted.
An elephant reared back. Its front legs came down on two men. Beth feared the slaves were badly hurt or even dead.
“Bravo! That’s more like it!” a man in the crowd shouted. The people stood up and cheered.
Beth hid her face.
“What is wrong with you, bird girl?” Honorius asked.
“I can’t look,” Beth said. Her hands were in front of her face.
“What?” he asked. “Don’t you find this exciting?”
Beth peeked up just enough to see his face. “No, Your Highness,” she said. “I think it’s terrible.”
He tipped his head as if her words surprised him. “But the people love the games,” he said.
“They shouldn’t,” Beth said. “Not if people and animals get killed.”
The crowd continued to shout and cheer. Beth turned away from the emperor. She moved to the wall behind the seating area.
“Beth!” a voice called to her.
She looked up. A man in a brown robe was peering over the wall.
The Monk’s Message
“Are you a monk?” Beth asked the man.
“I am Telemachus,” he said. “I saw you when the soldier picked you up. Will you deliver a message to the emperor?”
“Yes,” she said.
Attack at the Arena Page 3