Gladiator Clash

Time Hunters: Gladiator Clash

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

With special thanks to Marnie Stanton-Riches

Title Page

Dedication

Prologue

Chapter 1: The Mummy

Chapter 2: Roman Holiday

Chapter 3: Gladiator Training

Chapter 4: Anubis Drops In

Chapter 5: Try Outs

Chapter 6: Itching to Fight

Chapter 7: It’s Showtime!

Chapter 8: Hilarus

Chapter 9: A Speedy Exit

Chapter 10: Top Cat

Chapter 11: Home Sweet Home

Who were the Mightiest Gladiators?

Weapons

Gladiator Clash 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…

Squeak-thump, squeak-thump, squeak-thump.

Tom Sullivan loved the noise that his trainers made on the shiny floor of the museum. He drank in the smell of wood polish and three-thousand-year-old dust. All the lights were off, apart from those in the display cabinets. All the visitors had gone home. It was just him and Dad.

He reached his dad’s office. It was on the first floor, at the end of the Ancient Greece section. The brass nameplate on the door said ‘Dr James Sullivan, Archaeologist’.

“One day I’ll have one just like it,” Tom said to himself. “‘Tom Sullivan, History Genius’. Ha!”

He knocked on the door.

“Hi, Dad, will you be long?” Tom asked.

Dad was poring over a sheaf of papers, which were scattered across his untidy desk. “Eh?” he replied.

“Do I have time to explore a bit more?” Tom said.

Dad looked up at him, his bright blue eyes staring out blankly from behind his glasses. “Oh, I’m not hungry, thanks,” he said. “I don’t like cheese and pickle.” He turned his attention back to the papers.

Tom knew his dad was lost in a world of his own, full of pyramids and Romans and Vikings. “I’m off to fight with some gladiators now, Dad,” he said. “Maybe some cavemen too.”

“That’s nice,” Dad mumbled.

Tom wandered through the familiar corridors, peering into the display cases of his favourite exhibits. In the hall of Ancient Greece, he admired the feathered Greek army helmets. In the Viking section, he marvelled at the shields and swords covered in strange letters. As he walked through the hall of Medieval Britain, he waved at some models of men wearing chainmail. Finally, saving the best until last, he went down the stairs to the Ancient Egyptian section.

Tom loved history and liked to pretend he could travel through time. He lunged towards a brightly painted sarcophagus, using his pen as a sword. “Watch out, pharaoh!” he told the exhibit behind the glass. “I’m a deadly swordsman from the future. Your armies will never defeat me!”

Then, with flailing arms, he started to fight off a band of imaginary Ancient Egyptian attackers, running backwards as if he was being chased.

Tom stumbled and tripped, only noticing the statue labelled ‘Goddess Isis’ when it was too late. He smacked into it at full force.

The statue wobbled to the right, then it rocked back to the left. Tom rushed forward to save it. “Nooo…!” he cried. But he was too late. The statue toppled on to the floor and smashed into a million pieces.

“Uh oh,” Tom gulped. “Dad’s going to kill me! The museum’s going to kill me! Everyone’s going to kill me!”

Tom’s heart pounded in his chest as he stared at the mess. There were pottery fragments everywhere. Then something very strange began to happen. The bits started to move and shake.

Tom gasped as five fingers reached out from what was left of the statue. The fingers were wrapped in dirty, torn bandages. Like an Egyptian mummy! Tom stared in shock as the fingers stretched out into a hand, opening and closing as if it was trying to grab him. The hand was followed by a wrist, then an arm…

Suddenly a whole, groaning, child-sized mummy sprang from the wreckage. The shape of some sort of mummified animal stood next to it. Both were wrapped head to toe in crusty shreds of cloth, the loose ends flapping as they moved. They looked at Tom and started walking towards him.

“Aaaargh! Don’t hurt me!” Tom cried.

But to his surprise the bandaged animal started to purr and then circle round his leg in a friendly manner.

Tom stared down at it. “Oh my gosh! Is that really a cat?” he asked in disbelief.

“Yes, of course! It’s my cat, Cleo!” the mummy said, with a young girl’s voice.

The mummy stood up tall, which, Tom noticed, wasn’t as tall as him, and straightened its back with a crack. A cloud of dust billowed round the mummy and wafted to the floor, as if someone had beaten a grimy rug with a stick.

“Y-you spoke!” Tom said, wiping his sweaty palms on his school trousers.

The mummy folded its arms. “Well, of course I spoke! What did you expect me to do?”

“Er… but… I can understand you.”

“I’m not surprised. Father always said I was special,” the mummy sniffed. “That’s why he named me after the goddess of magic. My name’s Princess Isis Amun-Ra. I’m ten. Who are you?”

Tom scratched his head in exactly the same way his dad had done. “I’m Tom,” he said.

The ragged Egyptian princess frowned. “Just Tom? You don’t have a title?”

“Sorry if that’s not good enough for you,” said Tom, slightly annoyed.

“I suppose it’ll have to be,” Isis said. She picked up the scrawny cat mummy. “We’ve been stuck inside that statue for a zillion, billion years. Cleo’s not much of a talker, unfortunately. I don’t think I’ve ever been so bored.”

Tom looked properly at Isis. She didn’t seem quite so scary now that he knew she was just a ten year old like him. Even though she looks in worse shape than my great-grandma and smells weird, he thought. But, despite the fact that he was fascinated by this mummy-girl, Tom started to edge towards the door. He had seen films about mummys coming to life and he knew they liked to eat brains.

“Look,” he said. “I’m going to have to go home very soon. So… it was nice meeting you. Bye!”

“You can’t just leave me here. Take me with you,” Isis commanded, putting a hand on her hip.

“No way!” Tom said. “You’re an Ancient Egyptian mummy. My mum will go nuts if you drop bits of bandage all over my bedroom.”

“Bandage? My father was King of Egypt. These are regal wrappings, I’ll have you know!” Isis snapped.

“Look, Your Royal Dustiness, I’m a lowly human boy with a brand-new carpet and a mum who doesn’t care much for mess. So that kind of rules out grotty, ancient house guests – even princesses.”

Clomp, clomp, clomp. Suddenly, Tom heard footsteps getting closer.

“Dad’s coming!” he said. “Quick! Hide!”

Isis shook her head. “Hide? You must be joking! I’ve only just got out of that statue. I’m not hiding away again.”

“Tom!” Dad called out.

In a panic, Tom glanced around the room. For a second he thought about bundling Isis and Cleo into the shadows. But that would never work. Isis was rooted to the spot, arms folded. Cleo wrapped herself around Isis’s ankles. Tom made do with hastily kicking some of the broken pieces of pottery behind a nearby display case.

As Dad walked in, Tom stood in front of Isis and Cleo, desperately trying to make himself big enough to hide them both.

“Ah, there you are!” Dad said. “Having fun?”

Tom looked at his dad’s face. He didn’t seem to have seen Isis or Cleo, even though they were both standing right behind Tom.

“Yep,” he said.

Then Isis stepped forward and waved at his dad. Tom’s heart flipped over in his chest. He tried hopping to one side to hide her again.

“I’ll be ready to go in five,” Dad said. “OK?” Then he shuffled off back to his office as though nothing unusual was going on.

Tom breathed out slowly. “I don’t believe it. Dad didn’t even notice you. It was like you were… invisible!”

“Well, that decides it,” Isis said merrily. “We’re coming home with you, whether you like it or not.” She clapped her hands together in a cloud of dust. “Lead the way! I haven’t got all day, you know.”

“Eek!” Isis shrieked, shrinking back in fear. “You didn’t tell me you were a sorceror.”

“I’m not,” Tom said with a sigh, as he switched his bedroom light on and off. “It’s just a light.”

Isis slowly stepped into Tom’s bedroom, looking round it curiously. The ride home from the museum had been interesting, as Isis was convinced that the car was a magic, horseless chariot. Tom had tried to fill Isis in on everything that had happened since she died, but the Egyptian princess had a thousand questions about the modern world. Tom was exhausted from his attempts to explain everything from electricity to aeroplanes.

“I tell you what, let’s Google a few things on the computer,” Tom suggested. “Maybe we can find out more about your world too.”

Tom sat at his desk and hit a button on the keyboard. The bright colours of the monitor lit the room.

Isis jumped up and cowered behind Tom. “It’s a demon from the Underworld come to get me!” she shouted.

Tom laughed. “It’s OK,” he said. “It’s just my computer.”

Tapping away on his keyboard, fact by fact, Tom unravelled Isis’s past.

“So you’re from Ancient Egypt in 2800 BC,” he said. “That makes you almost five thousand years old.” Tom whistled softly.

“Let me see!” Isis said, looking over his shoulder. “Does it say that I was a brilliant dancer and could play the harp better than anyone else in the Nile delta?”

Suddenly, the ground beneath them rumbled and the air started to whip around the room like a mysterious whirlwind.

“Is this another modern invention?” Isis asked nervously.

“N-n-no,” Tom stammered. “Not that I know of!”

“SILENCE, children!” a voice boomed.

Tom peered into the gloom and saw two red eyes glowing menacingly at him. He shrank back in horror.

Isis swung around to face the owner of the voice as he stepped out of the shadows.

“Hello, Anubis,” she said. “You didn’t think I’d ever get out of that statue, did you? Well, never underestimate a princess.”

Tom looked up… at the god of the Underworld! He recognised the jackal-headed god from pictures he had seen in his dad’s books.

“Little Isis Amun-Ra,” Anubis said in a haughty voice. “Still cheeky after five thousand years? Well, prepare yourself. Your challenge is about to begin.”

Anubis folded his arms across his bare chest, raising an eyebrow at Tom. “You freed the princess from her statue, boy. Now you are destined by the gods to accompany Isis Amun-Ra on her journey through time to find her amulets.”

Frustration burst out of Tom in a flurry of angry words. “Now just hold on! That’s not fair!” He thumped the desk and glared at Anubis and Isis. “I’ve got caught up in this by accident—”

“You don’t have a choice,” Anubis growled. “To find the amulets, you will both journey far back in time to some of the most dangerous moments in history. Time will stand still while you are away, boy. Your parents will know nothing of your adventures.”

Tom’s ears pricked up at the word ‘history’. He loved reading about history. Here was a chance to go on a treasure hunt through history and see it with his own eyes, even if he did have to go with a bossy Ancient Egyptian princess. It was the chance of a lifetime!

Anubis held his long arms wide and the strange wind started to whip up again.

“Prepare for your first journey,” he said.

Tom, Isis and Cleo, nervous of where they might end up, held hands and paws in a circle. The powerful tornado started to curl around them, pulling them out of Tom’s world and into the unknown.

*

“Where are we?” Isis asked.

Tom looked round. They were standing in a long, gloomy, stone corridor, lined with archways on one side. He peered into a sunlit, dusty courtyard beyond. Men were stretching and jogging on the spot.

“It looks like they’re warming up to do sports or something,” he said.

A young man appeared, walking briskly towards them.

“Hello,” he said brightly. “I’m Josephus.”

“What’s your title?” Isis said, eyeing his grubby, short toga suspiciously.

Josephus smiled. “Why, I’m a slave, of course!” he chuckled. “Are you new?”

Tom and Isis nodded. Cleo meowed.

“Er… what is this place?” asked Tom.

“This is the city’s biggest gladiator training school, owned by my master, Atillius!” the young man explained.

Tom frowned, deep in thought. He looked at the strange clothes he and Isis were both wearing – simple tunics and sandals. And hadn’t he spied a man through the arches dressed in the long folds of a toga? Yes! Gladiators… slaves… togas…

“We’re in Ancient Rome!” he shouted. “Brilliant!”

Tom suddenly wondered how it was possible that he and Josephus could understand each other. He didn’t speak any Latin aside from a few words his dad had taught him.

“It must be part of Anubis’s magic,” Tom said aloud.

But Isis seemed to be a million miles away, staring at her hand in amazement. She started patting her arms and legs in delight. Tom suddenly realised why – instead of being wrapped up as a mouldy mummy, she was made of flesh and blood again.

Isis grinned at Tom. “I’m alive!” she cried, feeling the long, black plaits of her hair. “No more horrible bandages!” Then she looked down at Cleo, who had transformed back into a sleek cat, covered in tabby stripes. “Cleo! My little fluffpot!” Isis said, scooping Cleo up into a hug.

“Er, I hate to interrupt,” Josephus said, “but you’re meant to be training to fight as gladiators right now.”

Isis stuck her nose in the air. “Fight? But I’m a princess.”

Josephus pointed at the men in the courtyard. “Not any more you’re not. Everyone here is a prisoner or a slave. Where have you come from anyway?”

“Egypt,” Tom said, pointing at Isis. “And Britain,” he added, gesturing to himself.

Josephus shrugged. “The Roman Army doesn’t usually send child prisoners to fight,” he said. “But then, they’re so cruel, nothing they do surprises me these days.”

Tom gulped. “Cruel?”

Isis was offended. “Prisoner? I’m a prisoner? I insist you free me right now!”

“You shouldn’t even be here,” Josephus said, prodding Isis in the shoulder. “No girls. No cats. Don’t worry, the soldiers will throw you out as soon as they see you.”

Isis tossed her plaits and balled her fists. “We’re on a very important mission. We must stay here together.”

“Please help us,” Tom begged Josephus. “We really can’t be separated.”

“I suppose I don’t owe the Romans anything,” Josephus said with a shrug. “OK, I’ll help. First, we must disguise Princess Bossyboots here as a boy.”

“A boy!?” Isis shrieked in disgust.

“Shhhh!” Tom and Josephus both hissed.

Josephus pushed the three travellers into a shadowy alcove and started to wipe off the kohl from Isis’s eyes with a rag.

“Get off me! You smell of rotten vegetables,” Isis cried, batting him away.

“Just keep still, Princess Bossyboots,” Tom said. He grinned as he tied back her long hair out of sight.

Josephus ducked into a nearby cupboard and emerged with rattling chains. “Sorry. I have to put chains on you, like the others, otherwise the guards will think you’re trying to escape.” He shackled them both at the wrists and ankles and pushed them, clanking, down the colonnade.

“What about my cat, Cleo?” Isis asked.

“Animals aren’t allowed in the training ground. She’ll get killed if she stays here,” said Josephus. “She can stay in my quarters, where the other animals are kept. Don’t worry, I’ll look after her.”

He steered Tom and Isis into a noisy room with a barred door. Tom saw that it was packed with chained prisoners, both young and old, chattering away in a variety of languages he’d never heard before. Some had pale skin, some had dark skin. Everyone wore different clothes. Clearly they came from all over the world. They were shovelling food into their mouths with their shackled hands.

“You’re lucky – you’re in time for breakfast. Try to blend in,” Josephus said, looking doubtfully at Isis, as he carried Cleo off in his arms.

Isis and Tom sat on the stone floor in silence, taking in their surroundings with wide eyes. Tom helped himself to a piece of bread.

“I hope Cleo’s all right,” Isis whispered to Tom. “At least she can cuddle up to the other animals.”

Just then a roar echoed around the barracks that made Tom shudder.

“Oh no! What was that? It didn’t sound very cuddly,” Isis whimpered.

One of the other prisoners leaned over. “That’s the wild animals,” he said glumly. “Sounded like a lion. Sometimes it’s tigers, bears… anything that can tear your toenails off with its teeth.” He stroked his stubbly chin thoughtfully. “I still can’t decide which is worse.”

“What do you mean?” Tom asked, gulping.

The prisoner shrugged. “Being killed by a gladiator’s sword or eaten by lions. What’s the better way to die?”

“I don’t even want to think about it, thanks!” said Tom.

The prisoner looked grim-faced. “Well, you should. Because none of us will make it out of here alive.”

“We need a plan. We’ve got to find the amulet and leave this place before we have to fight anyone,” Tom said.

Isis held up her hands and rattled her chains. “We can’t exactly go for a stroll, can we, Professor Smartypants?” she said.

Tom scratched his head and tried to remember everything he knew about gladiators. “Look,” he said, “gladiators fight with swords and shields, or daggers and spears. They’ll make us practise so they can’t keep us locked up forever. At least the food is OK.”

Isis peered down at the other prisoners’ plates and snorted. “Pah! Oats and beans? These Romans haven’t got a clue. Our Egyptian fighters were tough and lean. They fought with their hands and feet, not wobbling around with a sword and a belly full of porridge!”