Double Trouble Page 6

  In the end, Prima gave us each a pale green tunic. She also gave us each a belt to tie round our waists.

  ‘Totally cool,’ said Tilly. ‘Not.’

  As I put on the clothes, I felt like I was getting dressed up for a school play, and I half expected to see Mrs Simms fussing about, asking if I’d learned my lines properly.

  When we were dressed, Prima sat us on her bed and took a wooden box from her wardrobe. When she opened it, Tilly and I gasped – and this time we weren’t faking it.

  The box was piled high with bangles and neck-pieces.

  ‘These are all made of silver,’ I said, as I ran my fingers along one beautiful bracelet.

  Tilly let a delicate chain slide through her fingers. ‘If we brought one of these home, we could make a fortune,’ she said.

  ‘Tilly!’ I said, shocked. ‘That would be stealing.’

  ‘Would it? Maybe I’d be helping the study of world history. And Prima wouldn’t even miss one bangle – she’s got heaps.’

  ‘Well, I wouldn’t have anything to do with it,’ I said primly. ‘Handling stolen goods is wrong.’

  ‘Don’t touch me then,’ said Tilly. ‘I am stolen goods, remember?’

  I leaned over and touched her arm and Tilly pointed at me accusingly – ‘Criminal, criminal,’ she chanted.

  We were both laughing by now, thinking we were being very funny.

  Then Prima leaned over and touched Tilly’s shoulder. ‘Cri-ni-mal,’ she chanted, smiling.

  Clearly she thought we were playing some weird game, or engaging in some kind of tribal dance from our native land.

  The three of us chanted until our throats were sore, and then we collapsed on to Prima’s bed, laughing.

  When we had recovered, Prima reached into her jewellery box and picked out two silver bangles. She held them towards Tilly and me.

  ‘Do you think she wants us to clean them for her or something?’ asked Tilly.

  Before I could answer, Prima gave each of us a bangle.

  ‘Wow,’ said Tilly. ‘I wish we knew the Latin for thank you.’

  But we didn’t, so we both smiled and tried to use our faces to show how grateful we were.

  Then I had an idea. I held my own charm bracelet towards Tilly. ‘Help me to take off a charm,’ I said. ‘I’d like to give one to Prima.’

  ‘Which one?’

  I had to think for ages. Each charm told a story and seemed to be part of my life. I ran my fingers over the medal Mary had given me, the cat that reminded me of Saturn and the tiny Titanic. Finally I settled on the small silver flower with the tiny yellow crystal in the centre.

  ‘But your mum and dad gave you that,’ said Tilly.

  ‘I know. But they’ll understand – I think.’

  Tilly unclipped the charm and we slipped it on to one of Prima’s chains. I held it towards Prima and she took it and fastened it round her neck.

  ‘Benigne,’ she said.

  ‘Benigne,’ said Tilly and I together, pointing to our new bangles.

  Then Prima indicated that we should go and eat, and we followed her from the room.

  ‘I wonder what we’re going to do today,’ I said, as we followed Prima across the courtyard.

  Tilly shrugged. ‘Who cares? Prima’s let us sleep near her. She’s given us her clothes and her jewellery. She’s not going to make us act like real slaves after all of that. She’s treating us like friends. So let’s enjoy ourselves.’

  I knew she was right and I felt very happy and adventurous as we joined the rest of the family for breakfast.

  14

  ‘Don’t you think that guy’s totally cute?’ said Tilly, after a slave had poured us each a jug of delicious juice. ‘His name is Felix. I heard Prima saying it earlier.’

  Tilly was right – Felix was totally cute. He was tall and thin, with perfect skin and huge dark eyes.

  ‘Do you think he likes me?’ asked Tilly.

  I shook my head. ‘Sorry, Tilly. Haven’t you seen the way he looks at Prima? It’s obvious that he adores her.’

  She looked at him again and sighed. ‘You’re right. I’d hoped I was imagining that.’

  ‘The poor boy,’ I said. ‘Prima’s the pampered daughter of the house. No slave boy, no matter how handsome, is ever going to have a chance with her.’

  After breakfast, Tilly and I went back to the courtyard and sat on a seat outside Prima’s room.

  ‘Maybe we’ll get to go to school today,’ I said. ‘Wouldn’t that be totally fun?’

  ‘For someone who seems to like school so much,’ said Tilly, ‘you don’t seem that familiar with what’s inside your history book.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Girls of Prima’s age don’t go to school any more. They just hang around the house, waiting to get married.’

  As she spoke, Secunda and Prima came along. Prima was holding something that looked like a miniature blackboard covered with a layer of wax. I pointed at the blackboard and looked at Prima with my best questioning face.

  She showed us a pencil-shaped piece of metal.

  ‘Stilus,’ she said.

  Tilly collapsed into a fit of giggles. ‘Stilus,’ she repeated. ‘This is historic, Lauren. We’re looking at the first ever DS.’

  We got over our laughing and the four of us sat on the grass. Prima used her stilus to write on the waxy surface of the board. When she made a mistake, she used the flat end of the stilus to rub it out. Then we played a game of writing words and drawing pictures. Secunda drew a little dog, and Prima wrote canis. Then I drew a horse and Prima wrote equus.

  ‘Like equestrian!’ said Tilly. ‘I am so going to take up Latin next year. I’ll be fluent in a few weeks.’

  Soon, the blackboard was full of drawings and writing.

  ‘Oh dear,’ said Tilly. ‘Design flaw. How do we get it smooth again?’

  In answer, Prima clapped her hands. A slave appeared and took the blackboard away. When she returned a few minutes later, the wax had been heated and our writing had disappeared. All we had to do was wait for it to harden and we could start all over again.

  ‘Magic,’ said Tilly. ‘We’ve just seen the world’s first Etch A Sketch!’

  A short while later, Prima took us to a big airy room where her mother was waiting. They spent ages and ages combing each other’s hair and rubbing scented lotions into each other’s skin.

  ‘Do they do this every day?’ I asked.

  Tilly shrugged. ‘Probably. After all, in a world without TV, you have to find something to pass the time.’

  Prima and her mother sat and sewed for a while. Then a slave came in and tried to teach Prima to play a long wooden wind instrument. Prima was useless, but the poor slave had to keep smiling and encouraging her, even though the sharp screechy sound she was making must have hurt his ears.

  After that, we had a swim. Well, Tilly and I had a swim. Prima just sat at the edge, backing away whenever it looked like she might get splashed.

  ‘I can’t believe it,’ said Tilly, when she stopped to rest after doing about twenty lengths of the pool. ‘Prima seems to be afraid of the water.’

  She was right. ‘What a waste,’ I said. ‘Imagine having a swimming pool in your garden and being too scared to use it.’

  Tilly sighed as she lay on the grass, letting the sun warm her skin.

  ‘This is perfect,’ she said. ‘Do you think if I clap my hands, a slave might bring me a nice cold drink and a few crisps?’

  ‘Mmmm,’ I said. ‘That sounds great. Maybe –’

  Then I stopped myself. Tilly and I both know that slavery is totally wrong, but already we were starting to act like it was normal – like it was OK for one person to own another.

  Tilly was looking at me guiltily and I knew she was thinking the same thing.

  Before we could discuss it, though, Prima’s mother was ca
lling us again and it was time for lunch.

  After lunch, we all lay on couches and listened to some slaves who seemed to be reciting poetry. Felix was there and he performed last. He stood and stared at Prima with his huge eyes and recited what I hoped was a love poem.

  ‘That’s the saddest thing ever,’ sighed Tilly. ‘He’s repeating the words of some poet guy because he’ll never be allowed to say what he really thinks. The poor boy is going to die of unrequited love.’

  I thought maybe she was right. All the way through his recital, Prima had looked bored – like she couldn’t wait for him to finish.

  I wished I could talk to Felix and console him, but there was nothing I could do, so I helped myself to more grapes and tried not to feel too mean.

  When I was in bed that night, with Saturn curled up by my feet, Tilly and I whispered for a long time.

  ‘We’re not being treated like slaves, so why do you think Prima’s father brought us here?’ I asked.

  ‘I’ve been wondering that too,’ said Tilly. ‘Maybe he saw that we were foreigners and thought that we could teach Prima our language.’

  ‘That was a bit of a waste,’ I said. ‘Even if we did manage to teach her our language, poor Prima wouldn’t have anyone else to speak to in English for hundreds of years.’

  ‘I’ve been thinking about this whole time-travel thing,’ said Tilly. ‘Are we supposed to make a difference to someone’s life while we’re here? Are we meant to change the world?’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Well, when you were on the Titanic, you helped Mary to save herself.’

  ‘Possibly,’ I said. ‘I’d like to think that I helped her, but I’ll never know for sure.’

  ‘But this time you’ve picked a few onions, and I helped Prima with her sewing while her mother wasn’t looking, but that’s hardly earth-shattering stuff, is it?’

  ‘No. Maybe we should organize an anti-slavery march or something,’ I suggested. ‘We could make banners and –’

  ‘No way!’ said Tilly quickly. ‘It’s a noble idea, but I think it might be the kind of noble idea that could get us into an awful lot of trouble. Slavery is wrong, but I’ve a funny feeling that the Ancient Romans aren’t ready to face up to that fact.’

  I knew she was right.

  ‘So, do you want to go back home?’ I asked.

  She thought for a while. ‘I kind of do and I kind of don’t. What about you?’

  ‘Well, I miss home and I miss my family, and I’m a bit worried about my schoolbag, which is on the grass in front of my house, but …’

  ‘But what?’

  ‘But it’s kind of nice being here.’

  Tilly sighed. ‘Yes, it is kind of nice here.’

  ‘And who else do we know who will ever get a chance to spend time in Ancient Rome?’

  She laughed. ‘And you’re sure that time isn’t passing at home?’

  ‘I think I’m sure. Last time I was gone for days and days, but only minutes passed at home. And besides, don’t you ever read fantasy books? People vanish for years and still get home in time for tea.’

  ‘But this isn’t fantasy. This is real. And then there’s another thing – can we trust Saturn to bring us back when we need him to?’

  I hesitated. This was the part I was most unsure of. Last time when I’d begged Saturn to take me home, he’d done as I asked. But maybe that was just luck, or coincidence, or something I had no control over.

  ‘Er … yes … sort of … maybe,’ I said. ‘But it’s not like we can do a practice run. If we get him to take us home, how could we trust him to bring us back to this very time and place?’

  Tilly shuddered. ‘We couldn’t. We might end up back in the ogre’s clutches, and I so wouldn’t fancy that.’

  ‘So how about we stay here for another while, and when we’ve had enough, we’ll ask Saturn to take us home?’

  Tilly sat up and stroked Saturn’s head. ‘We can trust you, Saturn, can’t we?’

  In reply, Saturn stretched and miaowed loudly, and Tilly and I laughed and settled down to sleep.

  15

  After breakfast the next day, instead of taking us to her mother’s room, Prima led us out under the arch. Felix was outside with the two horses and the caravan.

  ‘Satur … I mean Sattie?’ I said to Prima.

  I had no idea where we were going, or how long we were going to be, and parting from Saturn always makes me nervous when I’m years away from home.

  But Prima just smiled and shook her head and said something that I totally hoped meant that we wouldn’t be gone for long.

  I ran back and got Tilly’s schoolbag, and then we all climbed into the caravan.

  ‘Yay,’ said Tilly as we set off. ‘We’re going on a road trip.’

  A while later, we stopped near the centre of the city. Felix waited in the shade, minding the horses and the caravan while the rest of us went off exploring.

  Prima took us to a place where the streets were narrow and cobbled. There were heaps of little shops that sold all kinds of amazing stuff. At one shop, Prima bought cakes filled with honey, and in another she bought us each a drink. Prima bought herself a whole bag full of jewellery and tiny bottles of perfume. Then she bought Tilly a pretty comb to hold back her hair. Finally, she led the way to a shop that sold tiny silver ornaments. Prima spoke to the shopkeeper for a long time. In the end, she grabbed my arm and showed my charm bracelet to the shopkeeper.

  ‘OMIGOD,’ I gasped. ‘She’s trying to sell my bracelet to this man.’

  ‘Look on the bright side,’ said Tilly. ‘At least she’s not trying to sell you.’

  I needn’t have worried, though. The shopkeeper dug around in some baskets behind the counter and finally pulled out something that he handed to Prima. She opened her palm and showed it to me. It was a girl in a Roman tunic, just like the one I was wearing. I stroked the tiny figure.

  ‘It’s just perfect,’ I sighed.

  Prima paid the man and then held my arm towards him. He fixed the charm on to my bracelet in the gap where the flower used to be.

  ‘Benigne,’ I said to Prima, and she smiled.

  We walked through the streets for a long time. Prima pointed at things and spoke to us in Latin.

  ‘Prima’s talking to us a lot more today,’ said Tilly after a while. ‘I don’t know why she bothers, as we barely understand a word she says.’

  ‘Maybe she thinks we’re like babies and that if she talks for long enough, eventually we’ll become fluent.’

  ‘If that’s so, she kind of has a point, but that would take years and years, and we’re not exactly planning on hanging around that long, are we?’

  Suddenly I felt sorry for Prima. She was a friendly, generous girl. She was being really nice to us, and she probably thought we were going to stay with her forever. How could she know that Tilly and I were just having a bit of fun, and that far away, in another place and time, we had real lives and real families waiting for us to come back?

  ‘Let’s not think about that now,’ I said quickly. ‘Let’s just enjoy our day out.’

  Sometime later, we were wandering down a narrow lane, with Prima leading the way as usual, when Tilly called my name in the weirdest, croaky voice.

  I looked to where she was pointing and felt suddenly sick. It was the ogre, grinning his evil grin and walking right towards us.

  There was no time to warn Prima. There was no time to discuss the finer points of who belonged to Prima’s family and who belonged to the ogre. There was only time for me to say, ‘Run!’ before I turned and, with Tilly on my heels, I sprinted as fast as I could.

  I pushed past shoppers and children, soldiers and workers; I scrambled through flocks of chickens and ducks; I elbowed through a pair of elderly donkeys and I jumped over a sick-looking dog. I’d been caught by the ogre once before, and I sooo wasn’t going to let that happ
en again.

  Finally, when I couldn’t run any more, I threw myself into a narrow gap between two tall buildings and made room for Tilly to squash in beside me.

  For ages, we said nothing as we struggled to catch our breath.

  Finally Tilly peeped round the corner. ‘It’s OK, Lauren,’ she said. ‘We’ve shaken him off. Everything’s fine.’

  ‘Do you know where Prima is?’ I asked.

  Tilly shook her head.

  ‘Do you think you could find the caravan?’

  Another shake.

  ‘Or Prima’s house?’

  Shake.

  ‘Or Saturn?’

  She shook her head one more time.

  ‘And everything’s fine?’

  ‘Well, the ogre didn’t catch us, so we’re not one step away from being onion-farmers for the rest of our lives. All we have to do is find Prima and then we’ll be grand. Like I said – everything’s fine. Sort of.’

  16

  We walked for ages and ages. All the streets looked the same and I had a horrible feeling that we were walking round in circles. We had no idea where we were going, or what we were going to do. I had left Tilly’s schoolbag in the caravan, so we didn’t have her history book with us to check the facts. It didn’t matter, though. I didn’t need a book to tell me that people in Roman times probably weren’t very nice to runaway slaves.

  ‘Poor Prima,’ I said after a while.

  Tilly gave a grim laugh. ‘Poor Prima? She knows the way home. And her dad can buy her two more slaves tomorrow. After a few days, we could be slaving in a salt mine or something, and Prima will have forgotten we ever existed. We’re nothing to her.’

  ‘That’s not true,’ I protested. ‘We do mean something to her. She’s been really kind. She bought us presents and shared her clothes with us. And now she’ll think we’re ungrateful little pigs who just ran off on her.’

  Tilly sighed. ‘You’re right. Prima has been extra nice to us – and she might even be worried about us. But given a choice, I’d rather be her than us right now.’

  And I couldn’t argue with that.

  Much later, we were still lost. We were also tired, and hungry and thirsty. We heard a crowd cheering and I realized that we were walking past a huge amphitheatre.