Attack at the Arena Page 4

  “Ask him if he is a Christian,” said the monk.

  “Okay,” she said. “And then what?”

  Telemachus told her what to say.

  Beth frowned. “He won’t like it,” she said.

  “Perhaps not,” said Telemachus. “If he wishes to talk to me, I’m here.”

  Beth took a deep breath. She walked over to the throne.

  Honorius was still watching the games. He was safe in his high seat. Nets protected him from wild animals. He was smiling and drinking.

  She glanced at the arena. Slaves fought the wild creatures. The men screamed and ran when the animals attacked.

  Honorius held the silver cup in his hand.

  “Your Highness?” Beth began.

  “What is it?” he asked.

  Beth asked him the monk’s question.

  Honorius gave her a puzzled look. “Am I a Christian?” he said. “Yes. Of course I am. By law the emperor must be a Christian.”

  “There is a monk who asked me to say this,” Beth said. “How can a Christian emperor laugh when men die? How can he then drink from a holy cup? That silver chalice has been used for the Lord’s Supper.”

  The emperor looked at the silver chalice in his hand. His eyes widened with alarm. He stood up. “Where is this monk?” he said. “I want to speak with him!”

  Beth went back to the wall. She shouted, “The emperor wants you. And I think he’s mad.”

  In a cell under the arena…

  Patrick wondered what to do next.

  From somewhere above the prisoners, trumpets sounded.

  The guard gave the men a mean smile. He shouted at them: “It is time. March two by two up to the doors. A soldier will give you swords and shields.”

  The prisoners stood silent.

  “Enter the arena when the doors open,” the guard said. “Then salute Emperor Honorius. Next, fight. The last man standing will be today’s hero.”

  “This boy does not belong here,” Aldric said to the guard. “We men deserve to fight and die. But he is only a child.”

  The guard drew out a sword. “He is nothing to me,” he said. “Now, shut your mouth and march!”

  In the emperor’s box…

  Honorius’s bodyguards brought Telemachus to the emperor’s box.

  The monk bowed to the emperor.

  “What does your message mean, little monk?” Honorius asked. He held up the silver goblet.

  “Your Highness is drinking from a holy chalice,” Telemachus said. “I, myself, brought it to Rome. You now use it to salute death.”

  Honorius’s face turned a deep red. “The people asked for these games,” he said. “Rome’s army pushed back the barbarians. Now we celebrate a war victory.” He frowned. “Why would I stop the games?”

  “Because you say you follow Christ, the Bread of life,” Telemachus said.

  Suddenly the crowd roared. Beth, Telemachus, and Honorius turned. The prisoners marched to the center of the arena.

  Beth saw her cousin and cried out, “Patrick!”

  The Birds

  Most of the prisoners carried swords and shields. Only Patrick carried a large knife and a helmet. He looked confused.

  The prisoners saluted the emperor. “Hail, Emperor!” they shouted. “We who are about to die salute you!”

  The crowd roared and clapped.

  Honorius held up his hand. “Wait!” he said. But his voice was drowned out by the noise.

  The men in the arena raised their swords.

  He said to wait! Beth thought. Panic filled her heart. Didn’t they hear him?

  A trumpet sounded. The prisoners began to fight each other. Each man battled for his life. An old prisoner quickly knocked Patrick’s knife out of his hand.

  The emperor watched angrily. He called a soldier over. “I told them to wait!” Honorius shouted. “Why do they fight?”

  “Highness, you raised your hand,” the soldier said. “The prisoners thought you were asking them to begin!”

  The emperor sank into his chair. He wiped his face. “How do I make them stop?” he asked.

  In the arena…

  Aldric grabbed Patrick and pulled him close. A slave came forward with his sword raised. The barbarian swung his sword to drive him back.

  Patrick dropped his helmet. It was too heavy. He wanted to run. But where? Bars blocked all the doors. Men fought all around him. Two closed in on Aldric with their swords pointed at his heart.

  In the emperor’s box…

  “Somebody do something!” Beth cried. “That’s my cousin!”

  The guards looked at one another. They waited for an order.

  Honorius was on his feet again. He watched the action below. His eyes were filled with worry. What would he do?

  Telemachus’s eyes were closed as if he were praying.

  An idea flashed into Beth’s mind. She hurried to the birdcage and opened the large door. She stepped in and shooed out all the birds.

  They flocked into the seating area. The guests there shouted and moved away.

  Then Beth took the sack of seed. She shook the seeds into the arena.

  Seeds rained down near Patrick and Aldric.

  The two dozen birds followed the seeds. They flapped to the ground. They flapped to the ground right in front of Patrick and Aldric.

  In the arena…

  The attackers were distracted by the birds for a few moments. Patrick didn’t know what to do. He looked at Aldric.

  Aldric looked up at the emperor’s box. Then he smiled. He dropped his sword and picked up Patrick.

  “It’s your turn to fly, boy,” Aldric said.

  The Knight

  The barbarian hurled Patrick upward with a mighty heave.

  Patrick raised his arms. His fi ngers caught the beam holding the protective netting around the emperor’s box. He hung for a moment, his legs dangling in the air.

  The crowd went crazy. Some were shouting Boo. Others clapped. All eyes were on Patrick.

  “He’s escaping!” cried a man in the crowd.

  A woman shouted, “He’s going to attack the emperor.”

  Patrick swung his legs to the top of the netting. He climbed it like a ladder and crawled toward Beth.

  Telemachus pulled Patrick into the emperor’s box. The monk hugged the boy. There were tears in the monk’s eyes.

  Beth also hugged Patrick—and this one time he didn’t protest. A small red chicken welcomed Patrick by pecking at his foot.

  But not everyone was glad to see him safe. Two of the emperor’s guards came toward Patrick. Their swords were drawn.

  “Stop!” the emperor shouted. “The boy is with me!”

  The guards stepped back.

  The emperor looked as if he might say something else. But suddenly a prisoner let out a heartbreaking cry. A man in the arena had been wounded.

  The prisoners went still. And so did the people. The crowd gazed on the emperor for his decision.

  Should the wounded man live—or die? A thumbs-up from the emperor meant the man would live. A thumbs-down meant he would die.

  Telemachus turned to the emperor. He said, “May I?”

  “You wish to decide the man’s fate?” the emperor asked.

  Telemachus nodded. “If it pleases you,” he said.

  Honorius motioned for Telemachus to step forward.

  Telemachus moved to the edge of the emperor’s box. He raised his hand—his thumb was up.

  “In the name of Jesus who shed His blood for us,” the monk shouted, “don’t take pleasure in this bloodshed! Stop—in the name of Christ—stop!”

  There was a pause. Everyone was silent. The prisoners in the arena were still.

  Then men in the crowd began to shout, “Kill, kill, kill!”

  Beth covered her ears as the voices grew louder.

  Beth cried out, “No!”

  Honorius came to the edge. He waved his arms at the crowd. “Stop!” he shouted. “No more killing!”

  But the
crowd ignored their emperor. They kept shouting, “Kill, kill, kill!”

  Honorius gave up. He slumped in his throne. The chalice fell over. Red liquid spilled on the ground. Then the cup rolled to the foot of a guard.

  “Your Highness,” the guard said. “Here is your goblet.” He held it out to the emperor.

  Honorius waved it away with a flick of his hand. “I never want to see it again,” Honorius said. “Give it to the monk. I am not worthy.”

  The emperor looked at the crowd. His eyes were filled with sadness.

  “So this is what we’ve become,” Honorius said. “This is what I have allowed.”

  Telemachus took the cup. He looked at it sadly. “How can I offer this to the bishop?” he asked quietly. He looked at Patrick. “You take it. To remember what has happened here.”

  He placed the cup in Patrick’s hands.

  The crowd now screamed with fury. Redfaced men and women pressed toward the emperor’s box. They shook their fists at Telemachus for interrupting the games.

  “Stone the monk!” one man shouted.

  “Throw him in with the prisoners!” another man screamed.

  The emperor looked at Telemachus. “You must leave,” he said. “They’ll tear you to pieces.”

  “I’m not afraid of death,” the monk said.

  Honorius nodded to a guard, who stepped over to Telemachus.

  Telemachus understood. He gave a small smile to the children. “God be with you,” he said. “And may this day be the last of these terrible games.”

  The guard took him out through a small back door. Beth watched him disappear into the darkness beyond. “What about us?” she asked Patrick.

  Just then a gentle breeze swept through the box. The Imagination Station appeared.

  The door opened with a swoosh. The roar of the crowd stopped all at once. Everyone and everything seemed to freeze in place.

  “This is new,” Patrick said. What was happening?

  A tall knight stepped out of the Imagination Station. He was wearing full armor.

  Patrick and Beth gasped.

  “It’s time that you left,” the knight said. “The new moon comes quickly.”

  “Hey, you don’t belong here,” Patrick said. “Your armor is from England, not Rome.”

  “There will be time for talking later,” the knight said. “Now hurry! You must tell Mr. Whittaker to search for the golden tablet of Kublai Khan. He’ll understand.”

  The knight retreated into the machine. Beth wondered about Albert as she climbed into the Imagination Station.

  Patrick remembered the mysterious Lord Darkthorn’s tower as the door closed.

  Patrick looked behind him. “Where is the knight?” he asked. “Didn’t he get in?”

  “He disappeared,” Beth said.

  “But—how?” Patrick asked.

  “Let’s find out,” Beth said. She pushed the red button.

  The Next Adventure

  The Imagination Station door opened, letting in light.

  Mr. Whittaker leaned into view. “Welcome back,” he said.

  The two cousins gazed at him.

  Mr. Whittaker raised an eyebrow. “Is everything all right?” he asked. “Did you fi nd the cup?”

  Patrick lifted the silver chalice. “Here it is,” he said.

  Mr. Whittaker took it. He looked it over and then put it on the dashboard of the machine. “Wonderful!” he said. “Thank you. But why are you both frowning?”

  “We’re confused about how it ended,” Beth said.

  “Come out, and we’ll talk about it,” Mr. Whittaker said.

  Patrick and Beth climbed out of the machine.

  Patrick spoke first. “What happened to Telemachus, Mr. Whittaker?” he asked.

  “History is unclear about that,” Mr. Whittaker said. “Some legends claim that he was killed in the arena. Others say the crowd stoned him to death. Still other legends say that the Romans listened to Telemachus. They had a change of heart and left the arena in silence.”

  “I like that one best,” Beth said.

  “So do I,” Mr. Whittaker said. “We do know one thing for sure: Honorius stopped the Roman games because of Telemachus’s courage. The fight you saw was the very last one.”

  “They said the last man standing would be the hero,” Patrick said. “But it was Telemachus who was the hero.”

  “That’s right,” Mr. Whittaker said. “Or maybe you remember what Jesus said. ‘Greater love has no one than this, that he lay down his life for his friends.’”

  “Telemachus was ready to do that,” Patrick said.

  “But what about the knight?” Beth asked.

  “What do you mean?” Mr. Whittaker asked.

  “An English knight appeared with the Imagination Station,” said Patrick.

  Mr. Whittaker looked surprised. “An English knight appeared in Rome?”

  “He said we have to find the golden tablet of…” Patrick frowned. “What was the name? Kabab Cubes?”

  “Kublai Khan?” Mr. Whittaker asked with a laugh.

  “That’s the one!” Beth said.

  Mr. Whittaker rubbed his chin. “The golden tablet, huh?” he asked.

  “Who was the knight?” Beth asked. “Isn’t it weird he’d show up without your knowing it?”

  “It sure is,” Mr. Whittaker said. “But he must be connected to Albert and our quest.”

  “He was in the Imagination Station. But he disappeared when we got in,” Patrick said.

  “How can he jump around in time?” Beth asked. “He helped us out when we were in Greenland.”

  Mr. Whittaker thought about it for a moment. “I have some ideas,” he said. “But we’ll talk about it later. Meanwhile, you should get some rest. You have a big day tomorrow.”

  “We do?” Beth asked.

  “What are we going to do?” asked Patrick.

  “You’re going to China to find the golden tablet of Kublai Khan,” Mr. Whittaker said.

  Beth and Patrick searched for a silver cup. Now you can go on your own search. Find the Attack at the Arena words in the letter grid on the next page. (The words are hidden top-to-bottom or left-to-right.) Cross out the letters of those words. The leftover letters will spell the secret word—and you’ll know where to fi nd the special Bible verse on page 113.

  Write the leftover letters, in order, on the spaces below. The answer is the secret word (Don’t key in any numbers.)

  ___ ___ ___ ___ 15:13