Free The Captive Celt by Terry Deary Page A

me.” Her too-fat face turned red and she roared, “You are a slave, you uncaring Celt. You do as I say.”

    â€œI do as your father, my master, says,” I argued.
    â€œAnd my father told you that today you would protect me. So protect me.”
    â€œWhat do you want me to do?”
    â€œTake your stick and beat that woman who trampled on my toe!”

    â€œWhich woman?” I asked.
    The crowd had swirled on and the figures and faces had shifted like shapes in the clouds on a windy day.
    We had clouds like that back in Britannia. I would lie on my back and watch them change. I would see animals and monsters come and melt away.

    Here in Rome, they had endless days of clear, blue sky.
    In Britannia, we had fields and forests of fifty shades of green, morning skies of lemon and amber, and evening skies of scarlet and pink. Britannia had the colours of the rainbow. Rome had the colours of mud.

    â€œHa!” limp-haired Livia jeered. “Call yourself a warrior! What warrior sheds tears because a girl shouts at him?”
    If a tear ran down my face, it was not because of Livia. It was the memory of Britannia that was hurting my heart.
    I brushed it away. The slave collar burned my neck and I longed to be free of it.
    One day my life will change, I thought. I know it will.

FOUR
    â€œNo wonder the Romans defeated you Celts when you cry like girls,” Livia sneered.
    â€œThey cheat – the Romans cheat!” I raged. “They hide in the woods and kill our warriors on holy ground!”
    The noisy crowds stopped to look at me, a slave, standing on the dusty street, shouting at a noble girl. They probably wanted to see me executed for my cheek – the Romans love to watch a good execution.
    I bit my lip to stop my ranting and breathed deeply. I walked on towards the large wooden stadium, the Circus Maximus.

    â€œThe Romans took us by surprise,” I told her, more quietly. “They would never have beaten us in open battle. It was Midwinter’s Day and we were going to the holy wood to make our sacrifice.”
    â€œHa!” Livia laughed bitterly. “Human sacrifices. Yes, I’ve heard your priests do that. We kill goats and lambs, and offer them to our gods. But you kill humans. That’s why you have to be defeated. The Romans are saving the world from barbarians like you.”
    â€œBut you kill people for fun!” I spat. “You have your games, where men and women are torn apart by lions and bears, where they’re made to fight to the death, just for sport. You’re evil … all of you Romans. Evil!”
    I felt better for saying that. But a crowd was gathering close by. A group of men had made a circle around me. They had no weapons, but their huge fists and boots could easily crush me.
    â€œWhat do we do with slaves that rebel?” a fat one burbled.
    â€œBeat them till they’ve learned their lesson,” his friend hissed.

    There was no escape – the crowd was packed too tightly. I was ready to die.
    But then a soldier pushed his way through the mob and raised his sword. “That’s enough,” he snarled.

    â€œWe have Roman law to deal with this – you can’t defeat the barbarians by acting like barbarians.”
    The men nodded, and began to move away. Only Livia stood there, red faced and furious. “What will you do to him?” she screeched.
    â€œWhat we do with all rebel slaves,” the man shrugged. “Crucify him. Fasten him to a cross by the side of the road into Rome. Leave him to die slowly. Show the world what happens to animals like him.”
    â€œGood,” Livia snorted and walked away.
    â€œThanks, officer,” I muttered.

FIVE
    I was taken to the camp of the emperor’s guard in the centre of Rome. I’d been past the gates many times, and seen the troops marching and training. These were men who fought and beat the rest of the world.

    As it was a holiday,