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    Ditherus Wart: (Accidental) Gladiator
    Ditherus Wart: (Accidental) Gladiator
    Ditherus Wart: (Accidental) Gladiator
    Ebook108 pages58 minutes

    Ditherus Wart: (Accidental) Gladiator

    By Alan MacDonald and Mark Beech

    ()

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    About this ebook

    Based on the dubious members of the Wart family tree, each book will focus on the adventurous life and turbulent times of a different 'Wart' from pirate to gladiator as he (or she) experiences the peculiar misfortunes which befall all Warts throughout the centuries.

    Book 1 is set in Roman times. Emperor Porcus Maximus is coming for dinner and so Ditherus and his faithful slave Punio are sent (by Ditherus's mother) to market for supplies. But Ditherus is tempted into buying a sword from a mysterious peddler. Searched by centurion Marcus Furius when he gets home, Ditherus is thrown into prison when the sword is discovered and sentenced to death as a traitorous thief (with Punio). At the last minute Gutsus the gladiator arrives, looking to buy new recruits. Ditherus and Punio are taken to Gladiator School where the motto is 'Death or Glory - but most likely Death'. If ever Ditherus needed a cunning plan, it's now...

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    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherBloomsbury Publishing
    Release dateDec 20, 2012
    ISBN9781408819340
    Ditherus Wart: (Accidental) Gladiator
    Author

    Alan MacDonald

    Alan MacDonald has written over 150 books, including the Devil's Trade and Axel Feinstein series for Scholastic, along with titles in the Dead Famous, Pickle Hill Primary and Double Take series. He is also a regular writer for the Oxford Reading Tree and has had picture books published by Little Tiger Press. Alan MacDonald started his working life in a travelling theatre company. In addition to writing and directing plays, Alan trained as a drama teacher. He has written stories and dramas for the BBC (both television and radio), as well as many children's books. Alan lives in Nottingham.

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      Book preview

      Ditherus Wart - Alan MacDonald

      Chapter 1

      A Nasty Plot

      Porcus Maximus IV, noble Caesar, Emperor of Rome, sat back in his golden throne. It was a tight fit. Lately his throne had got smaller or else his rear had got bigger, which for someone with the mightiest bottom in Rome was a growing problem.

      ‘Sorry, Marcus,’ he yawned. ‘What were you saying?’

      ‘I was speaking of the war, Your Excellency,’ said Marcus Furius. As Captain of the Imperial Guard, Furius protected the Emperor and advised him on matters he didn’t understand. In Porcus Maximus’s case, this covered pretty much everything.

      ‘Ah, the war, good, and how is it coming along?’ asked Porcus.

      ‘Very badly,’ said Marcus Furius.

      ‘Oh dear! Badly? Remind me, who are we fighting at the moment?’

      ‘The Gauls.’

      ‘And they live in?’

      ‘Gaul, Your Mightiness.’

      ‘Ah yes, of course,’ said Porcus, who hadn’t the faintest clue where Gaul was. Like his bottom, the Roman Empire was expanding all the time and he found it difficult to keep up. ‘But surely,’ he said, ‘we’re meant to win the war or what is the point of us invading in the first place?’

      ‘As always Your Majesty is right,’ said Furius.

      ‘Yes, of course I’m right, but why are we losing? It’s very upsetting, Furius. Surely a bunch of girls can’t be that hard to beat.’

      ‘Gauls not girls, Majesty,’ sighed Furius. ‘There is a slight difference.’

      ‘Yes, yes,’ said Porcus. ‘But I am the Emperor and if we start losing wars it makes me look an idiot.’

      Furius was tempted to say the Emperor didn’t need any help looking an idiot but instead he rubbed his chin, and pretended to think.

      ‘Perhaps, Your Worthiness, it could be the fault of your general,’ he suggested with a sly, sideways look.

      ‘Ah, the general. He’s like the team captain, isn’t he? The one who decides which end we’re shooting into.’

      ‘Something like that, Majesty.’ Furius nodded.

      ‘And who is our team captain at the moment?’ asked Porcus.

      Marcus Furius narrowed his eyes. ‘I believe Caius Wart is leading our army.’

      ‘Wart?’ said the Emperor. ‘And what nincompoop put him in charge?’

      ‘You did, oh Gracious One. If you recall, I humbly offered my services but you felt Wart was a better choice.’

      ‘Did I? Ah. Hmm.’ Porcus blew out his cheeks. ‘Well, I’ve no doubt I was right, I usually am, after all I’m the Emperor and that makes me practically a god!’ He attempted to rise but found his god-like bottom was stuck fast.

      ‘Of course a truly great ruler sometimes changes his mind,’ suggested Furius.

      ‘What?’ said Porcus, still struggling to escape from his throne.

      ‘I was thinking, Your Honour, it’s not too late to remove Wart and promote someone else. Someone older, wiser, better-looking,’ said Furius, turning sideways to offer his best profile.

      ‘No, no one springs to mind,’ replied Porcus. ‘And besides, I’m sure Caius will beat these girls in the end, even if they are quite tough. He’s a splendid fellow, Caius, brave, clever, loyal – you could learn a lot from him, Furius.’

      ‘Yes, Your Flabbiness,’ muttered Furius.

      ‘Pardon?’

      ‘I said yes, Your Fabulousness.’

      ‘Now do help me up, it’s time for my morning bath,’ said the Emperor. I’ve ordered extra bubbles today.’

      Furius reached out a hand to his master and tried to prise him from his throne. It took a great deal of heaving and grunting before he finally shot out and landed on top of the Captain, flattening him like a folding deckchair.

      ‘Have that throne seen to,’ puffed the Emperor, ‘it needs letting out a bit. And by the way, where am I eating tonight?’ (Most nights Porcus Maximus dined out as a guest of one of his subjects. He liked to be seen in public and, besides, it saved him money.)

      ‘I believe Hilaria Wart has invited you to supper,’ replied Furius.

      ‘Oh, Hilaria. Do I know her?’

      ‘The wife of Caius Wart.’

      ‘Excellent! And will he be there too?’

      ‘No, Majesty, he is in Gaul with the army.’

      ‘Pity!’ said Porcus. ‘Splendid fellow, Caius, and his sons – all splendid too. Titus, Smitus and … um what’s the youngest one called?’

      ‘Ditherus, Majesty,’ said Marcus Furius.

      ‘Yes, that’s the one. Now back to important matters, Marcus: what in the name of Jupiter shall I wear tonight? Perhaps I should go in disguise? Remember the fun we had with Vesuvius when I arrived at his house dressed as Hades!¹’

      Marcus Furius waited until the Emperor had left the room, and snapped his fingers. Instantly a sinister-looking man dressed in black stepped out of the shadows, where he had been lurking for some time. Furius whispered in his ear and the man’s wrinkled face broke into a cruel smile. A moment later he left, hiding something under his dark robe.

      Furius watched him go. If his plan succeeded, Wart would no longer stand in his way. Then the

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