No sooner had we sat down than a roar went up and a gladiator walked out. He had a long spear in his right hand, a small round shield in his left and on his head was a helmet that covered his entire head and face. A powder blue plume ran along it's crown like a punk rock mohawk; lots of small holes had been drilled in the front to help him breathe and see out. The arm that held the spear was padded along its entire length. "Hoplomachus," Osian shouted. He had to yell to be heard above the racket in the stadium. The man twisted the spear around his head and swung it in a horizontal arc; the crowd cheered. I was no expert, but he looked like he knew what he was doing. I decided it would be good if Hugh wasn't fighting him.
With Wales under the heel of Roman occupation, the odds are stacked against Megan and Hugh, but as they say in Latin…Audaces Fortuna Iuvat.
“It’s official, Hugh and I are time travelers, which I guess is kinda cool. We escaped from the tower of thirteenth century Flint Castle before they had a chance to capture and brutally torture us at any rate.”
“The not so cool? Well, in this time period the tower we jumped from has yet to be built. The modern city of Chester is called Deva Victrix and is a fortress full of Roman soldiers. Hugh has been hauled off to Gladiator School and I’m slaving away in a tavern close to the local brothel. “I won’t lie, as the weeks tick by I’m resigning myself to a life of servitude in Roman Britain, but the feast of Feronia brings a surprise, and there is a chance, albeit a slim one that we can escape. I’ll need help though and it could come from the most unlikely of sources. An annoyingly pretty, yet curiously attractive Celtic girl who works a couple of doors down.”