Sunday, July 22, 2012

The Wabbit at the Circus Maximus

The Wabbit continued to glance behind him until he reached the Circus Maximus, a location he knew like the back of his paw. The Wabbit always visited the old Roman racing stadium when he was in town and he would hop round the circuit pretending to be Ben Hur. But he was suddenly aware of a curious and terrifying sight. Roman soldiers filled the stadium as far as his eyes could see. The Wabbit’s fur stood on end and a chill ran all the way down his back and straight to the end of his tail. For a moment he didn’t know what to do. And when he didn’t know what to do, he started analysing things. "It’s too few for a legion, too many for a cohort," he thought. Several maniples perhaps," surmised the Wabbit. "And all infantry, no equestrians." But the Wabbit knew that for all his analysing, there was an awful lot of them and he was only one. A cry rose from the soldiers. It was soft at first, barely a murmur. Then it grew loud and threatening, "Mortem! Mortem! Mortem ad Cuniculum!" The cry became deafening as the voice of the Romans swelled to fill the vast space. "Mortem! Mortem! Mortem!" they shouted as one. "I don’t like the way is going," thought the Wabbit," who planned to carry on living. "Stultus Lepus! Stultus, stultus, stultus!" shouted a row of soldiers. "Oh that’s it," muttered the Wabbit. "I’ve had quite enough of this." He bared all of his 28 teeth and hunched head down. "Age quod agis" yelled the Wabbit as he hopped forward to meet the enemy. But above the roar of the Romans he heard strange sounds from behind him - and so he chanced a quick glance over his shoulder ...