We swirl through time until the chronometer reads 65 BC and we start plummeting towards the ground. We land but this time we don’t stop moving. I peep out of the lid and realise why.
We’re hurtling along a chariot racing track in the middle of an Ancient Roman chariot race and, surprisingly, we don’t seem to be doing that badly. It looks like we’re in fourth place.
‘Oh dear,’ says the inspector. ‘This looks dangerous.’
‘Hey, look,’ says Terry, ‘an Ancient Roman Andy and an Ancient Roman Terry!’
Terry’s right! Ahead of us are two chariots—one being driven by someone who looks a lot like Terry and the other by someone who looks a lot like me.
Coming up behind them is a scary-looking woman driving a chariot with big spikes on its wheels.
She is getting closer and closer to Ancient Roman Andy’s chariot, and then the metal spike crashes through his wheel and smashes it to pieces!
His chariot skids wildly and tips over. Ancient Roman Andy is thrown from his chariot onto the racetrack.
He’s still holding onto his horse’s reins, though, and is being dragged along on his stomach.
‘Ouch,’ I say. ‘That’s gotta hurt!’
Our bin is slowing down but we’re still moving fast enough to catch up to him.
I lean out and reach towards him. ‘Give me your hand,’ I say.
‘What the maximus?’ he says. ‘Who are you?’
‘No time to explain,’ I say. ‘Just do it.’
He reaches up with one hand while still holding his reins in the other. The inspector and Terry hold on to me as I lean out and pull him into the bin.
‘I am Andronicus Grillius,’ he says, ‘and I thank you.’ He snaps the reins. ‘YAH!’ he yells, urging his horse on.
With Andronicus driving, we are going much faster than we were before. We’re back in the race!
‘We must beat Drusilla the Dreadful,’ says Andronicus, pointing to the driver of the chariot with spiked wheels. ‘She is the most feared and ruthless charioteer in Rome—she has already destroyed almost all the others.’
He’s not kidding. There is chariot wreckage everywhere.
‘Those spiked wheels seem very dangerous,’ says the inspector. ‘Surely there must be rules of some sort! It just doesn’t seem right.’
‘Alas,’ says Andronicus, ‘chariot racing rules have not been invented yet, and now she is after my friend Terencius Densus.’
Drusilla is gaining on the only other chariot (apart from ours) left in the race.
She drives in close and uses her wheel spike to destroy Terencius’s wheel. He jumps from his wrecked chariot onto his horse and rides after Drusilla.
Andronicus drives our bin up beside Terencius. ‘Join us, friend,’ he calls.
Keeping hold of his horse’s reins, Terencius leaps into our bin.
‘This is highly irregular,’ says the inspector. ‘The maximum capacity for a bin this size is four. We’d better not take on any more passengers.’
‘Don’t worry,’ I say. ‘There’s nobody else left to take on. It’s just us versus Drusilla now.’
With two horses pulling us we’re really starting to gain on Drusilla.
She looks back and glares at us.
‘I don’t like her,’ says Terry.
‘Me neither,’ says Terencius. ‘Nobody does.’
As we draw level, Drusilla the Dreadful veers towards us in order to wreck our bin with her terrible wheel spike. ‘Tibi delenda, losers!’ she snarls.
‘What does that mean?’ says Terry.
‘“You must be destroyed, losers”,’ says Andronicus.
‘Not on my watch,’ says the inspector, unfurling a long roll of bubble wrap. ‘Hold on to me, lads!’ he says.
Terencius takes the reins while the rest of us hold on to Inspector Bubblewrap.
The inspector leans out, his head only centimetres from the lethal spinning spike …
and holds out the bubble wrap. The wheel spike on Drusilla’s chariot catches the end of the bubble wrap. As it spins, it wraps the bubble wrap around itself, rendering the spike completely harmless.
Terencius manoeuvres our bin around to the other side of Drusilla’s chariot and the inspector bubble-wraps that spike as well.
We pull the inspector back into the bin.
‘Way to go, Inspector!’ says Terry.
‘That is the most dangerous thing I’ve ever seen anybody do!’ says Andronicus.
Inspector Bubblewrap smiles proudly and says:
‘I’m a safety inspector,
That’s what I do:
I make things safe
For me and you.
I’ll risk my life,
If that’s what it takes,
To make things safe
For all our sakes.’
Now the race gets really serious.
‘This is the final lap,’ says Andronicus. ‘We have done well, but Drusilla is going to win!’
‘If only we could get past her,’ says Terencius.
‘We can’t go past her,’ says the inspector. ‘But we can go over her!’
‘How?’ I say.
‘By using that pile of destroyed chariots as a ramp,’ he says. ‘That’s how.’
‘Are you sure?’ says Terry. ‘That sounds kind of dangerous.’
‘Of course I’m sure,’ says the inspector. ‘If there’s one thing I know about, it’s ramps: disabled-access ramps, freeway ramps, kerb ramps, folding ramps, boat ramps. Trust me, I know ramps.’
Inspector Bubblewrap takes the reins from Terencius and steers our wheelie bin towards an especially big pile of crashed chariots.
‘Everybody hold on tight!’ shouts the inspector. We rocket up the ‘ramp’ and fly through the air. We sail up and over Drusilla …
and cross the finish line. First!
The emperor rises to his feet and gives us two thumbs up, which makes the crowd go even crazier.
‘We won!’ says Andronicus. ‘Thanks to you, we won’t be put to death.’
‘You were going to be killed?!’ says Terry.
‘Yes,’ says Terencius. ‘But Caesar Proboscis Maximus has spared us. That’s what the two thumbs up means.’
‘Wow,’ says Terry, ‘Ancient Rome is a really dangerous place.’
‘Yes,’ says the inspector, ‘but it’s a little bit safer now, thanks to bubble wrap.’
Andronicus and Terencius climb out of the bin.
‘Thank you for your bravery, Inspector Bubblewrapus,’ says Andronicus.
‘We owe you our lives,’ says Terencius, ‘for you saved us with your courage, your knowledge of ramps and your strange, clear material with its many air pockets.’
‘That was an exciting race,’ says Terry. ‘It would make a great scene in a movie about Ancient Rome.’
‘It already has,’ I say.
‘Cool,’ says Terry. ‘Can we watch it when we get back to the treehouse?’
‘Sure,’ I say. ‘If we ever get back to the treehouse. But before we can do that we have to get to the building permit office.’
‘We’ll get there this time for sure,’ says Terry, ‘or my name’s not Terencius Densus.’
‘But it’s not Terencius Densus,’ I remind him.
‘Uh-oh,’ he says, as everything starts to swirllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllll …’
