Stoutus lives in a large house on top of Quirinal Hill. When I got there, one of his servants led me through to the large walled garden at the back.
The first thing I saw was a huge statue of Stoutus. It was tall, rippling with muscles and holding a sword.
Then the real Stoutus stepped out from behind it. He was short, fat and munching on a chicken leg.
I wondered if Stoutus would be fit enough to train me, but then he dragged the heavy statue over to the edge of the garden with one hand. It looks like he still has the strength of a mighty warrior, even if he doesn’t look like one.
Stoutus handed me a wooden sword. ‘Show me what you can do, boy.’
I grabbed the sword with both hands and spun round and round. Stoutus seemed pretty unimpressed. He tossed the chicken bone over his shoulder and scowled.
I wondered what I could do to convince him. I closed my eyes and pretended I was Triumphus. Back when he was alive, I mean. I DIDN’T pretend to be a dead gladiator.
I mimed all Triumphus’s best moves, gripping the sword with my right hand and attacking in short, quick jabs.
Stoutus walked over, pulled my shoulders back and pushed my chin up. His hands were really greasy from the chicken.
‘Imagine the sword is part of your arm,’ he said.
This made me imagine a man with one really short arm and one long arm, and I had to stop myself sniggering. I took a deep breath, thought about Triumphus again, and tried a few more attack moves.
‘Okay,’ he said finally. ‘Tell your Dad I’ll take you on.’
I whooped with delight and threw my hands up in the air. Unfortunately, I let go of the sword, and it flew across the garden, narrowly missing Stoutus but hitting and smashing a pot. Gaah.
‘You can also tell him I’ll be sending a separate bill for damages,’ Stoutus said.
