Greek Warriors. Chris Blake

      “I’m not a bo—” Isis began to protest.

      Tom nudged her. “Shh! Don’t let them know you’re a girl,” he whispered in Isis’s ear. “We might need to pass ourselves off as soldiers.”

      Isis nodded and held her tongue.

      Another angry soldier poked one of the workmen in the chest. He had a sweaty face and fierce, dark eyes. “It’s your fault we’re losing the war,” he snarled.

      The band of soldiers waved their fists in the air at the carpenters.

      “We blame you!” they yelled.

      “Get them, boys!” shouted the ringleader.

      

      There was a swoosh by Tom’s ear as a sword cut through the air. Then a deafening clang as it clashed against a carpenter’s saw.

      “You have displeased the gods!” the sword-wielding soldier cried. “Your wooden cow is terrible.”

      “It’s not a cow. It’s a horse, you idiot!” the workman shouted, waving his saw. “We’re going to win the war with that!”

      The group of soldiers and workmen were locked in a tussle that would have had Ares, the Greek god of war, in a spin.

      No wonder they’re losing the war, thought Tom. They’re too busy fighting each other.

      Tom looked for Isis and Cleo in the fray. Cleo was darting through the men’s legs and digging her claws into their shins. But where was Isis?

      “Let me through, you big, sweaty brutes!” Tom heard her cry.

      Finally he caught sight of her, kicking out at the men as they rained punches down on each other.

      “Isis!” Tom shouted, elbowing a soldier in the belly. “We’ve got to get out of here.”

      He held out his hand towards her. Isis was just about to take it when Tom spotted a tall, muscly carpenter holding a hammer above his head.

      “Out of my way, Spartan child soldier!”

      Tom squeezed his eyes shut and waited for the hammer to attack him. But the blow didn’t come.

      “Stop this fighting at once, you mules!” a commanding voice bellowed.

      Tom opened his eyes to see his attacker being pushed to the ground by an older man. He wore a fine breastplate and a helmet topped with a red plume.

      “Commanders! Come to my aid!” the man shouted.

      As Tom and Isis finally managed to prise themselves free, three important-looking men ran out of a large red tent pitched nearby.

      Tom could see the outside was decorated with the upside-down V symbol.