"Linda Evans - Time Scout 2 - Wages of Sin" - читать интересную книгу автора (Evans Linda)

Skeeter blinked. "Marcus isn't your real name?"
 He tried to smile. "It has been for more than eighteen years. And you
probably could not pronounce my own name any more than the Romans could. I
have grown accustomed to `Marcus' and so I am content to keep it.
Skeeter was staring at him as though he couldn't believe what he was
hearing. Marcus shrugged. "I have tried to explain, Skeeter. But no one here
understands."
"No, I, uh, guess not." He cleared his throat, the expression in his eyes
making Marcus wonder what Skeeter remembered. "Anyway, you were saying about
Rome..."
"Yes. I was taken to the city of Narbo on the coast of the Mediterranean
Sea, where I was put on a slave ship and sent to Rome, where I was kept in an
iron cage until the time came for me to be auctioned on the block." Marcus
gulped beer hastily to hide the tremors in his hands. Those particular
memories were among the ones that woke him up nights, shaking inside a layer
of cold sweat. "I lived in Rome from the time I was eight years of age."
Skeeter leaned forward. "Great. See, Agnes got me a free ticket through
Porta Romae, she's guiding on the tour this trip, and it's a pretty quiet two
weeks, only one day of public games, on the very last day. That's why she
could get me through as a guest."
Marcus shook his head. Poor Agnes. She hadn't been in La-La Land very long.
"You are shameful, Skeeter. Agnes is a nice girl."
"Sure is. I never could afford a ticket to Rome on my own. So anyway, I got
this great idea, see, but I've never been there, so I thought maybe you could
help me out?"
Marcus fiddled with his beer glass. "What is the idea?" He was always
cautious not to commit himself to any of Skeeter's perpetually shady schemes.
"It's perfect," Skeeter enthused, eyes sparkling with glee. "I wanted to do
a little betting-"
"Betting? On the games?" If that were all Skeeter wanted, he saw no harm in
it. It was strictly illegal, of course; but Marcus didn't know of a single
tourist who hadn't tried it. And it was so much less worse than what it might
have been, all Marcus felt was a kind of giddy relief. Maybe Agnes was a good
influence on Skeeter? "Very well, what did you want to ask me?"
Skeeter's grin revealed relief and triumph. "Where do I go? To make the
bets, I mean?"
Marcus chuckled. "The Circus Maximus, of course."
"Yeah, but where? The damned thing's a mile long!"
Ahh...
"Well ... The best place is on the Aventine side of the Circus, near the
spot where the gladiators enter the arena. They come in through the starting
boxes, of course, at the square end of the Circus, closest to the Tiber River.
But the public entrances closest to there are very popular betting sites, as
well. There are the professional gambling stalls, of course,"
Marcus mused, "but I would stay away from them. Most will find an excuse to
cheat a colonial blind. Of course, much of the betting takes place in the
stands themselves, while the bouts are underway." He wondered what Skeeter's
reaction would be to watching men butcher one another. Many tourists came back
physically ill.
"That's great, Marcus! Thanks! If I win, l'll cut you in on the deal."