Greek Warriors by Chris Blake

looked better on King Priam,” grumbled Isis.
    â€œWell, it’s MINE now – as it should have been all along,” said Anubis. The god glanced round the supermarket. “So much CHOICE,” he said, drumming his fingers on the freezer cabinet.
    But Tom had a feeling Anubis wasn’t deciding what brand of frozen pizza to buy.
    â€œDecisions, decisions. I just don’t know where to send you children next.” He bared his sharp teeth and snarled. “But don’t worry, one thing’s for certain – it will make the Trojan War look like a walk in the park!”
    Then, before Tom could say anything, Anubis and the ring disappeared.
    â€œWell, that’s that,” Tom said, pushing the trolley along. “Another adventure over.”
    â€œFour down, two to go,” Isis replied. “And then
finally
I can get to the Afterlife.” She punched the air with excitement. A shower of crusty bandage flakes drifted down into the trolley.
Mum would have a fit if she could see that all the food was covered in ancient mummy dust,
thought Tom.
    Mum looked down at the sweetcorn that Anubis had scattered over the floor.
    â€œDid you make this mess?” she asked Tom, putting one hand on her hip.
    Tom shook his head, while Isis giggled in the trolley.
    â€œGood. I don’t want another argument with the manager!” Mum said.
    Tom turned back to Isis and whispered, “I wonder where we
will
end up next.”
    â€œHow about the sweets aisle?” Isis suggested.
    With Mum convinced that nothing out of the ordinary had gone on, Tom pushed Isis towards his favourite section.
    â€œFruit and nut or milk?” he asked, as they looked at the chocolate.
    But Isis wasn’t listening. She was sitting in the bottom of the trolley, deep in thought and surrounded by food.
    â€œPoor King Priam,” she said, resting her chin in her hand. “I wish we could have saved him.”
    Tom picked a big bar of milk chocolate off the shelf. “We can give history a nudge in the right direction, but we can’t change its course,” he said.
    â€œI think he was probably a nice king.”
    â€œWhy do you say that?” asked Tom, heading towards the checkout, where Mum was standing, waiting in the queue.
    â€œI don’t know,” said Isis. “But there was something about him that really reminded me of my father.”
    â€œBut your father was an Egyptian pharaoh. Wasn’t he a lot younger than King Priam, too?”
    â€œYEEEEESSSS,” Isis said, sounding annoyed. “I said he reminded me of my father. Not that he looked like him or anything.
Obviously
!”
    Tom wanted to say something cutting back, but he knew Isis hadn’t seen her own family for over five thousand years. Nor would she, until she got to the Afterlife.
    In a quiet voice, Isis explained. “I just meant that he seemed nice – like my father.”
    Tom thought about how much he’d miss his own dad if he couldn’t see him. And his mum too. He desperately wanted to cheer Isis up. “Don’t worry, you’ll be in the Afterlife soon – we’ll find those last two amulets, I promise.”
    He held up the bar of chocolate. “And in the meantime, try some of this!”
    Isis and Tom both munched big squares of chocolate.

    â€œYum!” said Isis, chocolate dribbling on to her bandages, “I hope there are sweets in the Afterlife…”
    As Mum chatted to the lady on the checkout, Tom packed the shopping into bags and Isis polished off the rest of the bar.
    The chocolate certainly seemed to be doing the trick. Isis stood up in the trolley and laughed mischievously.
    Tom looked nervously at her. “What are you up to, Isis?” he asked.
    Cleo scrambled into the child seat and meowed with excitement.
    â€œGiddy up, horsey!” Isis shouted.
    Tom grinned and set off at a jog, pushing Princess Isis and Cleo on a chariot ride to