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“A soothsayer bids you beware the Ides of March.”

“Set him before me, let me see his face.”

Jane sat upon her father’s shoulders, watching the Romans move around on stage. Even though she knew it was just a story she still expected a gladiator to invade the audience. Her brother had told her that the women walking upon the stage were really men beneath their costumes, Jane found it hard to believe. He was probably lying like the time he swore he saw Spanish Ghost Ships floating down the coast where they lived.

She laughed and screamed with the crowd as Caesar was struck down with Brutus’ cruel dagger. She waited eagerly for the moment when Anthony would stand above the most noble of all the Romans. By the end of the play, Jane wasn’t sure whether to cheer or cry as the actors bathed in the clapping that they received from the crowd.

“You know it’s a good play when you have to walk through rotten vegetables,” Jane’s father said, his feet squishing against the ground. “The groundlings only throw them when the play’s boring.”

Jane giggled and ducked her head under the archway as she emerged on the streets of London. Finely dressed men and women were already marching down in the opposite direction, eagerly discussing the new play as Jane and her father started walking back to her home. Her father pulled her from his shoulder and dropped her gently to the floor. The cobbled streets pattered against their feet as they slipped between the tall wooden houses and passed the shops that sat upon the bridge.

“Daddy, can we go to another play?” Jane asked.

“Maybe in a while,” her father replied, taking her hand in his own. “Your brother and I are playing a game of football tomorrow.”

“Can I play?”

“No, best not,” her father said. “Football is no place for a little girl.”

Jane frowned and kicked at the ground. She knew her father was probably right; it was a vicious game and yet it looked so much fun. She had watched once as the entire town had gone to play the game, the ball being thrown around and caught.

One man who had ran with the ball was punched to the ground, where he bled as the ball was plucked from his hand and thrown back down to the other end of the town. The game only ended after seven hours when one team finally managed to throw the ball with an almighty throw into the goal at the far end of the town. Everyone disappeared to drink in the taverns and inns after the game.

Then again, while football seemed exciting it had no Romans, battles, ghosts and long speeches of words she barely understood and yet knew were amazing. She could settle for missing out on a game of football if she could go and see another play by the famous William Shakespeare.

Here is Richard reading the story to you.

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