The Son of Neptune

really obvious. Their footsteps echoed on the stones. Hazel tried to avoid eye contact, but she caught Octavian at the head of the First Cohort smirking at her, looking smug in his plumed centurion’s helmet with a dozen medals pinned on his chest.

Hazel was still seething from his blackmail threats earlier. Stupid augur and his gift of prophecy – of all the people at camp to discover her secrets, why did it have to be him? She was sure he would have told on her weeks ago, except that he knew her secrets were worth more to him as leverage. She wished she’d kept that bar of gold so she could hit him in the face with it.

She ran past Reyna, who was cantering back and forth on her pegasus Scipio – nicknamed Skippy because he was the colour of peanut butter. The metal dogs Aurum and Argentum trotted at her side. Her purple officer’s cape billowed behind her.

‘Hazel Levesque,’ she called, ‘so glad you could join us.’

Hazel knew better than to respond. She was missing most of her equipment, but she hurried to her place in line next to Frank and stood at attention. Their lead centurion, a big seventeen-year-old guy named Dakota, was just calling her name – the last one on the roll.

‘Present!’ she squeaked.

Thank the gods. Technically, she wasn’t late.

Nico joined Percy Jackson, who was standing off to one side with a couple of guards. Percy’s hair was wet from the baths. He’d put on fresh clothes, but he still looked uncomfortable. Hazel couldn’t blame him. He was about to be introduced to two hundred heavily armed kids.

The Lares were the last ones to fall in. Their purple forms flickered as they jockeyed for places. They had an annoying habit of standing halfway inside living people, so that the ranks looked like a blurry photograph, but finally the centurions got them sorted out.

Octavian shouted, ‘Colours!’

The standard-bearers stepped forward. They wore lion-skin capes and held poles decorated with each cohort’s emblems. The last to present his standard was Jacob, the legion’s eagle bearer. He held a long pole with absolutely nothing on top. The job was supposed to be a big honour, but Jacob obviously hated it. Even though Reyna insisted on following tradition, every time the eagleless pole was raised, Hazel could feel embarrassment rippling through the legion.

Reyna brought her pegasus to a halt.

‘Romans!’ she announced. ‘You’ve probably heard about the incursion today. Two gorgons were swept into the river by this newcomer, Percy Jackson. Juno herself guided him here, and proclaimed him a son of Neptune.’

The kids in the back rows craned their necks to see Percy. He raised his hand and said, ‘Hi.’

‘He seeks to join the legion,’ Reyna continued. ‘What do the auguries say?’

‘I have read the entrails!’ Octavian announced, as if he’d killed a lion with his bare hands rather than ripping up a stuffed panda pillow. ‘The auguries are favourable. He is qualified to serve!’

The campers gave a shout: ‘Ave!’ Hail!

Frank was a little late with his ‘ave’, so it came out as a high-pitched echo. The other legionnaires snickered.

Reyna motioned the senior officers forward – one from each cohort. Octavian, as the most senior centurion, turned to Percy.

‘Recruit,’ he asked, ‘do you have credentials? Letters of reference?’

Hazel remembered this from her own arrival. A lot of kids brought letters from older demigods in the outside world, adults who were veterans of the camp. Some recruits had rich and famous sponsors. Some were third- or fourth-generation campers. A good letter could get you a position in the better cohorts, sometimes even special jobs like legion messenger, which made you exempt from the grunt work like digging ditches or conjugating Latin verbs.

Percy shifted. ‘Letters? Um, no.’

Octavian wrinkled his nose.

Unfair! Hazel wanted to shout. Percy had carried a goddess into camp. What better recommendation could you want? But Octavian’s family had been sending kids to camp for over a century. He loved reminding recruits that they were less important than he was.

‘No letters,’ Octavian said regretfully. ‘Will any legionnaires stand for him?’

‘I will!’ Frank stepped forward. ‘He saved my life!’

Immediately there were shouts of protest from the other cohorts. Reyna raised her hand for quiet and glared at Frank.

‘Frank Zhang,’ she said, ‘for the second time today, I remind you that you are on probatio. Your godly parent has not even claimed you yet. You’re not eligible to stand for another camper until you’ve earned your first stripe.’

Frank looked like he might die of embarrassment.

Hazel couldn’t leave him hanging. She stepped out of line and said, ‘What Frank means is that Percy saved both our lives. I am a full member of the legion. I will stand for Percy Jackson.’

Frank glanced at her gratefully, but the other campers started to mutter. Hazel was barely eligible. She’d only got her stripe a few weeks ago, and the ‘act of valour’ that earned it for her had been mostly an accident. Besides, she was a daughter of Pluto, and a member of the disgraced Fifth Cohort. She wasn’t doing Percy much of a favour by giving him her support.

Reyna wrinkled her nose, but she turned to Octavian. The augur smiled and shrugged, like the idea amused him.

Why not? Hazel thought. Putting Percy in the Fifth would make him less of a threat, and Octavian liked to keep all his enemies in one place.

‘Very well,’ Reyna announced. ‘Hazel Levesque, you may stand for the recruit. Does your cohort accept him?’

The other cohorts started coughing, trying not to laugh. Hazel knew what they were thinking: Another loser for the Fifth.

Frank pounded his shield against the ground. The other members of the Fifth followed his lead, though they didn’t seem very excited. Their centurions, Dakota and Gwen, exchanged pained looks, like: Here we go again.

‘My cohort has spoken,’ Dakota said. ‘We accept the recruit.’

Reyna looked at Percy with pity. ‘Congratulations, Percy Jackson. You stand on probatio. You will be given a tablet with your name and cohort. In one year’s time, or as soon as you complete an act of valour, you will become a full member of the Twelfth Legion Fulminata. Serve Rome, obey the rules of the legion and defend the camp with honour. Senatus Populusque Romanus! ’

The rest of the legion echoed the cheer.

Reyna wheeled her pegasus away from Percy, like she was glad to be done with him. Skippy spread his beautiful wings. Hazel couldn’t help feeling a pang of envy. She’d give anything for a horse like that, but it would never happen. Horses were for officers only, or barbarian cavalry, not for Roman legionnaires.

‘Centurions,’ Reyna said, ‘you and your troops have one hour for dinner. Then we will meet on the Field of Mars. The First and Second Cohorts will defend. The Third, Fourth and Fifth will attack. Good fortune!’

A bigger cheer went up – for the war games and for dinner. The cohorts broke ranks and ran for the mess hall.

Hazel waved at Percy, who made his way through the crowd with Nico at his side. To Hazel’s surprise, Nico was beaming at her.

‘Good job, Sis,’ he said. ‘That took guts, standing for him.’

He had never called her Sis before. She wondered if that was what he had called Bianca.

One of the guards had given Percy his probatio nameplate. Percy strung it on his leather necklace with the strange beads.

‘Thanks, Hazel,’ he said. ‘Um, what exactly does it mean – your standing for me?’

‘I guarantee your good behaviour,’ Hazel explained. ‘I teach you the rules, answer your questions, make sure