Diary of Dorkius Maximus in Pompeii Read online

  Not that you’d have known from the reaction of the crowd. They gasped and cheered. I tried to explain to the man next to me how much better gladiator battles are back in Rome, but he got up and moved away. So did the man next to him, and the next man along. I didn’t care, because I ended up with practically a whole row to myself.

  After a few minutes, Celadus threw himself to the floor and Cresces plonked a foot on his chest. And that was it. The ‘entertainment’ was over.

  Back home, it would have been time to release some animals and have an awesome beast battle, but they didn’t bother with anything like that. It’s hardly surprising. Those two couldn’t even fight a kitten.

  June XX

  I was passing the Temple of Fortuna Augusta this afternoon when I noticed the forum baths right opposite. This seemed important to me for some reason, but I couldn’t put my finger on it. Then I remembered the words I’d seen scratched into the shelf in Numerius’s house: ‘Fortune looks over cold water.’

  The baths have a cold-water pool. What if Numerius left the words as a secret clue for someone clever like me to discover? I rushed into the baths to investigate.

  There was nobody in the pool and the water was so filthy it would make you dirtier instead of cleaner. As my eyes adjusted to the gloom, I noticed tiny letters etched into the rim of the pool. I leaned over the edge to examine them.

  My heart raced. Another clue! Numerius must have hidden something really important to go to all this effort.

  I heard footsteps approaching and jumped with fright. Unfortunately, this made me plop into the pool and I surfaced in time to see Pontius and Spurius wandering through.

  ‘This is Doltus Maximus,’ said Spurius. ‘He bathes with his clothes on because he’s a true Roman weirdo.’

  Pontius smiled and nodded and made his way through to the next pool. I waited in the cold water until he’d gone, then went outside to dry off.

  I can’t BELIEVE I’ve uncovered another secret clue. If only I had the slightest idea what it meant, I’d be even more excited.

  June XXI

  ‘Go from cold to hot, where the blind beast circles.’

  To be honest, I’m getting nowhere with the new clue.

  You could go from the cold pool to the hot pool in the baths, I suppose. But what would the ‘blind beast’ be? Some sort of eyeless sea monster? I know the public baths are dirty, but surely someone would notice if a blind beast lived in the bottom.

  It’s worth investigating, I suppose.

  UPDATE

  I just checked the hot pool and didn’t see any circling sea creatures. I saw Pontius lurking in the water, and he looks a bit like a monster. But he wasn’t circling and Numerius couldn’t have known he’d be there at the exact time I was looking.

  June XXII

  I was lying awake last night trying to work out the answer to the clue I’d found at the baths, when I came up with a much better idea. I invented a FOOLPROOF plan to get Pontius and Pullo to agree to the tax demands so we can leave Pompeii for good.

  I was thinking about how fascinated they were by the sacred chickens when I had my idea ...

  Here it is: Mum invites Pontius and Pullo round and tells them to ask the chickens if Pompeii should pay the extra tax. In the meantime, we’ve starved the chickens, so they’re bound to eat anything. When the chickens gobble the grain, Pontius and Pullo agree to the changes. We go home and I’m watching proper gladiators again in no time.

  UPDATE

  Dad loves my plan and Mum has invited Pontius and Pullo round tomorrow. This can’t fail.

  June XXIII

  Pontius and Pullo came round this afternoon, followed by Spurius, who pointed at me and said, ‘Dorkius Maximumass, weird Roman boy.’

  They agreed to consult the chickens about the tax as soon as it was suggested, which proves they COULD pay if they chose to.

  Pontius crouched down next to the chickens and asked, ‘Should we agree to the new tax demands?’

  Mum threw a handful of grain at the chickens, and I waited for them to start scoffing like crazy.

  Sure enough, the chickens rushed towards it, but then they backed off.

  ‘Come on,’ I said. ‘Get that lovely grain down your beaks.’

  Instead of gobbling, the chickens fled to the opposite side of the atrium. I couldn’t believe it. I’d been watching them all day to make sure they didn’t eat. Why weren’t they hungry?

  ‘It looks like we have our answer,’ said Pullo.

  ‘Thanks, chickens,’ said Pontius. ‘Your decision shall be final.’ And with that, they all sauntered out.

  Dad glared at me. ‘So much for your plan, Dorkius,’ he shouted.

  ‘It’s not my fault,’ I said. ‘Blame those stupid chickens.’

  ‘Don’t be rude about the chickens,’ said Mum. ‘I’m sure they did it for a reason.’

  ‘What has happened?’ asked the chef, strolling in from the kitchen and glancing down at the grain on the floor. ‘Didn’t the chickens like my new grain recipe? I mixed some delicious fish sauce in, to make it nicer for them.’

  AARRGH! My plan has failed and I’m trapped here all because of that stupid chef. Why did he think chickens loved eating fish? Has he seen them popping out on fishing trips?

  June XXIV

  This afternoon I heard Mum’s new friends going on about a demon that supposedly lives on Mount Vesuvius.

  Apparently, they’ve heard it growling, and sometimes it stomps around so heavily it makes the buildings shake all the way down here in Pompeii.

  They’re terrified the demon is going to come down and destroy the town, and they want the gods to shoo it away.

  I peered out into the atrium and noticed Pontius and Pullo were among Mum’s visitors. If even the town leaders are spouting this nonsense, what chance has anyone else got of keeping a level head?

  Pullo crouched down next to one of the chickens and asked, ‘How do we get the gods to chase the mountain demon away?’

  What was he playing at? That’s not how sacred chickens work. They can only give you ‘yes’ or ‘no’ answers, not detailed advice.

  Pullo stood up again. ‘They say we should make a sacrifice to appease the gods. Then they will send the demon away.’

  Unfortunately, it wasn’t the chickens Pullo had in mind for sacrificing. All Mum’s bonkers visitors hurried away to the market to buy a cow, wasting money that could be spent paying the extra tax Dad needs.

  UPDATE

  I’ve just had a horrible nightmare about being bitten by a demon. I woke up and found one of the chickens was pecking my head.

  I’ll never get back to sleep now. I know there’s no such thing as a mountain demon, but it’s difficult not to worry when every shadow looks like a twisted, snarling monster.

  Having said that, it might not be such a terrible thing if a demon DID turn up and eat the town, as long as we survived. At least we’d be allowed to go back home.

  June XXV

  I was desperate for the toilet on my way back from school today so I had to use the public loos. I usually hate them, because you have to go right in front of everyone else. But thankfully I found some that were totally deserted.

  I was just about to go when Pontius and Spurius came in. I tried to look away but Spurius pointed right in my direction and said, ‘Dullus Maximus, Roman weirdo.’

  Pontius nodded at me, sat down and started using the toilet. I can’t believe even the leaders of this shabby town go to the loo right in front of you. It’s hard to take them seriously when you’ve seen them poo. There’s a reason Cleopatra, Queen of Egypt, greets her people from a perfumed barge rather than straining away on a public lav.

  June XXVI

  I was passing the town’s bakery today when I felt a blast of heat from one of its ovens. I glanced inside the bakery and saw a donkey turning a mill.

  OF COURSE! This was the answer to Numerius’s second clue.

  Bakers use a donkey to turn the mill and grind the co
rn. And they cover its eyes so it doesn’t get too distracted. So the bakery is the hot place Numerius meant, and the donkey is the circling blind beast. GENIUS!

  I rushed inside to try and find the next clue, but one of the bakers accused me of trying to steal bread and chased me out with a knife. I was about to reason with him when I noticed some red graffiti scrawled around the doorway. Most of it was just the usual nonsense, like ‘Figulus loves Idaia’ or ‘This bread tastes like stone’, but there was a small line scrawled just above the door.

  This must be the final clue. At last I’m nearing the end of the trail Numerius laid down. The only problem is, I have NO idea at all what it means.

  June XXVIII

  I wandered around town today thinking about the clue. But when the answer finally came to me, I wished it hadn’t.

  I was approaching the forum when a horrible smell wafted into my nostrils. At once, I could see this was the place Numerius meant. The public toilets. What are toilets except rows where people go for relaxation and relief? And if my search was leading to the place UNDER them, I was going to have to climb INSIDE the sewer.

  I considered giving up. If Numerius had set a trail of clues that led to the inside of a toilet, he was obviously crazy. Who knows what he wanted me to discover? Maybe he was secretly living down there.

  But then I thought ... what if he’d hidden something REALLY secret down there, something he wanted only the most dedicated person – a true Roman hero – to find? Wouldn’t it be the ideal place?

  I had to investigate. One of the rows of seats had a hole smashed in the side, so I squeezed myself through and splashed down into the stream of water underneath.

  I found myself slipping on the squishy floor and had to steady myself on the slimy walls. The smell was so strong it made my eyes water, but I managed to hold my breath and look around. The holes above threw dim light on the narrow space. I tramped under each row of toilets, desperate to find a hidden object. But there was nothing except for a disgusting swamp of poo and wee.

  So this was it. Numerius WAS crazy after all. I’d followed the trail of a madman and ended up inside a public toilet.

  And that’s when I did what I’d promised myself I wouldn’t do. I began to wonder how things could possibly get worse.

  I heard feet stomping into the toilet above me. Loud voices were yakking about the mountain demon. Then, one by one, the circles of light above me disappeared.

  I won’t go into too much detail about what happened next, as I’ve spent the rest of today trying to force it out of my mind. I can only say that it was like being caught in a fart thunderstorm.

  I couldn’t even beg them to stop. They would have thought I was a toilet demon.

  I can’t write about my ordeal, but when it was over, I crawled out again and dashed into the baths. I threw myself into the cold pool and dunked myself under the water until I was finally clean.

  Pontius and Spurius passed by again. Spurius pointed at me and said, ‘Dirtius Maximus. Roman weirdo.’

  For once, I had to agree with him.

  June XXIX

  Dad has given up trying to talk sense into Pontius and Pullo, which is understandable. He’s arranging a meeting in the forum so he can address all the people of Pompeii directly. He thinks they’ll listen to reason and agree to pay the extra tax.

  I don’t have high hopes. The people of Pompeii are about as capable of listening to reason as Mum’s chickens.

  I’ll just have to hope he’s right, though. It’s my only chance of escape from this ridiculous stinky place.

  July I

  I was passing the theatre this morning when something occurred to me. The ‘rows of relaxation and relief’ could refer to the theatre, not the toilets. After all, people go there to relax, and they feel great relief at the end of a tense tragedy.

  My heart lifted – I might have solved the final clue. Then it sank again as I remembered I’d made myself endure the fart storm inside the toilets for nothing.

  I rushed inside the theatre and looked at the rows of stone seats. I couldn’t see anywhere to hide things.

  I got on to my hands and knees and crawled along the bottom row. There was a loose stone halfway along it. This was it! I’d finally reached the end of the secret trail!

  ‘What are you doing?’

  I looked over my shoulder. A girl was peering down at me. I couldn’t believe I’d got so distracted I’d forgotten to keep a watch out for snoopers.

  ‘I’m rehearsing for a play,’ I said.

  ‘Why are you on your hands and knees?’ asked the girl.

  ‘Er ... I’m playing a dog,’ I said. ‘Now if you don’t mind, I need to prepare. Bow wow wow!’

  I hoped my barking would make the girl go away, but she just stood there.

  ‘Bow wow wow,’ I tried again.

  ‘That’s fine,’ she said. ‘I just thought you might have come here because of Numerius.’

  ‘Bow wow ... oh,’ I said and got to my feet.

  ‘Er, no,’ said the girl. ‘You didn’t think the rows of relaxation and relief were the public toilets, did you?’

  ‘No,’ I said. ‘Of course not. I just thought you might have done. Anyway, never mind about that. I think I’ve found something.’

  I crouched down and pulled the stone out. There was a hollow gap behind and a scroll inside.

  ‘Brilliant!’ said the girl, as I grabbed the scroll and unravelled it.

  FRQJUDWXODWLRQV RQ ILQGLQJ WKLV VFUROO. EHIRUH L IOHG L SURPLVHG L ZRXOG QHYHU WHOO DQBRQH ZKDW L KDG GLVFRYHUHG. EXW LI BRX DUH FOHYHU HQRXJK WR EH UHDGLQJ WKLV BRX GHVHUYH WR NQRZ.

  WKURXJK PB VWXGLHV L KDYH GLVFRYHUHG WKDW WKH UHFHQW WUHPRUV KDYH EHHQ FDXVHG EB DLU PRYLQJ XQGHU WKH HDUWK. HYHQWXDOOB WKLV ZLOO FDXVH WKH PRXQWDLQ WR HASORGH. GHDGOB JDV ZLOO OHDN RXW, EXUQLQJ URFNV ZLOO IDOO DQG OLTXLG ILUH ZLOO IORZ.

  BHW ZKHQ L VKDUHG PB GLVFRYHULHV ZLWK SRQWLXV DQG SXOOR WKHB LQVLVWHG LW ZDV DOO FDXVHG EB D GHPRQ DQG WKUHDWHQHG PH LI L VSUHDG PB OLHV.

  EXW BRX DUH VPDUW HQRXJK WR KDYH IROORZHG WKH WUDLO DQG FUDFNHG WKH FRGH VR L DP VXUH BRX ZLOO KHHG PB ZDUQLQJ.

  OHDYH SRPSHLL ZKLOH BRX VWLOO FDQ.

  I think the man in the picture was Julius Caesar, because I recognized his silly hairstyle. But I have no idea what the writing was supposed to mean. All that fuss for a load of gibberish. Maybe Numerius was mad after all.

  July II

  The girl’s name is Decima. She’s also just moved here from Rome. Turns out, like me, she went to Numerius’s house to look for scrolls and got drawn into the trail of clues. Unlike me, she didn’t have to suffer a poo thunderstorm on the way.

  Decima’s dad owns some shops in Rome, and he’s brought loads of stuff to Pompeii to trade for fish sauce. I’m sure he’ll change his mind when he tastes the stuff, but in the meantime it will be good to have Decima, a fellow Roman, around.

  I went to her house today and we had another look at the weird message on the scroll. I didn’t get any further with it, but I told Decima I’d met Julius Caesar and he thought I was a BRILLIANT Roman hero. She seemed quite impressed.

  July III

  About two hundred people came to Dad’s meeting in the forum this afternoon. It wasn’t a bad turnout, especially as he admitted he was going to talk about boring tax matters.

  His speech was very clear, but I could tell it was going over the heads of the locals.

  When Dad finished, he asked the crowd if they had any questions.

  ‘Yeah,’ said a man at the back in a blue tunic. ‘What are you going to do about the demon on Mount Vesuvius?’

  ‘I meant tax questions,’ said Dad.

  ‘Will the demon stay away if we make more animal sacrifices?’ asked a woman with red hair. ‘I heard it has two heads.’

  ‘That’s enough!’ shouted Dad. ‘If I hear one more word about this stupid demon ...’

  Suddenly, the ground rumbled, jolting everything from side to side. A cart loaded with jars of fish sauce overturned and spil
led its stinky contents. A chunk of stone crashed down from the roof of the temple, and Dad had to leap out of the way.

  ‘It’s the demon!’ shouted the woman with red hair. ‘You’ve angered it. It heard you calling it stupid.’

  The crowd scattered and I wandered over to Dad, who slumped down on the steps.

  ‘I told you they were an odd bunch,’ I said. ‘Never mind. We’ll be home soon.’

  Dad looked down at his scroll and sighed.

  ‘No, we won’t,’ said Dad. ‘Julius Caesar said I can’t return until they’ve agreed to pay the extra tax.’

  ‘WHAT?’ I shouted. ‘You said we were just here for the summer.’

  ‘That’s how long I thought it would take,’ he said. ‘Still, at least your mother’s happy. She’d stay here forever, given the chance.’

  Never mind her. What about me? I can’t stay here forever. I’m destined to be a great Roman hero, not a fish sauce seller in some irrelevant little backwater. BAH!

  July IV

  This morning I told Decima about Dad’s meeting. Like everyone else, she was more interested in the mountain demon than the tax reforms. Unlike the others, she thought that the idea there is a monster was a load of superstitious nonsense.