by Tim Collins
This is clearly nonsense, but I didn’t argue. Anything to get my training.
March XVI
Stoutus lives in a large house on top of Quirinal Hill. When I got there, one of his servants led me through to the large walled garden at the back.
The first thing I saw was a huge statue of Stoutus. It was tall, rippling with muscles and holding a sword.
Then the real Stoutus stepped out from behind it. He was short, fat and munching on a chicken leg.
I wondered if Stoutus would be fit enough to train me, but then he dragged the heavy statue over to the edge of the garden with one hand. It looks like he still has the strength of a mighty warrior, even if he doesn’t look like one.
Stoutus handed me a wooden sword. ‘Show me what you can do, boy.’
I grabbed the sword with both hands and spun round and round. Stoutus seemed pretty unimpressed. He tossed the chicken bone over his shoulder and scowled.
I wondered what I could do to convince him. I closed my eyes and pretended I was Triumphus. Back when he was alive, I mean. I DIDN’T pretend to be a dead gladiator.
I mimed all Triumphus’s best moves, gripping the sword with my right hand and attacking in short, quick jabs.
Stoutus walked over, pulled my shoulders back and pushed my chin up. His hands were really greasy from the chicken.
‘Imagine the sword is part of your arm,’ he said.
This made me imagine a man with one really short arm and one long arm, and I had to stop myself sniggering. I took a deep breath, thought about Triumphus again, and tried a few more attack moves.
‘Okay,’ he said finally. ‘Tell your Dad I’ll take you on.’
I whooped with delight and threw my hands up in the air. Unfortunately, I let go of the sword, and it flew across the garden, narrowly missing Stoutus but hitting and smashing a pot. Gaah.
‘You can also tell him I’ll be sending a separate bill for damages,’ Stoutus said.
March XVII
I’ve spent the whole afternoon in the atrium practising my attacks. I can’t believe I’ve got to wait two whole days for my next lesson.
When Dad came home, I showed him my moves and told him about how I was going to become a mighty hero.
After a couple of minutes, he went off to his room and sent a slave down to see me.
I asked the slave what was going on, and he said that Dad had put him on listening duty. I can’t believe Dad off-loaded the task of listening to his own son to a slave. SO rude!
The slave sat there for a couple of hours. He smiled and nodded at first, but after a while his mouth started to sag and his hands trembled.
Eventually he ran out of the room shouting, ‘I can’t take it any more.’
What a silly, ungrateful little man. When you consider all the boring scrubbing and cleaning he usually has to do, you’d think it would be a treat to listen to me.
I told Dad to whip the slave, but he said he’d been punished enough for one night. I didn’t really understand what he meant. Maybe he’s already beaten him for something.
March XVIII
Cornelius, Gaius and Flavia came round this morning and I told them about my combat training. Cornelius must have been jealous because he kept teasing me about my out-of-date mosaic.
In the afternoon, we went to the forum for a game of hide and seek. I found a really cool hiding place behind some baskets of figs next to the sandal store, and crouched into a tight ball.
When no one had found me after five minutes, I was pretty pleased with myself. But when they hadn’t turned up after twenty minutes … not so great.
Sure enough, I walked back to the forum to see everyone pointing and laughing at me.
‘We didn’t even look for you,’ sniggered Cornelius. ‘We just wanted to see how long you’d wait before giving up. Happy Hilaria.’
Gaah! I had forgotten that Julius Caesar had announced that today was a special festival of Hilaria, when everyone gets to play pranks on each other. ‘You can’t play tricks on me,’ I said. ‘I’m going to be a mighty hero one day.’
‘A mighty hero?’ asked Cornelius. ‘You’d be about as much use in a battle as a dead gladiator.’
I considered attacking him, but I thought I’d better wait until I’d had more training. So I walked away instead.
Gaius came running after me. ‘Sorry about that,’ he said. ‘It was Cornelius’s idea. He’s been playing pranks all day. He tied my sandal straps together this morning, so you got off quite lightly, really.’
I came up with a great Hilaria prank this evening. I went out into the garden, where I found a slave woman called Delia. I told her that we were short of money, so we were going to sell her to a slave trader.
I can’t believe I kept a straight face. I’m MUCH better at jokes than Cornelius.
Maybe I’m a little too good, because Delia burst into tears and begged me to let her stay. I tried to explain it was just a trick, but this only made her wail louder.
Dad came rushing out to see what was happening. He made me apologize to Delia, which I thought was a bit much.
He NEVER apologizes to our slaves when he whips them. So why should I have to apologize for trying to liven things up with a practical joke?
March XIX
I had a great lesson about defending myself from attack today. Stoutus handed me a metal shield and explained how the army uses them to fight in a ‘tortoise’ formation.
Unfortunately, the shield was so heavy it toppled over and pinned me to the ground. I pretty much looked like a tortoise, but I wouldn’t have been much use in battle.
Stoutus got a big plate from his kitchen and told me to pretend it was a shield. Then he attacked me with a wooden sword and I had to dodge his blows.
It took me a while to get the hang of it, and Stoutus managed to land lots of hits on me. But he soon grew tired and slow.
He might have been a great fighter in his day, but now he runs out of energy pretty quickly and gets out of breath.
The lesson ended when I blocked an attack with so much force that the plate shattered. I was quite proud of my strength, despite the damage.
Stoutus said he’d add it to the bill. I must make sure I’m not around when Dad gets that.
March XX
DISASTER! I went to the barber today and now I have the most ridiculous haircut EVER.
‘Give me the hairstyle of a noble Roman hero,’ I demanded as I sat down.
The idiot then clipped the top of my head totally bald, and brushed the hair from the back of my head forward.
‘What are you doing?’ I asked.
‘Giving you the hairstyle of a noble Roman hero,’ he said. ‘Julius Caesar, to be precise. He sweeps his hair forward to cover his baldness. He also wears a crown of laurel leaves to distract people. You should probably get one of those on your way home.’
‘I can’t walk around with leaves on my head,’ I said. ‘Everyone will tease me.’
‘No one teases Caesar.’
‘Of course no one teases Caesar. He’s Caesar. He could wear a curly wig and a dress and no one would tease him.’
‘Well, it’s too late now, Dorkius,’ said the barber. ‘You’ll have to be clearer next time.’
Like there’s going to be a next time. I’d rather grow my hair long like a stinky barbarian than go back to that loser.
March XXI
Cornelius, Gaius and Flavia turned up today to see if I wanted to play hide and seek.
‘No way,’ I said. ‘You’ll only play tricks on me and tease me.’
‘We won’t,’ said Gaius. ‘That was just Cornelius, and he’s stopped now.’
‘It’s true,’ said Cornelius. ‘I’ve not even mentioned your new hairstyle yet. That proves I’ve changed.’
‘That’s it,’ I said. ‘I’m NOT coming.’
‘I’m only joking,’ said Cornelius. ‘I swear on my family’s honour I won’t do anything mean.’
When we got to the forum, Gaius counted
first. I was about to run to the back of the bakery, when Cornelius dragged me a different way.
‘I’ve found a brilliant new place to hide,’ he whispered, leading me across a quiet street and down an alley between rows of tall townhouses. ‘Let’s hide down here,’ he said, guiding me to a spot underneath a high window. ‘Gaius’ll never find us.’
So, like an idiot, I pressed myself against the wall, while Cornelius moved a little way away and giggled into his hand. I heard a rustling overhead and looked up to see a woman fling something out of a pot. Brown, gloopy stuff flew down. She was emptying poo out of a chamber pot. Gaah.
I darted aside like a swift gladiator, and the poo splattered down next to me. Thank the gods for my defence training. I’d never have managed to duck out of the way in time without it. Cornelius cracked up laughing.
‘No, it missed me,’ I shouted.
But then, right on cue, the woman threw out another potful. This time it splashed down the side of my leg. And Cornelius laughed even louder as I tried to shake off the brown sludge.
‘I thought you swore on your family’s honour that you wouldn’t trick me,’ I said.
‘My family hasn’t got any honour,’ said Cornelius. ‘They’re even bigger losers than you.’
Then he ran over, lifted up my flap of hair, and slapped my forehead underneath it. I wonder if anyone does that to Julius Caesar? It would certainly explain all those wars he keeps starting.
March XXII
More combat training today. As I was practising with the wooden sword, Stoutus told me all about the wars he has fought in.
Whenever Dad talks about his army days, he uses it as an excuse to drone on about glory and honour. But Stoutus tells me about cool, gory stuff like decimation, which is a punishment given to cowardly soldiers.
Pretty ruthless, eh? I hope I get to be ruthless one day.
Stoutus’s army tales were really cool, so I asked if I could switch to a real sword. He made me promise to be extra careful, and then handed me a double-edged blade.
I held it up and tried to imagine all the barbarians he’d hacked with it. I called on the gods to make me as strong and fierce as Stoutus in his prime. Unfortunately, the gods either weren’t listening or had better things to grant, because the sword slipped out of my hand and gashed my leg.
Stoutus said we should quit the training before I chopped my own head off and Dad murdered him in revenge. I said Dad would probably be more likely to thank him than kill him if that happened.
Stoutus asked if I wanted him to carry me home. My leg was hurting so much that I was tempted, but I didn’t want to risk Cornelius seeing me, so I said I was fine and hopped back.
March XXIII
I smell like something that should be served up at a dinner party. Why? Because Mum noticed my leg this morning and raced off to fetch her doctor, Vibius.
He stumbled into my room and examined my leg. Then he fished a clump of unwashed lamb’s wool out of his bag. It’s his answer to everything – he probably gets it cheap somewhere.
Then Vibius went to work:
I. First he dipped the wool in vinegar, and rubbed it on my wound, which made it hurt a MILLION times worse.
II. Then he dabbed the wool in honey, and smeared it on my neck.
III. Then he dabbed it in egg yolk and wiped it down my arms.
IV. Finally, he tipped my head back and poured wine down my nostrils, which made me feel like I was drowning.
Afterwards, he looked at me and nodded, as if he’d just performed a miracle rather than coating me in random cooking ingredients. Mum thanked him and handed over a massive stack of coins.
And how does my leg feel after all that so-called treatment? Worse, of course.
March XXIV
Well, this is just great. Dad decided my combat lessons are too dangerous, so he cancelled them. Worse still, he brought boring Lucius back for another maths lesson.
I spent all morning staring at my pen and wishing it were a sword, so I could chop Lucius’s head off. He must have sensed I was in a bad mood, because he kept giving me harder and harder sums to do.
Gaius came round this afternoon. I showed him my leg and told him I’d injured it in a sword fight. He seemed pretty impressed, but he’d have been less impressed if I’d mentioned that the fight was with MYSELF.
I told him about the prank Cornelius played, and he tutted. ‘Cornelius has been acting like a complete pile of barbarian poo recently,’ he said. ‘Yesterday he wrote ‘Gaius loves Flavia’ on the wall opposite her house. Her dad went nuts.’
‘Let’s get revenge on him,’ I said.
‘We could make him wait under a window while someone empties their chamber pot,’ suggested Gaius.
‘No, we need to take things up to the next level,’ I said. ‘Let’s tie raw meat to his arms and legs and throw him to a pack of wild dogs.’
‘Or we could write that HE loves Flavia on the wall opposite her house,’ said Gaius.
It was obvious that Gaius isn’t an original thinker like me, so I waited for him to go before I thought about the best way to get revenge.
March XXV
I’ve come up with a totally brilliant plan to get revenge on Cornelius. Here goes:
I. Gaius persuades Cornelius to play hide and seek in the large graveyard at the edge of town.
II. On the way there, Gaius tells Cornelius that a ghost has been spotted inside.
III. I cover my face and arms with chalk and wait behind the gravestone opposite the entrance.
IV. Gaius coughs as they both get near the gravestone.
V. I jump out and shout ‘Woooo!’
VI. Cornelius’s face turns even whiter than mine, and he pees his pants.
VII. I point and laugh. Everyone joins in.
March XXVI
I was supposed to be having more maths lessons today, but I had a headache so I told Mum I needed to rest. Unfortunately, this made her fetch Vibius again.
He examined my eyes, blasting me with his vile morning breath. ‘This doesn’t look good, Dorkius,’ he said. ‘Your eyes are watering, your skin is pale. You look very distressed.’
Of course my eyes are watering, my skin is pale and I look distressed, I thought. I just got a whiff of your stinky dog breath. Do you use the wiping stick as a toothbrush?
Vibius tapped the side of my head. ‘No doubt about it. There’s a ghost trapped in there.’
‘Thank the gods you came in time,’ said Mum.
‘This is very simple. I just need to make a small hole in the side of your head so the ghost can escape,’ said Vibius, taking a small saw out of his bag.
A ghost in my head? What was the old fool talking about? He staggered forward and dropped his saw. I wouldn’t let him operate on me even if I did want a hole in my head.
I leapt off the couch, saying, ‘You know what? I’m feeling better now, and I won’t need any treatment. Time for my maths lesson, isn’t it?’
‘That’s a shame,’ said Vibius. ‘I can still do the hole if you want. I’ll even do it for half price.’
‘No thanks,’ I said, shoving him towards the door.
My maths lesson was even more unbearable than usual. But at least I don’t have a hole in my skull. You know it’s been a rubbish day when that’s the best you can say.
March XXVII
My headache has gone now. I bet Vibius would say that the ghost has crawled out through one of my nostrils.
Or maybe Vibius doesn’t know what the Tartarus he’s talking about. I wonder if someone has sawn a hole in the side of HIS head and made his brains leak out.
Gaius came round again today, and I told him all about my plan to get revenge on Cornelius. He said it was totally brilliant. We’re all set to do it tomorrow.
It sounds like Cornelius is getting worse and worse. Apparently, he invented a game called ‘poo chase’ yesterday. He stole a wiping stick from the public toilets and tried to poke everyone with it.
March XXVIII
I got to the graveyard just before noon and crouched behind the tomb opposite the entrance. A minute later, I heard a couple of men strolling towards me. They stopped right in front of the tomb.
Brilliant. How was I supposed to jump out with these idiots blocking my way?
‘It’s nearly time,’ said a man with a very high voice. ‘We need to be ready to strike Baldy as soon as we get the word.’
‘I’m ready,’ said a man with a very low voice. ‘He won’t be making a nuisance of himself once I’ve finished with him.’
The men walked on, but I was busy wondering what they meant. Who was Baldy? Why was he a nuisance? I was so distracted by this that I must have missed Gaius’s first few coughs. By the time I snapped out of it, Gaius sounded like he was choking on a fish bone.
I leapt out and shouted, ‘WOOOOO.’ Unfortunately, it wasn’t Cornelius I was yelling at, but the seriously terrified face of an old lady.
‘Honorius?’ she asked. ‘Is that you? Why have you come back from the dead? Didn’t we bury you properly?’