The Paninis of Pompeii

by Andy Stanton

  ‘What was it?’ said Caecilius, stroking Hortus’s hair fondly. ‘Do tell us, for after dinner is just the time for stories, no matter how impossible or dull.’

  ‘Well,’ began Hortus. ‘It did happen the other night that I was walking through my scented herb gardens – ’

  ‘I didn’t know you had scented herb gardens,’ said Vesuvius, ‘although I suspected as much a few pages ago.’

  ‘I am surprised, Vesuvius,’ replied Hortus quite haughtily, ‘for my scented herb gardens are quite famous throughout Pompeii.’

  ‘They can’t be that famous,’ said Vesuvius. ‘I’ve known you for ages and I’ve never heard of them.’

  ‘Well, I am a little put out by that, to be honest,’ said Hortus. ‘As I say, my scented herb gardens are really quite well known around here.’

  ‘Yes,’ Atrium chipped in, ‘Hortus is very proud of her scented herb gardens.’

  ‘I haven’t heard of them either,’ put in Filius at this point.

  ‘Shh, my boy,’ said Vesuvius in embarrassment. ‘It’s already bad enough that I haven’t heard of Hortus’s so-called “scented herb gardens” without you getting involved.’

  ‘Hey,’ said Hortus, ‘what do you mean by that? What do you mean my “so-called” scented herb gardens?’

  ‘I didn’t mean anything by it,’ said Vesuvius. ‘I just think it’s a bit suspicious that I haven’t heard of these incredibly famous scented herb gardens.’

  ‘Are you calling my wife a liar?’ shouted Atrium. ‘Are you? Because if you are, then why don’t you just come out and say it? Why don’t you just come out and say it, Vesuvius, you nasty piece of work? Instead of sitting there with that stupid smug grin on your face having a go at Hortus like that!’

  ‘I wasn’t “having a go” at anyone!’ shouted Vesuvius. ‘I just hadn’t heard about these STUPID scented herb groves –’

  ‘GARDENS,’ shouted Hortus. ‘Scented. Herb. GARDENS.’

  ‘WHATEVER,’ yelled Vesuvius. ‘WHAT. EVER.’

  ‘Calm down, calm down,’ said Caecilius now, stroking everyone’s hair fondly. ‘I’m sure that no one meant anyone any harm. Come, Slavius!’ he cried, clicking his belly twice in rapid succession. ‘Bring us more farts – no, none for you, Filius, you hopeful lad! – bring us more farts and we will forget our differences.’

  After all the adults had each scooped up another fart or two, Hortus began to tell her tale again.

  ‘As some of you may know,’ she began, ‘I have some scented herb gardens, which are actually quite well regarded in these parts. But never mind, I’m sure you can’t be expected to pay heed to everything that goes on around here, Vesuvius. Anyway, it was exactly a month ago, I remember that, because it was the night of the full moon. So there I was, walking through my –’

  ‘Scented herb gardens,’ muttered Vesuvius.

  ‘Now, now, ’Suvie,’ said Caecilius before Vesuvius could erupt once more. ‘No need to be sarcastic. Do go on, Hortus.’

  ‘Very well,’ said Hortus. ‘So there I was, wandering through my scented herb gardens, enjoying the scents. The wonderful perfume of the basil, the bright fresh aroma of the mint, the spicy oregano, the jade, the rosemary – all those lovely scents in the scented herb gardens.’

  ‘Get on with it already,’ said Vesuvius, rolling her eyes.

  ‘Now,’ continued Hortus, ‘I had just come to my favourite part of the gardens – the coriander. And it was while I was bending down to sniff at that lovely herb that I heard it. A rustling in the undergrowth. And then I saw it. A huge, hairy PAW was peeking out from amongst the coriander bushes. And then the moon came out from behind a cloud – I hadn’t realised it but I must have been in the scented herb gardens for much longer than I thought, for by now it was night time – and then I saw him. Or rather – it.’

  ‘What? What was it?’ gasped Filius, who was so terrified that he had accidentally done a Mirror-Man in his pants.

  ‘It was like nothing I have ever seen before,’ said Hortus, a strange, far-away look on her ugly face. ‘Or rather – it was like two things I have seen before, but never together. A man, it seemed to me! And yet – a wolf as well!’

  ‘A ma-wol-n-f!’ exclaimed Vesuvius.

  ‘Yes,’ agreed Hortus, gripping her friend’s hand in hers, their argument now forgotten. ‘It was a ma-wol-n-f! A terrible blending of two creatures, emerging slowly from the coriander. It smelt dreadful, Vesuvius! Dreadful! It smelt like a mixture of a man and a wolf! And a bit of coriander!’

  ‘How tall was the beast?’ demanded Caecilius in Russian – but no one understood.

  ‘How tall was the beast?’ he demanded again, not in Russian.

  ‘It was about IX feet tall,’ sobbed Hortus. ‘And it had big jaws. And around its neck it wore a pendant.’

  ‘A pendant with a portrait of Julius Caesar on, by any chance?’ said Caecilius.

  ‘Yes, h-how did you know?’ cried Hortus.

  But just then, night time fell and the house was plunged into darkness. And then, suddenly, the full moon came out from behind a cloud. And now the people at the table gasped, for Caecilius was gone! And in his place stood a cross between a wolf and a man – a ma-wol-n-f – standing there slobbering all over the table and scrabbling at the tiled floor with his dreadful claws.

  ‘I can’t believe it,’ said Vesuvius. ‘The beast is Caecilius.’

  ‘Are you going to eat us?’ shouted Atrium in outrage.

  But the ma-wol-n-f only shook its head and cried hairy tears on to the table.

  ‘It just wants to be loved,’ said Vesuvius.

  So they all stood there, fondly stroking the creature’s shaggy brown hair. And later on, it turned back into Caecilius and they all had a great big laugh about it, and Filius managed to sneak down another fart when no one was looking and it made him drunk and he fell out the window; but luckily he landed on a family of Mirror-Men, which cushioned his fall – so everything worked out fine.

  THE END

  AT THE BATHS

  Now, Caecilius was a person who lived way back in Ancient Roman Times, I probably haven’t mentioned that before but it’s true. In fact, all of these stories are set in Ancient Roman Times, in a town called Pompeii. And they are illustrated for your pleasure by a man named Sholto Walker. Hey, Sholto, draw another square for me.

  I can totally make Sholto draw squares any time I like.

  Now, did you know that baths were very important to the Ancient Romans? Well, they were. Not just little baths like you or I have – but extraordinary public baths where all the men and women of the town would go. There they would bathe together in the health-giving waters, the men in one section of the building and the women in quite another. And more than this, the baths were a crucial part of Roman social life, a place where tall tales were told and scandalous gossip was gossiped and all sorts of enjoyable pastimes were indulged in: throwing spoons as high into the air as possible, for example, or trying to irritate the vulture.

  So anyway, one day Caecilius was sitting around the Pompeii baths having a bit of a gossip with his ugly friend, Atrium. There were about four hundred other guys there as well, all completely naked. Filius was there, completely naked. Also, Barkus Wooferinicum was there, he was the only one wearing clothes because the rules of the baths clearly stated that all the men had to be naked but that all the dogs had to wear clothes. So Barkus Wooferinicum was wearing his favourite dress, actually it might not have been his favourite dress, actually he wasn’t at the baths at all, I was mistaken, I thought he was but he wasn’t. Actually he was there in a way. He was there in Filius’s thoughts, because as everyone lay around the baths throwing spoons into the air and trying to irritate the vulture, Filius was thinking about Barkus Wooferinicum.

  I like Barkus Wooferinicum, he is a nice dog, Filius was thinking.

  ‘Quiet with your thoughts, my lad,’ laughed Caecilius, turning down the volume on Filius’s brain from VII to III. ‘I am trying to have a gossip wit
h Atrium and I can hardly hear what he has to say with you thinking of Barkus Wooferinicum all the time. Now, what was it you were saying, Atrium?’

  ‘Well,’ replied Atrium, and not only did he throw a spoon into the air, but when it came down it landed on the vulture’s head, so that counted as two pastimes for the price of one. ‘I shall tell you what I was saying, Caecilius, but I am afraid you must not call me “Atrium” any more. Because while you were speaking to Filius just now, I changed my name to “Frollicus”.’

  ‘Did you really?’ said Caecilius in astonishment. ‘Well then, Frollicus, what was it you were saying?’

  ‘I am afraid I cannot answer that question,’ replied Atrium/Frollicus. ‘Because just before you asked me that question I changed my name again, this time to “Maltus Vinegarus”.’

  ‘What sport is this!’ laughed Caecilius, fondly stroking Atrium’s/Frollicus’s/Maltus Vinegarus’s curly hair. ‘Well then, Maltus Vinegarus, I ask you now – what was it you were going to tell me?’

  ‘Too slow,’ laughed Caecilius’s companion. ‘For I have changed my name to Barkus Wooferinicum.’

  ‘This is getting very tiresome,’ Caecilius whispered to Filius. ‘I think Atrium has gone mad, shall we go to the Honey Room?’

  Now, the Honey Room was one of the finest rooms in the whole of the public baths. It was just a room but it was called the Honey Room, so it felt more special than the other rooms.

  ‘OK,’ said Filius, but then he happened to glance at his father’s magnificent hairy chest and he let out a horrified poo.

  ‘Father!’ exclaimed Filius. ‘What has become of the Julius Caesar pendant that you always wear around your neck? For it has disappeared as quickly as a bowl of olives and nuts set before a hungry senator!’

  ‘Drat and figs!’ shouted Caecilius so loudly that the walls of the public baths came tumbling down, killing thirty people.

  ‘!sgif dna tarD’ he quickly shouted, to make the walls come tumbling up again. Most of the people came back to life as well, except for a couple of old men whose bodies were so frail that they were unable to reassemble themselves in time.

  ‘Drat and figs!’ said Caecilius, speaking more quietly. ‘There is only one explanation. A nimble-fingered thief walks amongst us, yes, here at the public baths where I did think all men were equal. If any man stole my pendant, or if any man does know who is the cur responsible, let him stand up now and admit the crime. For this is Ancient Rome, I mean it’s Pompeii but you know, it’s Ancient Roman Times. And this sort of thing is uncivilised.’

  Then Caecilius went up to one man and said, ‘We are not flies, buzzing around a pot of old goat meat, trying to get a sniff! We are civilised men and we shall not stand for this sort of errant behaviour.’

  Then he went up to another man and said, ‘We are not flies, buzzing around a pot of old goat meat, trying to get a sniff! We are civilised men and we shall not stand for this sort of errant behaviour.’

  Then he went up to a third man and said, ‘We are not flies, buzzing around a pot of old goat meat, trying to get a sniff! We are civilised men and we shall not stand for this sort of errant behaviour.’

  Then he went up to a fourth man and said, ‘We are not flies, buzzing around a pot of old goat meat, trying to get a sniff! We are civilised men and we shall not stand for this sort of errant behaviour.’

  In this way, Caecilius approached all the men in that place – nearly four hundred in all – and to each one he said, ‘We are not flies, buzzing around a pot of old goat meat, trying to get a sniff! We are civilised men and we shall not stand for this sort of errant behaviour.’

  This took over two hours and it was only afterwards that Caecilius realised he should have just said, ‘We are not flies, buzzing around a pot of old goat meat, trying to get a sniff! We are civilised men and we shall not stand for this sort of errant behaviour’ once only, but loud enough so that everybody could hear in one go.

  So Caecilius went back to the first man and said to him, ‘I am sorry that took so long. I should have just said, “We are not flies, buzzing around a pot of old goat meat, trying to get a sniff! We are civilised men and we shall not stand for this sort of errant behaviour” once, so that everyone could hear – instead of saying it quietly to each man in turn.’

  Then he went up to the second man and said, ‘I am sorry that took so long. I should have just said, “We are not flies, buzzing around a pot of old goat meat, trying to get a sniff! We are civilised men and we shall not stand for this sort of errant behaviour” once, so that everyone could hear – instead of saying it quietly to each man in turn.’

  And then on to the third man, and so on. This took another three hours, and it was only afterwards that Caecilius realised he should have said, ‘I am sorry that took so long. I should have just said, “We are not flies, buzzing around a pot of old goat meat, trying to get a sniff! We are civilised men and we shall not stand for this sort of errant behaviour” once, so that everyone could hear – instead of saying it quietly to each man in turn’ once only, instead of saying it to each man in turn.

  ‘OK, I realise I’ve just wasted about five hours,’ said Caecilius. ‘Sorry about that.’

  ‘And in that time, more objects have disappeared!’ cried Atrium, who had changed his name back to Atrium again. ‘See – my marriage ring has been stolen.’

  ‘My golden armband has disappeared!’ shouted a thick-set fellow by the name of Wallopus.

  ‘And someone has taken my two-hundred-foot statue of a swan,’ exclaimed Filius.

  ‘Then it is just as I thought,’ declared Caecilius. ‘We have a thief amongst us. Lock the doors, Imperial Shoemakers!’

  So the Imperial Shoemakers, so called because they were in charge of locking and unlocking the doors of the public baths, locked the doors. And then Caecilius reared up to his full height and said impressively, ‘Look at me, I have reared up to my full height. Now, who is the thief?’

  ‘It is not I,’ declared Wallopus.

  ‘Nor I,’ asserted Filius.

  ‘And it cannot possibly be I,’ said Atrium, ‘because – well, it could be I, I suppose. But it is not.’

  ‘And it is not I,’ shouted a small man by the name of Smallsupportingcharactus.

  ‘Nor I,’ yelled Smallsupportingcharactus’s brother, Brotherofsmallsupportingcharactus.

  ‘I am not the thief,’ bellowed Bellonicus the grape merchant.

  ‘Nor I!’ protested Justmadehimupicus.

  ‘And it was spleffinitely not me, I am blotally immocint!’ protested another man called Mispronunciaticus.

  One by one Caecilius’s fellow bathers stepped forward to protest their innocence. Until finally, Caecilius’s suspicious eye landed on a miserable-looking fellow by the name of Thiefius, who stood cowering in the corner with a Julius Caesar pendant around his neck, a marriage ring on his finger, a golden band around one arm and a two-hundred-foot statue of a swan behind his back.

  ‘Urgh,’ said Thiefius, ‘Caecilius’s suspicious eye just landed on me.’ He flicked the eye away and it went bouncing around the walls for a couple of minutes and very nearly got eaten by the vulture, until luckily it pinged back into Caecilius’s head just in time, as he had been about to give up hope and replace it with an egg.

  ‘Stop trying to distract us, Thiefius,’ said Caecilius, advancing on the hapless creature. ‘It seems that you must be the thief. Because for a start your name is “Thiefius”. And also, you seem to have all the objects that have gone missing on or about your person.’

  ‘But I did not do it,’ said Thiefius, backing away. ‘For though Thiefius is my name, I am an honest man. And also, you know all these objects – the Julius Caesar pendant, the golden armband, the marriage ring and the two-hundred-foot statue of a swan? Well, I came about each of them legitimately and I have a very good explanation for them all.’

  ‘Then let us hear your stories, Thiefius,’ said Caecilius, ‘for I am not only a fart merchant, I have just remembere
d that I am the Lord High Judge of Pompeii. If your stories ring true, then you shall be spared prison. But if they sound like lies, then you shall be spared prison.’

  ‘So either way I am spared prison?’ said Thiefius.

  ‘Oh, no, sorry,’ said Caecilius. ‘That was a mistake. If your stories sound like lies then you shall not be spared prison at all. You shall have plenty of prison.’

  ‘OK, that makes a lot more sense,’ said Thiefius. And he leant back on the floor, and shot all the bones out of his body so that he was just a big floppy mess of skin and eyes on the floor.

  ‘My first story is how I came by the Julius Caesar pendant,’ said Thiefius as his bones danced around the baths, no one really knew why but it was fun to watch. ‘And here is my story right now, yes, right now, I’m just carrying on talking because as we’ve got a little bit more space to fill at the end of this paragraph and I’d quite like my story to begin nicely and neatly on the next page . . . Yes, Caecilius, here comes my first story riiiiiiight . . . aboout . . . nearly there . . . NOW.’

  THIEFIUS’S

  FIRST STORY:

  THIEFIUS AND THE JULIUS CAESAR PENDANT

  ‘One day, I think it was a Wednesdonicus or maybe it was a Thursillium, I can’t remember,’ began Thiefius, ‘I decided to visit the Temple of Jupiter. I often go there to steal things, you see, because I am a thief.’

  ‘Aha!’ said Caecilius at this, pouncing on Thiefius and stroking his hair, but not fondly. ‘You have given yourself away already!’

  ‘No, no, that was just a joke,’ said Thiefius, ‘of course I’m not a thief. In fact, I like to visit the Temple of Jupiter to thank him for blessing me with a brilliant sense of humour. If it were not for Jupiter, I would not be able to make jokes about being a thief.’

  ‘I see,’ said Caecilius so gravely that a gravestone came out of his eyes. ‘Carry on then.’