The 10% Surprise

Ever since I read Homer's Iliad in translation and Mary Renault’s classic Classical historical novel The Last of the Wine, I have longed to go back in time to see what ancient Greece and Rome would have looked like.

Thanks to a wealth of written documents from that period, and the rich archaeological remains, we can make a fairly good guess at what 5th century BC Athens or 1st century AD Rome would have looked like.

Or can we?

When I go into schools to talk about my books - The Roman Mysteries - and about ancient Rome, I tell the children that my biggest wish is to have a time machine to go back for just one day. (My time machine would include an invisible transportation bubble which I could float around in to observe unseen. I would be able to hear and see through this bubble but it would protect the ancient Romans from my germs and it would protect me from their germs, stray arrows, ravening beasts in the arena, slave-dealers, pyroclastic flows, etc.)

I tell the kids my theory. That as I floated around first century Rome in my invisible time machine bubble I would see many things I was expecting. I would say to myself: ‘Yes, this is just as everyone said it would be. Classical Archaeologists got this about 90% right!’ But I think there would be some surprises, maybe 10%, where I would exclaim: ‘Great Juno’s beard! I never expected THAT!’

Caroline Lawrence in the forum set at Boyana Studios, Bulgaria in 2007

The problem is, we can’t know what that 10% is until someone invents a time machine.

The two books I read on my gap year inspired me to study Classics at U.C.Berkeley. I fell in love with the subject. The language, like a giant code; the art and archaeology, so beautiful and compelling; the primary sources by Greek and Roman authors so like us and yet so unlike us… All these things fed my addiction, my craving to know what the ancient world was like. Then – a year or two into my course – I saw a film depicting ancient Rome that blew my mind. It was like a curtain being pulled back. It was a horrible, fascinating, concept-overturning revelation. It was Fellini Satyricon and it made me think ‘THAT is what first century Rome would have looked like!’ (Be warned, kids: this film is rated X and for over 18's only!)

This was no clean, white-columned world of pristine togas and Marlon Brando enunciating ‘Friends, Romans, Countrymen…’ This was a dimly-lit, colourful, sweaty, perverted place of jewel-coloured mini-tunics, smoky night-time scenes, boy-love, casual violence, cheap human life, the disabled and the disfigured. It stank of incense, sweat, lamp-smoke, open sewers and sacrificial blood. The music was strange and discordant, the language a strange babble.

I recently watched Fellini Satyricon again, and I’ve also just finished Mary Beard’s excellent Pompeii and together with my favourite witness of the Flavian period, Marcus Valerius Martialis AKA Martial, I have come up with a possible list of things that might surprise a 21st century time traveller if she went back to first century Rome around the time Vesuvius erupted.

1. The smell. One of the creators of HBO's Rome says 'You would smell Rome before you saw it.' Open sewers, dung in the street, smoke from oil-lamps, pine-pitch torches, urine from the fullers, rotting fish entrails from the garum factory, blood from hundreds of daily sacrifices, frying onions and sausage from fast-food joints, etc. People did not wear deodorant and many must have had rotting teeth. We know from the poet Martial that some Romans had such bad breath that they added perfume to their wine. Others chomped mastica, the ancient version of chewing gum.

2. Sacrificial smog. In first century Rome there were dozens of temples and most of them sacrificed animals and then roasted them. This was probably a main source of cooked meat in Roman times. There would also have been smoke from a thousand braziers, outlets from the hypocausts at the baths, daily funeral pyres, small-scale industry like pottery kilns and glass-blowers, plus pine-pitch torches burning at night. Rome probably had a permanent cloud of smoke hanging over it.

3. Animals in the forum. The best thing about HBO’s Rome was the set dressing. They put chickens in the forum, furtively scavenging dogs in the market, rats in the sewers. Romans used mules or oxen to pull the carts, rather than horses, but there was no wheeled traffic in Rome during hours of daylight. This caused too much congestion. An ox who had trampled a child wore hay on his horn as a beware sign, but was not banned from the streets. Mary Beard points out that Roman hitching posts were the holes you can still see drilled in the pavement edge.

4. Bodies on crosses and beggars in the gutter. The mouldering bodies of crucified slaves and criminals would have lined the streets in and out of Rome, along with the tombs of the dead. The area behind the tombs were probably used as shanty towns by the poor and unwanted babies were often exposed there. We know from Martial that there were beggars everywhere, many of them would have been child beggars, but you would also find the crippled, blind and otherwise disabled.

5. Low grade infections and disease. The worst diseases killed off a good percent of the population but those who survived would probably be suffering much more than we allow for in our TV and film depictions. Skin ulcers from poor nutrition for all but the richest Romans, spotty skin (Martial tells us skin patches were fashionable at this time), pink-eye would probably have been the most common affliction. Today we can easily get something over the counter to quickly stop eye-infection and a tube of Savlon for wounds. Then, the tiniest cut opened the possibility of a life-threatening infection. Also, bunions from the cold and verrucas from the unhygienic baths. And did I mention worms?

6. The cacophony of the city. Music would have sounded discordant to our ears. It was mainly banging, jingling and plucking. Maybe some strange singing, like a combination of Indian and Arabic music, alien to our Western ears. The town crier – or town criers – would constantly be patrolling the streets, shouting out the hour and the latest news. You would have heard asses braying, donkey bells, priests processing with tambourines and chanting, dogs barking, babies crying, couples arguing, roosters crowing. All in the heart of the city.

7. Gaudy Rome. Colour was everywhere. Blood red paint on walls and on the bases of every column. Mustard yellow and black were also popular colours for walls. Mosaics, frescoes, graffiti on the walls. Statues were painted. If marble in the forum wasn’t exotic green, yellow or pink, then it was coloured by hand. In the film Gladiator, Ridley Scott drains Rome of colour, to make it look almost black and white. This is just wrong. The set designers of HBO’s Rome and The Roman Mysteries did better. Fellini Satyricon probably did best. Rome would have looked more like Mexico City on fiesta day or Calcutta during Diwali. Mary Beard notes that Pompeian frescoes show us how colourful Roman’s clothes would have been. White was the colour of the candidate (the word comes from Latin candida: white) and was only achieved with much effort and use of chalk. It was a rarity.

8. Vermin. Rats in your apartment. Feral cats scavenging in rubbish tips. Possibly feral dogs, too. Flies everywhere. Lice in your tunic. Fleas on your animals. Mosquitoes in the summer. In the hotter Roman provinces they had scorpions and snakes, too. You never walked alone. Oh yes: let's not forget intestinal worms, etc...

9. Long-haired-boy love. In Rome a man was considered strange if he was sexually attracted only to women or only to adolescent boys. The norm was to desire both. There was no concept of child rights or child abuse in ancient Rome. Children were mini-adults. It was accepted that pre-pubescent boys would be openly courted by older men. Martial himself was one such man. In his mid-forties, he sulks because a beardless boy rejects his advances in favour of another middle-aged man. When a boy started his first beard, only then did he cut his hair. This is the main reason Roman boys had a paedagogus accompany them to school. To protect them from the distraction of randy adult suitors.

10. Child labour. If a boy wasn’t being accosted on the way to his school (often nothing more than a screened-off section of a colonnade in the forum) he was probably working for his father. Girls were indoors weaving, if they were lucky. Childhood officially ended at 12 for girls (when they could legally marry) and 16 for boys, (when they put on the toga virilis). But that was only in families rich enough not to have to put their kids to work, perhaps 10% of the population at most.

11. Superstition, superstition, superstition. Almost every waking action was accompanied by some ritual to avert bad luck or disaster. The Romans did not believe in an infinite and benevolent God, but in a world of peevish gods to be appeased and astrological forces to be observed. Almost every emperor had his astrologer. Shrines were like ancient cashpoints, but you made deposits there, not withdrawals. Daily offerings were made in your household shrine, apotropaic charms were worn, blood spilt on temple altars, the sign against evil performed without thinking, as regularly as we rub our nose or scratch our chin today. Step over the threshold with your right foot. Don’t even leave the house on inauspicious days. An eclipse? Disaster!

12. The crumbling city. Rome was not a 'nanny state'. There were very few regulations about building. Fires were a daily occurrence. Apartment blocks often crumbled and collapsed without warning. Chamberpots were emptied out of windows. Shop displays and tavern tables spilled out onto the pavement. Roads and sidewalks would have been obstacle courses of uneven paving stones, sleeping dogs and even human faeces. Who repaired potholes in the street? Or a dangerously leaning wall? Many buildings were probably being built or undergoing repair, covered in scaffolding and/or the ancient equivalent of the bright orange plastic netting you see all over Rome today. One of the most memorable scenes in Fellini Satyricon is of a lofty ziggurat-like apartment block crumbling away, sending men, women, children and animals screaming for safety.

In the light of all this, would I still like a time machine to go back to first century Rome?

Absolutely.

But only if I had that floating protective bubble of invisibility!

[The Roman Mysteries are perfect for children aged 9+, especially those studying Romans as a topic in Key Stage 2. Carrying on from the Roman Mysteries, the Roman Quests series set in Roman Britain launched in May 2016 with Escape from Rome.]

Roman Law-courts

When I started to research my thirteenth book, The Slave-girl from Jerusalem, I wanted to have lots about Roman law, the making of wills and Roman law-courts. But it wasn't easy finding out what Roman law-courts looked like or how they worked.

So I diligently read Cicero, Quintilian and Pliny the Younger, along with some good secondary sources. Here are some surprising things I learned about Roman law courts. (I recently shared some of them at a conference called ‘Visualising Law Courts in Late Antiquity’)

Ben Lloyd-Hughes as Flaccus

Lawyers - Today, lawyers are usually very well paid. In Roman times, the lawyers - or orators - did not receive payment. They were upper-class patricians (i.e. independently wealthy) who studied rhetoric and then argued cases in order to gain a reputation, advance themselves politically and perform a public service. Although they weren’t officially paid, lawyers often received gifts from grateful clients.

Prosecution - Today, if someone commits a crime, the police arrest him and the state pays a lawyer to prosecute him. In Roman times there was no state prosecutor. A criminal would only be tried if a private individual summoned him to court. People who were not Roman citizens could not file suit; they had to find a patron to do this on their behalf.

No Oath - Today, witnesses must take an oath, swearing to tell the truth. In Roman times no such oath was required. In fact, witnesses were often bribed or threatened in order to make them lie. Sometimes the lawyer himself even insulted and slandered his opponent. Character witnesses were an important factor in trials, but they could lie, too.

Chairman = Judge - What we call the judge, the Romans called the chairman. This was not his specific job, but his public duty (munus) as an elected magistrate. He was usually a duovir (which means ‘one of two men’) or a praetor. In Ostia, the two duoviri were appointed for a period of one year, and they gave their name to the year. They presided over the city council and acted as chairmen in trials. They did not vote, but read the verdict and passed judgment.

Judges = Jury - What we call the jury, the Romans called judges: iudices. These were probably members of the town council, the decuriones. Ostia’s council had one hundred in the late first century. In order to be admitted as a decurion, you had to be freeborn, at least 25 years old, and wealthy. One of Cicero’s cases had 300 judges sitting in. They voted by using wax tablets marked with a ‘C’ on one side and an ‘A’ on the other. If they thought the defendant was guilty, they rubbed off the 'A', leaving the 'C' for CONDEMNO. (I condemn) If they thought the defendant was innocent, they rubbed off the 'C', leaving the ‘A’ for ABSOLVO. (I release) The tablets were placed in a jar and a clerk counted them up, then gave the result to the chairman.

Jurists = Legal Experts - Because being the chairman or a member of the jury was just one of many duties, the praetor, magistrates and lawyers often went to a jurist for legal advice... This was a man who specialised in certain aspects of the law, like interpreting a last will & testament.

Outdoors - We think of trials as being held in the basilica of a Roman town, but many law-courts were held outdoors, in town forum or marketplace.
In his book Catullus and his World, T.P.Wiseman writes: Trials in the Roman republic were not held in a sober courtroom, but outside in the sunshine, with the forum crowd jostling around.
In his ‘Study of Rhetoric’ the famous orator Quintilian wrote: If we are called upon to speak in the sun or on a windy, wet or warm day, is that a reason for deserting the client whom we have undertaken to defend? (Inst. Or. XI.3.27)

Not always in the Basilica - Some trials were held in temples, some in private houses. Cicero pleaded a case in the house of Julius Caesar. However, some trials were held in the basilica, so that is where I set mine.

Plan of a typical basilica, from The Slave-girl from Jerusalem

Basilica - The basilica was a public space for meetings and therefore law-courts. By the first century AD, when my books are set, the basilica had three naves (long rectangular spaces) and an apse (a semi-circular space). The ‘naves’ were created by long rows of columns. The wall of the central area was higher than the rest of the building, so that windows high up in the walls could light it. The basilica at Ostia was probably built in the time of Domitian. The floor and walls were faced with marble, giving it a lavish appearance. The upper gallery probably had decoration on it in the form of reliefs: the she-wolf suckling Romulus and Remus, the Capitoline geese warning of approaching barbarians, the abduction of the Sabine women. etc.

Judicial scene from Ostia Antica

Podium – One of the most striking aspects of Roman law-courts was that the chairman (judge) sat up on a high podium also known as a tribunal. We have physical remains of this podium in Ostia’s basilica and also in the basilica of Pompeii. From Ostia comes this fresco of two men in a dispute over a broken amphora, probably in the market place. This fragment (right) and another less well-documented show the chairman seated on his high podium. You can read more about the context of these frescoes if you scroll down this page of my favourite Ostia website: www.ostia-antica.org. (Thanks to Jan-Theo Bakker)

Steps - The judges (jury) probably sat below the chairman on stepped seating, perhaps wooden removable benches. The judges listened in silence and were forbidden to speak to each other. Finally they voted as described above. The chairman did not vote, but pronounced judgement and sentence. He was also responsible for making sure the punishment was carryied out.

basilica from the BBC adaptation of The Slave-girl from Jerusalem

Opposite sides - Confronting each other from opposite sides of this space may have been the prosecution and defence, their supporters also sitting on removable wooden benches. Pliny the Younger tells about the time he defended a young woman who had been disinherited by her aged father in favour of her young stepmother. [My speech] was delivered on behalf of Attia Viriola, and its interest lies not only in the position of the person concerned but also the rarity of this type of case and the size of the court which heard it. Here was a woman of high birth, the wife of a praetorian senator, disinherited by her eighty-year-old father ten days after he had fallen in love and brought home a stepmother for his daughter, and now suing for her patrimony in the united Centrumviral Court. One hundred and eighty judges were sitting… both parties were fully represented and had a large number of seats filled with their supporters, and a close-packed ring of onlookers, several rows deep, lined the walls of the courtroom. The bench was also crowded, and even the galleries were full of men and women leaning over in their eagerness to hear (which was hard) and also (which was easy) to see. (Pliny 6.33)

Arena of spectators - The spectators probably formed a ring – or rather a rectangle - around the space formed by the podium and benches. The space inside was where the prosecuting lawyer and defending lawyer stood and spoke. Wiseman writes: The corona, or ring of bystanders, enclosed the space like an arena, and what went on within might well be in effect a mortal combat.

Women? Children? - There were also upper galleries and women were probably encouraged to watch from up here. According to Smith's dictionary, this gallery reached entirely around the inside of the building, and was frequented by women as well as men, the women on one side and the men on the other...

Screens - Most basilicas were huge, so if more than one trial was going on at a time they were often screened off from each other with moveable panels, perhaps of rush or wood.

What to wear (defendant) – Today, if you go to court you usually dress as smartly as possible. In Roman times the defendants sometimes put on their oldest clothes and then tore their hair and scratched their cheeks to gain the sympathy of the judges. Sometimes they brought along their young children or aged parents. Cicero recounts a case in which he had 'filled the Forum with sobs and laments' by holding aloft the young son of the defendant. These family members, as well as the defendant, would often dress in rags and muss their hair to appear more pathetic.

What to wear (lawyer) - On the other hand, the lawyer had to look dignified. At the beginning of the trial, at least. The toga (the big blanket thingy) was required wear at formal occasions, and pleading a case in the basilica was definitely such an occasion. But Quintilian describes how the orator might become increasingly dishevelled as the trial progressed. When, however, our speech draws near its close, more especially if fortune shows herself kind, practically everything is becoming; we may stream with sweat, show signs of fatigue, and let our dress fall in careless disorder and the toga slip loose from us on every side. This fact makes me all the more surprised that Pliny should think it worth while to enjoin the orator to dry his brow with a handkerchief in such a way as not to disorder the hair, although a little later he most properly, and with a certain gravity and sternness of language, forbids us to rearrange it. For my own part, I feel that the dishevelled locks make an additional appeal to the emotions, and that neglect of such precautions creates a pleasing impression. (Study of Rhetoric 11.3.147) The exhausted appearance of the sweating and dishevelled orator probably impressed the jury more than it disturbed them.

The Gestures of an Orator

The Gestures - In his book Study of Rhetoric, Quintilian describes many gestures of an orator, e.g. the gesture for amazement, the gesture for silence, the gesture for disbelief. Cicero warns that the orator's style should not be as broad as actors’ gestures, but he permits the orator to stride up and down, or strike his brow or his thigh. Those are both melodramatic gestures and I suspect that ancient orators would have been like actors in the early silent films.

Overacting - We get a wonderful idea of a bad lawyer from this passage of Quintilian, in which he tells would-be orators what NOT to do:
For it is a mistake to look at the ceiling, to rub the face and give it a flush of impudence, to crane it boldly forward, to frown in order to secure a fierce expression, or brush back the hair from the forehead against its natural direction in order to produce a terrifying effect by making it stand on end. Again, there are other unseemly tricks, such as that so dear to the Greeks of twitching our fingers and lips as though studying what to say, clearing the throat with a loud noise, thrusting out one foot to a considerable distance, grasping a portion of the toga in the left hand, standing with feet wide apart, holding ourselves stiffly, leaning backwards, stooping, or hunching our shoulders toward the back of the head, as wrestlers do when about to engage.

Secret Signals - Some orators tweaked their clothing or made other secret signals in order to prompt their supporters to yell, boo, cheer… or worse! Once, Julius Caesar was supposed to signal a massacre by the common and innocuous gesture of letting his toga slide off his shoulder. (Aldrete p 41) Another time, Pompey the Great got the crowd to shout out the name of the accused every time he shook out the folds of his toga. We know about this from Plutarch.

Six Parts of the Speech - Once the judges had been sworn in, the main speeches would be given, prosecution first, then defence. After that, witnesses would be called and cross-examined. Quintilian tells the story of a woman whose husband had been murdered. ‘When I begin the peroration,’ said her advocate, ‘hold up this portrait of him.’ The woman did not know that peroration meant the conclusion, so every time her lawyer glanced at her, she held up the portrait. This soon became so comical, that everybody stopped feeling sorry for her and started laughing!
Here is Lupus' explanation of the six parts:
EXORDIUM -- INTRODUCTION
NARRATION -- WHAT HAPPENED BEFORE THE CRIME
PROPOSITION -- HOW THE CRIME WAS COMMITTED
PROOFS -- EVIDENCE AND CLUES
REFUTATION -- HOW YOUR OPPONENT IS WRONG
PERORATION -- CONCLUSION

Exhibit ‘A’ – In addition to portraits of the deceased, lawyers sometimes brought pictures of the crime actually being committed, painted on wood or cloth, like an ancient version of Crimewatch. We know they did this because Quintilian specifically disapproves of this practice. (Study of Rhetoric 6.1.32) Ergo, it must have been a strategy used by other lawyers. Of course such scenes were usually pure conjecture.

over-large clepsydra?

Time’s Up! - The lawyers’ speeches were timed by a clepsydra or water clock. These probably lasted about 20 minutes, so when Cicero brags that he spoke for six clepsydrae, he means two hours! When they were filming The Slave-girl from Jerusalem, the set designers tried to find an image of an ancient water clock. I sent them a picture of the clepsydra from the film Cleopatra, but I forgot to include scale. They constructed an enormous version, bigger than a man!

Prison? - Imprisonment was not a form of punishment in Roman times. In antiquity prisons were used only to hold suspects until trial. Sometimes houses were used as prisons, as the case with St Paul in Rome. If the person was convicted, the punishment could be a fine, a whipping, forced labour, or the death penalty. For freeborn citizens, this meant beheading. For slaves, this meant crucifixion. Some condemned criminals were executed in dramatic and entertaining ways during lunch break in the arena, in order to illustrate Greek myths. (See my book, The Gladiators from Capua).

New Function - from about the fourth century AD, basilicas began to be used by Christians as meeting places and many became churches. That is why you can still see the form and layout of the ancient law-court in some churches: the three naves, the upper gallery and the apse at one end.

Some books on Roman Law-courts:
Catullus and his World T.P.Wiseman
Gestures and Acclamations in Ancient Rome by Gregory S. Aldrete
Crime and Community in Ciceronian Rome by A. Riggsby
Roman Law in Context by David Johnston
Actors and Audience in the Roman Courtroom by Leanne Bablitz
Final Judgments: Duty & Emotion in Roman Wills by Edward Champlin

The Slave-girl from Jerusalem has lots of courtroom action

[The Slave-girl from Jerusalem is number 13 in the Roman Mysteries series of books. You can watch the televised adaptation if you can find the Roman Mysteries Season Two DVD. The new Roman Quests series, set in Roman Britain, launched in May 2016 with book one: Escape from Rome.]

A Day at Hay

The Hay-on-Wye Literary Festival is a big event here in Britain, so I was thrilled to be invited back.

Last time I went, in 2007, I met Peter Falk after our train broke down. This time the trains are OK. I am waiting to change trains on the platform at Newport (Wales) when I see a tall, good-looking guy dressed all in black standing on the platform. It is Anthony Horowitz, mega-successful children's writer by day, writer of Foyle's War TV series by night! He just about remembers me from some World Book Day events we did two years ago and we have a nice chat about movies and plot structure. We do a little dissection of Star Trek on the train, but then I have to get off at a place called Abergevenny while he goes on to Hereford, where a driver waits to take him to a posh hotel.

I get a taxi at Abergevenny, and it drives through the green Black Hills. Very scenic. £32 later we arrive at a beautiful stone building set among fields of green and sheep. Hey, I'm in a posh hotel, too! Peterstone Court. This is a billion times better than the B&B I stayed in last year, where the owner sneered at me because I couldn't figure out how to use the shower in the room. The staff here at Peterstone Court are lovely and I have a magnificent room with views and a big separate bathroom, almost like a suite. 'Is this mine?' I say. Apparently it is. I say a silent thank you to Orion's brilliant new publicity manager, Nina.

Emboldened by my luxurious surroundings, I order a Campari soda (it's 6.00pm) get a manicure in the spa downstairs, chill out in their 'relaxation room', then go outside to find a river running through woods at the bottom of the hotel's garden. It's a beautiful summer evening. Everything is brilliantly green and fresh. The brook babbles, the birds sing, sheep lift their heads to look at me. Sometimes the countryside is almost as nice as London!

My publicity director Nina arrives later with another Orion author, Marcus Sedgwick, and we have a lovely dinner in the hotel. Marcus's book My Sword Hand is Singing has been shortlisted for a bazillion awards. Kudos. We discuss movies, vampires, vampire movies... Back up in my room I tweak my powerpoint presentation, have a bubble bath and sleep like a fluffy rock... Until birdsong wakes me at 4.30am. Ah, the countryside.

Peterstone Court Hotel has wi-fi in the library only, which is actually quite nice. It makes checking your email a kind of social experience. A quiet sense of companionship as people tap away at their keyboards in the book-lined walls on leather sofas. I have breakfast with Marcus - delicious Welsh rarebit with bacon and lashings of Worcestershire sauce, the modern equivalent of ancient Roman garum. I show him some of my powerpoint show on my laptop and he says he talks about the same things when he visits schools: mythic structure, the hero's journey, and Buffy the Vampire Slayer.

A Hay driver comes and gets Nina and me; Marcus did his event yesterday and is back off to London. It's cold and grey today, raining hard. We arrive and scamper through the rain to the Green Room. It's not green and it's not a room. It's a big white marquee, like almost all the other 'buildings' at Hay. A lovely lady called Sophie takes us through the hub of activity that is Hay's central command centre to the venue for my talk.

It's a massive marquee with a lofty roof and seating for a bazillion people. Apparently Stephen Fry and David Frost can fill it but when I come out to do my talk it seems pretty empty. The rain is drumming on the roof and the wind makes the sides shudder. I have almost 400 people in my audience, but they seem a small crowd in this vast space. After my talk I sign copies of my new book, The Man from Pomegranate Street. It is literally hot off the press. I haven't even had my author's copy yet.

I sign for over an hour but then am hustled to the make-up tent to be made ready for Hay on Sky with Mariella Frostrop. I'm on the show with Anthony Horowitz and poet Roger McGough. They are both v. funny and witty. Earlier, we all chose three books we would take on holiday and are presented with copies of two of them. Anthony chooses a biography of Gordon Brown and a hot new children's book called The Ask and the Answer, because he loved the previous book. I choose Tom Holland's Millennium (in order to appear scholarly) and Myth and the Movies. Later, Anthony and I do a trade. (Not that we won't read the books we wanted) He takes Myth and the Movies and I take The Ask and the Answer.

Then it's off to the Discovery Tent to try something new: a 'live audiobook'. I read a passage from The Gladiators from Capua and kids aged 6 and up provide sound effects: bloodthirsty crowd, lions roaring, water organ, trumpets... It's fun! Then a bit more book signing, then back to the Green Room for a power nap. Ain't going to happen. It's buzzing in there. My friend Robert Muchamore arrives with his entourage. He is here to promote his latest book, Eagle Day. I'm a big fan and have a ticket for his event at 4.00. He kindly promised me a lift all the way back to London. (He asked his publishers for a car to take him to and from Hay... and got it!)

His talk is great and gets all the required laughs for his edgy vocabulary and dry humour. I know he'll be at least an hour signing books so I go back to the green room to do some literary celeb-spotting. I run into the gorgeous and witty Jasper Fford on his way to a panel talk. I wish I could go hear him but if I do I might forfeit my lift home. I see lots of guys in orange in the green room. I also offer a fellow American my umbrella, and discover she is Irma Kurtz, a famous agony aunt, promoting her book Growing Old Disgracefully.

Robert and his lovely publicity manager Sarah arrive back at the tent and pretty soon we are driving through the green Welsh hills in a BMW with cream leather upholstery and a wonderful driver named Barry with half a case of Cava each in the boot. (That's how they pay you when you do an event at Hay-on-Wye) We discuss movies, writing and David Lean, who is an old passion of Robert's and a new one of mine. A gourmet meal at Burger King - first time I've eaten there in my whole life, I think - then home, Barry!

The Mystery of the Latin Pillow

Or: The Curious Case of the Classical Cushion

by Caroline Lawrence, author of The Roman Mysteries

It all started when a keen fan from Tasmania asked me to translate a cushion in her house.

This happens a lot.

Not necessarily being asked to parse a pillow, but I am often asked to help with Latin homework, compose mottoes and translate inscriptions.

Top Fan Julia had a tapestry cushion with Latin on it.
She diligently copied down the Latin and sent it to me:

LOQUERIS
Si vis me flere, Dolendum est

Telephe vel Peleu male si ipsi

dormitabo aut Mandata

on satis est pulchra

Ridentibus adrident, ita

RIDEBO

The Latin looked extremely dodgy so before launching in on a translation, I did what any self-respecting scholar should always do first: I googled it. Sure enough, a search of si-vis-me-flere took me straight to several pages of chat about these pillows. It seems to be a few verses from Horace’s Ars Poetica, but badly garbled.

Quintus Horatius Flaccus AKA Horace was a poet who lived in the time of Julius Caesar and the first emperor Augustus. He is most famous for his Odes and Epodes and for coining the phrase Carpe diem! or 'Seize the day!' His Ars Poetica, 'The Art of Poetry', was actually a letter to a friend, written about 20 BC. A hundred or so years later, the orator Quintilian was the first one to call it the Ars Poetica. The Oxford Classical Dictionary describes it as ‘a most puzzling work … [saying] little that is worthy of Horace.’

So here we have an obscure passage from an obscure Latin treatise. The passage from which the pillow phrases are taken comes about a hundred lines into the letter. If you look at the cushion you can see phrases have been chopped and changed, words have lost initial letters or dropped out altogether.

Here is the non-garbled version:

Non satis est pulchra esse poemata: dulcia sunto
Et quocumque volent animum auditoris agunto.
Ut ridentibus adrident, ita flentibus adflent

humani vultus. Si vis me flere, dolendum est

primum ipsi tibi: tunc tua me infortunia laedent,

Telephe vel Peleu; male si mandata loqueris,

aut dormitabo aut ridebo: tristia maestum
vultum verba decent; iratum, plena minarum
ludentum lasciva, severum seria dictu.

And here is a rough translation:

It’s not enough for poems to be beautiful: they must be persuasive
and able to lead the soul of the hearer wherever they want.
As we grin among those who are smiling,
so we tend to well up around those who weep.
If you want me to cry, you yourself must first feel anguish
Then your misfortunes will move me, O Peleus or Telephus;
if you speak inappropriately, I will doze off or laugh out loud:
sad words require a mournful expression,
angry ones need a face full of menace,
Naughty words suit a playful mood,
serious words go with sober topics.

(By the way, Horace names Telephus and Peleus as examples of mythic characters tragic tales to tell. Telephus was a son of Hercules, famous for a fresco from Pompeii that shows him suckling from a deer. He had a miserable life which included suckling from said deer, being a beggar, almost sleeping with his mother, suffering for many years with a would not heal, etc. Peleus was a prince from Aegina – the island near Athens – and had to become an exile after accidentally killing his brother. Although he later became father of the great warrior Achilles, several tragedies were written about him.)

According to several online discussions, the guilty fabric is manufactured in China. But in the guise of cushions, upholstery, wall-hangings and curtains, it has found its way all over the world: Australia, Germany, Norway, Chile, Oxford, South Yorkshire and Tasmania.

I was at Alderley Edge School for Girls (Greater Manchester area) last week to talk about my series of books set in ancient Rome, when the librarian Ruth pointed at the heavy curtains in the hall. ‘Look!’ she said. ‘Latin curtains!’ I stepped closer and peered at the letters. Sure enough, it read: ‘Loqueris 
Si vis me flere…etc.’

If someone asks you to translate their cushion, and you recognise some of the words I’ve been talking about here, tell them it's garbled but that it says something like: ‘If you want to be a poet, laugh with those who laugh and cry with those who cry.’

How on earth a Chinese manufacturer got hold of the random and rather obscure piece of Latin poetry remains a mystery.

P.S. Someone has recently translated another piece of Latin gobbledygook – the famous lorem ipsum text filler – into English.

[The Roman Mysteries are perfect for children aged 9+. Carrying on from the Roman Mysteries, the Roman Quests series set in Roman Britain launched in May 2016 with Escape from Rome.]

Hadrian's Tweet

Euge! Yay! I’ve just heard I won the Hadrian’s Wall Twitter Writing Competition! This is very timely because I'm just in the middle of writing a spin-off of my Roman Mysteries series, a YA novel called Brother of Jackals where the main character grows up in Vindolanda (near Hadrian's Wall).

The competition was part of a promotion by Hadrian's Wall Heritage Ltd to publicise The Living Frontier, a series of dramatic re-enactment events during the spring half term holiday of 2009. The challenge was to tweet about Hadrian’s Wall in 140 characters or less.

I immediately thought of W.H.Auden’s delightful poem, Roman Wall Blues.

Roman Wall Blues

Over the heather the wet wind blows,
I've lice in my tunic and a cold in my nose.

The rain comes pattering out of the sky,
I'm a Wall soldier, I don't know why.

The mist creeps over the hard grey stone,
My girl's in Tungria; I sleep alone.

Aulus goes hanging around her place,
I don't like his manners, I don't like his face.

Piso's a Christian, he worships a fish;
There'd be no kissing if he had his wish.

She gave me a ring but I diced it away;
I want my girl and I want my pay.

When I'm a veteran with only one eye
I shall do nothing but look at the sky.

W. H. Auden

So here was my TWEET (With apologies to Auden) in exactly 140 characters:

Mater: Finally @ Hadrians Wall. Lice in tunic. Cold in nose. Rainy, cold, grey. Nice local girls; bunkmate Piso worships a fish. Send socks.

The last is a reference to the famous Vindolanda tablets wherein a chilly-toed legionary begs his mum for socks.

My prize is a funky Roman iPod nano. Those clever Romans! Gratias ago (thanks) to the competition organisers.


I visited Hadrian's Wall for the first time last year, courtesy of Cogito Books. Must go back to watch some re-enactment events soon! You should, too!

P.S. You can 'tweet' me at http://twitter.com/CarolineLawrenc
P.P.S. Tweet Hadrian at http://twitter.com/EmperorHadrian

Storytelling in Star Trek

Narrative techniques used by the makers of Star Trek

Apart from the fact that one character is called Nero and another Tiberius (kind of) the new Star Trek film really doesn’t have anything to do with ancient Rome or The Roman Mysteries. So why a blog entry about it?

Because I love thinking about the craft of storytelling and Star Trek is an example of Hollywood storytelling at its best. Here are some of the tools the screenwriters used to make it fun, exciting and emotionally satisfying.

Caveat Lector: Spoilers adsunt!

1. RE-BOOTING - By invoking time travel, the makers of the franchise have pulled a brilliant coup. They've literally re-booted the whole series. The writers have taken the characters many of us know and love and by changing events in the future which affect the past they have given them the chance to start a whole new raft of adventures.

2. BREAKING THE RULES - In every sci-fi film ever made we all know that if you go back to the past and meet yourself, then the ENTIRE FABRIC OF THE SPACE TIME CONTINUUM will disintegrate. This film pulls a masterstroke by saying actually it's OK. This means wise old Spock can be a mentor to hot-blooded young Spock. This gives us potential for new set-ups and pay-offs we have rarely seen before.

3. RESPECTING & REFERENCING THE PAST – The original Kirk was randy and brash. The original Spock was logical and conflicted. Bones was a compassionate pessimist. Checkov had trouble pronouncing V’s. The film makers give nods to all these well-known traits of the characters we love, often in funny and clever ways. New fans won’t necessarily get the references, but old faithfuls will nod in approval.

4. HERO’S JOURNEY - The plot follows the classic steps of the Hero’s Journey, as articulated by Joseph Campbell, Christopher Vogler and others: the Hero’s World, the Call to Adventure, the Refusal of the Call, the Mentor (Pike: ‘I dare you to do better’), Crossing the Threshold, Collection of Allies, the Training, etc… However, they aren’t afraid to abbreviate steps in order to keep the pace clipping along. The Training is dealt with in two seconds by the title: THREE YEARS LATER, then jumps to a scene which shows us how brilliantly Kirk has combined skills he learned with his rebellious think-outside-the-box nature.

5. SINK OR SWIM - By taking young recruits and promoting them very quickly we get both a VERY YOUNG CREW and also the SUSPENSE that comes with characters possibly out of their depth.

6. DRAMEDY - The term ‘dramedy’ is applied by some screenwriters to a tense scene is tempered or relieved by humour. This is done brilliantly in many places in the new Star Trek film, but especially in the scene where Kirk has trouble imparting life-or-death-info because his fingers and tongue are swollen by an injection. Bones: ‘You have numb tongue?’ This scene also works brilliantly because the funny obstacle also adds suspense.

7. ARCHETYPES – the film makers use some of our favourite archetypes from myth and legend. The Hero – Kirk - who serves and sacrifices. The Mentor – Pike, who tells the hero his capabilities and calls him to adventure. The Sidekick - Bones - who supports the hero and acts as his conscience. The Trickster or Funny one – Scotty – who does the impossible. The Wild One – Spock – the ally with a wild side who often starts out by battling the Hero. He is destined to become a Sidekick, but not in this story.

8. SCENE DEEPENING – stuff going on in the background adds depth to a scene. E.g. the lugubrious alien in the Iowa bar scene between Kirk and Uhura gives a delicious and funny depth to the scene.

9. SET-UPS & PAY-OFFS – ‘I might throw up on you,’ says Bones to Kirk soon after they meet. ‘I might throw up on you,’ says Kirk to Bones a few scenes later. (Sadly the set-up of a prize beagle transported into space is never paid off.)

10. SUBTEXTS & REVEALS - Whoa! Who's Uhura dating? It's unexpected but not too unexpected. Because they did set it up and for a few scenes there was a nice little subtext. (Subtext is when a character is hiding something and we sense it on an unconscious level. This gives a nice depth to characters.)

11. KEEPING ACTION SCENES SIMPLE - Even in a highly advanced society, nothing gets the pulse pounding like fist-fights (I counted four) and cliff-hangers (at least three). They are also a lot easier to follow than complicated Transformer-esque battles, etc.

12. USE OF SYMBOLS – to name just a few:
1. THE PHOENIX - Kirk is born out of flames, like a Phoenix. Also, the escape pod is expelled from the mother ship as he is expelled from his mother.
2. THE MOTORCYCLE - Put a guy in a leather jacket and on a motorcycle and it says: Rebel without a Cause.
3. THE UNIFORM - Kirk does not put on his Starfleet uniform until the very last few scenes, by then he's earned it.
etc...

However there were at least FIVE THINGS that didn’t work.

1. OLD SPOCK - When Kirk is sent to the ice planet and just happens to meet Spock – HUGE coincidence - this should be a powerfully moving moment, but isn’t. This might have something to do with Leonard Nimoy’s mushy diction: a case of bad false teeth.

2. NERO - We are not really interested in the villain or his motives. The attempt to give him a backstory of his own doesn’t really work. Villains are very hard to get right. My favourite villain of all time is probably The Mayor, from Buffy the Vampire Slayer.

3. LINGERING NEAR A BLACK HOLE – come ON! Everyone knows when a black hole starts you have to skedaddle!

4. NO REVELATION FOR THE HERO - My mentor John Truby talks about establishing your hero’s need at the beginning. This is something in the hero that needs to change near the end, as the hero has a revelation about himself. Kirk’s need is to be less of a brash rebel and more a team player, Spock’s is to control his repressed human anger. Neither of them have a clear moment when they realise their need and then show that they’ve changed, (though there are hints). I think if these beats had been clearer the end of the story would have had more impact.

5. FLAT ENDING – the famous Star Trek monologue combined with the theme song at the very end of the film should have been a transcendent moment, but it was just kind of… flat. Why? Possibly the structure (see previous flaw)... but who knows? Will have to think about it.

Watch the Roman Mysteries

Another chance to catch up on the CBBC TV series!

You can watch it today and every weekday from 1.00 to 1.30pm on CBBC. Missed an episode? You can catch up on iPlayer up to a week after.
(left: Velislav Pavlov)

The stories are not quite the same as those in my books, but the series still gives a great idea of the 'look' of ancient Rome and the four main characters are pretty much as they are in my head. Here are some of my other favourites:

I. Admiral Pliny, played by Simon Callow
II. Titus Tascius Pomponianus, played by Roger Ashton-Griffiths
III. Susannah bat Jonah, played by Liz May Brice
IV. Delilah, played by Sana Kassous
V. Pliny the Younger, played by Mark Wells
VI. Domitian, played by Duncan Duff
VII. Mendusa, played by Valentina Mizzi
VIII. Melissa, priestess of Apollo, played by Claire Agius
IX. Brutus, scary member of the vigiles, played by Velislav Pavlov
X. Marcus Artorius Bato, played by Tom Harper
XI. Gaius Valerius Flaccus (AKA 'Floppy'), played by Ben Lloyd-Hughes
XII. Floridius, dealer in sacred chickens, played by Mark Benton.
(Floridius is such a good character that I am currently writing a Roman Mysteries Mini-Mystery about him. You can see him in the clip below making the hand gestures, then pointing and grinning...)



Oh, and if you can't see the TV series, you can buy the DVDs of both seasons on Amazon.co.uk

Enjoy it!

Riddle of the Roman Vase

The next time you are in central London, you should visit the Portland Vase in Room 70 of the British Museum.

The ‘Portland Vase’ is the modern name for one of the most famous pieces of Roman art in the world. It is a beautiful blue and white glass amphora made in the extremely difficult ‘cameo technique’. In this method of manufacture, opaque white glass covers darker glass (watch a demo HERE) and is then painstakingly carved away to show a scene in relief (i.e. ‘bumpy'). We know from chemical analysis that this beautiful vase was made in Roman times. We know from the glass technique used that it was probably produced around the time of Rome’s first emperor, Octavian Augustus (between about 30 BC and AD 20). We know that the vase used to have a pointy bottom, like all amphoras, but that this was broken during its many adventures (check out Wikipedia or the excellent Mystery of the Portland Vase) and a new flat bottom was fitted.

Everybody agrees that the Portland Vase is a masterpiece, but not everybody agrees about what it was used for or who commissioned it. (A vase this finely-crafted and expensive must have been ordered by a very rich person.) And the biggest mystery is: who are the seven figures on the vase?

Only one of the figures is easy to identify. It is found on the side which scholars call the ‘A-side’. It is the flying baby with the torch and bow: the Roman god of love, Cupid. His presence means that the couple below him are about to fall in love.

But who are the two lovers? Who is the lady with wet or dishevelled hair and a snake in her lap? Who is the young man she is holding on to? And who is that pensive bearded guy over to the right?

On the other side – the ‘B-side’ - are some more mysterious seated figures: a naked youth, a woman with a hairdo datable to around 30 BC, and a woman holding a downturned torch and tearing her hair. Who could they be? And what are they all sitting on?

We can identify Cupid on the A-side by his wings and bow, but none of the others are obvious. This may be because they are real people, rather than Greek heroes or Roman gods. Another interesting aspect is that women are the central figures on both sides. But that still doesn’t help us.

Who are they? Scholars have put forward more than 50 different theories.

Susan Walker, Keeper of Antiquities at the Ashmolean Museum, presents an exciting theory in her book The Portland Vase (Objects in Focus). She believes the woman with the snake is Cleopatra and that Octavia is on the other side. Those of you who have read The Beggar of Volubilis know that Octavia (sister of the emperor Augustus) lost her husband Antonius to Cleopatra, but after their deaths she nobly raised their surviving children as her own. Susan Walker's theory is quite persuasive, but it was an asp that killed Cleopatra, not a sea-snake, and her identification of the bearded man as Mark Anthony's father is also unconvincing.

Other scholars believe the woman with the snake is Thetis, the beautiful sea-nymph and mother of Achilles. It was prophesied that her son would be more powerful than his father. All the gods of Olympus desired her, but Jupiter knew it would be fatal if one of them sired her child: that child would be more powerful than any of them. So he told a mortal, Peleus, the secret of winning Thetis. ‘She can change into any creature,’ warned Jupiter, ‘but if you hang on tight then she will be yours.’ Is the handsome young hero Peleus? And is the man watching Jupiter?

The only problem with that theory is that she’s holding onto the handsome man, not the other way round. And Jupiter does not have any of his trademark identifying symbols. No thunderbolt, staff or crown. And who would have commissioned a fabulously expensive amphora showing the origins of a Greek hero? The Romans believed they were descended from the Trojans, mortal enemies of the Greeks.

Stephen Pollock-Hill is a modern glassmaker. He owns one of the few glass factories in Britain where glass is still blown in the ancient way. His firm – Nazeing Glass – has produced specialty items such as railway signal lenses, glass wall-blocks and laboratory beakers and tubes. (right: Stephen with engraver Lesley Pyke © Lesley Pyke)

One of Stephen’s passions is the Portland Vase. Over the next year, Nazeing Glass is going to produce ten interpretations of the vase. Skilled glass-makers will blow cobalt blue glass and then coat it with opaque white glass at just the right temperature so that the coating sticks and doesn’t make the glass underneath crack. Then ten engravers from all over the world will each carve their version of the figures on the Portland Vase. (You can watch a fascinating clip of one of them, Lesley Pyke, on her website www.lesleypyke.com.) This project will cost over £100,000!

One beautiful spring evening, on Tuesday 22 April 2009, I went to the Art Workers Guild near Great Ormond Street in London to hear Stephen give a talk about the vase. Speaking in a beautiful lecture hall full of portraits of famous craftsmen and artists, Stephen presented his theory about the identity of the seven figures on the vase. Members of The Glass Circle were there, and also Dr Paul Roberts, the Curator of Greek & Roman Antiquities at the British Museum and an expert on Roman cameo glass.

Stephen Pollock-Hill believes the woman with the snake is Atia, mother of Octavian and Octavia. She claimed to have been visited by a snake at the sanctuary of Apollo nine months before the birth of Octavian. (In Roman times a snake was good luck, not bad luck, and Apollo is often associated with a snake.) The man she is clutching is Gaius Octavian, her husband and the man with the beard could be the Trojan hero Aeneas – ancestor of Romulus and Remus. What about the B-side? Stephen believes the woman in the centre is Octavian Augustus’s second wife Scribonia, who was rejected in favour of Livia. The downturned torch could show her failure. The handsome man on the left is Octavian himself, the future emperor, gazing into the eyes of Livia, who would become his empress and mother of Rome’s second emperor, Tiberius.

Who do YOU think the figures are? Can you find other examples of a woman with a snake or a woman with a downturned torch? (Is it a torch of 'love' or a torch of 'life'?) The two handsome men and the bearded man don’t have any special attributes, so they might well be real people. Any ideas about what the woman with the torch is sitting on? Could it be a funeral pyre? Or something else? You should also think about who would commission such a fabulous piece of art. 

I can’t wait to hear your theories.

In the meantime, Stephen and his glassmakers will soon be firing up the furnaces to make modern versions of this mysterious and beautiful Roman masterpiece, the Portland Vase.

P.S. Since I wrote this blog, another magnificent cameo-glass vase has appeared: the Bonham Vase or Newby Vase as it's also called. Read about it HERE.

[The 17 books in the Roman Mysteries series are perfect for children aged 9+, especially those studying Romans as a topic in Key Stage 2. You can watch season one of a BBC adaptation of the Roman Mysteries on iTunes.]