How We Wrote Amarantus by Caroline Lawrence

In July of 2018 I was invited to join a team putting together an online ancient history module for students in Key Stage 3. 

Headed by Caroline Bristow of the Cambridge Schools Classics Project, this online course would be based around the ancient Roman inhabitants of the so-called House and Bar of Amarantus in Pompeii. Archaeologists Andrew Wallace-Hadrill and Sophie Hay would provide the physical evidence; Greek Myth Comix artist and Classics teacher Laura Jenkinson would illustrate it; historians like Olivia Elder would advise and I would write a narrative incorporating some of what we know about the residents. 

The story would be fictional, showing daily life of a middle-class Pompeian family, but based on the archaeology, especially the house plan, artefacts, graffiti and plant remains. Caroline Bristow wanted six modules each based around a specific topic, such as Roman Beliefs and Ancient Food.  

The Amarantus Team. Back row from left to right: Stephany Ungless, Charlie Andrew, Mair Lloyd, Caroline Bristow, Dr Olivia Elder, Dr Sophie Hay, Dr Ian Colvin, James Watson. Front row: Prof Andrew Wallace-Hadrill, Caroline Lawrence, Laura Jenkinson-Brown

signet ring with mule, photo by Chris Warde-Jones

Instead of making up my own plot, as I usually do, I had to stick to the six specific topics. I was also given a wish-list of scenes and ideas to incorporate, especially by Dr Sophie Hay, who helped excavate the site for several years and discovered the remains of a mule and dog in one of the front rooms! I felt like writer on a TV show working with a room full of collaborators. We had to decide the age and status of our hero Amarantus, when to set the story, the time span of the narrative and other elements of the plot, (like the names of the mule and dog). 

Most books or stories about Pompeii conclude with a bang: the town’s destruction by the eruption of Vesuvius in 79 CE. However, archaeologist Sophie Hay was keen to set our story seventeen years before the eruption when a sizeable earthquake rocked Pompeii. I suggested we begin the book with a bang: the earthquake. But Dr Sophie (as we call her) was adamant that the earthquake occur halfway through. After a few days of sulking, I realised she was right. There is often a dramatic event at the halfway point of a story and this could be it. It could also show that what seems to be a disaster for many can be a blessing for a few. The earthquake becomes crucial for Amarantus’s personal journey from slave to successful freedman. 

Brainstorming ideas at my London flat in August 2018

The earliest age that a slave can be manumitted is thirty. So we decided to make Amarantus thirty. Graffiti shows him with spiky hair and a bulbous nose. So we incorporated those elements into our story. And what about the dead mule and dog? I couldn’t bear to write a story with unhappy animals so decided to give them to Amarantus and also to make him soft-hearted, which I’m pretty sure was not the case for most ancient Romans. 

Once we agreed these basic elements, I was given free rein. My main motivation as a writer of historical fiction has always been to transport readers back in time, using soundscape, smellscape, touch and taste as well as visual descriptions. That is what I wanted to do here. I also set myself the challenge of making each chapter unique and compelling. Finally, I wanted to show how like us the ancients were, but with a surprise or even sting at the end of each tale, reminding people how unlike us they were. 

I wrote the first draft in a few months, finishing it by Christmas of 2018. 

View of the crossroads fountain, seen from the bar of Amarantus

But I wasn’t done yet. Oh no.

Esteemed professor Andrew Wallace-Hadrill whom I have nicknamed the ‘Myth Buster’ challenged many of my decisions. Did they really have ‘wheels of cheese’ in Roman times? Is there actual evidence of betrothal rings? We had to find evidence! I too am obsessed with accuracy and I long to know what it was really like in the past, so I didn’t mind at all. 

Amarantus with a 'wheel of cheese' by Laura Jenkinson-Brown

Because this story is set in the ‘universe’ of Caecilius, Metella, Quintus et al from the original Cambridge Latin Course book, we decided to put in a few ‘Easter Eggs’. I believe James Watson suggested a cameo by baby Quintus.

Olivia Elder, our graffiti expert, requested graffiti only found in Pompeii and the environs. This included a few quotes from Virgil. Again, I was happy to comply. 

Model of Vatia's garden by Laura Jenkinson-Brown

Then in came Laura Jenkinson-Brown, our amazing Classics teacher by day and illustrator by night. As she began to draw the scenes, this raised a myriad of new questions. How BIG was a wheel of cheese? What does a wineskin actually look like? Where would the shadows fall in a west-facing dining room? Laura went as far as constructing 3D cardboard models to better depict some of the scenes and even persuaded her delightful husband Sy to pose with soft toys while she sketched the characters. 

Dr Sophie digging in Pompeii!

At this stage we all contributed, especially Dr Sophie, who knows the house and bar of Amarantus like the palm of her hand. Sometimes Sophie, Laura and I were sending comments on the illustrations back and forth into the wee hours. Did we grumble? No! We loved every minute of diving down these many rabbit holes. 

The Amarantus Project turned out to be one of the most enjoyable projects I have ever worked on. I would like to thank the CSCP team and all the other brilliant and meticulous scholars who helped me write this story. This truly is a labour of love. I’m sure my collaborators would all agree when I say that we hope this book will grip middle grade readers and get them as excited about Pompeii and the past as we are. 

P.S. You can now buy the book Amarantus and his Neighbourhood from Amazon. If you want to dive down more rabbit holes with us, go to the interactive site, www.cambridgeamarantus.com, where there is evidence for almost every line in this book. 

Sophe at Pompeii's port, my fave illustration by Laura Jenkinson-Brown

P.P.S. Observant readers will spot that street urchin Sophe resembles Dr. Sophie Hay in certain respects. This was a clever visual tribute by Laura Jenkinson-Brown, who also represents herself as one of the characters. Can you guess which one? 

Up Yours, Brutus!

by Caroline Lawrence (author of the Roman Mysteries)

One of the first things that greeted visitors to the Life and Death in Pompeii and Herculaneum exhibition at the British Museum in the summer of 2013 was a jolly fresco of a phoenix above two peacocks (below). On the audio guide, curator Paul Roberts called this fresco a pub sign. It was found on a wall of a popina or fast food joint in Pompeii. The slogan reads Phoenix felix et tu: The Phoenix is happy (or lucky), and you!

What caught my attention was the phrase et tu which immediately called to mind Julius Caesar's last words according to Shakespeare: et tu, Brute.  Of course, as any Classicist knows, Caesar didn't really say et tu. He spoke in Greek: Kai su, teknon, which means 'and you, my child'. This is often interpreted as the poignant words of a noble, betrayed Roman to the young assassin who might have been his illegitimate child: 'Even you, my son?'

But the phoenix pub sign hints that Caesar might not have gone down quite that submissively on the Ides of March in 44 BCE.

One thing the Pompeii exhibition brought home to me was how obsessed the ancient Romans were with keeping away evil. A little research showed me that the phrase 'and you' – whether in Greek or Latin – is apotropaic.

Apotropaic is Greek for something that 'turns away'. It usually refers to anything that averts evil or bad luck. Apotropaic images include the raised palm of the left hand, erect phalluses, the unflinching gaze of a full frontal face and the eye amulets that are still so popular in the Mediterranean. Also apotropaic is the peacock, which has a tail full of 'eyes'. All these things 'turn away evil'.

The phrase et tu ('and you') has a similar meaning. It reflects back. Our modern equivalent might be 'the same to you!'. In Roman times, if a person approached you with good intentions, saying 'et tu' would be a blessing. But if they came at you with evil intent, the phrase becomes a curse. So whether Julius Caesar said et tu or kai su to the young man stabbing him, it meant the same thing: 'Back at you, punk!' or better yet: 'Up yours, Brutus!'

Check out my 30 plus history-mystery books for kids at www.carolinelawrence.com!

Mule vs Volcano

When I go into schools and stay on to do a writing workshop, I almost always set a task of writing a story called ‘Escape from Vesuvius’. There were at least 20,000 people living around the volcano in the first century AD and I reckon each one of them had their own story. We always start by listing the seven plot beats which I have adapted from Hollywood script guru John Truby. Sometimes we start with the hero’s weakness – or Achilles Heel – which will give us the lesson learned AKA step 6, The Knowledge. At St Lawrence Junior School yesterday we were running short on time so we started with his problem: volcano! Acting as the show-runner in a TV writers’ room I got the kids to brainstorm ideas for our hero’s gender, age, name and skills. We voted on them and quickly mapped out the basic plot. If possible I try to get them to come up with a subtitle and in this case we voted for Mule vs Volcano. We had just enough time for a few of the children to read their first paragraphs and they were great. 

But this morning I took a few hours to write my own version. Here’s what I came up with. 

Escape from Vesuvius: Mule vs Volcano 
by Caroline Lawrence 
(with the help of year 4 from St Lawrence Junior School)

It started like any other day. But that was the day I learned an apple can save your life. 

I woke at dawn, slipped on my tunic and splashed water on my face from the jug beside my bed. Then I let myself out of the front door and ran to the baker’s shop. Although our baker makes deliveries, I like to run whenever I can. Most afternoons I train in the palaestra of the Stabian Baths but I like to run first thing in the morning too, when the world is still cool and fresh and the sun is just rising. I run barefoot along the smooth pavements of my town, Pompeii. The soles of my feet are hard as leather. I usually take the long way round to the baker’s, then come back with three warm round loaves under my arm.  

My name is Maximus and I am sixteen years old. My household is small. Just me and my aged parents. We used to have a slave but never got around to replacing him. Our needs are few. My mother can only walk a few steps at a time but she weaves happily in her high-backed wicker chair while my father teaches me to speak eloquently in Greek as well as Latin. 

In the evenings I read passages of Homer’s Iliad or Odyssey to my parents. My favourite story is the one at the end of the Iliad where Achilles chases Hector around the walls of Troy. I always hope that somehow this time Hector will escape, but of course he never does. The words of the poem are etched into my brain like letters in a wax tablet. That story is like one of Plato’s forms: it exists somewhere outside our world, on a higher level. 

Sometimes when I run, I recite that passage. It is as if I am Hector, running from Achilles. 

On that fateful day, I was having a lesson with my father in the garden. My mother sat nearby, in the shade of our apple tree. She was making thread from a drop spindle, turning a clump of wool into fine strong yarn.  

It was almost noon when we heard shouts coming from outside. I hurried out into the street. My neighbours were pointing north, and I saw something like a fat white thread of wool rising up on the horizon.

My father came out a moment later, leaning on his walking stick. 

The smell of rotten eggs filled the air and soon ash was falling. The sky was getting darker, as when clouds gather. 

That was when I remembered the dream I’d had the previous night. The white-hot ghost of Achilles had been chasing me. 

I knew it was a warning, sent by the gods.  

‘We must go!’ I told Pater about my dream. ‘We must get away as fast as we can.’ 

‘But how?’ he replied. ‘I can only walk with the help of a stick and your mother can barely walk at all.’ Then he grasped my shoulders. ‘Son, you are fast. Save yourself. Run! Your mother and I have lived a good life. If it is the will of the gods, we will die a good death.’ 


‘No!’ I cried. ‘I will not leave you.’ 

If had been strong I might have carried my parents, one under each arm. But despite my name I am not powerful. I am fast, yes, but also skinny. 

Then I had an idea. ‘Your old chariot!’ I cried. ‘I can pull you in the chariot!’ 


When my father was young, he had raced chariots and he still kept his favourite in our storeroom. It was made of wicker, leather and beechwood and was very light: like a basket on wheels. 

‘Put on all your jewellery!’ I cried to my mother. ‘Pater, get anything valuable that we can easily carry! And bring some food!’ 

A moment later my aged parents stood in the small chariot as I pulled them out the front door of our house. 

Ash covered the pavement and street. People were already fleeing, carrying their belongings on their backs, holding children by the hand. Some had cushions tied to their heads to keep off the falling embers. Others wore napkins over their noses and mouths to keep out the ash. 

I hurried back inside and soaked two cushions in water from the fountain, then tied them to my parents’ heads. For myself I soaked my hooded woollen cloak in water and put that on. 

Then I grasped the two side beams of the chariot and pulled. 

At first it was easy enough, but soon I was coughing and wheezing. I was not used to pulling the weight of two people, even old ones who are not very heavy. 

As we reached the town gate, I had an idea. 

At the stables we could hire a horse to pull us. 

But as we reached the stables, I saw others had the same idea. 

The only animal left was a stubborn looking mule with a badly swollen front left hoof. 

‘That one’s Podagrosus,’ said the stable owner. ‘I’ll let you have him for a thousand sesterces. But I doubt you’ll get him to move.’ 

One thousand sesterces was a huge amount to pay for a lame mule, but I had no choice. I reached into my belt pouch and pulled out ten gold coins, almost all our savings. The stable owner greedily took them, then bit one to make sure it was pure. A moment later he was hurrying out of the stable. 

Left alone, pulled the chariot over to the mule, hitched him to it with a wooden yoke lying nearby, then grasped his bristly mane and tugged. 

‘Come on, Podagrosus,’ I said. ‘Let’s go.’ 

The mule gave me a sideways look but did not budge.  

I took my father’s walking stick and beat his rear. 

It was like beating a marble statue of a mule. The creature did not even twitch. 

‘Stop, Maximus!’ called my mother, who has a soft heart. ‘Here!’ She reached down the front of her stola and pulled out a red apple. 

‘Look, Podagrosus,’ I said, holding it up. ‘A nice juicy apple, fresh from the tree in our garden.’ 

Podagrosus took a step forward. 

Holding out the apple, I backed through the open doors of the stable and onto the street. 

Podagrosus followed. 

I had done it! 

Suddenly the mule lunged forward and closed his teeth on the apple.

‘Ow!’ I cried. ‘He almost bit my hand off!’ 

‘I have one more,’ said my mother. ‘Use it wisely.’

‘Think, Maximus!’ I told myself. ‘Think!’ 

Then I had an idea. ‘Mater,’ I said. ‘Do you have any thread?’ 

‘Always!’ She pulled her spindle from down the front of her tunic and I took two arms’ lengths of strong woollen thread. I tied one end to the stem of the apple and the other to the end of my father’s walking stick. Then I stuck the other end of the stick into the yoke of the mule so that the apple hung about half an arm’s length before his nose. 

Podagrosus limped forward, always going for the apple but never quite able to reach it. 

By the time his swollen foot prevented him from going any further we had made it beyond a spur of the Milky Mountains near Stabiae, and I knew we would be safe. 

‘Well done, Podagrosus!’ I said and gave the tired mule the apple he had been straining after for three hours. ‘I promise we will take good care of you for the rest of your life. And all the apples you can eat.’ 


The End

Ten Myths About Pompeii

Fun poster for the movie Pompeii (2014)

The poster on the right is huge fun, but if you’ve studied Pompeii at school or read my book The Secrets of Vesuvius, you know it’s wrong.
There was plenty of warning. 
There was a chance to escape.
There were no flaming rocks.
There were no rivers of lava. 
And there were almost certainly no passionately kissing couples!
You know it was a Plinian eruption, named after the two Plinys, Pliny the Elder, the naturalist who died in the eruption, and Pliny the Younger, the one who wrote about it. You know all about the ash and the pyroclastic surge. 

staged reconstruction of making the casts at Pompeii

You know that the so-called frozen bodies are not frozen bodies at all, but plaster casts made when Italian archaeologists filled the body-shaped cavities in the tufa (hardened ash) with plaster of Paris. When the plaster hardened they chipped away the tufa to reveal shockingly accurate moulds of the vanished dead, sometimes showing folds of cloth and facial expressions. This was a kind of death-mask, but for the whole body, not just the face. And they didn’t just take moulds of people but animals, too, such as mules, pigs and a dog. 

Wallace-Hadrill at Pompeii, 2013

I thought I knew all the facts, too. Then I went to the Bay of Naples with Professor Andrew Wallace-Hadrill and my world was rocked. He showed me that many of my beliefs were actually myths. Wallace-Hadrill was director of the Herculaneum Conservation Project for fifteen years, from 2001 until 2016. Some people call him ‘Professor Herculaneum’, because few people know Pompeii’s smaller, richer sister-city better than he does. I call him ‘Myth-Buster’!

Caroline at Pompeii in January 2013

A few years ago, Cambridge Alumni Travel in conjunction with Andante Travels proposed a once-in-a-lifetime chance to visit ruins on the Bay of Naples with Wallace-Hadrill. I jumped at the chance. I had visions of him telling us things no book would reveal and taking us places no tour guide would have access to. I was right. He did get us into places the other tours didn’t reach. But he also demolished some long-accepted facts about the famous eruption of Vesuvius and the cities it destroyed.

By the end of our first hour with Andrew Wallace-Hadrill I realised he was a Myth-Buster extraordinaire. Like all great historians and archaeologists, he does not accept facts just because they’ve been repeated in print a bazillion times. He has a knack for looking at things with fresh eyes and reinterpreting the evidence if necessary.

Here are ten of my most cherished beliefs: BUSTED!

Wallace-Hadrill at Pompeii, 2013

Myth #1 – Vesuvius Did Not Erupt on 24 August AD 79. Everybody confidently quotes this as the date of the eruption, but everybody is probably wrong! At the turn of the 20th century, everybody claimed the eruption occurred in November. But Wallace-Hadrill thinks late September or early October is a likelier date. His clue is a lot of ripe pomegranates found near a buried villa at a place called Oplontis between Pompeii and Herculaneum. (This villa is known as the Villa Poppea or Villa Poppaea because it was owned by Nero’s wife Poppaea.) In Italy, pomegranates ripen in late September/early October. The problem is not with Pliny the Younger, whose famous letters tell us the date of the disaster, but with the monks who interpreted his dates as they copied his manuscripts.

Myth #2 – Villa Poppea Not Owned by Nero’s Wife. The Villa at Oplontis probably wasn’t called the Villa Poppea and it probably wasn’t owned by Nero’s wife Poppaea. (Though both things might be possible.) Furthermore, the town where it’s located wasn’t called Oplontis. Or maybe it was. We just don’t know. 

Myth #3 – Population of Herculaneum. Guide books often say the population of Herculaneum was 4,000 people. We simple do not know! Those who hung around were possibly vaporised by the first pyroclastic surge. This explains why so few bodies have been found in the town at the foot of Vesuvius. The only bodies we’ve found at Herculaneum were those sheltering deep underground or in the vaulted boat-houses facing the waterfront. But wait…

Myth #4 – Not Boat-houses. The famous bone-filled “boat-houses’ in Herculaneum probably weren’t boat houses. Yes, they were by the sea but they probably had a double function as foundations for the Suburban Baths and storehouses for various goods, (but probably not for boats.) Wallace-Hadrill thinks the dozens of skeletons found there were those of people sheltering from what they believed was just another earthquake. He believes there were dozens of earthquakes in the run-up to the eruption, starting with the big one in 62 CE. But wait…

Myth #5 – The Earthquake of 62. The famous earthquake of 62 CE was almost certainly in 63 CE. Scholars got the dating wrong. Seneca tells us who the consuls were and this allows us to date it precisely.

Myth #6 – Buried Under Hot Mud! Herculaneum was NOT buried by hot mud as all the guidebooks tell you. It was buried under alternating layers of tufa (hardened ash) and lapilli (light aerated pebbles of volcanic matter). You can see it before your very eyes, if you just look!

Myth #6 – Don’t Call it a thermopolium. The Romans called those fast-food places popinae or tabernae. The word thermopolium only occurs once in Plautus (a 3rd century BC Roman comic playwright). It was probably a joke word. Wallace-Hadrill, the Myth-Buster, called this a ‘dubious term’.

Myth #7 – Don’t Call it the Decumanus Maximus. Romans did not call the main road through town the Decumanus Maximus. That is a term invented by modern scholars. They probably called it Venus Street. Or Street of the Fishmarket, or similar.

Myth #8 – Don’t Call it a lararium. Romans might have worshipped Hercules or Diana there, rather than the Lares of the household. Call it a shrine, an aediculum in Latin.

Myth #9 – So-called Discovery of Pompeii. Pompeii was not really “discovered’ in the 18th century. They knew it was there but just weren’t interested or were discouraged by the church from investigating too deeply.

Myth #10 –  The Phallus is Not Always Apotropaic. In Pompeii, guides will tell you that the male member points the way to brothels. Experts tell you it was a symbol of good luck, used against the ‘evil eye’. They are correct, but to bust a busted myth: sometimes the phallus did point the way to a brothel. (See picture above of a phallus on a paving stone of the Via dell’Abbondanza, Pompeii’s main drag.)

Wallace-Hadrill at Herculaneum, 2013

The main thing I learned from our time with Professor Herculaneum was this: There’s a lot we don’t know. Don’t believe things just because you’ve read them or heard them. Always check the primary sources in conjunction with the archaeological evidence and make up your own mind.

For those of you not lucky enough to travel to the Bay of Naples with Andrew Wallace-Hadrill as a tour guide, don’t despair. His lavishly-illustrated and clearly-written book, Herculaneum Past and Future, is now out in paperback. It is a wonderful resource.

I have written over thirty history-mystery books for children set in Roman times. Three of my Roman Mysteries are set on the Bay of Naples during and after the eruption of Vesuvius: The Secrets of Vesuvius, The Pirates of Pompeii and The Sirens of Surrentum. Find out more at my website: www.carolinelawrence.com

P.S. A version of this post was first published on Wonders & Marvels in February 2013, a month after our trip to the Bay of Naples. 

Pompeii Movie Bloopers

I will start by saying I enjoyed Pompeii the 2014 movie hugely and recommend it highly, especially to children aged 12 and up. It is obviously a labour of love and the film makers put a lot of research and thought into the look of the film. The sets are wonderful and the costumes also fun.

But writing historical fiction is always tricky and adapting it for big or little screen even harder. You can get 95% right but people will spot the 5% you got wrong. So here is my 5%, the dozen or so things that I consider to be bloopers. Hopefully, future makers of Roman movies, books or musicals will take note of these "mistakes". 

1. The forearm handshake is pure Hollywood. We know from coins, reliefs and vases that Romans shook hands, or at any rate clasped hands, just as we do today. For more proof that this handshake is totally bogus, go to my Greek and Roman Handshake Pinterest page. 

2. The phrase: "Those of us who are about to die salute you" is only attested once, in an account of a mock sea-battle during the reign of the Emperor Claudius. It was spoken by condemned criminals who all knew they were fated to die. 

3. Highborn girls probably wouldn't have run around Pompeii or any other Roman city without a bodyguard and without their heads covered by a palla. 

4. The film-makers show the famous stepping stones in Pompeii but then have the characters walk in the street. Some archaeologists think the fountains were constantly overflowing into the streets to wash away quantities of horse manure, etc. You would not want to walk in the streets of Pompeii, especially the ones open to horse and mule traffic. 

Neapolitans get out their umbrellas in 1944's eruption

5. Vesuvius has gone off many times since that first famous eruption in AD 79.  Each time great ash clouds still rise into the air. This type of eruption is called a Plinian eruption after Pliny the Younger, who first described it and Pliny the Elder, who lost his life investigating it. When Vesuvius erupts, Neapolitans just open their umbrellas and wait it out. Apart from the earth tremors that brought down some buildings, the main danger of the AD 79 eruption was from a succession of pyroclastic surges of white hot ash, which was well-depicted in the film. There were no flaming boulders, just showers of tiny pumice pebbles called lapilli. However, the exploding boulders invented by the film makers are great fun from a storytelling point of view. 

6. As in the movie, the sea did indeed recede and then became unviable because of a scum of debris and lapilli floating on the top and rubble on the coast. However there was no "reverse tsunami", though this makes for some exciting visual effects. 

7. People in Pompeii had about 12 hours to get out of town. The volcano started erupting around noon and the first pyroclastic surge did not occur before midnight. Those people who went south around the Capo di Sorrento probably survived. I have walked it myself: it takes about four hours from Castellammare di Stabia to Vico Equense. From Pompeii would be doable in 6 to 8 hours.

famous plaster cast of the mule-driver

8. The "frozen bodies" featured in the movie are inspired by plaster casts first made by the Italian excavator Fiorelli about 150 years ago. When the pyroclastic surges reached Pompeii, the heat was just enough to kill people instantly without burning their clothes or flesh. The ash fell and buried the bodies. Over time the ash became hard while the bodies decomposed. After two thousand years, all that was left were "people-shaped holes" in the hardened ash. Using the principle by which casts of famous sculptures were made, Fiorelli filled the cavities left by corpses with liquid plaster, let them dry and then chipped away the hardened ash. The "ancient Roman bodies" in positions of agony and despair electrified the world and put Pompeii on the map. 

A fumarole at Solfatara (Sept 2013)

9. Fissures did not open in the earth and bits of cliff did not fall off but there probably were steaming vents as there are today in Solfatara, a shallow volcanic crater in the Campi Flegrei (flaming fields) near Naples. 

10. Prior to the eruption, the crater was probably not full of lava. Spartacus and his men camped in it a century earlier. When the volcano erupted in AD 79 a whole new peak was created and the earlier higher peak, Mons Somma, collapsed. Today you can clearly see both the old peak and new: Mons Somma and Vesuvius.

The volcano's most recent eruption in April 1944

11. The cloud of ash thrown up by the volcano probably would have been white at first and seemed almost motionless, as in Norman Lewis's description of its most recent eruption in 1944. It was the most majestic and terrible sight I have ever seen, or ever expect to. The smoke from the crater slowly built up into a great bulging shape having all the appearance of solidity. It swelled and expanded so slowly that there was no sign of movement in the cloud which, by evening, must have risen thirty or forty thousand feet into the sky. (Naples 44 by Norman Lewis)

12.  Titus was not a vindictive Emperor as hinted at in the film. His younger brother Domitian was the one who executed dissenters and confiscated their property. On the contrary, Titus visited the area of destruction soon after the eruption, and provided financial aid out of his own funds.

Great book for kids 8+ about eruption

You can read Pliny the Younger's two accounts of the eruption online and see for yourself. A brilliant detailed scholarly commentary starts HERE. 

Kids will enjoy my second Roman Mystery, The Secrets of Vesuvius, which is closely based on Pliny's letters.

You can watch an adaptation of the Roman Mysteries books including The Secrets of Vesuvius on iTunes or Amazon Prime. And yes, there are bloopers in the filmed depictions of my books, too!  

Last Chance for Pompeii Exhibition!

9.10 on a Sunday morning!

You've been meaning to go to the British Museum Pompeii Exhibition all summer but it finishes at the end of September. At time of posting this, pre-booked tickets are almost sold out – just a few left for September weekends – so you might have to show up early to get one of 500 tickets released first thing each morning (not necessarily for immediate entry) OR find a friend who is a Member (i.e. a Friend) with guest privileges to take you OR become a Member yourself. If you become a Member, you can go whenever you like, breeze past the queue and go straight in. Then you can check your emails over coffee or tea in the brand new Members' Room.

The exhibition has had rave reviews but one problem is that it is almost always too crowded to enjoy. My best tip is to get yourself a Membership, show up on Saturday or Sunday just before opening at 9am, join the orderly queue outside the gates, go straight in to the exhibition (no need to queue at that point), ignore the filmstrip (you can come back to that later) and go straight into the exhibition which you can then enjoy in blissful emptiness (above right). But don't blithely take my word for it: always check the latest on opening times.

I have already blogged about TWELVE FUN THINGS TO SEE but here are TEN MORE THINGS to look out for.

"PHOENIX FELIX ET TU"

1. ET TU, PHOENIX? One of the first things you see past the inscriptions and graffiti is this jolly fresco of a Phoenix above two peacocks. Peacocks are real, but the Phoenix is a mythical bird of fiery resurrection. Curator Paul Roberts calls this a "pub sign". It was found on a wall of a fast food joint in Pompeii. The slogan says "The Phoenix is happy (or 'lucky'), and you!" What interests me is the expression "Et tu" which is used elsewhere in Roman contexts as an apotropaic slogan. Apotropaic is Greek for "turns away evil" and it refers to anything that averts bad luck. Apotropaic images include the raised palm of the left hand, erect phalluses, eyes and the unflinching gaze of a full frontal face. All these things "turn back evil". The words "et tu" (and you) seem to have a similar meaning. Our modern equivalent might be "back at you!" In Roman times, if a person approached you with good intentions, saying "et tu" would be a blessing. But if they came at you with evil intent, then the phrase is a curse. This puts Julius Caesar's last words, Et tu, Brute*, in a whole new light!

2. COMIC RELIEF? Next to the famous fresco of Dionysus and Vesuvius in the atrium room is a small marble relief showing the earthquake of AD 62 or 63. If you look closely you will see it is quite comical. For example, the two men depicting equestrian statues look silly and are staring straight out (an apotropaic device) and their horses are actual long-eared donkeys.  Humour is another apotropaic device so I think this sculpture may be saying something like, "We laugh in the face of earthquakes!"

first time seen by public

3. PANTHER TABLE - Curator Paul Roberts said if he could take home one item when the exhibition finishes, it would be this one. That's probably because it languished in a storeroom for many years and he was the first to show it to the public. Like the goat, snake and dolphin, the panther is associated with Dionysus, the patron god of the region. This wonderful table probably would have been painted.

4. BALL 'O' PIGMENT - In a bowl just on the left as you enter the triclinium (dining room) you will see a bowl with two greyish balls. This is how fresco paint came. You would chip off some pigment, grind it in a mortarium, then add egg and water and perhaps a few other ingredients. Finally, the paint was applied to the still-damp plaster. The plaster sucked up the colour and when it dried the painting became part of the wall. That's why these paintings have survived so well. These are the less exciting "white" and "grey" pigments.

5. The NAVEL OF THE WORLD or omphalos is shown on a fresco in the far end of the triclinium room on the right. This fresco screams Apollo. Cupids (the lolcats of the Roman world) frisk around with his bow, his quiver, his lyre, his tripod and possibly a runaway patera. The tripod is especially linked with Apollo because the Delphic oracle sat on one to prophesy. And Delphi was the site of the navel of the world. If you want to know what the navel of the world looked like, there it is underneath the tripod, looking like a fat bollard.

2000 year old loaf of bread

6. Still in the triclinium room is a glass case full of Roman-type "samovars" and portable hearths. Look out for a BRONZE KRATER WITH ARGONAUTS. A krater was for mixing large batches of water and wine. I only noticed the argonauts on my fifth visit, mainly because this room is usually so crowded!

7. ANCIENT PIZZA - OK, it's not pizza because they had no tomatoes in Roman times, but this round loaf of bread looks like puffy pizza. But what's that strange dent around its perimeter? London-based Italian chef Giorgio Locatelli recreated the loaf and came up with a possible cause: a piece of string was tied around the dough, baked in and then used to carry the loaf home.

8. In the culina (kitchen), look out for a PESTLE SHAPED LIKE A THUMB. It is made of white marble and is found below the hare mould for terrine and next to the beautiful sieve with the maker's signature punched in holes. The mortarium containing the thumb pestle has a fun panther face for draining liquid and on the bottom a crude apotropaic Medusa face for turning away evil when it's hung up on the kitchen wall. (You can't see this in the current display mode).

"CACATOR CAVE MALUM"

9. Also in the culina you will see a giggle-inducing FRESCO OF MAN DOING A POO (right). This is often cited as an example of Roman belief that demons or other nasty things lived in the sewers. The naked youth is being protected by two lucky snakes and the goddess Fortuna. The curators have placed this fresco in the culina room, because that is where most private Roman latrines were found: in the kitchen, usually right next to the hearth. Paul Roberts says this was because Romans classed wet and smelly things together. (For more about this, see my post on Demon in the Toilet!)

10. Near the end of the exhibition – in the same case as a soldier's sword – is a collection of treasures found on a little girl's charm bracelet. Ironically, considering the cataclysmic bad luck she experienced, most of the objects had an apotropaic sense... but what's with the shrimp? I have heard of apotropaic farting, but never an APOTROPAIC SHRIMP! Answers and suggestions below, please.

*Clever clogs among you might know that what Julius Caesar really said was the Greek version, kai su, teknon, but it makes no difference: the Greek phrase has exactly the same sense as the Latin, maybe even more so! Also teknon can mean "child" or "son", but also more derogative "kid" or even "punk". So Julius Caesar's last words to his final murderer Brutus had a meaning of "You'll get yours, too, punk!"

For more apotropaic images including two "kai su" mosaics, visit my PG-rated Apotropaic Pinterest page.

Caroline Lawrence writes history mystery books for kids aged 8 to 80. No. Really! All the pictures in this post are © Soprintendenza Speciale per i Beni Archeologici di Napoli e Pompei / Trustees of the British Museum

Mount Vesuvius by Megan King

I woke up and watched my young sister Marianda sleep; peaceful and quiet, like I once did until my father died. My mother was awake and dividing the left over bread from last night's meal into three pieces.

She looked across at me and gave a half smile; I could see the tiredness in her eyes. The sleepless nights were creeping upon her and she was lost without my father - but still she smiled. Careful not to wake Marianda, I joined my mother at the small broken table. The bread had gone stale, but it was food.

I wrapped some bread in a clean bit of cloth and decided to go out and collect some firewood, when I returned it home to my mother I headed straight for the market square.

As I passed the grand houses, owned by the wealthy, I could see the desperation in the dawn callers' eyes. They would wait outside these mansions until the patrons were ready for them to enter. I was a humble man, a man with pride - like my father; I would not beg or rely on the rich.

I reached the town centre; where I set up my stall. I sold handmade jewellery, carved from wood I found near the olive groves.

It wasn't a busy day but I had made just enough money to buy a loaf of bread from the bakers. I made my way along the street: via dell' Abondanza and turned down the dark alleyway until I reached the small building where my mother, sister and I lived.

I entered the cold room and found Marianda and my mother sitting at the table, sewing a blanket with left over material from some curtains they had made earlier. I placed the bread on the table, found a knife and cut it carefully. This bread was to last us until the following night at least.

After we had eaten, we climbed into our small beds and slept.

Once I had woken, I ate a small portion of bread and made my way to the stalls. As I passed the morning streets of Pompeii I felt a minute shake in the ground. I stopped for a moment and looked at the ground to see if there were any cracks until I was forced to move on by a fierce man crashing into the back of me.

I had made the same amount of money as the day before, but deciding whether to buy cheese or bread wasn't the first thing on my mind. The possibilities of why the earth shook lingered around my brain.

I arrived home and found my sister, Marianda, playing underneath the yellow, evening sky; I beckoned her to come inside the house so that we could eat.

I placed the food on the table and served our evening rations. Whilst mother and Marianda ate their dinner, I nibbled on small scraps. I was curious as to why the earth was shaking so much, and what was to come.

As my mother and sister were sleeping, I crept outside and found a large flat stone that I could write on. I decided to write down my observations, whilst sitting under the snow white moon light. The air was bitterly cold.

Once I had recorded my thoughts and observations, I snaked my way back into the house. I once again climbed into my bed and slept for a few moments until I was awakened by a loud roar and stagger of the ground.

The pots smashed on the stone floor and the surface of the rotten table soared to the ground and split through the middle. I hurried my sister and mother down the cool stairs and out onto the street, where many others gathered. Few bricks crumbled and pots and pans smashed, but there was no severe damage done to the long row of houses.

Once the growling of the earth had stopped, my family along with many others made our way back into the evacuated houses. Many were full of relief and few overpowered by curiosity.

For the next two hours we dreamt hesitantly, tossing and turning, until finally the morning sun glistened in the horizon. We gathered around the table and ate our breakfast.

Following my usual routine, I made my way to the town centre. I noted that there were less tourists gathered in the streets than ever before so I decided to ask the fairly old lady who owned the store next to me for answers.

Her reply was unclear, but there was some sort of fear in her voice as she spoke. She mentioned the previous earthquakes, but she didn't give me a direct answer or solution. Fewer tourists meant less money as far as I was concerned, and it certainly proved when I set out to purchase my usual loaf of bread from the bakers.

I was welcomed back by my mother's voice and yet another shake of the earth. My sister crouched in the dingy corner of the room, playing with some beads. I slumped down beside her and enjoyed some moments of silence with her.

I could not afford much bread to the lack of customers, so we had even smaller portions than usual. I preserved some bread for the next morning and instead filled myself up on water. We all sat in near silence underneath the light of the moon that peered through the window, and watched the small candle light flicker until it was time to sleep.

I dreamt about a volcano, and the horror that came with it. I pictured its mouth spray out lava and black smoke. I could almost feel the intense heat and I could almost hear the sharp rocks smash to the ground until...

We were again awakened by a jolt in the earth and we evacuated the building. The growling was louder and more deafening and the movement was more extreme.

Just as the rim of the golden sun touched the edge of the horizon, a large black cloud emerged and hovered in the sky. It came from the mouth of the volcano. As the minutes passed it grew larger and deeper in colour. It covered almost all of the once orange morning sky.

All of the town gathered in the streets and gazed up at the giant that hung above us. It looked like a layer of soot and ash had coated the sky. The whole population of Pompeii was dominated by fear and overcome with confusion.

I saw my sister, Marianda curled up on a large rock, I walked over to her and tried to reassure her but no matter what I said or what I did, I knew that she was old enough to understand that not every story has a fairy tale ending.

My mother was nearby so I went to comfort her but no words could escape from between my lips. Everyone in the city knew what was about to come.

A hail of ash rained down and painted the city the same colour as the sky. That hail soon turned into a blizzard and I could hear the whimpers of children, women and men echoing and bouncing from each piece of black pumice. I carried my sister over to my mother and we held one and other tight.

Grey was the only colour I could see, both the sky and land was covered in it.

The deafening screams and cries soon faded as the air became thinner and thinner. Blackened rock and molten lava rained down upon the city. I grasped my family, the two most important people in my life tighter and held them close to my chest. I would not let go.

My shirt was wet with sweat and tears. Their silent cries echoed around my ears. The whole town was now black and disguised by the layer of debris and rock. I felt them slip away from my grasp as I went into a deep sleep which I could not fight.

Silence...

The blackness slowly turned into a bright white light, I felt my soul escape from my body. As I floated upwards I watched Pompeii, the once lively city full of tourists fade beneath my feet. I did not feel anything or hear anything or after a while see anything, but when I reached the climax I saw a ghostly figure walk towards me. It grew from a small speck, into a blur, into a man, and then finally into my father.

I walked to him and reached out to hold him; he moved closer to me. We held each other for what felt like an eternity until we finally let go and walked down a long, white path.

My mother and sister's souls - I still cannot find them, but I know that they are somewhere between heaven and earth and I will not rest in peace until I find those who were and still are closest to me.

Another moving entry in the Golden Sponge-stick Writing Competition 2012. 12-year-old Megan King from Stockport Grammar took 3rd place among extremely stiff competition in the 11-13 year old category. Well done, Megan! I loved your story. 

The Risky Escape by Aya Kodmani

As the first spark of sun entered the sky, my eyes shot open, today was Wednesday, This day, like every day, I had to fill up my water pail and drive the horses to their stables, 1 hurried down the steep staircase, with the horses' dull brown leathery reins and out of the door, heading to the gravelly horsefield.

The surrounding city was silent now except for a few of the early working farmers, milking the cows and goats, and their wives cooking and churning the creamy thick lemon yellow butter.

I tied up Lupus and Nubia (our horses) and patted their soft, silky hazelnut coats, After that, I led them a long way from the field, into the wooden boarded stable, They happily trotted in through the loose-
hinged door, eager and hungry to eat their morning meal of mouth-watering hay.

I grabbed a hard wooden pail, skipped to the little river and scooped a clean fresh pail of water. By now, the sun was scorching down on my pale light skin. As I headed back to my house, I could hear the noisy chattering children charging out of their thatched cottages, like excited bulls heading for the ring, hoping to meet their friends on the way to the market.

Suddenly, I noticed the sky was darkening. Great, thick, gloomy clouds seemed to appear in the huge sky and partially covered the mid-day sun. I heard crackling sounds. 1 started running as fast as my legs could carry me, back to tell father that Mount Vesuvius was rumbling. A layer of thick, grey, puffy soot up to three feet high fell onto the hot stony ground

"Father, Father!" I puffed. "I’m pretty sure 'Mount Vesuvius is erupting!"

My father immediately rushed off to get the big wooden boat out of the shed I followed, out of breath. He carried it with my help, onto the old cart, which had four, large, iron wheels.

Father quickly called for my mother, and of course my two sisters, to hurry into the wooden cart. We all sat on the edge of the cart feeling frightened of the monstrous mountain, the wind was rapidly blowing
like a tornado.

My father was speedily hitching up Lupus and Nubia to the cart. When we were all ready, father steered the rocking cart towards the turbulent, rough, angry sea.

When we arrived near the water's edge it was so windy that Cleo and I had not enough strength to drag the boat onto the sandy shore so, my mother gave crying baby Flavia to Cleo, and she, father and I  shoved and pushed and shoved again until finally the boat slipped into the shadow water, with us jumping and leaping into the boat that tossed against the choppy waves.

As we all sailed away, I looked back at the huge volcano covered with laughing flames and cackling lava bursting out of Mount Vesuvius. As I turned to tell Cleo to look hack at Pompeii, we saw poor slaves and farmers choking on big, heavy puffs of thick, dusty grey smoke. Some were being submerged with ash, others were being hit by painful, rocky, hard pumice stones and all were suffering from the heat.
"Aren’t you so glad that we escaped that big moment of terror? Don’t you feel so bad for those poor suffering people? I find it so sad!" I said solemnly.

"Yes, I agree. It's very sad. Imagine if we were those terrified people!" replied Cleo.

"We're lucky, aren't we?" We both agreed at the same time.

The End

No prizes for guessing why I love this winning entry of the 2012 Golden Sponge-stick Writing Competition by 8 year old Aya from Pembridge Hall School for Girls. But a prize for Aya in the shape of a Golden Sponge-stick Trophy!