RomanQuest Read online

  To be reformed, without weapons or armour, at 8.

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  73

  Wow! The Romans certainly liked to eat in style! This dining room is absolutely enormous!

  You notice at once that instead of a single banquet table there are several smaller tables, each a lot lower than the tables you’re used to. Couches are arranged around them, reminding you that the Romans liked to eat lying down rather than sitting up, a practice that must have played havoc with their digestion.

  In a sudden burst of curiosity, you look up Eating Habits in your Brief Guide to Roman History and discover that next to watching slaughter in the Games and conquering large parts of Europe, the Romans loved to eat more than anything else in the world.

  In fact they loved to eat so much that many of them had an annex off their dining rooms called a vomitorium where they could go to puke after a good old pig-out, thus making room for more food. Gross!

  It occurs to you that the wedding reception might be held in this very room and for a moment you’re half tempted to hide here and wait. But then you remember that the feast would normally follow the actual wedding ceremony, which is what you have to stop.

  There are two doors leading from this room. One in the eastern wall marked LVIII and the other to the south into what looks like a little annex room marked LIV.

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  74

  “Wrong!” exclaims Caligula delightedly. He looks thoughtfully into the middle distance. “First I’ll have you skinned, then strangled, hanged, beheaded, baked, ground up then sprinkled on the sacred flame of Jupiter’s Temple, I think.”

  After which painful experience, you can make your way to 13.

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  75

  A peculiar looking man in a green-edged toga stares at you strangely as you approach this square, low-rise suburban villa. Slyly he draws the toga aside to reveal one knobbly knee and sticks the little finger of his left hand into his right ear. “Quid est in aqua?” he asks pleasantly.

  “What’s in the water?” your Mercury Phone translates.

  You jiggle the connection. “What’s in the water!” the phone repeats.

  “That doesn’t make sense!” you hiss.

  “I know,” says the phone, “but it’s what he said.”

  You glance westward towards the sea, which is hidden from where you are now. The man walks forward three paces, stops, walks back one, then moves forward again to give you a peculiar handshake with two fingers tucked into his palm. “Lapides Provolventes amo, sed Pueri Litoris odi,” he says seriously, glancing back over his shoulder.

  “I love the Rolling Stones but I hate the Beach Boys,” translates the Mercury phone deadpan.

  You stare at the man, amazed that these ancient pop groups actually date back to Classical Rome. The man stares back expectantly, as if waiting for you to make a response.

  “Non compos mentis es?” you ask, thoughtlessly lapsing into Latin.

  “Are you nuts?” the Mercury translator translates.

  “Potesne taurum per cornua prehendere?” asks the weird man in his turn.

  “Can you take the bull by the horns?” the Mercury phone translates, then adds by way of comment, “I think this character must be a Mason.”

  “Sum! Sum! I am! I am!” the man exclaims delightedly. “And since it takes one to know one, let me welcome you to the Villa of the Mysteries!”

  With which he steps back and gestures for you to enter the building.

  But do you really want to go in now you know this hall is the headquarters of some ancient Pompean secret sect? Probably not the actual Freemasons, of course, since the Mercury phone would only have been giving you the nearest translation, but certainly some sort of organisation that uses secret signs and passwords and conducts heaven knows what sort of weird rites in hidden chambers. If you can’t wait to join in, roll up your left trouser-leg, bare one shoulder and walk blindly to 3. If you’d prefer to keep your distance from this sort of thing, turn squarely around and head back to 150 and another destination.

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  76

  Good grief, it’s the Temple of Jupiter! The very god you called stupid last time you have any contact with him.

  Time to beat a nifty retreat back to 25 where you can select a less dangerous destination from your map.

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  77

  He leans over and places his lips close to your ear. “If you’re with us, count the number of letters in the password, multiply by three and meet me there!”

  With which he straightens, turns and walks quickly away.

  What in the name of Zeus was that all about? If you can understand it, count the letters in the password, multiply by three and go to the section number of your answer. If you can’t, go thoughtfully back to your tourist map at 25 and select another destination.

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  78

  The crowd suddenly falls silent as you emerge into the sunlight. All action in the arena stops. Heads turn towards you.

  “Well, well,” mutters a nearby samnite (large oblong shield, visor, plumed helmet, and short sword, whispers your Mercury Phone quickly), “if it isn’t the clown wot accidentally on purpose put paid to my best friend in this very ring not so very long ago. Bleeding foreigner! Shouldn’t be allowed to take part in my opinion!” He moves towards you threateningly.

  “So, you’ve come back,” murmurs the grey-haired Senator languidly. “Possibly not the best idea in the world.”

  “Battle royal!” shouts a woman in the crowd.

  “Battle royal! Battle royal!” comes the call from other voices.

  “BATTLE ROYAL! BATTLE ROYAL! BATTLE ROYAL!” the whole bloodthirsty crowd begins to chant.

  “What a great idea,” calls the Senator. “Last one left alive is the winner!”

  Dozens more gladiators begin to pour through the arch to join those already in the arena. You begin to look around you desperately, well aware you’ll never survive something like this.

  “Get the foreigner first!” somebody shouts.

  “Good thinking, Bat Person,” mutters the samnite who has it in for you. He signals and at once every gladiator in the arena forms a marching, warlike rank and heads towards you. There must be more than a hundred of them, all reflecting how nice it would be to dispatch you to 13 without further ado.

  You watch them approach, wondering how on earth you’re going to get out of this one when there is the sudden sound of distant cannon-fire. Except cannon haven’t been invented yet, so it can’t be. But it can’t be a thunderstorm either since there isn’t a cloud in the sky. Except there is a cloud in the sky now, a black, pine-shaped cloud that looks far more like smoke than water vapour - and dense smoke at that.

  But it has to be cannon-fire, because now huge flaming cannon-balls are raining down from the sky. Except the cannon still hasn’t been invented yet so it can’t be -

  It’s Vesuvius! The volcano has erupted, showering red hot cinders and balls of molten lava down on the city. You’re doomed! Like everybody else, you’re going to be engulfed by lava and -

  But wait a minute! The stuff coming down is dangerous all right, but it’s not a tidal wave of lava. If you can get under cover, you might survive this yet.

  You race for the exit tunnel, elbowing aside a few dozen gladiators who have had the same bright idea. In a moment you are safe inside. The fiery rain outside makes not the slightest impact on the stonework of the amphitheatre. You’re saved! You’re (cough) saved!! All you (cough) have to (cough, cough) do now is (cough, cough, cough) get ... out ... of ...


  Your thinking processes slow as lethal sulphurous fumes penetrate your lungs. Your legs weaken and your eyes dim. You sink to your knees, aware that those around you are sinking too. So this is the way it happened. Pompeii wasn’t buried in lava as you’ve always thought - at least not straight away. The people were suffocated by volcanic fumes and died before the lava flow arrived.

  How very ... very .... in ...in ... interes ....ting ....

  Your thoughts stop completely as the familiar preliminary to your trip to what must just now be a very crowded 13.

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  79

  Well, you could sit out here of an evening drinking your watered wine, inhaling the fragrance of the night-scented stock and admiring your olive trees. This shady portico overlooks extensive and extremely well-kept gardens, sweeping away to a surrounding vineyard. The whole place is so green it must be supported by a comprehensive irrigation system and so extensive it’s difficult to believe you’re somewhere in the middle of Rome.

  You inhale deeply, enjoying the scents and the slanting sunshine.

  Sorry to be the one to spoil this little idyll, but you’ve got better things to do than smell the flowers. There are two doors on the northern wall. The more westerly is to LXXXIX, the more easterly to LXIII. A door in the wall to the east is marked CXIII while another in the wall to the west is marked CXVIII.

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  80

  “I’m terribly sorry,” you say in your best terribly sorry voice, “but I fear I am but a humble tourist brought here by my parents in order to see the sights, improve my education and eat a great deal of pizza and Italian ice cream. So, as you will realise, I am in no position to assist you or anybody else in any way whatsoever and especially not just at the moment, thank you very much.”

  “Rat fink!” exclaims the wild eyed woman and launches herself upon you with astonishing ferocity.

  This peculiarly dressed and oddly spoken maniac is a lot more trouble than she looks. First off she has 40 Life Points which makes her quite a tough old boot, but more importantly she has a secret ability which enables her to turn your mind inside out if she happens to throw a double six during combat, with the unpleasant result of instant death (yours). If you survive this early and entirely unexpected encounter, stagger off to 100. If not, boogie on down to 13.

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  81

  “Wrong!” exclaims Caligula delightedly. He looks thoughtfully into the middle distance. “First I’ll have you skinned, then strangled, hanged, beheaded, baked, ground up then sprinkled on the sacred flame of Jupiter’s Temple, I think.”

  After which painful experience, you can make your way to 13.

  Please select an option from the previous page.

  82

  You step over the prostrate body of the guard and enter the shuttered villa. For a moment you stand blinded, then your eyes become accustomed to the gloom.

  You’re in an armoury!

  This is fantastic. There are racks upon racks of arms and armour, all of it of the very finest quality.

  After only a few minutes searching, you find -9 armour that fits you like a glove and a +9 sword to go with it. You also find a Roman short bow which allows you to get in an automatic first strike whatever the dice say by sneakily shooting an opponent at a distance . Unfortunately arrows for this bow (which strike at +5) are in short supply. Roll one die to discover how many you can find. Now stagger off under the weight of all this booty to 150 and select another destination from your map fast - your new armour won’t protect you if Vesuvius erupts.

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  83

  Well, you could sit out here of an evening drinking your watered wine, inhaling the fragrance of the night-scented stock and admiring your olive trees. This shady portico overlooks extensive and extremely well-kept gardens, sweeping away to a surrounding vineyard. The whole place is so green it must be supported by a comprehensive irrigation system and so extensive it’s difficult to believe you’re somewhere in the middle of Rome.

  You inhale deeply, enjoying the scents and the slanting sunshine.

  Sorry to be the one to spoil this little idyll, but you’ve got better things to do than smell the flowers. There are two doors in the southern wall of the portico. The more westerly leads to LXXXIX, the more easterly to LXVII. There’s also a gate giving access to the gardens at CLIII.

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  84

  “Wrong!” exclaims Caligula delightedly. He grins wickedly. “Only kidding. Now, your next question in the Quiz of Death is in the sporting category: Does a retiarius carry a net or a sword?”

  You’ve a 50% chance of getting it right just by guessing. If you think this type of gladiator carries a net, turn to 97. If you think it’s a sword, turn to 71

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  85

  Another temple, by the looks of things. You stick your head cautiously through the door and note the enormous statue of a handsome young man wearing a laurel wreath and a pious expression. A notice beside the door reads:

  Temple of Apollo

  twinned with

  Stonehenge

  Britannium

  “Excuse me,” you murmur to a passing priest, hearing it come out as Mihi ignosce, thanks to the Mercury phone in your ear, “but I don’t suppose the Sibyl is here by any chance?”

  “Just missed her,” says the priest. “She’s gone back to the temple of Fortuna Augusta.”

  “Where’s that exactly?” you ask.

  “Sorry,” he says, hurrying away, “no time to give you directions - I’ve a sacrifice to make.”

  Looks like your only option is to get back to your map at 150 and select another destination.

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  86

  “Wrong!” exclaims Caligula delightedly. He looks thoughtfully into the middle distance. “Forced to eat yourself alive from the toes up, I think.”

  After which painful experience, you can make your way to 13.

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  87

  Another amphitheatre and doubtless another few hundred poor souls waiting inside to hack each other to bits for the entertainment of the masses, just like a Tarantino movie really.

  The name above the arch is CIRCVS FLAMINIVS. A notice outside reads:

  On Today

  The Palatine Games

  Savage Gladiators!

  Savage Beasts!

  Special Guest Appearance

  by Oasis

  Emperor Gaius Caesar Germanicus

  (affectionately known as Baby Boots)

  will attend.

  Baby Boots must be a variation on Little Boot. Caligula might even be inside at this very minute. You make your way to the entrance where a badly shaven lout demands: “Ticket please.”

  If you’ve got a ticket to the Palatine Games at the Circus Flaminius, you can go inside at 55. If not, your only choice is to return to 25 and select another destination.

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  88

  “Today,” announces the Greek pedagogue to a chorus of groans from his pupils, “you will be learning numbers.”

  Nobody groans louder than yourself.

  “Unlike the cultures of the Middle East, which use really stupid squiggly numbers like these -” The Greek walks to the blackboard and draws the numerals 2, 3, 5 and 8. The class erupts in hoots of laughter. “Unlike these cultures,” the Greek repeats, “we use solid, sensible respectable Roman numerals!”

  Cheers from the class.r />
  “If you were an uncivilised Arab,” the Greek smiles, “you would have to learn no less than ten number symbols. But as a Roman, you only have to learn seven! Isn’t that a vast improvement?”

  Chorus of ‘Yes, sirs’ from the swots.

  “The Roman number symbols you have to learn are I, V, X, L,C, D, and M and the good news is you know them already because they’re letters of the alphabet and we did writing yesterday. But -” Here the Greek looks pointedly at his class. “-when they’re used as numbers they mean something different to what they mean as letters. This is what they mean ...” He turns and writes on the blackboard:

  I = ONE

  V = FIVE

  X = TEN

  L = FIFTY

  C = ONE HUNDRED

  D = FIVE HUNDRED

  M = ONE THOUSAND

  “Now,” says the Greek turning back to the class, “here’s the secret of writing Roman numerals. If you place a numeral of the same or lesser value after another numeral, it adds to the value. Like this.” Back at the blackboard he writes: