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Three days before the elections, Sophe is woken from a deep sleep by low voices. If the men had been shouting or even singing Sophe probably would have slept happily on, but their furtive whispers bring her instantly awake. She knows instinctively that it is the middle of the night. Cautiously, she unwraps herself from the cocoon of her sheepskin cloak and lifts her head to listen. She is in one of her favourite sleeping places for chilly nights, a cubbyhole between a pile of firewood and the small opening of the furnace that heats the hypocaust. The stacked firewood hides her from sight and the cooling furnace still puts out a little warmth. |
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Pulling her precious sheepskin around her shoulders, Sophe tiptoes to the corner and peeps around it. Moonlight shows three figures in hooded cloaks standing close together on the pavement near the main entrance of the baths. One of them holds what looks like a dagger. Or possibly a paintbrush. The other clutches a bag. Or possibly a bucket. The third has his back to Sophe, so she can’t tell what he’s holding. Are they assassins? Or robbers? Like many other buildings, the bathhouse suffered damage in the earthquake and scaffolding has been erected nearby. Are they going to use it to climb inside? But what can they want in the bathhouse? Sophe cocks her head and tries to eavesdrop on their conversation. Then the third man turns his head and she sees Amarantus’s big nose lit by the three-quarters moon. She knows he is no robber. ‘What are you doing?’ she asks them a moment later. ‘By all the gods!’ The man with the bucket whirls around and she recognises Astylus, a sign painter. The other man is Papilio the pigment-seller and fresco painter, holding two paintbrushes. ‘Don’t sneak up on a person like that!’ he hisses. ‘You nearly sent my soul straight to Hades.’ They all make the sign against evil, Sophe included. |
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Astylus has been showing us how to write election slogans for Vatia,’ whispers Amarantus and gestures at the wall. Sophe sees some big dark letters glistening there. ‘Why are you doing it at night, like thieves?’ ‘Less crowded,’ whispers Papilio. ‘You know how busy the pavements get during the hours of daylight. Someone might jostle me or step in the bucket of paint.’ Sophe narrows her eyes at them. ‘What’s the real reason?” Amarantus glances at the others, then bends to whisper, ‘We don’t want anyone to know who did it. Especially Vatia or his goons.’ ‘Why not?’ ‘The slogans aren’t exactly for him. They’re more against him.’ ‘I thought he was your friend?’ ‘He was. But suddenly he went from being friend to enemy. He says that if he’s elected, he’ll make Pompeia block off all the upstairs rooms!’ ‘The ones she lets out to lodgers?’ asks Sophe. ‘Yes. Without that income we might not survive. And he had the audacity to get one of his goons to write I BEG YOU TO MAKE M. CERRINIUS VATIA AEDILE right at the front of our bar!’ ‘Can you believe it?’ whispers Papilio. ‘Right at the very front of the bar!’ Amarantus shakes his head in disgust. ‘So, I got Papilio to write a bigger slogan next to it, saying that I, AMARANTUS THE POMPEIAN, AM SUPPORTING QUINTUS POSTUMIUS PROCULUS FOR AEDILE!’ ‘But that might not be enough to stop him getting elected,’ said Papilio. ‘So we decided to write more funny slogans all over town.’ ‘Like what?’ ‘Like MACERIO AND THOSE WHO LIKE TO SLEEP LATE SUPPORT VATIA FOR AEDILE,’ says Amarantus. Sophe smirks. Macerio the fuller is a famous sluggard. ‘And this one says THE RUNAWAY SLAVES ASK YOU TO ELECT VATIA.’ Astylus uses his paintbrush to gesture at the freshly painted words. Sophe thinks for a moment and then grins. ‘I have a good idea.’ ‘What?’ they reply. She tells them. ‘Brilliant!’ The men all laugh, and she feels a swell of pride in her chest. ‘Let’s do it right outside his house,’ says Amarantus, ‘just like he put his notice outside ours.’ ‘Yes!’ Sophe nods. ‘We’ll see how he likes it!’ whispers Papilio. ‘I’m off,’ says Astylus. ‘I’ve a few other slogans to paint up by the Capua Gate. Farewell and good luck!’ With that he disappears into the night. Sophe looks at Amarantus and Papilio. ‘Can I come with you?’ Amarantus nods. ‘You can be our lookout. Tell us if anyone is coming.’ ‘I’ll lead the way,’ says Sophe importantly. Pulling her sheepskin closer she trots ahead. She has to jump over a pool of fresh vomit outside a tavern that caters to the late-night drinkers. The coals in a brazier still burn outside and light a blank bit of wall. A sudden idea makes her skid to a stop. ‘You should write THE LATE DRINKERS EVERY- WHERE PROPOSE VATIA AS AEDILE!’ The two men grin at each other. ‘Let’s do it right here, where the coals light the plaster.’ Papilio dips his brush in the pot held by Amarantus and begins to write. Sophe watches as he forms the V of Vatia. She is teaching herself to read. It’s easy when Papilio writes slogans, because he makes his letters so big and clear. ‘Sign it like some of the real slogans,’ says Amarantus. ‘That will confuse Vatia!’ Papilio grins and writes, FLORUS AND FRUCTUS WROTE THIS. He has just finished when they hear the voices of men coming out of the bar. They hurry out of sight around the corner. But Sophe wants to know what is happening, so she crouches down and peeks out at dog’s eye level. ‘They’re peeing against the wall,’ she reports. A moment later: ‘They spotted your slogan.’ And finally: ‘They’re laughing so hard they can barely stand up!’ Sophe feels a flush of pleasure warm her face. The men are laughing at her slogan. ‘Is the coast clear yet?’ whispers Amarantus. Sophe looks again. The men are staggering off in the other direction and the road is soon deserted. She nods and beckons them to follow her across three stepping-stones. When they reach Vatia’s house, they find some genuine slogans written on the wall. ‘There’s a good place to put it.’ Papilio whispers to Amarantus, ‘Hold the bucket a little higher. There’s just enough paint left.’ |
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As Sophe watches them, she pulls her precious sheepskin closer around her shoulders. She found it in the shrine of Isis while scavenging after the earthquake. She has an old broken fibula that she uses to pin it around her neck during the day so that it can double as a cloak. She is still fumbling with the clasp, trying not to poke herself with the sharp pin, when the double- doors of Vatia’s house swing open. Flickering torchlight shows tall, bushy-haired Florus and short, pear-shaped Fructus. In between stands Vatia, barefoot and wearing a linen undertunic. The three of them look like comic actors. But the creature that stands panting beside Vatia is not funny. It is the fierce black watchdog Sophe first saw at the cockfight. Vatia looks at Amarantus and Papilio, and then at the dipinto. Treacherous moonlight perfectly illuminates Sophe’s slogan: ALL THE PETTY THIEVES SUPPORT VATIA! WRITTEN BY INFANTIO WITH FLORUS, FRUCTUS AND SABINUS, HERE AND EVERYWHERE. Sophe does not linger to see what the Syrian fruit-importer will do. She is off and running like Atalanta. |
