Rome in Flames by Kathy Lee Page B

around.
    â€˜Hey! Wake up, boy!’ Quintus bellowed in my ear. ‘Why did I get landed with a useless idiot like you? I only hope the next one is better.’
    What did he mean, the next one?
    He enjoyed my look of bewilderment, and then he explained: ‘The master has a new job for you. Starting tomorrow, you’re to be young Manius’s personal attendant. Nice easy work, not that you deserve it. Wipe his nose . . . keep him out of trouble . . . take him to school . . .’
    Apart from not knowing what ‘school’ meant, I quite liked the sound of that. It would make a change from the kitchen.
    â€˜You want to be careful,’ the cook warned me. ‘That Manius is a spoilt little so-and-so. He’s bossy enough to be Emperor. Likes to get his own way all the time.’
    Oh yes? Look who’s talking, I wanted to say. But I didn’t dare. In silence, I got on with my work.

– chapter xi –
    Lessons
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    Before sunrise, I set out with Manius and Theon for the mysterious place called school. Theon was there to teach me how to do his job. He carried a candle to light our way, while I held Manius’s bag of school things. Manius, of course, carried nothing at all, yet he walked very slowly – slower than the ox carts that lumbered through the city in the hours of darkness.
    â€˜I don’t want to go to school,’ he muttered. ‘It’s so boring.’
    We came to a room that opened onto the street, as if it had once been used as a shop. Inside, a dozen young boys sat on wooden benches. Manius joined them. A tall, stern-looking man was talking, and the boys were repeating each thing he said. This went on for a long time.
    â€˜You should listen,’ Theon whispered to me. ‘He’s teaching them to speak Latin clearly. Pay attention and you might lose that ridiculous British accent.’
    All morning, Theon and I sat on the steps outside the entrance. There were some other attendants there too, but most of them were old men. Manius was right, I decided – school was boring.
    After the speaking lesson, each boy took out two flat pieces of wood covered in a layer of wax. The boys made marks in the wax with thin metal rods. The teacher looked at their work, praising some boys, shouting at others. When the wax was covered in little marks, it was smoothed out and the whole thing started again. Why?
    When I asked Theon, he stared at me in disbelief. ‘They’re learning to write. Those little marks – they all have a meaning, a sound. Put them together and they make words. Are you telling me there’s no one in Britain who can read or write?’
    â€˜I think some of the druids can,’ I said. ‘But not the ordinary people. Why would they need to?’
    Theon said, ‘If you can read and write, you don’t have to memorize everything. You can read what other people have written. You can send messages to the ends of the empire.’
    â€˜I still don’t see why a little kid like Manius has to learn it.’
    â€˜He’ll need it when he’s older,’ said Theon. ‘Look around you. There’s writing everywhere.’
    It was true. I had never really noticed, but the little marks were carved into the bases of statues, painted above doorways and scrawled on walls.
    â€˜Can you read and write?’ I asked Theon.
    â€˜Of course. That’s why the master bought me to be Manius’s attendant. What you’re meant to teach him, I can’t imagine.’
    â€˜Read something, then,’ I challenged him. ‘Read that.’ The wall opposite the school was marked in several places with those mystical signs.
    â€˜ Vote for Marcus Casellius ,’ Theon said. ‘And that says Beware of the dog . Oh, and this one might interest you: Twenty pairs of gladiators will fight on the eighteenth of March, with a full pro gramme of wild beast shows and British captives . You should go along to