table, and then up at Master Pliny. “My grandma says you want to eat the parrot heads,” he said, shyly. “Why?”
“Sorry, sir,” Augusta said. “The boy doesn’t understand. Food has to look exciting as well as taste delicious. It has to look so exciting that the guests talk about it. Parrot heads add a lot of colour to a feast. Now, excuse me, sir, we should get back to the kitchen.”
“Leave the boy here for a while,” her master said. “He is good company.”
Augusta bowed and went back into the scorching kitchen.
“But you can’t eat parrot heads,” Pertinax argued. “You can’t chew the feathers – and the beak would break your teeth!”
Pliny sipped his ale and smiled. “The guests use a small spoon to scoop out the boiled brains and eat them.”
“Is that why we have so many birds in cages in the kitchen? Will they all have their brains eaten?” Pertinax asked.
“No,” Pliny said. “Remember what your grandmother said about exciting food? Well, when the wild boar has cooled, we’ll pop a dozen birds inside the empty boar and stitch it up. When the slaves carve open the boar at the feast, the birds will fly out!”
“Old fat-guts Vitellius would have enjoyed that,” the boy said.
“I’m sure he’ll be there tonight,” Pliny murmured.
“But he’s dead!”
“His spirit still lives on. When we die, our spirit remains, you know.”
Pertinax shivered. “Ghosts? I’ve heard of them. But they join the gods on their mountain, don’t they?”
Pliny blew out his cheeks. “Not all of them. Some stay behind and are doomed to haunt this earth. In fact there was one in this very garden…”
Pertinax gasped. “Have you seen it? Have you seen the ghost, Master Pliny?”
Pliny sipped his ale and looked around the garden. “I cannot tell you,” he said slowly. “I would be mocked. I am an important man.”
“Grandma says you are a friend of the emperor,” the boy nodded.
“I am. So we cannot have people saying Pliny is a foolish man who thinks he sees ghosts.”
Pertinax nodded. “I can see that. Maybe… maybe you could tell it as if it happened to someone else? Somewhere else?”
Pliny half-closed his eyes and thought. “I could. Let’s say this story happened in Greece… in Athens.”
“In a garden that looked like this?” Pertinax grinned.
“In a garden like this. A lot like this…”
Then Pliny told his story.
And this is what he said…
FOUR
The house in Athens was beautiful. It was large and cool, and the garden was full of colours and shades, flowers and sighing trees. The family that lived there had been so very happy.
Then, one night, a storm brewed and bubbled in the purple skies over Athens. A flash of lightning lit the rooms, and the crash of thunder woke the heaviest sleepers.
The thunder rumbled out over the ocean and left a soft silence that comes before the rain. And in that silence, the family heard sounds. Sounds like the rattling of chains.
At first, the rattling seemed far away. But with each moment it grew nearer and nearer until it deafened everyone. They all rushed to the great dining room, and huddled together in fear.
The slaves clutched each other in the dark corners of the room. Some tried to scream, but no sound came from their throats.
There was a silver flash of lightning and everyone waited, breathless, for the thunder. When it came, it sounded like the mighty clash of a thousand chains. A freezing wind blew open the shutters and they turned to look at the light glowing at the window.
The light seemed to shift and change and take on the shape of a man.
No one could breathe. The glowing man looked ancient. He had a flowing, white beard and long, grey hair that streamed in the wind.
His hands and chains rattled and clattered. He opened his mouth as if to speak… or scream. But no sound came. His eyes glowed like great Moon-green globes. His face showed terror. As he stepped into the room, there was a final
“Sorry, sir,” Augusta said. “The boy doesn’t understand. Food has to look exciting as well as taste delicious. It has to look so exciting that the guests talk about it. Parrot heads add a lot of colour to a feast. Now, excuse me, sir, we should get back to the kitchen.”
“Leave the boy here for a while,” her master said. “He is good company.”
Augusta bowed and went back into the scorching kitchen.
“But you can’t eat parrot heads,” Pertinax argued. “You can’t chew the feathers – and the beak would break your teeth!”
Pliny sipped his ale and smiled. “The guests use a small spoon to scoop out the boiled brains and eat them.”
“Is that why we have so many birds in cages in the kitchen? Will they all have their brains eaten?” Pertinax asked.
“No,” Pliny said. “Remember what your grandmother said about exciting food? Well, when the wild boar has cooled, we’ll pop a dozen birds inside the empty boar and stitch it up. When the slaves carve open the boar at the feast, the birds will fly out!”
“Old fat-guts Vitellius would have enjoyed that,” the boy said.
“I’m sure he’ll be there tonight,” Pliny murmured.
“But he’s dead!”
“His spirit still lives on. When we die, our spirit remains, you know.”
Pertinax shivered. “Ghosts? I’ve heard of them. But they join the gods on their mountain, don’t they?”
Pliny blew out his cheeks. “Not all of them. Some stay behind and are doomed to haunt this earth. In fact there was one in this very garden…”
Pertinax gasped. “Have you seen it? Have you seen the ghost, Master Pliny?”
Pliny sipped his ale and looked around the garden. “I cannot tell you,” he said slowly. “I would be mocked. I am an important man.”
“Grandma says you are a friend of the emperor,” the boy nodded.
“I am. So we cannot have people saying Pliny is a foolish man who thinks he sees ghosts.”
Pertinax nodded. “I can see that. Maybe… maybe you could tell it as if it happened to someone else? Somewhere else?”
Pliny half-closed his eyes and thought. “I could. Let’s say this story happened in Greece… in Athens.”
“In a garden that looked like this?” Pertinax grinned.
“In a garden like this. A lot like this…”
Then Pliny told his story.
And this is what he said…
FOUR
The house in Athens was beautiful. It was large and cool, and the garden was full of colours and shades, flowers and sighing trees. The family that lived there had been so very happy.
Then, one night, a storm brewed and bubbled in the purple skies over Athens. A flash of lightning lit the rooms, and the crash of thunder woke the heaviest sleepers.
The thunder rumbled out over the ocean and left a soft silence that comes before the rain. And in that silence, the family heard sounds. Sounds like the rattling of chains.
At first, the rattling seemed far away. But with each moment it grew nearer and nearer until it deafened everyone. They all rushed to the great dining room, and huddled together in fear.
The slaves clutched each other in the dark corners of the room. Some tried to scream, but no sound came from their throats.
There was a silver flash of lightning and everyone waited, breathless, for the thunder. When it came, it sounded like the mighty clash of a thousand chains. A freezing wind blew open the shutters and they turned to look at the light glowing at the window.
The light seemed to shift and change and take on the shape of a man.
No one could breathe. The glowing man looked ancient. He had a flowing, white beard and long, grey hair that streamed in the wind.
His hands and chains rattled and clattered. He opened his mouth as if to speak… or scream. But no sound came. His eyes glowed like great Moon-green globes. His face showed terror. As he stepped into the room, there was a final
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