Tiberius Goes to Rome

By Peter A. Kay

Tiberius Goes to Rome is a book about a boy growing up in Roman times, and the many problems he encounters during his teenage years. Many teenagers reading this will quickly begin to realise just how similar the problems facing a teenage boy in ancient times are to those facing teenagers today. Adults also will be able to relate to the main character, Tiberius A. Caesar, as they remeber just what it was like for them when they experienced the same hormone-charged, rebelious and utterly confusing period that is the teenage years.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Trafford Publishing
• Release date: Jun 2, 2006
• ISBN: 9781412221047

Peter A. Kay

Peter Kay, 19 years old, grew up in Nottinghamshire and has always wanted to publish a book. He is currently studying for a Finance degree at Stirling University in Scotland.

Book preview

One

There was a time when life was simple. You were born, you messed around for a few years, became a farmer and planted a few seeds, raked bits of land here and there to make a living, then you grew old and looked forward to spending your remaining days relaxing with your back against a tree, sitting in the shade telling everyone else how the world worked. What a glorious age that must have been. Nowadays it’s all a little different. Gone are the days of lazy summer afternoons beneath the warm sun. So, too, the ability to huddle up indoors and keep warm in the bitterest winter, sitting it out until more warmer, temperate climates rolled into place. Nowadays it’s all work, work and more work. The seasons are no longer the master, but instead merely provide the backdrop for whatever boring tasks must be completed. Where once mischievous boys could get away with missing the odd afternoon’s labour, they are now pulled back by the neck and forced to work twice as hard. You see, this here is the mighty Roman Empire, 402 AD, or, at least, my little corner of it.

I’m 13 years old, how about you? I don’t feel like playing right now, I’m sort of upset. You see we’re moving; moving away from where I’ve grown up, well, where all four feet seven inches of me have grown up. Mother says I have some way to go yet, although I personally think this may be my limit. I haven’t grown for about three months, and I’m starting to think that this must be all that’s going to happen. I don’t mind particularly. While it must be pretty useful to be tall like my father, having the ability to see over people’s heads at parades, being small also has a number of benefits, such as being able to squeeze into tight hiding places, and to get out of such tasks as olive picking. I hate olive picking; it’s so boring. Personally I don’t see why people are in such a rush to get them off the tree. If they just wait a few more weeks then they’ll have fallen to the ground and you can just pick them up. None of this climbing up on people’s backs, armed with sticks, and with cries of ‘Hold still Tiberius. Now a little to the left...little more...little more...no, too far, back. Whoa, not that much...ok, hold it.’ Swipe. ‘Ah, there we go, that got the little beauties. This shouldn’t take too long to…what? What do you mean one hit you in the eye?...Well that’s hardly my fault. If you do insist on looking up while I knock them off with the stick then chances are you’re pretty likely to get one in the eye...What’s that?...No I cannot hit them the other way...Look, it’s simple. Stick, hit, olives fall, Marc picks them up, we go home, job done. It’s as simple as that...Pardon? No you cannot use the stick. I am the official stick bearing person. You lift me up, I hit them off the tree and Marc collects. That’s the way it is. Now hold still...stop swaying me about...stop it, I’m going to fall. I mean it, look out...aaargh!’

Actually, boring wasn’t really the right word. Not boring, eventful more like, but still a waste of good play time nonetheless.

As you’ve no doubt worked out by now, I’m not the most productive of workers. Father says one day I’ll learn ‘the way of the land’ and become a successful farmer. Ha! That’s what he thinks is it? He’ll have a long wait. Everything I plant has an annoying habit of dying. I think if it were up to me to grow the food to feed Rome, the Empire would very quickly starve and collapse. I can see it now. Generations of children to come will sit in schools across the world, eagerly listening to their teacher (a boring old white-haired fellow, as all teachers are, that at least is something that will never change) telling them all about the mighty Roman Empire.

‘Now children, can anyone tell me why the Empire went from being such a powerful, formidable force in Europe and beyond, to a poor, suffering band of wanderers?’

‘War?’ one would pipe up.

‘Disease?’ says another.

‘Economic decline?’ would say a third.

‘No class. They are all possible reasons, but the truth is that Tiberius A. Caesar was put in charge of food production, and managed only to produce large quantities of...well, nothing.’

I’m not keen on farming, can you tell?! I suppose the Empire isn’t as strong as it used to be, hundreds of years ago, but I wouldn’t bet against it being me who destroys it completely. That would be typical of my luck. And before you say it, yes I know I have a famous last name, and no I’m not related to Julius or any other Caesar you can think of. I know because I checked. I remember the day clearly. It was when I was seven years old, sitting with my little classmates, being taught all about the foundation of Rome, and about the heroics of Julius Caesar and those after him in starting off the construction of our fabulous city and expanding the Empire. As soon as his name was mentioned everyone gasped and stared at me.

‘Wow, Tiberius. You must be dead important’ hissed Marcus who sat next to me.

How I loved the attention, and even more so when outside after school, none other than Maria Tinetti, the most beautiful, gorgeous and stunning girl in the class, came up to me (yes, me!), looked me straight in the eyes, and said softly, ‘You know I’ve had my eye on you for a while now...’ I never did find out the rest because I fainted clean away at that moment. The excitement got the better of me I think. But that wasn’t even the end of my humiliation. When I got home I asked my parents questions like ‘When is the Emperor coming to take me to live in his palace?’, only to be told that my great-grandfather had changed his last name to Caesar in honour of the great founder of our nation, and that we had no more regal blood in our bodies than a camel did. And of course as soon as everyone at school found this out I was taunted for months. Maria stopped talking to me, and instead went out with Julius Diniecci, the school wrestling champion, all muscles and cocky attitude, who afterwards liked nothing better than to stand on the wall outside the school, and, with an exaggerated bow call me ‘The Great Emperor Tiberius, mighty leader of Rome’, with Maria giggling and tossing her hair back, before walking off together hand in hand, leaving me red in the face feeling silly as everyone nearby tried, but failed, to stop themselves from laughing too. He was such a big head, and soon afterwards I heard Julius had been forced by his father to attend a gladiator school nearby, where he would learn the art of combat. I hope a lion eats him in the arena. That would wipe the smile off his face, that’s for sure.

Despite the occasional problems and inconveniences such as homework and being told off by teachers I liked school on the whole. I’ll admit that if I had a choice in the matter I probably wouldn’t be rushing to spend every weekday there (how many other 13 year old boys would?), but at least it was something to do, and there were girls there which for some reason seemed more important to me now than it had ever been in the past. My mum said that she had been expecting this all along and that life was going to get a whole lot more interesting and complicated for me now that I had finally discovered the female species. I hadn’t a clue what she was on about to be perfectly honest. Perhaps she’s been out in the sun too long. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I don’t hate girls or anything, but they had their place on one side of the room and the boys had their place on the other. That’s how it goes when you’re 13. Girls are just...well, something that’s there which makes a noise but you just have to ignore them and get on with playing tag orwrestling, right? Similar to teachers in fact; they make a noise and should be ignored too!

Our school was quite an old building, built around 100 years ago, and in fact had been a former temple to Mars, the god of war. Well as you can imagine that terrified every one of us when we first heard that they had kicked out and shipped off all the worshippers to heck knows where and let us lot overrun it. Who knows what Mars would make of it? Probably going to strike us all down one day. I hope he knows that it wasn’t my fault. I wanted to knock it down personally and build a brand new modern building, but that would probably have annoyed him even more so I kept quiet about my wish.

The other bad thing about our school was that it was so far away from my house and took me about a million years to walk there every day. It wasn’t so bad when it was sunny but in winter I used to arrive looking like I’d been dead for a week I was so cold. I’m sure teacher checked my pulse just to make sure I was still with the living before she plonked me in front of the fire to warm up.

Luckily I’m an only child so I didn’t have some annoying little brother or sister to look after. But saying that sometimes I would be glad of the company, like when we go stay at a strange place on holiday and I’m all alone in a bedroom and I sit bolt upright, terrified of the scary noises in the darkness. When I was little I was terrified of monsters and my usual tactic was to hide under the bed, but that soon changed when I thought that that was probably the most likely place for any monsters to hide. Seems silly looking back on it now. My mum managed to take away most of my fear when she told me that there was nothing to worry about as she didn’t let any monsters into her house because they didn’t wipe their feet. As good a reason as any I suppose.

If I could alter the past I would ask for an older sister, for the simple reason that she’d be constantly bringing a supply of older girls to stay over at the house for me to chat up, and if they were mean I could always go to plan B and get out my fake spider toy that I made and frighten them with it. Ah, girls are such fun.

Our house was cool, even if I did say it myself. It was in a fairly lonely spot with just a few houses nearby so it was a bit quiet, but there was plenty of space to run around in, and lots of trees to climb and make tree houses in. There should have been even more as dad owned a lot of fields, but he fenced them off and told me to keep out so I didn’t damage his seedlings.

Why did he have to be a farmer and not a toy inspector or something useful like that? Iwould choose anything except farming; I hate getting my hands dirty.

Two

So, if life as a farmer did not appeal to me, what did I want to be? Well, don’t laugh, but I want to be an actor when I’m older. I dream of walking out onto the stage in front of a sold-out theatre, and producing one of the finest performances ever seen, with the Emperor watching. Then afterwards he would ask to meet me, and he would shower me with praises, and say things like, ‘Oh Tiberius, that was truly a masterful performance. Please take this big bag of gold’, and I would be like, ‘Oh your greatness I couldn’t’, and he would shake his head enthusiastically and say ‘Nonsense, I insist. In fact, take two bags of gold, and this wonderful horse and chariot of your very own, and come and have tea in the palace with me next week’, and I would blush and accept. Or something like that anyway.

However, my father was not as keen on the idea as I was, which he let me know at every opportunity that came up. He could be a right old stick in the mud at times.

‘What?!’ he boomed one night when I told him of my plans.

‘I want to be an actor’ I said, becoming increasingly less confident with every word.

‘What on earth do you want to be one of them for? No boy of mine is going to dress up as a girl and parade in front of the whole town. Whatever would the neighbours say if they saw you?’

‘Well I don’t think it’s all dressing up as a girl.’ I began.

‘And besides’ he interrupted, ‘you’re going to be a farmer. One of the most vital professions in the entire Empire. You’ll grow wheat, and fruit, and vegetables, and they’ll be bigger and jucier than anyone else can grow.’

Oh, not this again.

‘No I won’t. I stink’ I said.

My father leaned in close and sniffed a couple of times.

‘Well you don’t smell too bad, but if you want to go for a wash.’ he began, quite confused.

‘Nooo. Not stink as in smell! Stink as in no good at something’ I said shaking my head.

‘Oh. So stink means no good at something?’ he began.

‘Yes’

‘And so it doesn’t mean to smell?’

‘Well, yes, it means that too’ I explained.

‘Oh.’ He shook his head. ‘I can never understand you these days’ he said as he started walking off, more baffled than ever. But then immediately he turned around and came back for a second go.

‘When you grow up you’re going to learn the art of husbandry’ he proclaimed.

Now it was my turn to be baffled.

‘Husbandry? Isn’t that when you learn how to be a good husband? I said.

What was he going to do, marry me off to the first girl he could find?

‘No, it’s a farming word. It means to use resources wisely’ he said, storming off in apparent disgust because I wasn’t up to speed on the latest farming terms.

Talk about grumpy! He needs to get out more...no wait, that’s his problem, the fact that he’s always out messing about in his fields watering the plants or mending a fence. He needs to get indoors more often and play marbles or something.

Anyhow, he could keep his husbands and his resources and his crops. When he had gone, I stood up as tall as I could go, reached out my arms and cried in my best acting voice, ‘Do not try to understand me. I am my own spirit, and while my heart beats in my chest, I shall continue to be forever unique!’

I should’ve said that while he was here. Damn.

Three

So, never mind that for now, we were moving to Rome! How about that then?! Not one of your little provincial towns. Not even a big place like Pompeii, but the one and only, all singing all dancing, number one capital city of the Empire...Rome! Turns out that my father reckons he could make more money out there than here, and so off we go. I was sad at first, but now that I’ve had time to think about it I suppose it’s not all that bad. Sure I’ll miss my old room and friends, but the excitement of moving to the capital is too great at the moment, but I have a feeling that when the time comes to move I’ll start to get upset again about leaving. My only regret is that I won’t see Julius get eaten by a lion, unless of course he becomes one of the best gladiators in the world and comes to the coliseum in Rome. Chances of that are small though, he has too much of an ego, or in other words, his head is too big because he thinks he’s the best at everything. Heprobably wouldn’t fit through the door with it.

News of my move spread quickly throughout the class, and soon I was hearing a whole new set of jokes about my name.

‘Hey Tiberius, are you moving to Rome to take over the Empire?’ Roberto said.

How hilarious he was.

‘I heard he has an army of 2,000 men waiting in Rome’ piped a girl called Alicia who sat behind me. Nice name, silly personality. As if I would have an army of 2,000 men!.30,000 maybe, but not 2,000. That’s not an army, that’s a party!

‘Perhaps he isn’t really moving at all and he’s just making it up to try and impress us’ said somebody who sat at the back of the class that I didn’t even know. As if I would make something like that up just to impress a bunch of snotty-nosed children! When I was 7 I once said we had a pet lion at home, but people began to get suspicious when they kept coming round to see it and it was never there. I said it was always sleeping but they soon realised that it was all a big lie. It was two months before they forgot that, and I learned my lesson early on that lying only gets you into deeper and deeper trouble.

As the days passed I kept looking around the place, getting quite emotional and upset because every time I looked at something I thought that maybe this would be the last time I ever see these familiar surroundings again. It’s hard to uproot