Mock-Marble Makeovers

'DIY was all the rage in Pompeil' claimed a timely newspaper article when I was first planning A Body in the Bath House. It described how archaeologists had excavated the home of a keen remodelling enthusiast. 'In an all-too- familiar tale, the owner had had to replace and improve DIY attempts made by his predecessors... Early in, the first century AD more money was poured in... they converted a kitchen into a living room or playroom, added an extension, did some repointing and built a swimming pool.'

I am a keen house renovator and I had long yearned to write about Roman domestic building and rebuilding. As Falco and Helena reached AD75, the time arrived. Fishbourne Palace near Chichester, a favourite British site of mine, had a major redevelopment starting about that time. Its owner King Togidubnus is thought to have been rewarded for his loyalty to Rome with an increasingly grandiose home, an amazing complex to have been produced so far north in an obscure tribal area. The project he received from Vespasian probably took five years to carry out. When it was finished, the King would have possessed a huge and astonishing dwelling, with four elaborate wings, surrounded by Italianate gardens and lapped on one side by the sea. We have absolutely no idea how this marvel was used - was it an official administrative building, a tourist attraction, or merely a bijou dwelling for arousing the envy of neighbouring royalty who had less prestigious friends in Rome?

Although little remains above ground now at Fishbbourne, archaeological fragments reveal high standards of workmanship and sophisticated artistry. This was a glamourous, enormously expensive project, for which materials like marble were gathered from all over the Empire. The woodwork and metalwork have not survived but there are indications of elaborate plasterwork and delicately coloured inlays. We can only speculate about furniture and soft furnishings, all lost long ago. Piecing together the tantalising scraps of evidence tells us that this grand house was constructed and decorated by craftsmen of the highest quality, brought huge distances to Britain - as much a culture shock for them as it must have been for the locals!

We have hints that the painting was as good as anything found anywhere else in the Roman world. Modern fashions for paint 'finishes' had their Roman counterparts and at Fishbourne there was interior mock marbling in addition to the real thing. Exterior trompe l'oeil garden walls were painted with foliage and flowers to look like extensions of the real gardens (which were themselves spectacular whether formal in the massive central courtyard or 'wild' in the outside grounds). Most intriguing of all are fragments of exquisite miniature panels which show Mediterranean Seaside scenes that are almost identical to famous fresco from a villa at Stabiae on the Bay of Naples which was destroyed in the eruption of Vesuvius. The villa on the sunny shore, its long colonnades lapped by the lively blue sea, must have been painted by an artist who was very familiar with the Stabiae style and subject matter. Although archaeologists have to be cautious about saying Fishbourne was decorated by the same man, I can be more specific. Who he turns out to be, I leave you to find out...

Of course the five year redevelopment programme means that Falco would arrive to find only a building site. Initially I thought this would he difficult to handle, but in fact it worked to my advantage. I knew about building schemes from my civil service days (though of course the 'bent' project team members have no relation to anyone in real life!). And I don't have to invent anything if we don't know quite what it was like. What we do know can appear on the plans, while what is currently missing poses no problem. For instance, I can describe the lovely mosaic border of one floor that has only partially survived, then say its central roundel (now missing unfortunately) is awaiting a decision on its design from the client.

What I most enjoyed was using my own experience to remind people that however glamourous the results must have been, no building on this scale is ever created without a great number of problems - all of which are waiting for Falco and his crack team of assistants. And that's quite apart from the building contractors he already loathes from his own house on the Janiculan Hill - Gloccus and Cotta the terrible bath house constructors, who have left behind a ghastly legacy. Anyone who has been involved with a modern renovation will find those two horribly familiar. This time maybe revenge is in the air...