Pompeii's Ghosts (A James Acton Thriller, #9) (4 page)

And
leave him alone.

The
thought caused him to pause, but he realized that he must continue, his selfish
moment never to be mentioned, her happiness all he was concerned about. As he
cleared more and more of the sand away, he began to realize how massive the
boat was, and glanced over his shoulder at the river, easily several hundred
paces away.

How
did they ever drag it here?

The
thought it had been brought here during a flood only to be scuttled on the
shore had his chest tightening as his heart began to sink, the next curved
board broken only several feet into its sweep along the prow. After several
more minutes of digging, it was clear that this boat hadn’t been seaworthy in a
long time, nor would it ever be again.

He
dropped down on his haunches, exhausted from the effort, and disappointed that
he wouldn’t be able to see his daughter with child any time soon. He tossed a
small stone into the gaping hole in the side of the boat and froze as it pinged
off of something inside. He crawled over and stuck his head in the hole in
search of possible salvage.

Perhaps
a dowry is still possible!

He would
have expected anyone who had abandoned the vessel to have emptied it of
anything valuable, but perhaps what was worthless to them may not be to him.

Something
glinted and he reached forward, grabbing a hard metal object. Pulling it from
the hole and out into the sun, he suddenly felt lightheaded with excitement. Gripping
the small metal rectangle in his hands, he held it up to the sun then kissed
it.

And
thanked the goat responsible for changing his life forever.

Lucius Valerius Corvus Residence, Pompeii, Roman Empire
August 24
^th
, 79 AD

Valerius picked himself up off the floor, dusting himself of the ash
that seemed to cover everything. Silks and blankets had been hung over all the
windows and doorways in an attempt to keep the ash out, but the wind that
seemed to howl down from the mountain kept a steady stream of servants busy as
they tried to find ways of sealing the openings. Screams and wails from outside
weren’t stopped by mere silks, however, and Valerius found himself from time to
time peering out into the darkness, it now barely mid-afternoon, to glimpse the
hell outside his walls.

And on
each peek, it seemed another arm’s length of ash and pumice had fallen, a
steady rain of small stones, still glowing from the cauldron that was now Vesuvius,
continuing to rain down on the city, setting light to anything not made of stone.

The
streets were filled with those trying to escape, and if it weren’t for his
charge buried on his property, he would leave himself, taking his precious
family to safety.

But he
couldn’t. He couldn’t abandon his duty.

And his
duty would surely mean the death of his family.

He
turned to his most trusted slave, Costa, who hadn’t left his side since the
horror had begun.

“Yes,
sire?”

“I need
you to get word to Plinius of what is happening here. Tell him we require
rescue.”

“Immediately,
sire.”

Costa
was about to leave when Valerius grabbed his arm. “And tell your own family to
leave immediately. I fear there is no place left in the city that is safe.”

Costa
bowed slightly. “Thank you, sire.”

The
ground shook again and a column nearby cracked, a large sliver of marble breaking
away and shattering on the floor. Both looked at the ceiling with unease, then
Valerius turned back to Costa.

“Now
make all haste, for there isn’t much time!”

“Yes,
sire!”

Costa
quickly disappeared and Valerius heard the sound of a horse galloping away minutes
later. He turned to his head servant, Labeo. “Gather the staff.”

Labeo
bowed then left to execute his orders. Valerius returned to the window, pushing
the curtain aside and looking at the mighty Vesuvius in the distance as it
continued to belch ash and stone into the air, the entire sky now blackened as
sheets of lightning raced across the rippling canvas of grays and evil. He
turned and peered toward the sea, it barely visible despite being only several
hundred paces away.

He
coughed.

Stepping
back from the window, he repositioned the curtain and took a drink from the
goblet clutched in his hand since the air had become thick and difficult to
breathe. He turned to see the staff assembled, patiently waiting for him to
acknowledge them, but fear written across every face. They were men, women,
children. Freemen and slaves. Husbands and wives, mothers and fathers. They
were average everyday people with their own troubles and joys and responsibilities.

And not
one had abandoned their post.

Valerius
pointed outside without looking. “I have no words of comfort to offer, except
this. I free you all of your obligations to me. Your obligation now is to your
families, and to yourselves. Gather your loved ones and leave this cursed
place. Make haste to the south and don’t stop until you see the light of day
and the ash no longer falls. And don’t return until the mountain is quiet. And
should we survive to see this through, you will all be welcome back.” He looked
at the dozens of faces in front of him. Women with tears flowing freely,
children with trembling lips, men with expressions too serious to not betray
their own fear. He hoped his own face didn’t reveal the nausea he felt, his own
stomach hollowed of any courage it might have once had. He clapped his hands
together, the sound echoing through the room, startling many. “Now go, and may
the gods be with you.”

He
turned back to the window, moving the curtain aside slightly as he listened to
the foot falls slowly dwindle behind him, then nothing. He turned and started,
his eyebrows shooting up as he saw almost a dozen of his staff still standing,
now side by side in a row, four women and eight men, including Labeo.

“You
have been dismissed,” said Valerius. “Go and save yourselves.”

Labeo
stepped forward. “We have none to save but your family. We stand with you,
sire.”

The
others all stepped forward, as synchronized as any combat troops he had ever
commanded, and his heart surged with pride in the honor and courage being
displayed before him, and albeit selfishly, in himself, knowing he could
command such loyalty and devotion in the face of overwhelming odds.

He bowed
slightly. “You honor me, and it will not be forgotten.” He looked to Labeo.
“Prepare two carts to carry my family to safety. Bring the horses inside the
house so they can breathe. Load water and food for a journey of two days plus
blankets and cloths to protect everyone from the ash. Remember to take extra
water in case you need to put out a fire and to quench heavy thirst from
whatever this is,” he said, wiping some of the ash off a nearby vase with his
finger.

“Immediately,
sire,” said Labeo, bowing, then rushing out of the room with the others in tow.

Valerius
strode through his large home, it feeling empty now, his footsteps echoing off
the marble, and found his wife, Avita, in their bedchambers spinning in a dress
he hadn’t seen before.

“Isn’t
it just divine?” she asked, holding her arms out and spinning on one sandaled
foot. “It only arrived this morning.” She rushed toward him. “Here, my darling,
feel the material! It’s so soft, it almost feels like I’m wearing nothing but
my jewels!”

His eyes
darted to her neck, a large ornate necklace, a gift from Plinius upon their
marriage, adorned her powdered white skin along with bracelets, rings and earrings
of ridiculous proportions.

“What in
the name of the gods are you doing?” he yelled, grabbing her by the arms to
halt her latest spin. “Don’t you know what’s going on outside?”

She
glared at him for a moment, then her smile returned. “Oh, that? Why it’s
nothing, just a little tempest. It will pass.”

He
gripped her tighter as she tried to pull away. “What are you talking about?
People are dying out there! We are abandoning the city!”

“Let go
of me.”

Her
voice was low, almost a growl. He removed his hands from her arms, more out of
curiosity as to what she would do next than any sense of obligation. She
stepped over to a table filled with the accoutrements of female beauty and
picked up a polished copper mirror, examining herself.

“Am I
beautiful, darling?”

Valerius
sighed then walked over to her. “Of course you are, my dear. As beautiful as
the day I met you.”

“Even
after three children?”

“Even
more so.”

The
mirror clattered to the floor and tears erupted as she collapsed into his arms,
her shoulders trembling, the shaking of the room going unnoticed. “I’m sorry,
darling, I-I don’t know what came over me.” She looked up at him, her tears
having burned tiny rivulets through her chalk powder revealing faint trails of
her lightly bronzed skin underneath. Never afraid of a hard day’s work, she was
darker than high society would like, but she rarely paid it any mind, her
natural beauty more than enough to make those who would criticize behind her
back dismissed as jealous.

“Forget
about it,” whispered Valerius, his arms now wrapped around his wife. “But now
you must go, and quickly. The servants are preparing the wagons. You and the
children will go with them at once.”

Avita
shook her head. “Not without you.”

Valerius
smiled, wiping away the tears under her eyes with his thumbs. “You know I
can’t. My duty to Plinius and the Emperor is clear.”

“Forget
them!” she cried. “Your duty is to your family!”

“Of
course it is, which is why you are leaving now. If I leave with you, I will
lose my honor, and my family will be forfeit, the Emperor free to do with as he
pleases. And you know the Emperor, he doesn’t tolerate failure. If I do not
save the treasure kept here, he will kill us all for sure.”

Avita
placed her cheek against her husband’s chest and moaned. “Oh, I know, I know.
He’s a horrible man!”

Valerius
patted her head then gently pushed her away. “Far less so than Nero was, I
assure you.”

She
smiled slightly. “This is true. What he did to the Thirteenth was inexcusable!
Sending them to Britannia with a crystal skull! Voices telling him to do so!
The man was insane.”

Valerius’
thoughts drifted to memories of his best friend, Flavus. They had grown up
together, gone through training together, and his father had managed to get him
a commission in the Thirteenth legion just before they had been ordered to Britannia.
He remembered Flavus’ pride at his Legion being chosen for such a sacred and
important mission.

“According
to the Emperor, we are under orders from Jupiter himself!”

Flavus
was one who was easily swayed by anything to do with the gods, as were many
Romans. Valerius had a more tempered approach, praying as was expected, but
also not accepting without question what those of less acumen might blindly
attribute to a sign from one of the myriad of gods Rome now worshipped.

Then
there’s that damned Jewish god and these infernal Christians.

The
order had been out for some time that any Christians were to be arrested, but
he personally hadn’t paid it any mind. They were too well hidden for him to
encounter, though Plinius had coordinated several raids under orders of the
Emperor. In a discussion on the matter, Plinius had expressed his discomfort
with how these people were being treated, but he was loyal to his Emperor and
therefore forced to obey his laws.

Valerius
would just as willingly let them go, but they insisted on trying to convert
others to their cause, diverting the population away from their true gods.

It was
blasphemous.

And
dangerous in today’s Rome.

With the
economy barely in recovery, anything different that could be a distraction was
viciously targeted, and Christians, trying to spread their new faith, were
attractive fodder for a population needing someone to blame their travails on.

He
looked down at his wife, trying to remember what she had last said. As if she
could read his thoughts, she smiled and said, “The Thirteenth?”

He
chuckled, letting her go. “There still has been no word on whether or not they
ever made it. I’m certain if Flavus had I would have heard word, but with him
being in the first line, if they encountered trouble, I doubt he would have
survived.”

He sat
on the bed, his shoulders sagging under the weight of memories of his friend,
worries and sorrow he hadn’t thought of in years returning. Avita placed a hand
on his shoulder, squeezing gently. “If he died, I’m certain he died with
honor.”

Valerius
looked up at her, his eyes glistening slightly. “If only he had more
experience, just a few years of fighting he would have made the second line,
perhaps even the third line.”