In the Shadow of Vesuvius

In the Shadow of Vesuvius

Liz Carmichael

Copyright Liz Carmichael 2010

All rights reserved

Published by Daimhin Books at Smashwords 2013

Table of Contents

ToC

Title

Chapter I

Image Mira and Remy

Chapter II

Chapter III

Map Herculaneum West

Herculaneum East

Chapter IV

Chapter V

Chapter VI

Chapter VII

Chapter VIII

Roman Baths

Chapter IX

Chapter X

Chapter XI

Chapter XII

Chapter XIII

Chapter XIV

Chapter XV

Chapter XVI

Chapter XVII

About the Author

Dedication

Some Sites for Research

Chapter I

The housekeeper showed me to the room I would share with the baby boy I had yet to meet. Excited by the view over the red rooftops to Mount Vesuvius, I ran to the window. That is when the vision assaulted me. Blindly, I scrabbled to get hold of the window frame to keep from falling.

In my mind’s eye a fiery churning, grey black mass raced towards the town. All around in the searing, trees to burst into flame, rock melted, and huge boulders shattered. The roiling cloud hurtled over buildings. Animal and human flesh melted. Sulphur stung my eyes and nostrils: its rotten-egg stench made me retch. Fiercely hot gases scalded my throat, sealing it shut. Bones turned to ash. Around the town terror-filled shrieks abruptly stopped. All I had known for the last nine years disappeared. Herculaneum ceased to exist and all life in and near the town ended.

The firm grip on my shoulder brought me back to the present. Surprised to be alive, I ignored Vestra’s tugging at me. I ran my hands over my body and hair while gulping in huge lungsful of cool air. Staring around the room dazed and trembling, I fought back sobs. How could anyone live through that?

The gods had sent a warning vision: one that gave me the chance to survive. Shudders ran through me: would I recognise this death and destruction when the time came? The housekeeper shook me. ‘What is wrong with you? Did you miss a meal, you foolish girl? Or is this you having one of your so-called visions? By Apollo, you’re white as chalk. Answer me.’

My tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth.

Vestra tutted and continued to scold, ‘Do not speak your vision nonsense here, or you will be sent back to carting fish. If you wish to remain as young Remy’s nursemaid, you must forget such nonsense.’

Although I wanted to tell everyone about the vision’s warning, I knew better; they would not listen. How could I describe what I saw anyway? Who would believe what I saw? The town and its inhabitants burned and buried within a few minutes, by the nightmare that spewed from Mount Vesuvius.

The other slaves had laughed at the idea of one of their kind thinking the gods had gifted her with prophecy. I locked away this vision, too. But I could not, would not, forget it.

Later that day, holding Remy in my arms for the first time, I knew I would do anything to keep him safe.

A year later

Tremors under Herculaneum intensified mid- morning. Yet people went about their day, as though nothing untoward went on beneath their feet. They complained only that the water no longer flowed along the aqueduct for the past two days.

Puffs of steam rose up from vents on the sides of Mount Vesuvius. Not so unusual except that to my eyes there were more of them. Sweat trickled down my spine, but not from the heat of the summer’s day, but from fear that the time of my vision arrived.

From the moment I woke that morning I had felt uneasy. After the morning meal, I went downstairs to Domina’s reception room to ask when we would leave the town.

Without looking up, Domina Serena said, ‘You will be sent for when it’s time to leave.’ Her hands rested on her hugely pregnant stomach while she pulled at loose threads around at edge of her stola.

I understood what Domina left unsaid and returned to my room to wait.

Unrelenting August heat, and being in the latter stages of her pregnancy, Domina Serena had become uncommunicative. Not even Remy’s chatter held her attention for long.

With mid-day nearing I paced the top floor room, willing Dominus and Domina to come home from the theatre. The New Greek play should have finished long ago - what could be keeping them?

I had chewed my nails until they were too short to grip, so I started nibbling the flesh round the edges. A sliver of skin ripped off. Stinging pain broke through my tumbling thoughts. ‘Ow!’ I shook my hand and blew on the sore spot.

From his mat on the floor Remy squeaked, ‘Ow-ow-ow.’ Then he blew on his fingers. When he shook his hand about his fat cheeks wobbled, making me laugh. That got me many repeats.

‘Apologies, Little Plum. I am neglecting you.’ I sat next to him and we began a clapping game. It amused Remy, and kept me from chewing the now bleeding skin at the sides of my nails.

My stomach growled, but that day I had more to worry about than hunger that day.

Why were Dominus and Domina not home yet? They should be here giving the order to leave.

‘Waiting for your Mama and Papa,’ I chanted in time to our hand claps.

Remy sang, ‘Way-way a-oo Mama a Papa.’

When I ran my fingers through his black curls, he tilted his head back, grinned up at me and pointed to his mouth - time for a kiss.

Outside a few carts rumbled past as a few people left the town. A month earlier most other

wealthy households left Herculaneum for their summer homes in the hills. Families that came to the seaside port each year were settled in. Since the earth rumblings strengthened, though, some were leaving again.

Octavius, Remy’s father and my owner (well, he still thought of himself as owning me), always waited until he knew his fishing fleet had brought in a good profit before all of the household - except for chained slaves to stop looting - left for his father-in-law’s vineyards on Vesuvius’s northern slopes.

Two days of slowly building tremors, and my vision of the year before returned with all the horror of the first seeing - from its lurking place, at the back of my mind, to play over and over just like it did in those first weeks.

The memory and stench of burning flesh had clung to my nostrils for days. My stomach churned again with the memory, and I would have vomited if not for having an empty stomach: but who could eat on such a day of fear.

Odd movements on the waters of the bay caught my attention. Where I normally enjoyed its gentle ebb and flow, some areas of the sea lurched and bubbled, like water coming to the boil. The east-facing window framed Vesuvius, with its continual reminder of that hateful vision. I decided to stay away from both.

To take my thoughts away from the looming horror, I chattered nonsense to Remy, but nothing could make me sit still. I got up, I sat, I got up, I paced.

Remy’s large eyes, dark as my own followed me as I moved around the room. This game we played often: he watched me, I pretended not to notice, and when I turned to look at him he looked away. The game continued until Remy could no longer hold back his infectious laughter, which brought some lightness, and respite from the turmoil in my mind. Of course, Remy, as usual, wanted to do it all again and again.

‘Where are your Mama and Papa?’

Remy peered around the room as if expecting to find them hiding in a corner.

‘We could die while we wait for—’ Stop. Don’t think about it.

Sitting beside Remy again, I made his favourite toy horse walk. ‘If my father were alive,’ I told the child, ‘he would take care of everything. He would have us on the road by now.’ But Father was not alive, and this was not the time to think about his wasted death.

Remy took back his horse, and wiggled its legs then twisted its head around and around. Watching it made me feel queasier.

Maybe Domina's new baby was coming. At that thought my heart skipped a beat. ‘Please, Juno, do not let it be happening yet.’ My fingers twisted my hair into a tangled mess, and I dug the hairbrush from the chest to brush the knots out.

Remy stuck his fingers into his mass of curls and, after giving them a couple of twirls, looked expectantly at the brush.

Acting shocked, I brandished the brush in the air then dived at him. ‘What a mess you have there, young man. Let me at it.’ His squeals of delight echoed around the room.

Fear of Remy’s death was unbearable. I got up to pack a travel bag with our clothes, and anything else we would need on the journey. ‘We mustn’t wait any longer,’ I said to no one in particular, as I tossed toiletries in along with anything else we might need for the journey. I looked into all the chests again.

As I tied on my waist pouch, I almost missed the footsteps on the stairs.

Someone rapped on the door. ’Is it all right for me to come in?’

Levi. What did Master’s subservient little dog want? ‘I suppose you must.’

He entered with Remy's food, and a sweet-cake in the centre of a small wooden platter. He presented the sweetcake to me with a flourish. ‘I bring you this small gift for your name-day anniversary, Domina Mira.’ He smiled so wide, I had no option but to return it with one of my own.

‘Gratitude, Levi. But, really - Domina Mira? Be careful no one hears you give me such a title.’ I liked the sound of it though. ‘How did you know about my name-day?’

‘I heard you tell Vestra last year on Vulcan’s feast day.’ He knelt down beside Remy. ‘Hello young master, how are you today?’

Remy gave the cake long wide-eyed stare. ’Wemay, yum?’

‘Not today, little one. Today it’s Mira’s yum.’ He turned back to me. ‘How many years are now, thirteen, or is it fourteen?’

‘What has it to do with you?’ Arms crossed, I frowned at Levi. ‘Are you so ancient you do not count the years anymore, so have to know mine?’

Levi shrugged but his gaze dropped to the floor. ‘I’ve no idea.’

‘You don’t know how many years you have reached?’

Colour flooded his cheeks. ‘No, I don’t. Cook thinks about seventeen or eighteen. I could have been six or seven when Dominus bought me, eleven years ago. Count for yourself if it’s so important to you.’

Realising how bad I must have made Levi feel, my own cheeks warmed with guilt. I considered letting the subject drop, but that might be worse. ‘Forgiveness. I’m fifteen years.’ And I stood tall, though I knew it would not make much difference.

‘In truth, you’re fifteen? But you’re so sho- um, young looking.’ His blush deepened.

‘You were going to say, I’m so short. No, don’t deny it. I heard you say so to cook when you were unaware I sat outside the window.’

‘Only because you have to carry master Remy all the time, he’s so big he makes you look shorter.’ Then he doubled over laughing. ‘Don’t stare at me like that. Can I help it if you’re not as tall as everyone else of your years?’

I held up the cake. ‘Gratitude. You may leave now, I have things to do.’

He narrowed his eyes at me after looking at the half-filled travel bag on the chest by the door. ‘Why are you packing already?’

‘I’m not waiting for them to come back. I must