phenomena—thunderbolts, entrails, bird omens, unnatural manifestations. My rates are reasonable.”
“May I ask, holy father,” said the engineer, “when you left Pompeii ?”
“At first light.”
“And were the fountains playing? Was there water?”
So much rested on his answer, Attilius was almost afraid to hear it.
“Yes, there was water.” The augur frowned and raised his staff to the fading light. “But when I arrived in Neapolis the streets were dry and in the baths I smelled sulfur. That is why I decided to return to the ferry and to come on here.” He squinted again at the sky, searching for birds. “Sulfur is a terrible omen.”
“True enough,” agreed Attilius. “But are you certain? And are you sure the water was running?”
“Yes, my son. I’m sure.”
There was a commotion around the fountain and both men turned to look. It was nothing much to start with, just some pushing and shoving, but quickly punches were being thrown. The crowd seemed to contract, to rush in on itself and become denser, and from the center of the melee a large earthenware pot went sailing into the air, turned slowly, and landed on the quayside, smashing into fragments. A woman screamed. Wriggling between the backs at the edge of the mob, a man in a Greek tunic emerged, clutching a waterskin tightly to his chest. Blood was pouring from a gash in his temple. He sprawled, picked himself up, and stumbled forward, disappearing into an alleyway.
And so it starts, thought the engineer. First this fountain, and then the others all around the port, and then the big basin in the forum. And then the public baths, and then the taps in the military school, and in the big villas—nothing emerging from the empty pipes except the clank of shuddering lead and the whistle of rushing air . . .
The distant water organ had become stuck on a note and died with a long moan.
Someone was yelling that the bastard from Neapolis had pushed to the front and stolen the last of the water, and, like a beast with a single brain and impulse, the crowd turned and began to pour down the narrow lane in pursuit. And suddenly, as abruptly as it had begun, the riot was over, leaving behind a scene of smashed and abandoned pots, and a couple of women crouched in the dust, their hands pressed over their heads for protection, close to the edge of the silent fountain.
VESPERA
[
20:07
hours]
Earthquakes may occur in swarms at areas of stress concentrations—
such as nearby faults—and in the immediate vicinity of
magma where pressure changes are occurring.
—HARALDUR SIGURDSSON (EDITOR)
ENCYCLOPEDIA OF VOLCANOES
The admiral’s official residence was set high on the hillside overlooking the harbor and by the time Attilius reached it and was conducted onto the terrace it was dusk. All around the bay, in the seaside villas, torches, oil lamps, and braziers were being lit, so that gradually a broken thread of yellow light had begun to emerge, wavering for mile after mile, picking out the curve of the coast, before vanishing in the purple haze toward Capri .
A marine centurion in full uniform of breastplate and crested helmet, with a sword swinging at his belt, was hurrying away as the engineer arrived. The remains of a large meal were being cleared from a stone table beneath a trellised pergola. At first he did not see the admiral, but the instant the slave announced him—“Marcus Attilius Primus, aquarius of the Aqua Augusta!”—a stocky man in his middle fifties at the far end of the terrace turned on his heel and came waddling toward him, trailed by what Attilius assumed were the guests of his abandoned dinner party: four men sweating in togas, at least one of whom, judging by the purple stripe on his formal dress, was a senator. Behind them—obsequious, malevolent, inescapable —came Corax.
Attilius had for some reason imagined that the famous scholar would be thin, but Pliny was fat, his belly protruding sharply, like the ramming
“May I ask, holy father,” said the engineer, “when you left Pompeii ?”
“At first light.”
“And were the fountains playing? Was there water?”
So much rested on his answer, Attilius was almost afraid to hear it.
“Yes, there was water.” The augur frowned and raised his staff to the fading light. “But when I arrived in Neapolis the streets were dry and in the baths I smelled sulfur. That is why I decided to return to the ferry and to come on here.” He squinted again at the sky, searching for birds. “Sulfur is a terrible omen.”
“True enough,” agreed Attilius. “But are you certain? And are you sure the water was running?”
“Yes, my son. I’m sure.”
There was a commotion around the fountain and both men turned to look. It was nothing much to start with, just some pushing and shoving, but quickly punches were being thrown. The crowd seemed to contract, to rush in on itself and become denser, and from the center of the melee a large earthenware pot went sailing into the air, turned slowly, and landed on the quayside, smashing into fragments. A woman screamed. Wriggling between the backs at the edge of the mob, a man in a Greek tunic emerged, clutching a waterskin tightly to his chest. Blood was pouring from a gash in his temple. He sprawled, picked himself up, and stumbled forward, disappearing into an alleyway.
And so it starts, thought the engineer. First this fountain, and then the others all around the port, and then the big basin in the forum. And then the public baths, and then the taps in the military school, and in the big villas—nothing emerging from the empty pipes except the clank of shuddering lead and the whistle of rushing air . . .
The distant water organ had become stuck on a note and died with a long moan.
Someone was yelling that the bastard from Neapolis had pushed to the front and stolen the last of the water, and, like a beast with a single brain and impulse, the crowd turned and began to pour down the narrow lane in pursuit. And suddenly, as abruptly as it had begun, the riot was over, leaving behind a scene of smashed and abandoned pots, and a couple of women crouched in the dust, their hands pressed over their heads for protection, close to the edge of the silent fountain.
VESPERA
[
20:07
hours]
Earthquakes may occur in swarms at areas of stress concentrations—
such as nearby faults—and in the immediate vicinity of
magma where pressure changes are occurring.
—HARALDUR SIGURDSSON (EDITOR)
ENCYCLOPEDIA OF VOLCANOES
The admiral’s official residence was set high on the hillside overlooking the harbor and by the time Attilius reached it and was conducted onto the terrace it was dusk. All around the bay, in the seaside villas, torches, oil lamps, and braziers were being lit, so that gradually a broken thread of yellow light had begun to emerge, wavering for mile after mile, picking out the curve of the coast, before vanishing in the purple haze toward Capri .
A marine centurion in full uniform of breastplate and crested helmet, with a sword swinging at his belt, was hurrying away as the engineer arrived. The remains of a large meal were being cleared from a stone table beneath a trellised pergola. At first he did not see the admiral, but the instant the slave announced him—“Marcus Attilius Primus, aquarius of the Aqua Augusta!”—a stocky man in his middle fifties at the far end of the terrace turned on his heel and came waddling toward him, trailed by what Attilius assumed were the guests of his abandoned dinner party: four men sweating in togas, at least one of whom, judging by the purple stripe on his formal dress, was a senator. Behind them—obsequious, malevolent, inescapable —came Corax.
Attilius had for some reason imagined that the famous scholar would be thin, but Pliny was fat, his belly protruding sharply, like the ramming
Similar Books
