The Last Girls of Pompeii

by Kathryn Lasky

  Sura and Julia broke out of their dreams at nearly the same time.

  “Did I hear you cry out, Sura?” Julia asked.

  “Maybe. I was having a bad dream.”

  “I as well. What was yours?”

  “I dreamed that my brother was fighting Gavianus in the games today,” Sura said.

  “Oh dear. He’s supposed to be quite good. But you know if you dream something it usually doesn’t come true.”

  “Oh this will,” Sura replied.

  “How do you know that?” Julia asked.

  “I know it because I saw it.”

  “In a dream Sura.”

  “No not in a dream, Julia. It is on the inscriptions of the edicta munerum. It announced that Gavianus the retiarius would fight Bryzos the murmillo.”

  The color drained from Julia’s face. “Oh no!”

  “Yes,” She dropped her head.

  “I shall ask Mother and Father if you can go to the games with us since he is fighting.” Julia paused.

  “But slaves aren’t allowed to attend the games. They will never let me go, especially not the day before the wedding. There is too much to do.”

  “They’ve been very good to me lately. And Father bought me the jade bracelet. I think they are trying to please me so I’ll be a stupid old bridesmaid. I shall even ask if they will allow you to sit with us and not in the slave section.” Julia noticed an odd look flash across Sura’s face. “Why are you looking at me that way? Haven’t you noticed how they have been favoring me lately?”

  Sura lowered her head. “Yes, it is so.” She spoke in a barely audible whisper. Julia peered closely at her and once again saw sadness in her face. That profound sorrow had been like a shadow clinging to Sura’s being for days now.

  “Well.” Juila gave her head a shake and her curls that had been pinned for the night fell down. “I shall ask nonetheless. Let’s light the Vulcanalia candles. It is almost time to get up anyhow.”

  On the eve of the Vulcanalia the household had gone to bed early, since they would all rise well before dawn the next day in candlelight. Such was the custom.

  “But you see, Mother, it is her brother, her only brother, and he is to fight against the undefeated retiarius Gavianus. She’s so worried, Mother!” As soon as Julia had heard stirrings from her parents’ rooms she had come to ask. “You must let her attend and sit with us. I want to be near her.” Julia hesitated. “You know, if something should happen.”

  “Must?” Herminia raised a perfectly plucked eyebrow as she spoke to her daughter through the mirror. Julia hated these “mirror” conversations as she called them, the two faces alike but so different, the reflections of mouths moving but the sound coming from elsewhere. Her mother was beautiful and perfect. She raised both her creamy plumpish arms now to hold several braids while the ornatrix, the hair dresser, secured a pad beneath them to form a conelike confection on top of her head called a tutulus.

  “What’s this?” Julia’s father entered the room.

  “Oh Cornelius how handsome you look!” Herminia exclaimed. “But no curls?”

  “You know I think they are ridiculous Herminia. Our divine emperor Augusta never went in for such foolishness. He kept his hair trimmed simply. Didn’t have to be chased about all day by a tonsor fussing with his comb and oils and perfume.”

  “Well, you look handsome all the same, my dear.”

  And he did as he stood before them in his perfectly draped toga, the hem of which was edged in purple. The purple could only be worn by senators, magistrates, certain officials, and priests.

  Cornelius Petreius turned to look at his daughter.

  “Why so glum, dear Julia? This is your favorite holiday, I thought, even more than Saturnalia.”

  “Father, Sura’s brother Bryzos is scheduled to fight today against Gavianus.”

  “Gavianus, you say.”

  “He is undefeated, Father.”

  “Well, so I think is Bryzos,” said Cornelius.

  “But Gavianus has more experience.”

  “Now Julia, just because I am the sponsor of these games, I cannot change who fights whom.”

  “No Father, I am not asking that. I just want Sura to be able to attend with us. It is her brother. She is so nervous. I would like her to sit with us. She was having bad dreams all night.

  “Oh dear, wouldn’t want that.” Cornelius’s brow creased. “Well, it is against the rules. But in this case, I see no problem.”

  “No problem, Cornelius!” Herminia wheeled around on her stool. “Do you forget that tomorrow we are having a wedding here? We’ve been short handed in the kitchen ever since Fabia died. We need all the hands we can get.”

  “Herminia, I think given certain circumstances,”—he nodded knowingly at his wife, andJulia watched him closely—“we could permit it at this one time.”

  “What circumstances?” Julia asked.

  “Oh nothing really, dear.” Her mother laughed nervously. She then composed herself. “Yes, I suppose you are right Cornelius.” Julia had never seen her mother capitulate so quickly in an argument with her father. It was almost as if they were speaking in some kind of code.

  “But I don’t think Sura could go to the temple with us for the throwing of the fish. She should stay and help in the kitchen,” said Herminia.

  “Oh she won’t mind, Mother. Thank you so much. She’ll be very pleased.”

  She ran up to kiss her mother and then to hug her father. He seemed to squeeze her a little harder than usual. Almost as if he was not going to let go of her.

  The Temple of Vulcan was outside the city walls. The fiery god was considered too dangerous to be allowed within the city itself. It was still dark when the Petronius family in two litters passed through the Forensa Gate. Julia unfortunately rode with Cornelia.

  “I think I should have been permitted to go with my fiancé,” Cornelia muttered.

  “He’ll be there, won’t he?” Julia asked.

  “Yes, with his whole family, and Julia, you’ll meet many of his cousins and aunts for the first time, so please keep your arm covered.”

  No, I plan to wave it around in front of their faces, you stupid cow! Julia wanted to say. But instead, she just sighed loudly and said, “Don’t worry about it, all right.”

  “Don’t take that tone with me!”

  “What tone?” Julia looked at her sister boldly, but Cornelia turned her face away and stared out into the dark dawn muttering something about “it can’t happen soon enough.”

  “What can’t happen soon enough? Your wedding?” Julia asked.

  Cornelia turned her head. A slyness had crept into her eyes. “You’ll see.”

  “What will I see?”

  A suffocating panic welled up within Julia. She had that same feeling she had had a week ago when the snake had lashed out at her. Then there was the deadly terror that had engulfed her when she had regained consciousness after fainting. The terror came back. Her right arm, her good arm, which had enormous strength, darted about and gripped Cornelia’s forearm. She sank her nails deep into the skin. Cornelia gasped. “Let go you little rat.”

  “Tell me, Cornelia!”

  “No.”

  “Cornelia, tell me. What will I see?”

  “I can’t. I promised.”

  “Promised who?”

  “No!”

  “Tell me or I’ll . . . I’ll.”

  “You’ll what?” Cornelia’s lips curled back. She looked hideous to Julia.

  “I’ll bite you!”

  Julia lunged at her sister’s face, but Cornelia jerked away just in time. At the same moment the litter was set down and Cornelia opened the door and exited without waiting for the slave to help her.

  Cassius Marcellus was waiting for his betrothed, and beside him stood his brothers and sisters, several cousins and grandparents. Many were meeting the Petreius family for the first time. Julia watched as introductions were made. There was a lot of commotion, and no one had noticed that J
ulia had let her palla slip off her left shoulder. The withered arm hung white and lifeless as a dead fish.

  “And this is Cornelia’s youngest sister,” Cassius was saying, but he stopped in mid speech before he could say her name. A hush fell upon the group. They all stared at her arm. She stepped forward and smiled

  “I’m Julia,” she said. There were a few nervous coughs. She stole a look at Cornelia, whose blue eyes had turned as cold as ice. “You bitch!” Cornelia mouthed. But Julia felt a kind of insane joy sweep through her.

  “Well, let us get to the temple, now.” Her father rushed them along.

  At the altar cut from black rock, the flamen Vulcanalis, the priest of Vulcan, stood, about to begin his invocation to the dangerous and powerful god of fire. His white conical cap stood out darkly against the graying dawn. The hat was set in a laurel wreath encircling the priest’s head and atop the hat was a spike of olive wood with a tuft of wool tied to its base.

  Julia’s mother had pulled up the palla to cover Julia’s arm and now stood beside her as the flamen came in front of the altar holding a large wriggling fish. He raised the fish high above his head.

  “Vulcan Quietus Mulciber. In the name of Quietus, allayer of fire, may our humble sacrifice quench the sparks of your devouring thirst. In the name of Mulciber, who charms the fire into beneficence for our hearts and homes, may you accept this fish and know that all the citizens of this city and of the empire are beholden to you for the things that we hold most dear.” The priest then let out a wavering cry that scorched the air, and dropped the first fish into the flames. A cheer went up from the crowd.

  “Julia! Julia!” She turned to see Marcus.

  “Marcus, I am so glad to see you. I must speak to you!”

  A look of alarm swept through Marcus’s eyes. It startled Julia. “Why do you look that way?” she asked.

  “What way?”

  “You looked startled when I said I had to speak to you.”

  “Only because you appear so worried.”

  “I am, but we can’t speak here.” She turned to her mother. “Mother can I go with Marcus and his family to the bonfires?” She had expected her mother to say no, but perhaps Julia’s outrageous behavior of displaying her arm had made her mother want Cassius’s family to see as little of her as possible.

  “Yes, what a nice idea,” she replied in a distracted voice.

  “And we’ll meet at the games,” Marcus offered. For their families were all seated together in the special seats reserved for the most prominent spectators, which of course would include the entire family of Flavius Cornelius Petreius since he was not only a magistrate but a sponsor of the day’s events.

  Julia had a sudden and awkward thought. Aunt Livia would be there with them, cheering for the wrong gladiator, her lover Gavanius. Sura would be praying for his opponent, her brother. As far as Julia knew, Marcus knew none of this. She had to get away with him fast.

  There was so much to tell Julia did not know where to begin as they wound their way through the narrow streets to buy some live fish to throw on a bonfire. Such was the custom, as the fish were believed to quench Vulcan’s thirst for fire. They stopped near the restaurant where she had had lunch with her father. There was a bonfire there, and Aurelius Josephus the proprietor was selling live sardines. He welcomed Julia warmly and dumped a half dozen of the wiggling silvery creatures into a sack for her. Julia and Marcus then waited to get near the fire.

  “I can’t tell you everything here. Too many people,” she whispered.

  “I have enough money. I can hire a litter to take us to the amphitheater in time for the games. That way we can talk privately.”

  “Yes, I need to talk. It’s very scary.” She looked up at Marcus. He was biting his lower lip, which he often did when he was nervous. “You know something don’t you Marcus?”

  He nodded almost sadly.

  “Tell me,”

  “Make your prayer and throw the fish, and then we’ll get a litter.”

  Julia reached into the bag and grabbed two squirming sardines. In her head she began to pray, but the words of the prayer were muddled. I pray . . . I pray . . . by the gods I do not know what I pray for. Vulcan you are the destroyer, but I feel my life is being slowly destroyed. What is happening?

  As soon as Marcus had made his offering, they set off in search of a litter. It took them a while to find one. When they did Marcus promised the bearers a large tip if they would take the long way to the amphitheater and enter by the Stabian gates.

  The sun was fully up now and it promised to be another blistering day. Julia had barely settled into the litter when she turned to Marcus. “Now tell me everything you know.”

  “First you must tell me what you know, and then I shall tell you what I know of it.”

  So she began by telling him what Cornelia had said to her on the way to Vulcan’s temple. “There is more going on than simply Cornelia’s wedding. I had this feeling before when the damiatrix came.”

  “The damiatrix from the temple of the Bona Dea?” Marcus opened his eyes wide.

  “Yes.” Julia then explained about the ceremony with the blind snake and how she had fainted. Marcus picked up her limp left hand and stroked it quietly. “You see, Marcus, I had the same feeling then that this ceremony was not about Cornelia getting married or fertility. Is it was somehow about me?”

  “Yes. It is about you.” Marcus said this steadily and looked her straight in the eye.

  Julia gasped. “It is? I mean, how do you know?”

  Marcus began to tell how Sura had come to him in the middle of the night, and what she had first overheard Julia’s parents discussing. “Sura heard them talking about selling her.”

  “Selling her!” Julia turned white.

  “Yes, she is to be sold to Stephanus the fuller, to be his concubine.”

  “What?” Julia gasped. She closed her eyes tight. Of course, that was why Sura had been so sad all these days. And then to hear about her brother having to fight Gavianus . . . . But she had been sad long before she had heard about Bryzos fighting Gavianus. Why had she said nothing?

  “It’s true,” Marcus continued. “But there is more, and you shall see why this all makes sense. Even more sense now that I know how the damiatrix came to your house.”

  “Sense? How could any of this make sense?”

  “I did not say good sense. It is a kind of, kind of . . .” Marcus groped for the right words. “A kind of horrible sense.”

  “What are you talking about Marcus?” Tears trembled in Julia’s eyes.

  “Julia, you are to be sent to the temple to serve the one called the Bona Dea, a goddess of healing.”

  A small yelp escaped from Julia throat. She crumpled over, curled her one good hand into a fist, and beat her knees. “No! No! No!”

  “Julia listen to me. It won’t happen.” Marcus took her head in both his hands and forced her to look at him. “I promise you it won’t happen.”

  “How can you promise such a thing? You have no power to stop it.”

  “Yes I do.”

  “What? What power do you have.”

  “My mother has great influence with the Bona Dea. I was going threaten her by saying I would tell my father about her relationship with Gavianus if she did not get the damiatrix to refuse you as a guardian in the service of the temple. But I have an even better idea now. A wonderful idea.”

  “What’s that?” The tears were streaming down Julia’s face.

  “Julia, I have always loved you. You know that. We can run away and get married.”

  “Married?”

  “Yes married. Don’t you want to marry me?”

  Julia’s heart was hammering in her chest. This all seemed impossible in so many ways, but it also made sense —good sense. Love. I have always loved him, she thought. Loved him in a way she had never realized until this very moment, and yet some part of her had always known. It was as if her heart had known but her head had failed to understand t
his until right now.

  “Yes, Yes! I love you!” she said with wonder and profound amazement. “I do!” She caught her breath. “But, Marcus you are already betrothed.”

  “Forget that. They can’t make me marry Drusilla.”

  “But girls like me aren’t supposed to get married.”

  “Girls like you aren’t suppose to waste their lives in service to some cult, either. Julia, tomorrow to your sister’s wedding I shall wear a toga virilis.”

  “I forgot tomorrow is your birthday.”

  “Yes, I shall be fifteen and by Roman law I will be a man. Also by Roman law a boy may marry at fourteen.”

  “But Marcus, although it might be legal, your father will disinherit you. I know it.”

  “I am his only heir. He won’t. He knows his estate would then go to my mother and she would simply waste it with her spendthrift way. He has already had to borrow from your father.”

  “He has?”

  “Yes,” Marcus said.

  Julia, somewhat calmer, settled back against the pillow. A slight smile stole across her face. “We could have a double wedding with Cornelia. Imagine how she’d like that!”

  “Julia, we will have to run away. No wedding, at least not a family one.”

  “But what about Sura?”

  “I don’t know. It’s not really within my power to save Sura from being sold.”

  “Could she run away with us?”

  “Don’t be foolish, Julia. Then we would be guilty of theft. She is you father’s property.”

  “Yes, I know.”

  Marcus looked out the window. They were approaching the amphitheater.

  “Julia, listen to me now. We must attend the games as if nothing has happened.”

  Julia nodded solemnly. “But when should we run away, Marcus? Before the wedding? That is tomorrow.”

  “No not before, during. By mid afternoon the feasting will be well under way. By the time darkness falls everyone will be drunk. That is when we will leave. Be careful to drink no wine.”

  Julia looked at Marcus evenly now. “Marcus are you sure?”

  “I have never been more sure of anything in all my life. I love you. I love all of you.” And he picked up her withered arm and pressed it to his lips.