‘This is the third or fourth time,’ said Jonathan.
Mordecai sat heavily on the chair and stared at the steam coiling up from the cups.
‘When you see Jerusalem being surrounded by armies,’ he whispered, ‘you will know that its desolation is near.’
‘What?’ Flavia frowned.
‘I never said it was Jerusalem,’ said Jonathan. ‘I don’t even know what Jerusalem looks like.’
‘Yet the city you described was Jerusalem. I’m sure of it: Jerusalem the golden.’ Mordecai looked at his son. ‘And you have seen Jerusalem, you know, although you were just a baby. We were among the last people to escape before the siege began. And the fate of those left behind was truly terrible . . .’
He closed his eyes for a moment and then continued.
‘I believe your dreams are from God, Jonathan. Through you he is sending a warning to us all. The prophet in Pompeii – the one you told me about – I fear he was correct. God’s judgement is about to fall upon this country.’
They all stared at him.
The sound of brass curtain rings sliding along a wooden rod cut through the heavy silence and they turned to see Miriam. She stood framed in her bedroom doorway, her cheeks wet with tears and her face as pale as marble.
‘He’s dead,’ she whispered. ‘Dead.’
‘Who?’ Jonathan cried. ‘Who’s dead?’
Miriam held up the bird cage. ‘Catullus. I found him when I woke up.’
The feathered corpse of the once bright sparrow lay on the floor of the cage.
‘Another portent,’ said Mordecai. ‘We must leave immediately. The Lord has warned us today as he once warned me, nearly ten years ago.’
In the trees above, a bird uttered a single, hesitant note, and then was silent.
Jonathan stood up and nodded. ‘When I think about leaving I feel better.’
‘Then pack your things. We must depart immediately.’
‘No, father. I’m not going. There is no danger of besieging armies now.’ Miriam had put the birdcage down. Her voice was firm.
Jonathan stared at her in amazement. Never before had he heard his sister defy their father. Her eyes were bright and a flush had crept into her pale skin.
Mordecai was staring at his daughter in disbelief.
‘Miriam,’ he said. ‘You must come with us.’
‘Father, please don’t ask me to go.’ The flush in her cheeks deepened. Miriam dropped her eyes and stammered, ‘I want to stay here for a little longer.’
‘Miriam, is there something you want to tell me?’
Again the absolute silence. Then she spoke quietly, without looking at him.
‘Yes, there is. I am in love, father, and I wish to marry him. Please don’t make me leave.’
‘Marry? You have only just turned fourteen!’
‘I’m a woman now.’ Miriam lifted her eyes and looked directly at her father. ‘And I’m ready to marry.’
‘Yes. I suppose you are.’ Mordecai’s voice was barely more than a whisper. ‘Well, who is it? Whom do you love?’
‘She is in love with me,’ came a voice from beneath the peristyle. ‘And I would give my life for her.’
The man who emerged from the house and stepped into the garden was the last person Flavia expected. She gasped:
‘Uncle Gaius!’
Lupus choked in amazement and Jonathan’s jaw dropped. Only Nubia seemed to accept this revelation calmly.
To Flavia, it seemed unbelievable. How could Jonathan’s sister want to marry a man her father’s age? But when he and Miriam looked at one another, Flavia saw the love in their eyes.
Mordecai’s face softened. ‘Then you must come with us, too, Gaius. We must all leave Italia. And quickly, I beg of you. We can discuss this matter later.’
Gaius took a few steps towards Mordecai and held his hands out, palms to the sky. ‘But how? How can I leave my villa, my vines, the farm? If there’s another strong earthquake I have to stay here to protect the house against looters and thieves. If I must face God’s judgement, then I would rather face it here in the house where I was born.’
‘No. Father’s right.’ Jonathan looked around at them all. ‘We have to leave! Don’t you understand?’
Mordecai nodded. ‘Nearly ten years ago, when I saw Jerusalem beginning to be surrounded by armies, I remembered the words of the Shepherd: “Let those who are in Judaea flee to the mountains. Let no one on the roof of his house go down to take anything out of the house. Let no one in the field go back to get his cloak. For then there will be great distress, not seen from the beginning of the world until now.”
‘I felt a sense of dread then, just as Jonathan does now. And it was that sense of dread which saved our lives. My children and I left Jerusalem immediately. But their mother . . . their mother . . .’
To Flavia’s dismay, Mordecai began to weep.
‘She was so beautiful,’ he said, and turned to Miriam. ‘So much like you, my dear. She refused to go, just as you are refusing to go. We argued, and she decided to stay with her parents. I relented and I never saw her again.’
Mordecai held out his hands to his daughter.
‘Miriam. What good is a warning from the Lord if we refuse to listen? You must come with us.’
Before Miriam could reply, something soft struck Flavia’s bare arm.
‘Oh!’ she cried. A wren lay at her feet in the dust.
Flavia bent down and gently picked it up. ‘I think it’s dead,’ she said. ‘But it’s still warm.’ She looked up into the leaves of the laurel tree, just in time to see three more birds drop from its branches.
Suddenly all around them the trees were raining birds: a shower of wrens, thrushes and sparrows. Nubia knelt to pick up a tiny sparrow.
‘Birds dead,’ she whispered. ‘All dead.’
‘What on earth . . .’ said Aristo, staring at the feathered corpses around them.
‘Rotten eggs!’ cried Gaius. ‘I should have remembered!’
‘You should have remembered what?’ asked Flavia.
‘Sulphur smells like rotten eggs,’ said her uncle, ‘and sulphur fumes are what killed the sheep up near Misenum in the big earthquake seventeen years ago.’
Flavia sniffed the air. There was a distinct scent of rotten eggs.
‘But if the smell of sulphur can kill animals as large as sheep . . .’ said Aristo. He didn’t need to finish the sentence.
As they stood staring at each other, a voice broke the silence.
‘My mother always told me that the smell of rotten eggs meant that Vulcan was angry.’
They all turned to see Frustilla standing in the kitchen doorway.
‘My grandmother was from the island of Sicily,’ quavered the old woman, shuffling into the garden, ‘where the smith god has his forge . . .’
‘And when the smith god is angry –’ said Jonathan.
‘There’s a volcano!’ cried Flavia.
As if to confirm Flavia’s words, the ground rumbled beneath their feet, and they heard a sound like distant thunder.
‘Of course,’ said Mordecai. ‘I should have guessed! You’re right, Miriam. There are no besieging armies. This time God’s judgement will come by natural disaster. He has been warning those of us with eyes to see. The sulphur, the tremors, dry wells, the odd behaviour of the animals, Jonathan’s dreams . . . Frustilla is right. They all point to one thing: a volcanic eruption.’
‘But which mountain will erupt?’ asked Jonathan.
‘It has to be Vesuvius!’ cried Aristo.
‘But it’s not a volcano. It’s never erupted,’ said Gaius. ‘Has it, Frustilla?’
‘Not in my lifetime,’ said the old cook. ‘And I’ve never heard of it being a fire-spitter. But there’s a small volcano north of it, near Misenum. They say it smells of rotten eggs.’
‘Vesuvius could be dormant . . . that is, a sleeping volcano . . .’ Mordecai tugged his beard. ‘I believe I know how we can find out! Gaius, do you have
Pliny’s Natural History? I’m certain there is a section on volcanoes . . .’
‘There’s a copy in the library,’ answered Gaius.
They all hurried into the library and Flavia’s uncle lifted down a fat cylindrical scroll-case marked ‘Pliny’.
‘Quickly!’ said Flavia, hopping with impatience. ‘I think there’s something about Vesuvius in scroll three!’
Miriam gently pushed Gaius’s fumbling hand away and swiftly unpicked the cord with her deft fingers. Together they eased off the leather lid.
Meanwhile, Aristo had moved to a dim corner of the library. He was passing a clay lamp along the wall and peering at the dangling leather labels.
For several moments the only sound was the crackle and rustle of papyrus scrolls being unrolled on the library table.
‘Here’s something about Vesuvius!’ cried Flavia at last. She scanned the passage. ‘But Pliny doesn’t say anything about it being a volcano.’
In his shadowy corner, Aristo pulled a scroll from its niche.
‘Listen to this!’ said Jonathan. ‘In scroll two, Pliny lists some volcanoes around the world. He doesn’t mention Vesuvius, but he says that there is a small fire in Modena that erupts every year on the feast day of Vulcan. That’s now!’
Gaius shook his head. ‘Modena is as far north of Rome as we are south of it.’
‘Eureka!’ cried Aristo from his corner. ‘I’ve found it!’
He moved over to the doorway, set down his lamp and unrolled a scroll.
‘Diodorus of Sicily tells about strange animal behaviour several centuries ago near my home town in Greece. I’d forgotten the exact details, but here it is!’
He read aloud. ‘“In a town called Helice on the gulf of Corinth, there was a devastating earthquake. Before the earthquake struck, to the puzzlement of the citizens, all sorts of animals, such as rats, snakes and weasels, left the city in droves.”’
‘Exactly like last night,’ said Jonathan.
Aristo was silent for a moment as he scanned the text. Then the colour drained from his face.
‘What?’ They all gazed at him anxiously.
‘“Five days later”,’ he read, ‘“the entire town was swallowed up by the sea.”’
There was a long silence as they all looked at one another, broken only by Ferox barking in the farmyard.
‘We must warn people,’ said Mordecai, after a moment. ‘I’m a fool. The Lord has been trying to tell us for days, but I didn’t see the signs.’
‘Neither did Pliny,’ said Flavia, ‘and he is the greatest natural historian in the world.’
‘Do we escape by land or by sea?’ said Aristo.
‘The quickest route is always by sea,’ Mordecai said. ‘But we must escape any way we can . . .’
Suddenly the garden gate swung open.
‘Vulcan!’ cried Flavia.
‘Clio!’ said Jonathan.
‘Modestus!’ said Nubia.
The muscular blacksmith and the little girl in the orange tunic stood side by side, with the donkey’s big head nosing between them.
Lupus ran to Clio and stopped shyly in front of her. Her face was blotched and tear-stained, but she smiled back at him.
‘Vulcan, where were you?’ Flavia asked. ‘We looked everywhere for you.’
‘I rode south,’ he said. ‘Modestus and I slept on the beach. Just now I presented myself at the Villa Pomponiana, but Tascius refused to see me and Rectina wasn’t there. On my way back here I found Clio.’
Mordecai stepped forward. ‘Listen to me. We believe Vesuvius is going to erupt and that we must get as far away from it as we can.’
‘The best route of escape is probably by sea,’ added Gaius. ‘Clio, you’re lucky your family has a boat. You must all sail away as soon as you can.’
‘But –’
‘You must get out as soon as possible!’ urged Mordecai. ‘All of you!’
‘We can’t.’ Clio’s eyes filled with tears. ‘Mother and Father had a horrible argument last night. Mother took my sisters and three slaves and she left for her villa at dawn. I jumped off the back of the carruca and came back to find out why, because Mother wouldn’t tell us anything.’ Tears ran down Clio’s face. Lupus offered her a grubby handkerchief.
‘Please, Clio,’ said Mordecai. ‘Try to be calm. Tell us again: where is your mother’s villa?’
‘Just the other side of Herculaneum,’ said Clio, blowing her nose on Lupus’s scrap of linen. ‘Two miles north of the Neapolis gate.’
‘Great Jupiter’s eyebrows!’ said Gaius. ‘It’s at the very foot of the mountain!’
Even as he spoke, the earth trembled and shook beneath them once more.
‘We must warn those beneath the mountain,’ said Flavia’s uncle grimly.
He ran his hand through his hair just as Flavia’s father did when he was upset. ‘I’ll go to Pompeii immediately and tell the authorities what we’ve discovered. Then I’ll ride inland to Nuceria and warn them, too. But someone will have to go to Oplontis and Herculaneum, and then on to Neapolis . . .’
‘I will,’ said Vulcan without hesitation. ‘It may be the last chance I get to see . . . my mother.’
‘Are you sure?’ asked Mordecai. ‘You may be riding to your death.’
‘Deaths holds no fear for me,’ said Vulcan bravely, and then swallowed. ‘Well, only a little.’
‘I know you can ride a donkey,’ said Gaius. ‘But can you ride a fast horse?’
Vulcan nodded.
‘Good,’ said Gaius. ‘Then we must leave immediately.’
‘I’ll go too, if you need me.’ Aristo stepped forward.
Gaius smiled. ‘Thank you Aristo, but I need you and Mordecai to get my household to safety. Tell Xanthus to harness the mules to the carriage. Vulcan and I will take Celer and Audax.’ He turned to the doctor.
‘Mordecai, can you drive a carriage?’
‘Yes, of course.’
‘Will you drive Miriam and the children to Stabia? Take Frustilla, too, and Rufus. Drop Clio home on your way. Aristo, will you and Xanthus follow on foot with my other slaves? When you all get to Stabia, board a ship and sail away from here as soon as you can. I’ll give you all the gold in my strongbox.’
‘You don’t have to go to Stabia,’ sniffed Clio. ‘Our boat is big enough for you all. Father will take you.’
‘Are you sure?’
Clio nodded.
‘Excellent,’ Gaius said. ‘Mordecai. Aristo. Get everyone to the Villa Pomponiana and sail as soon as you can. Don’t wait for us.’
Suddenly Miriam threw her arms around Gaius. ‘Don’t go! Stay with us!’
‘I must go, my darling,’ said Gaius, softly, and brushed dark curls away from her face. ‘How could you still love me if I didn’t try to help all the people whose lives are in danger?’
‘But what if you’re wrong? What if it’s all a mistake? What if they are just tremors?’
‘Then no harm will come to us. Except perhaps from angry citizens.’
‘But, Gaius –’
‘Shhh!’ he whispered. ‘I’ve waited all my life for you and I’m not about to lose you now. I promise I’ll return.’
As they embraced, Aristo and Vulcan glanced at each other.
‘I gave her the bracelet,’ confessed Vulcan. ‘I made it myself.’
‘I gave her the sparrow,’ Aristo said.
Vulcan frowned. ‘Then that means he –’
‘He didn’t give her anything,’ said Aristo with a sigh.
At two hours past dawn, Vulcan and Gaius rode out of the farmyard to warn the towns near Vesuvius of the coming disaster.
Vulcan planned to tell the town magistrates of Oplontis, Herculaneum and Neapolis.
Gaius was heading for Pompeii and then Nuceria. Ferox, freed from his hated kennel, ran joyfully beside his master. He easily kept up with the galloping horses. As soon as they were out of sight, Mordecai turned to the children.
‘I’ll give you half an hour t
o pack your things. Take only what you can carry. And hurry. I feel in my spirit that disaster is almost upon us.’
Flavia and Nubia had just finished packing when they heard Mordecai shouting. For a moment they stared at one another. They had never before heard his voice raised in anger.
‘I couldn’t stop him, father!’ Jonathan cried.
The girls hurried out of their bedroom and into the garden. Jonathan and his father stood face to face.
‘But why didn’t you tell me immediately?’ The anger in Mordecai’s voice made his accent more pronounced.
‘He made me promise.’ Jonathan looked miserable.
‘And Clio’s with him?’
‘No. He’s with her. She’s the one who insisted on going. He told me – I mean he let me know – that he was only going along to protect her.’
‘Those two are the most stubborn, rebellious souls I’ve ever met,’ said Mordecai. ‘They’re just the same!’
He noticed Aristo and the girls watching him openmouthed.
‘Lupus and Clio have taken – no, stolen one of the horses. Clio’s gone after Vulcan to try to save her family. Of all the foolish . . . Lupus the eight-year-old has gone to protect Clio the seven-year-old. Dear Lord!’ He looked up into the sky. ‘What else could possibly go wrong?’
The garden gate opened and Xanthus staggered in. He was bloody and beaten, his clothing ripped and torn.
‘The slaves,’ he gasped. ‘I tried to stop them but they’ve all run away. And they’ve taken the mules and carriage.’
Lupus and Clio had hoped to catch up with Vulcan on the road to Pompeii, but they were not the only ones to have a premonition of disaster. A steady stream of people moving against them made it difficult to travel quickly.
‘Go back!’ one or two travellers shouted at them. ‘The god Vulcan has just told us that there’s a furnace beneath Vesuvius. It’s about to explode.’
‘At least we’re on the right track,’ said Clio over her shoulder to Lupus.
Lupus grunted in response. He wasn’t used to riding. Already his bottom ached from half an hour of bouncing.
At the harbour of Pompeii, half the ships were gone and scores of people were trying to board those that remained. Women and children were screaming and men were fighting. There was a sinister red stain on the pavement in front of the tavern with the yellow awning.
The Roman Mysteries Complete Collection Page 22