by Teri Barnett
“You are correct. Oscan, a sister to Latin, was the language spoken.”
“Mamia—is—good—for—sex. Only—twenty—sesterces…” Her eyes grew wide as she realized the meaning. “Oh my,“ she murmured.
“You have a keen mind, Signorina. I’m most impressed. But, as I believe you’ve just deciphered, we are in the pleasure section of the town. That inscription was mild compared to some. Perhaps you should avoid reading until we have made our way past these buildings.” He gestured to the area around them. “Most of the brothels are here, as near as we can tell. And,” he looked at her before continuing, “Ladies are not allowed in them.”
With the unpacking done and dinner long over, the small group had finally settled in for the night and rested around a fire.
“Would you like to hear a ghost story?” Fiorelli asked Reggie.
“Yes, sir!” He sat up straight as a board. “Tell us now!”
“When I took over the excavation of Pompeii, there were rumors milling about.” He stared hard at the boy. “Rumors that the ancients were rising from the dead.”
“Impossible!” Reggie slammed his fist down on his thigh as he had seen Frederick do a hundred times before.
Valerie covered her mouth, suppressing a giggle. “Please go on, Signor Fiorelli. What made the people believe this?”
Fiorelli smiled and pulled a cigar out of his jacket pocket. He lit a twig in the fire and held it to the tip. After puffing hard enough to create a sizable cloud around his head, he continued. “Seems an old woman has been seen throughout the city. I’ve never seen her myself but, others have seen her in the tombs and even in the bakery.” He leaned forward and tapped the ashes from the cigar. “And she is always dressed in the garments of the Romans. They say she is the incarnation of the goddess Hekate, come to claim souls to keep her company at the crossroads.”
“Now, Fiorelli, that doesn’t prove anything, does it?” Smythe said, with a chortle.
“No, but the workers are superstitious. They tell me she gives them the evil eye. They go around making the sign against the Devil all day long.” He held up his right hand with just his forefinger and little finger extended. “Like this.”
Reggie held his hand up in front of him and tried to form the gesture. “Look. I did it.”
“Good boy,” Fiorelli said patting Reggie on the head.
“But she could just be a local playing a prank,” Frederick suggested.
Fiorelli shook his head. “According to the men, there have been other signs. Some of the statues we’ve cast have turned up missing. Why in the world would someone want one? The locals believe they came to life and up and walked away…” Fiorelli’s voice faded as a low rumble emanated from deep within the earth.
“What just happened,” Reggie whispered.
“I don’t know, son,” Frederick replied. He exchanged a worried glance with Jacqueline.
“It must just be the ground settling,” Smythe said. “Happens all the time, doesn’t it Fiorelli?”
If that’s true why are Mr. Smythe’s legs shaking?
Valerie looked at her parents, then Lucy and Reggie. Were they about to experience an earthquake?
Smythe continued his babbling about the ground regularly groaning at night, but the Italian raised his hand to silence the older man’s chatter.
And then it happened again, only this time the rumble grew louder. The ground began to shake, loosening a large boulder from its perch atop a hill of rocks. The boulder rolled down and stopped a few yards away from the group.
Valerie jumped to her feet, clutching her cane so tightly her hands went numb. “Mama, Papa, something is very wrong,” she shouted over the rumbling. The ground beneath her feet began to crack and shift as though the very earth was about to open up beneath her.
Jacqueline drew Valerie into her embrace, while Frederick picked up Reggie. The family huddled close together while Smythe waved at his servants for assistance. Only Fiorelli seemed to remain calm. He paced around, examining the fissures, sniffing the air, and listening intently as though the earth was speaking a language only he could understand. After a few moments, the shaking subsided.
“Well, my friends, in case you haven’t figured it out, that was an earthquake,” Fiorelli explained, his voice quiet. “We’ve been experiencing them off and on here for the last few months. I fear this site might become buried again before we’re able to finish our work.”
“Well, that makes the bank’s investment precarious as well,” Frederick said, setting Reggie down.
“You’re talking about work and business when we could have been killed,” Jacqueline said pulling Reggie into the protective circle of her arms.
“There was no chance of that,” Fiorelli said. “It was very mild.” He looked pointedly at Frederick. “We need the funds so we can expedite the digging should a major quake strike in the future.”
“I’ve never felt an earthquake before,” Valerie whispered.
Fiorelli chuckled, waving his hand in a wide sweeping motion. “Rest assured. It was nothing like what was experienced by the former inhabitants of this town on that long ago morning in 79 AD, when Vesuvius erupted. I can guarantee you that.”
Valerie pulled away from her mother as they all resumed their seats. She gazed into the shadows cast by the waning fire. “How much of the city do you think you’ve uncovered so far?” she asked.
“I’d say about one third,” Fiorelli replied.
“Only a third?” Valerie echoed.
Smythe chuckled. “You must forgive the girl, Fiorelli. She’s most inquisitive. I’m afraid Brooks here has allowed her to study the history of the area.”
“That explains why she knew much about the site. And Latin as well. Best pronunciation I’ve ever heard.” Fiorelli smiled at Valerie. “As far as I’m concerned, a woman with a keen mind is a sight to behold. Especially one as lovely as yourself, Signorina.”
Valerie’s back stiffened and she sat up straighter. Thomas had also used such pretty words. Of course, Fiorelli seemed genuine. As much as her unfortunate experience had made her wary, she couldn’t go through life suspecting every man who paid her a compliment. Besides Fiorelli was considerably older and he already knew about her foot. She relaxed back in her chair. “Thank you, Signore.”
Reggie yawned and stretched, setting off a chain reaction around the fire. Valerie had just yawned herself when Lucy appeared from the shadows. “Off to bed with the both of ye,” she shooed. “The men have yer tents ready and ye need yer rest. Too much excitement for one day. There’ll be plenty more nights to sit ‘round and talk.”
Valerie stood without arguing. She had to admit she was tired and longed to be out of the stiff corset that seemed to find every opportunity to poke her. She and Reggie followed closely behind Lucy as she led them to their sleeping quarters—small structures constructed of canvas, stones, and stripped logs.
Lucy opened the flap to Reggie’s tent. “Please let me stay up a bit longer, Lucy,” he begged.
“Don’t ye be rollin’ yer big brown eyes at me like that. Off with ye.” She gave him a gentle push.
After Reggie was settled, Lucy escorted Valerie into her quarters. “Let me help ye with that, miss,” she offered. Valerie turned around and the older woman began unbuttoning her dress. Next, she helped her out of the crinoline, then the corset, leaving Valerie in her chemise.
“Oh, Lucy, just think about where we are.” Valerie hugged her arms about her, rubbing away the goose bumps.
“I know exactly where we be. In the middle of nowhere with the ground ready to shake and rattle,” she sniffed. “I don’t like it one bit.”
Valerie turned around and gave her a teasing smile. “You said the same thing about the ship. That is, until you met Johnny, the steward. I think you’re only upset because you had to leave him behind.”
Lucy puffed herself up like a pigeon. “I beg yer pardon?”
“I think you heard me quite well.” Valerie pulled back the handspun wool blanket and sat down on the edge of the simple camp cot. “Do you love him, Lucy?”
“I don’t think that’d be any of yer business,” Lucy replied haughtily. She folded Valerie’s dress and placed it into her trunk at the foot of the bed.
Valerie rested her chin on her hand. “You’re not going to tell me, are you?”
“Like I said—”
“I know, I know. It’s none of my business.” She lay back on the cot with a frown. She wouldn’t get any information out of the servant tonight. “Good night, Lucy,” she bade.
“Sweet dreams,” Lucy whispered with a chuckle, setting Valerie’s cane next to her bed. She carried the lantern out of the tent and into her own next door as Valerie drifted off to sleep.
“Stop it!” Valerie twisted her body first to the left, then to the right. She was surrounded by a crowd of people, all clothed in the robes of the ancient Romans. Their bejeweled fingers glinted in the sunlight, blinding her.
“No!” she screamed as the Romans poked and prodded her.
“What’s the matter, child?” Lucy shook her hard. “Come to yer senses!”
Valerie continued to struggle, shoving Lucy away from her, as heavy iron chains were clamped around her feet. She tripped and felt herself falling, falling. For an eternity she was suspended in the air, never touching the ground.
“Valerie! Wake up!” It was Jacqueline this time. “You’re having a nightmare.”
“Mama?” Valerie asked, her voice hoarse. She pushed herself up. A fine layer of perspiration covered her body and her chemise clung to her. Jacqueline pushed back the stray locks of hair that had escaped Valerie’s braid.
“It’s all right, dear. It was just a bad dream.”
“But they came for me, Mama.” Valerie wiped at her eyes. “They wanted to take me away.”
“Who did?”
“The people. They hated me,” Valerie’s voice broke as she began to sob. “It was the Romans. They were going to kill me.”
Jacqueline pulled Valerie to her, tucking her head against her breast. “I understand now. You spent too much time in the ruins yesterday. Your imagination is acting up.” She stroked Valerie’s hair in a soothing motion. “No one is going to take you away from us. You’re safe now. It was just a bad dream. It’s the middle of the night. Come now, I’ll stay with you until you fall back asleep.”
But the chains had felt so real, so heavy and rough against her skin. Valerie shivered, then began to relax as Jacqueline hummed a lullaby, the same one she sang when Valerie was a little girl.
It was just a dream…
She took a deep breath and closed her eyes.
Just a dream…
Chapter 13
Valerie dozed fitfully the rest of the night, the disturbing images floating in the darkness around her. She rose early the next morning, aching and tired. Did she dare begin exploring the ruins on her own?
I’m sure Mama was right. I was just reacting to all the events of the day. Oh, I’m such a goose!
She sighed and poured water from a heavy clay pitcher into a bowl on the small table next to her bed. She splashed her face, neck, and arms with the cool water, then twisted her braid into a tight chignon, fastening it into place with a jet and marcasite comb.
The water having revived her spirits, she leaned across the bed and lifted the lid of her trunk with single-minded determination. Digging through the contents, Valerie yanked out her corset. She wrinkled her nose and tossed it aside then found what she was looking for. A simple, white blouse and deep, charcoal skirt was just the thing for exploring the site. The dark color wouldn’t show dirt as easily, if they permitted her to help with the digging. She stood and dressed, buttoning the high collar shirt and pulling on the long skirt.
Valerie took a step and almost tripped over the length of the garment. Without a crinoline, there was an excess of material along the hem. Recalling the peasant women she’d seen along the road, she pulled the skirt up between her legs and tucked it into the waistband. Carefully, she adjusted the sides until her stockinged legs were discreetly covered. Satisfied with the result, she picked up her cane, and left the tent.
Frederick and Jacqueline were already up and enjoying a hot cup of tea near the fire. The smell of sausage frying reached Valerie’s nose and her mouth watered. “Good morning,” she bade.
“What have you done to your skirt?” her mother asked, her eyes wide.
Valerie shrugged. “It’s something I saw the Italian women do. It makes it easier to walk. I thought it would be more practical for me this way.”
“Where’s yer crinoline?” Lucy ran up behind her, shaking a finger. “Ye’ll not be paradin’ around here with yer ankles showin’.”
“Mama?” Valerie pleaded.
Jacqueline presented her back to Valerie “Go back and change. If you hope to spend any time outside of that tent today, you’ll get yourself properly clothed.”
Valerie shook her head. Didn’t they understand how difficult it would be for her to manage her skirts over the uneven terrain? Of course, she could use one of Fiorelli’s chairs, but that would limit her access to the site. Then, a thought came to her and she hid a smile. “All right. I’ll go put the silly thing on.” Valerie turned and let Lucy lead her back to the tent. She lifted the hem of her skirt while the other woman fastened the crinoline into place.
“Lucy, I’ve decided I don’t want any breakfast after all. I’m going to begin exploring right away,” she said, smoothing her clothes into place.
“Are ye sure ye should be goin’ about today? What about them dreams ye had last night?” Lucy asked, worry lining her face.
“Oh, now, I can’t be a goose forever. It was just a dream, after all.” She tapped her cane on the compacted dirt floor. “Besides, when else will I ever get such a chance to see and touch ruins as old as these? I can’t let a nightmare scare me away, can I?”
“Well, I think ye should wait before ye head out. Ye really should eat somethin’.” But before Lucy could present any further arguments, Valerie grabbed a hunk of bread left on her nightstand from last night, a canteen of water, and was out the door, her skirt stirring up a cloud of dust as she walked away from the camp.
Valerie picked her way slowly over the raised stepping stones that allowed foot traffic to cross one of the ancient streets and made her way to the other side. Once out of sight, she ducked behind a tumbled down wall and removed the crinoline. Tucking her skirt back between her legs, she smiled triumphantly. “Bloody contraption”, she swore as she left it behind the wall. Scanning the area she spied the stone gate she had traveled through the day before. Walking through the portal, she returned to the City of the Dead.
Valerie stepped into the middle of the road and stopped. In the bright light of day, every detail revealed by the archeologist’s fine brushes was visible on the stone and marble tombs. Carved friezes of alternating acanthus leaf patterns, images of the gods and goddesses in their finest raiment, and busts that most likely represented those laid to rest within, adorned the alcoves built into the sides of the structures. She turned in a circle…
Where to begin?
To her right stood mausoleums, adorned pillars, and fountains long dried out. She ran a hand over the carved braided stone edge of one fountain. Scooping up a handful of dirt from the basin, Valerie let it sift through her fingers and blow away with the wind. In front of another tomb was the remnant of a small garden planted centuries ago. Neat rows of rocks sectioned the garden from a sitting area with statues set between them. Here, a visitor could relax and spend time with thoughts and prayers for the deceased.
Valerie took care as she stepped through the garden, losing herself in contemplation of what must have been, at one time,
a peaceful place. A creaking sound coming from somewhere behind her brought her out of her reverie. She took a step forward, then stopped. A movement. Was someone following her? She listened another moment. It sounded more like someone was dragging something.
That little lizard!
Her incorrigible brother was no doubt up to his usual mischief. Expecting to catch Reggie sneaking up on her, she whirled around. With a gasp, she recoiled and stumbled backward. Not ten feet away was an old woman, shriveled and bent with age, clutching her tattered shawl to her breast.
“Buon giorno,” the woman called out in a low, raspy voice, as she shuffled toward Valerie. She coughed and a cloud of dust flew up around her. “Mi auiti per favore?” She took a few more steps, sidling up closer to Valerie. “Ho sete.”
“M-mi dispiace. I–I’m sorry. My Italian is not very good. Do you speak Latin?” Valerie asked, not certain what to do. She glanced about her. It was getting hot. The workers must have left for their noon meal. There was no one else around.
“Ah, you Inglese?”
“Si, Inglese.” Valerie gripped her cane tighter.
“Will you help me?” The woman pointed to herself. “Water, per favore?” She motioned to the canteen Valerie had slung over her shoulder.
Valerie nodded and let her breath out slowly. The poor old woman only wanted to quench her thirst. She handed the container to her. “Mi chiamo Valerie. Valerie Brooks.”
“Hekate.”
Hekate? Valerie took a step back. Could this be the specter Fiorelli spoke of—the one who haunted the site? Was this woman before her flesh and blood or something else?
The old woman wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, leaving a dirty streak across her cheek. Her skin was like tanned leather, lined and tough, and reminded Valerie of the gypsy at Hazel’s. Valerie’s eyes narrowed. If not for the fact that the gypsy was back home in England, the two women could’ve been one and the same.
