The Last Girls of Pompeii

by Kathryn Lasky

  “Sura, I know.”

  Sura’s lower lip began to tremble. “You know what, Julia?”

  “I know everything. Marcus told me.”

  “You know about the temple of Damia?”

  “Yes, and I know about your being sold to Stephanus.”

  Sura dropped her head.

  “Do you want to run away, Sura?”

  A shudder seemed to pass through Sura. She tried to speak but nothing came out. Then she looked at Julia. “I wanted to. But my brother said I should not. It would be worse if I was caught. He said that soon he will have earned enough money to buy his freedom, and mine.”

  “Do you think that’s true?”

  She shrugged. “I think he wants it to be true. However, the doctor says he shall never fight again. So I do not think this will come to pass. But what about you?”

  “It seems that we are both slaves,” Julia said with a wry smile.

  “Yes, it would seem that way.”

  “Well,” said Julia softly, “I plan to run away.”

  “You what?” Sura’s eyes sparkled.

  “Marcus and I shall run away together and get married.”

  “But he’s promised to Drusilla.”

  “And I am promised to the Temple of Damia.”

  “You shall both be disowned.”

  “I have already been disowned by my parents.” A hard light glinted in Julia’s eyes. It was the same light, the same expression that had so startled Sura when she had seen Julia looking at her father at the games.”What does it matter if you are disowned if you have never owned yourself to begin with?”

  Sura fell to her knees and embraced Julia. Julia stroked her head. “Julia you were like my baby, my baby doll when I came here. My poppet, and now though I am four years older than you I feel that you are older than I am.”

  “I feel old,” Julia said. “So old.”

  “I shall miss you so.”

  “I would take you. But then that would make me a thief.”

  “No, I’ll be all right. Don’t worry.”

  “There is no way I won’t worry.”

  “Try not to. My brother is here.” There was a quaver in Sura’s voice. “Tell me, Julia, how do you plan this escape? When will it happen?”

  “It will happen midway through Cornelia’s wedding banquet when all the guests are very drunk,” she whispered. She continued to tell Sura other details of their plan for escape.

  “I shall help you, Julia. If I cannot have freedom for myself I shall borrow the joy of it from you!” There was sheer delight in her eyes.

  Julia leaned back, lifted her lame arm and put it atop Sura’s shoulder and then placed her other hand on her other shoulder. “You are not nor have you ever been my slave. You are my sister.”

  Seventeen

  HERMINIA WAS KNEELING ON THE floor as she tied the woolen band around the waist of Cornelia’s tunic.

  “With joy and with honor I tie this girdle and make the knot of Hercules, the guardian of married life.” She rose and gave her daughter a kiss on each cheek.

  For Julia it seemed that no time had passed between when she had stood watching her mother fix Cornelia’s hair the previous evening and now just past dawn. For here she was again in her mother’s dressing room. The ornatrices, Cornelia’s slave, her mother’s slave, Valeria, and now Flavia with her slave were all in attendance as the bride was being dressed. There was much giggling and excitement. Somehow despite all the laughing and talk, Julia realized it had been strangely quiet all morning. She had not yet heard the song of one bird. This was peculiar. There was always birdsong in the garden from the first light of the new day, or even before.

  “Julia!” her mother was saying in a loud voice. “Are you dreaming?”

  “What?”

  “The hairdresser wants to adjust the ribbons in your hair.”

  “Oh yes, of course,” she said lightly, and smiled. “They are rather crooked now aren’t they?”

  Julia tried to join in to the festive spirit of the morning as best she could. She was no actress but she must try. Yesterday had been perhaps the most unbelievable day of her life. And yet she had barely had time to think about Marcus telling her that he loved her. That he wanted only her. It seemed miraculous. She had never expected to marry at all. She realized that there had never been anyone in her life like Marcus, and now it made perfect sense that they would spend the rest of their lives together. Yesterday she had been too stunned to be truly excited. But today she was, and this made the acting a bit easier. It was even easy to be nice to Cornelia.

  Julia looked at her older sister. “You look beautiful, Cornelia,” she said, and she really did mean it. Cornelia looked absolutely magnificent in the traditional woven tunic made in the ancient way from one piece of fabric, tied at the waist with the marriage knot of Hercules, and then falling straight to the floor. Over this tunic she wore a saffron-colored palla with sandals of a matching color. Her bulla, had been exchanged for a silver collar.

  Her beautiful nearly white blonde hair had been dressed in the traditional style of the Vestal Virgins which was the way all brides wore their hair on their wedding day. It was a complicated procedure for which she had to rise before dawn. Two ornatrices had worked together, one on each side of her. They first divided her hair into six locks. These were arranged over pads of artificial hair. It was then all tied in place by ribbons and over this Cornelia wore the flammeum, a veil of flaming orange which covered her forehead. Atop the veil a wreath had been pinned woven from myrtle and orange blossom. The entire house had been festooned in garlands of orange blossoms, myrtle, verbena, and sweet marjoram. Doorways were swagged with ribbons and more blossoms. It looked as it were a house for the gods with the profusion of flowers.

  Dressing the bride had taken almost five hours. It was almost time for them to go down to the atrium to greet the guests.

  “Wait!” Cornelia said suddenly. She and her mother looked at Julia and exchanged tiny excited smiles. Julia felt a new dread well up in her. Cornelia turned to a slave and nodded. The slave scurried out of the room. A minute later she was back carrying a bird cage. In it was a spectacular parrot with feathers the colors of sapphires and emeralds. Julia gasped as Cornelia took the cage from the slave and brought it to her.

  “For you, Julia. It is the custom that the bride give each bridesmaid a gift. I have already given Flavia and Valeria their presents.”

  “Cornelia! It’s the same one—the one from the market.”

  “Not the very same but close I think.”

  “Cornelia I . . . don’t know what to say.” Julia leaned forward to kiss her sister. Just as her lips brushed her sister’s cheeks she saw the tears brimming in her mother’s eyes and it struck her. This is not just the gift for a bridesmaid, this is my good-bye gift. Something for me to take to the temple of Damia! She looked at the bird in all its splendor and suddenly hated it. Pretend, Julia! Pretend. Be strong! She squeezed her eyes shut for a brief instant, cleared her throat and spoke. “This is so kind of you. I’m sure that he—is it a he?”

  “We think so,” Cornelia giggled.

  “I’m sure he and I shall become great friends.” Julia pulled her mouth into a harsh bright smile.

  “Now we must hurry along, girls. The guests will be arriving.” Herminia began to walk from the room. Julia turned to Sura and handed her the cage. “We must think of a name for the dear creature. Take him to my room.”

  Julia, Cornelia, and Flavia followed their mother to the first atrium where their father and Tiberius Calpurnius Maius, the auspex were waiting for them. It was by this time after noon. The first guests to arrive were Marcus and his family.

  “You look splendid, Marcus!” Cornelius Petreius exclaimed as they entered the atrium. Julia and Marcus exchanged a quick nervous glance. Marcus looked extremely handsome in his new toga. He seemed taller, bigger to Julia. He seemed a man. But am I really yet a woman? she wondered.

  Cassius and his family came
through door. None of this will be happening for me. Julia thought. There will be no flowers, no auspex. Nothing. My marriage to Marcus will be the marriage of plebeians.

  With the wedding party assembled and the auspex leading the way, the family proceeded into the second atrium for the sacrifice to the gods and the drawing up of the marriage contract. The witnesses, Quintilius Pomponius and some of her father’s other associates along with those of the grooms’ family, affixed their seals silently to the documents.

  Two slaves stood at the side of the atrium holding a pig. Everyone took a step back as the auspex drew out a knife. There were stories about brides and guests being splattered by spurting blood. Julia just hoped that the palsied old auspex would not make a mess of things and fail to kill the pig cleanly. She envisioned the animal running wild, spurting blood all over the atrium. The blade glinted in a shaft of sunlight, and then without as much as a squeal, the pig simply plopped dead on the floor.

  A slave quickly put an urn under the animal’s slit neck to collect the blood, and placed it on a table next to the cup of nuptial wine. The auspex then proceeded with his business and sliced open the pig’s belly to extract the entrails. He bent over the steaming coils of intestines. This was perhaps the tensest moment of the entire wedding. If, after examination, the entrails were deemed unfavorable the wedding was instantly cancelled. This examination did not happen within a single moment but over several minutes. Poking at the entrails with a rod, the auspex seemed completely absorbed. Sometimes he would probe a bit deeper then lift one dripping portion to smell it. He would squint, then look again. It seemed to take forever, longer than it had at Flavia’s wedding. But as soon as the auspex dropped the last of the intestines back onto the steaming bloody mass he smiled, and Julia knew that he was about to lie. It was almost the same smile the haruspex had worn that day when he read the entrails of the chicken and then proceeded to say that the omens were good for this date.

  “All hear my conclusion, with the gods as my witness, the auspices are favorable. The marriage ceremony may proceed.”

  There was a collective sigh of relief. As soon as the slaves had cleaned up the blood and mess of the sacrifice, the auspex nodded at Julia and she took her sister’s hand and led her to Cassius’s side. They stood in front of the table with the bowl of the pig’s blood and the cup of wine

  “Ubi tu Cassius, ego Cassia. Where you are Casius, I am the wife of Cassius.”

  But, thought Julia, where will we go? Where will Marcus and I go?

  Eighteen

  AS CORNELIA AND CASSIUS UTTERED the final words of their marriage vow, Julia felt a vibration come up through the floor of the atrium. This was followed by a rattle and she watched transfixed as the bowl of blood and the wine began to tremble then jitter across the table in a peculiar little dance. She looked in amazement at this odd spectacle. The bowl and cup are actually going to fall off the table! Seconds later there was a crash.

  Cornelia yelped.

  “What’s happening?” her mother cried out. And then there was an enormous boom. Beneath them the tile floor began to split open.

  “Quick, into the garden! That will be the safest place,” Cornelius ordered.

  Marcus was grabbing her hand. “Is it an earthquake?” Julia asked.

  “I don’t think so,” he answered. “Can’t you smell it?”

  Marcus was right, there was something different in the air. “It’s like the smell of the fountain that night,” Julia gasped.

  “Rotten eggs. Sulfur from deep inside the earth. No wonder the fountains were running dry—the earth was cracking from within and the aqueducts were shattering.”

  “So it is an earthquake?”

  The color had drained from Marcus’s face. “I think worse.”

  “My wedding! It’s ruined!” Cornelia wailed. Julia turned to look at her sister. The flaming orange veil she wore was sprinkled with white, and as she looked up it appeared to be snowing.

  Julia held her hand and the flakes fell gently on it. It was not snow. These pieces were warm, some like large lumps of sand. “What in the world?” she whispered. Something scratched at the back of Julia’s brain as she stared transfixed by the bits that were collecting around her sandals. Already they were up to her toes. She looked at Cornelia, whose veil now was almost completely white.

  “It’s ash and stone, pumice!” Marcus said his voice taut. “Come with me, Julia.” He took her by the hand.

  “Where are we going?”

  “Where is there a high window facing out?”

  “My room actually.”

  There was so much confusion that no one noticed them leave.

  As soon as they entered the room, Marcus threw open the shutters. Gusts of hot air blasted into the room. The parrot was squawking madly and bashing its wings against the sides of its cage.

  “By the gods!” he exclaimed. “Look Julia!” Outside it was a blizzard of ash and pumice. “Look at Vesuvius . . .Vulcan’s fist!’” What had once been a summit had vanished under an enormous roiling billow of smoke. They watched mesmerized as a cloud that was the shape of an umbrella pine tree with a thick trunk began to grow out of the mountain itself.

  Indeed it looked exactly as if a fist had punched through the summit of Vesuvius. It was no longer a summit but a gaping mouth belching smoke, vomiting flames. The flames appeared weirdly bright behind the scrim of snow-flakes. Take care, my dear, and remember as hot as it is now, when snow comes in summer that is the time to leave.

  The words of the Sibyl of Sarnus rushed through Julia’s mind like gusts of wind.

  “We must go now!” Julia screamed. “Now Marcus. It was the prophecy of the sibyl.”

  Marcus looked confused. Julia knew that there was no time to explain about the sybil of Sarnus. “We have to go!”

  “You are right,” Marcus whispered. “Now is the perfect time.” They looked down. The streets were pandemonium as people rushed toward the gates of the city. “Just wait for one second. I have to go back down. I have something. I must get my pouch.”

  “Leave it!” Julia cried.

  “No, it’s too important!”

  He raced out of the room, almost bumping into Sura, who was coming in.

  “Sura!” They ran into each others arms. “Sura you must come with us. It is the perfect time.”

  “But my brother?”

  “The barracks are all the way across the city. We must leave from here, close to the gates.”

  “But he is too sick to leave. I can’t abandon him.”

  “Sura, be reasonable. There are dozens of gladiators who can help him. He won’t be abandoned. But you shall be abandoning your only chance for freedom. It is your life.”

  “I have to think.” Sura’s eyes darted as if seeking an answer, a sign as to what she must do.

  “There is not time to think,” Julia said. She realized that it should not have taken this long for Marcus to come back. “Where is Marcus?” she cried desperately. It suddenly seemed to grow darker in the room. Sura ran to the window. “A huge cloud, Julia!”

  Julia looked out. An immense black cloud was rolling toward Pompeii. It was as if the shutters of the sky were being closed. Thunder shook the air, and suddenly it was dusk. The white pumice had turned to gray. Bigger stones were now falling. The day had vanished into a sudden night laced with missiles hurling through the dark. Julia saw a large man knocked over in the street below. He did not get up.

  “Where is he? Where is Marcus?” Julia screamed and rushed out of her bedroom. Standing on the balcony she looked down into the garden, which was now white. The spaces that had once been green were completely covered. The pool floated with white chunks as if pieces of clouds had fallen from the sky onto the water. The statue of the reclining Venus was buried almost to her neck.

  “Where is everybody? Sura! There is no one in the garden.”

  “They are probably inside to protect themselves.”

  “But where is Marcus? “

&n
bsp; “I don’t know. I saw his mother flee from the villa just before I came up to you.”

  “Aunt Livia left?”

  “Yes. I was tempted to go with her.”

  “Why?”

  “She was going to the gladiator barracks I am sure.”

  At just that moment the whole house shook and there was a crash.

  “The roof of the atrium!” Sura cried.

  “By the gods that is where Marcus was going!”

  Sura grabbed her. “Julia don’t go down there.” In the next moment they heard a thunderous crash as a roof in another part of the house collapsed.

  The terror, the confusion had left Sura’s eyes. “Julia we must go now if we are to live! We can crawl out your bedroom window before that roof goes.”

  “But Marcus?”

  “Julia, somehow he will find us. You told me minutes ago not to abandon my only chance for freedom. It is exactly as you said—there is no time to think. Come now. Marcus and Bryzos will find us.”

  “Wait! the bird.” Julia rushed over to the parrot and opened the cage door. “Fly out!” She shouted at it. But the parrot still continued bashing its wings against the slats of the cage.

  “It doesn’t know it’s free!” Sura’s voice was tight.

  “Fly you fool!” Julia commanded. She tipped the cage over and the bird fell out tumbling to the floor. It appeared stunned.

  “It’s wings have been clipped. It probably can’t fly,” Sura said. Then she took Julia by the shoulders and shook her. “But we can. We have to go now!”

  In a daze Julia allowed herself to be led to the window by Sura.

  Nineteen

  THEY LOWERED THEMSELVES FROM the window down the sloping roof and it was just a short drop from the roof’s edge to the streets piled high with ash and pumice. People coated with ash appeared as lumbering statues. They could no longer run, so they climbed thickly through the fallen debris. A man’s face loomed in front of them like a death mask. The two girls joined a flow of people going thought the Forensa gate. They each covered their mouths with one hand.. Before they left they had grabbed pillows, and now held them over their heads to protect themselves from the falling rock.