by Tom Pollack
The children were astonished at the scope of the collection. The huge circular room measured over 370 feet in circumference, with the domed ceiling ninety feet above the floor, sparkling with precious gemstones the size of small walnuts rather than the glass crystals he had mentioned to Drusus. In the center of the room stood a large telescope and a metal wheel that turned a gearing apparatus linked to the dome. Savoring his role, Cain guided them clockwise around his treasure trove of sculptures, paintings, marble reliefs, maps, and manuscripts.
The parents had discussed this moment in advance. They both wanted to ensure that the twins would be able to make the transition from the Greco-Roman heritage they had absorbed in their tutorials to the mysteries of ancient times and also to the teachings of contemporary Christianity.
“Now, girls,” Cain began as he led them to a life-size sculpture of a man and a woman depicted in a loving embrace. “These are your grandparents on my side of the family.”
“And what was our grandmother’s name?” asked Alexandria.
Cain glanced at Rina for a moment, but he found that her attention had been distracted by another display.
“Her name was Eve,” he proudly replied.
“Father, she is beautiful,” Callista chimed in. “But, did the sculptor complete this work?”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, her navel seems to be missing.”
Cain paused the conversation, ostensibly studying the work as if to take his first notice of this omission. Then he turned back to Callista and said, “No, my dear daughter. The artist knew exactly what he was doing when he formed Eve.” He smiled slightly at the quizzical look that remained on Callista’s face as he led them to the next displays.
There were scale models of the Kingdom of Enoch, Noah’s ark, the Egyptian pyramids, the tomb of the First Emperor of China, and the Alexandrian Library. At each exhibit, the twins drew in an audible breath.
Callista pointed to another group of items at one end of the room. “What are those, Father?”
Cain led the girls through the artifacts. There was a collection of wooden ship models, a variety of blown-glass creations, and a bronze rendering of a device with the wings of a bird. There was a small working facsimile of the mechanical grain reaper, carved in silver. There were also two golden tablets with symbols in an eastern language the girls did not recognize.
Noting Alexandria’s interest in the tablets, Cain explained, “Those were given to me by a powerful ruler who lived in China long ago. He was obsessed with finding immortality.”
“Did he find it?” asked Callista while twirling her pigtails.
“Not exactly, young lady,” he said after a slight reflection. “But he did accomplish a great deal while he was alive. When we have more time, I will tell you his story.”
Alexandria drew their attention to the mathematical formulas carved on the lower walls. “Where did these come from?” she asked.
“Many of these formulas are the discoveries of Greek mathematicians and scientists,” Cain explained. “Look here, Alexandria,” he gestured to one of the diagrams. “You know this theorem very well. It is the Pythagorean formula for the dimensions of right triangles.”
As they sauntered along the outer edge of the repository inspecting the collection, the girls gazed upward to the enormous Circus Maximus mural.
“Father,” asked Callista, impatiently tugging on Cain’s toga, “who is that strange looking boy in the crowd near Quintas? He’s wearing a dark cloak and is standing in a shadow when everybody else is bathed in direct sunlight. He looks so…mean, like a demon.”
Cain studied the scene for a few seconds, reliving it in his mind. “He’s mean, yes, and also quite fiendish. He was part of my life for a time. Perhaps over supper tonight you shall learn more about all the wonderful things preserved in this repository.”
He motioned his family onward.
A few steps to the right, and they stood in front of a large cross. The girls shrank back as they viewed the agony of the condemned man’s figure, which had been sculpted in white marble and painted with startling realism.
“Is that the crucifixion of the gladiator Spartacus on the Appian way?” asked Callista.
“No, his name is Jesus. He was the Prince of Peace, not a warrior.”
“Oh, we’ve heard of Jesus,” said Alexandria.
Callista chimed in, “Yes, we’ve been told stories about him almost every time we go to Pompeii. There’s this man in the square who won’t stop talking about him.”
“Pompeii?” Rina exclaimed. “What have you two been doing in such a shabby neighborhood?”
Feeling a bit sheepish, Alexandria explained, “Mother, Helvia likes to take us to the macellum there. She’s always complaining about the high prices in the local food market. We thought you knew.”
Cain stared at the girls in wide-eyed amazement. Apparently, their introduction to Christianity had already begun. He smiled at Rina, hoping to calm her obvious concerns over the girls’ safety, and then interjected, “Well, dear daughters, I am happy you have learned of Jesus already. Your mother and I have much more to share about him. But for now, let’s see the rest of the observatory while we still have light.”
Rina nodded and motioned them to the manuscript collection, located opposite the main entrance to the observatory. She wanted the twins to appreciate the complex system of labels that identified scrolls from so many different cultures: Egypt, Greece, Persia, China, and Rome.
In the center of the collection was a special case with an ornate wax seal. Within were a series of papyrus scrolls that told, in complete detail, the story of Cain’s life.
“This case may never be opened,” he told them. “Promise me that you will protect these scrolls above all others when I am gone!”
Cain’s emotion was unmistakable, and Rina and the girls pledged their assurance. After they turned away from the final exhibit, Cain walked to the perimeter of the rotunda and pulled a bronze lever, and the thick, heavy bronze doors of his museum swung open to welcome the warm rays of the setting sun.
Rina promptly excused herself and strode swiftly in the direction of the kitchen.
“Where’s mother going in such a hurry?” Callista asked her father.
Their answer came instead from Rina in the distance. “Helvia!”
CHAPTER 75
Herculaneum, AD 79
AS AUGUST DREW TO a close, Naples and all the towns around the bay were in an especially jovial mood. Holiday crowds streamed in to Herculaneum and Pompeii to celebrate the annual feast day of Vulcan, the Roman god of fire, and also to commemorate the birthday of the emperor Augustus, who had been deified after his death sixty-five years before. Drusus and Tullia had invited Cain and Rina to a special holiday luncheon.
The two couples sat on the marble terrace of Drusus’s villa overlooking the sea as servants discreetly placed glasses of wine and platters of fruits and cheese on the hardwood table. The conversation turned to the earth tremors that had become steadily more frequent and powerful in the region over the past four days.
“These little shakes are nothing compared to the earthquake seventeen years ago. You remember that one, don’t you, Marcus?” asked Drusus.
“Indeed, yes,” Cain nodded. “I hear that the damage over in Pompeii is still being repaired.”
Just then, as if the elements had taken umbrage at their chat, a sharp thunderclap exploded from a cloudless blue sky. The roaring blast was unlike anything they had ever heard—except for Cain. The couples leaped to their feet and looked in the direction of Mount Vesuvius in time to see the summit of the volcano exploding high into the air.
“Vulcan must desire to leave his underground forge and join us personally for this feast!” joked Drusus. But Cain, who had witnessed the volcano’s devastating power long ago, knew better.
“This is no joke, Drusus.”
“You really think there is cause for alarm, Marcus?” asked Tullia. “We just starte
d lunch.”
“Tullia, we must evacuate Herculaneum as soon as we can,” Cain answered decisively. “And that means on the water. By land will be too dangerous.” Turning to Drusus, he added in deadly earnest, “Ready your boats in the harbor without delay, and put as much distance between yourself and Vesuvius as you can, or you will surely die.”
As Cain and Rina hurried back to their villa, they could see that an enormous cloud was stretching upward from the volcano. Most of the cloud was white, but other portions of it were stained with dark, ashy patches.
“This is just the beginning,” shouted Cain as the guards at the front gate saluted him smartly. “Quickly, Marcellus!” he said to one of the younger gatemen. “Run to the boathouses. Tell Captain Felix to prepare the Nostos and have Secundus ready all of the smaller boats.” Glancing at the sun, he added, “It is now almost the ninth hour. Tell them we must leave as soon as possible”
The young guard nodded and sprinted off in the direction of the beach. As they entered the villa, Cain turned to Rina.
“Believe me, the volcano is lethal. The ash cloud will collapse, and then an avalanche will follow. All of Herculaneum and Pompeii will be covered in a deep layer of molten rock.”
“Should we take shelter in the observatory?” Rina asked with alarm.
“No. Our only chance is to get out. Please tell Helvia to organize the staff. Everyone must be on board the Nostos before darkness falls. The cloud will soon blot out the sun.”
An hour later, Secundus appeared from the boathouses to report that all the vessels had been readied. He added that buildings in the town of Herculaneum had started to crumble from intensifying ground tremors.
“Spread the word to anyone you see on the beach, Secundus,” Cain told him. “People need to leave at once. You know the capacity of our vessels. Take on as many evacuees as you can.”
“Many of them still refuse to leave, sir,” said Secundus. “They do not believe they are in danger.”
“Make them believe if you possibly can,” Cain ordered. “Otherwise, they will perish.”
As the sun’s light waned, Cain led his family and staff from the villa to the boathouses. Ash had started to fall, thinly at first and then in heavier densities. When the shoreline came into view, Cain could not suppress an exclamation of astonishment at the patches of pumice rock already floating in the water. On Vesuvius, to the east, sheets of flame were lighting up parts of the mountain. He noticed that several of his sailors had tied pillows to their heads, as a protection against dust and small fragments of lightweight stones that showered down from the sky. A ghastly, sulfuric odor had filled the air.
Already, 250 people were aboard the Nostos, but Captain Felix assured him there would still be room for family and staff. Felix gestured to the rowboat that would take them out to the flagship, anchored in the bay. Rina boarded first, followed by the twins. But as Cain stepped into the rowboat, he heard Drusus calling out to him from his own sailboat nearby.
“Marcus, I’ve been trying to find you. You left the roof of your observatory open!”
Cain shook his head. He clearly remembered shutting the dome and the oculus. It was the first thing he did once the evacuation was underway.
“Are you certain, Drusus?” he shouted.
“Yes. I could see the circular opening as we were leaving our villa.”
Turning to Rina and the twins, he said, “I have to go back to the observatory. Felix, I won’t be long, but there is no time to wait for me here. The rain of pumice is getting heavier every minute. And even this light onshore wind will impede the Nostos with its present load. Getting the ship safely out of the harbor will be difficult if you don’t leave immediately.”
“But what about you, sir?” the Captain implored.
“Is there another rowboat available?”
“Yes, sir, just as you ordered. It’s in the boathouse, with a crew of four oarsmen standing by.”
“Fine. Leave now for safer waters. You should go at least thirty kilometers from here.”
“I suggest we dock in Misenum, then,” said Felix. “Hopefully, Fleet Admiral Pliny will lend us assistance.”
“Good plan,” Cain said. “He is a personal friend of mine. I will take the smaller vessel and meet you there as soon as I can.”
He turned to Rina and the girls. “My loves, I have no choice. If the oculus remains open, my life’s work will be ruined. Please don’t worry. I’ll follow you and we will all meet in Misenum.”
“I can go with you and help—we can let the twins sail with Felix,” Rina offered.
“No, there will be plenty of time for me to get away safely. You go with Felix. I need you to look after the girls and help calm the frightened passengers.”
“Father, please hurry—we’re scared!” cried Callista and Alexandria in unison.
He kissed his wife good-bye, hugged his teenage daughters, and stepped ashore. Felix ordered the oarsmen to stroke, and the small boat began to move out into the bay, ferrying them swiftly to the safety of the Nostos.
It took Cain longer than he had expected to get back to the observatory. The grounds of his unguarded villa were crisscrossed by refugees, whose shrill laments and cries of alarm could be heard through the inky blackness of the artificial nightfall. Many of the town’s panicked residents were finally seeking the shortest route across his property to the beach. They shouted out in the darkness for their relatives. Some of them called on the gods, while others shrieked that the gods had forsaken them and were bringing the world to an end. The scene was only rendered eerier by lightning flashes, as the volcanic eruption created its own localized weather system. Using a torch to see, Cain had to wade through ankle-deep ash and pumice stones as he crossed the villa’s courtyard.
Finally reaching the observatory, he quickly punched in the code and opened the thick bronze doors. Once inside, he stepped on the floor section shaped like a fish, and the portals slowly swung shut behind him. Drusus was right—the oculus was wide open, and pumice and ash were accumulating on the floor. Cain looked around the enormous circular space, intermittently illuminated by the lightning. He used his torch to ignite a few of the freestanding candles against the wall to provide a dim but steady source of light. Then he extinguished the torch.
Should he take anything at all with him? he wondered. The fortified chamber was constructed to secure all the contents that would tell his story to future generations, but Cain decided there was one treasure that he could, and would, salvage.
Opening a small lacquered box, he withdrew the game tile stained by the blood of Jesus during their first meeting a half century ago. Unlooping the sturdy silver chain he had attached to the tile, he hung it around his neck.
Then he turned his attention to the metal wheel in the middle of the observatory, directly below the small opening in the center of the dome. This was the mechanism that controlled the gears that would close the oculus and seal the dome. As he turned the wheel, he could feel the ground vibrating beneath his feet and could hear a low rumbling noise getting louder by the second. As he recalled from his great wandering, this signaled the worst. Pyroclastic flow, a superheated mixture of mud and ash, was racing down the slopes of Vesuvius toward Herculaneum.
Cain now knew he would not make it out alive.
“Stop!” boomed a metallic voice in the darkness. A flash of lightning through the oculus briefly illuminated Abaddon. Cain immediately apprehended the purpose of the devil’s visit. Ever the opportunist, he sought the destruction of the observatory’s contents by Vesuvius’s fiery discharge. Cain ignored the order and urgently continued his task.
“Oh, isn’t that just like you, Cain? Abandoning your wife and children in this crisis to tend to your narcissistic little collection,” the devil hissed. “But for naught, you fool. It all burns tonight. You will do as I command! Otherwise, I will ensure that your slave woman of a wife is captured by the Romans and executed for her crime!”
Cain paused momentarily at
these last words, but then dauntlessly resumed his effort at the wheel. The oculus was slowly closing, with only a narrow sliver of sky remaining.
“Let go of that wheel, damn you!” shouted the master of spirits, as he forcibly restrained both of Cain’s arms with supernatural strength. Another lightning flash forked down through the oculus, illuminating the antagonists for a second. The light caught the silver of the chain around Cain’s neck and highlighted the tile.
“And give me back my game piece, accursed one!” roared the devil. But as he grabbed the tile with his left hand, he was instantly paralyzed, looking up at Cain with his mouth agape in shock. His right hand remained fixed on Cain’s arm, but it no longer impeded his progress. Cain spun the wheel in one final revolution and then heard the counterweights kicking in. The oculus would shut on its own now.
Before it was fully closed, however, the initial wave of Vesuvius’s pyroclastic mud splashed over the observatory. Cain glanced upward as the small, shrinking gap in the oculus admitted a narrow column of searing death that hurtled down toward him and the devil.
Only an instant remained before they were both frozen in time by the lethal incursion. Yet, in that brief moment, Cain’s perception expanded in proportion to his unique lifespan, and he was blessed by a series of wondrous assurances. The devil’s perennial assaults on his destiny had been divinely thwarted. His repository of history and, more poignantly, his own story, would be preserved and one day revealed, as Jesus had promised. For the first time ever, his loved ones would survive him. And, at long last, he would rest in peace in the presence of his Maker.
With elation that only he could experience, Cain looked his ancient enemy in the eye—and smiled.
