Pompeii's Ghosts (A James Acton Thriller, #9) Page 3

  He dropped down on his haunches, exhausted from the effort, and disappointed that he wouldn’t be able to see his daughter with child any time soon. He tossed a small stone into the gaping hole in the side of the boat and froze as it pinged off of something inside. He crawled over and stuck his head in the hole in search of possible salvage.

  Perhaps a dowry is still possible!

  He would have expected anyone who had abandoned the vessel to have emptied it of anything valuable, but perhaps what was worthless to them may not be to him.

  Something glinted and he reached forward, grabbing a hard metal object. Pulling it from the hole and out into the sun, he suddenly felt lightheaded with excitement. Gripping the small metal rectangle in his hands, he held it up to the sun then kissed it.

  And thanked the goat responsible for changing his life forever.

  Lucius Valerius Corvus Residence, Pompeii, Roman Empire

  August 24th, 79 AD

  Valerius picked himself up off the floor, dusting himself of the ash that seemed to cover everything. Silks and blankets had been hung over all the windows and doorways in an attempt to keep the ash out, but the wind that seemed to howl down from the mountain kept a steady stream of servants busy as they tried to find ways of sealing the openings. Screams and wails from outside weren’t stopped by mere silks, however, and Valerius found himself from time to time peering out into the darkness, it now barely mid-afternoon, to glimpse the hell outside his walls.

  And on each peek, it seemed another arm’s length of ash and pumice had fallen, a steady rain of small stones, still glowing from the cauldron that was now Vesuvius, continuing to rain down on the city, setting light to anything not made of stone.

  The streets were filled with those trying to escape, and if it weren’t for his charge buried on his property, he would leave himself, taking his precious family to safety.

  But he couldn’t. He couldn’t abandon his duty.

  And his duty would surely mean the death of his family.

  He turned to his most trusted slave, Costa, who hadn’t left his side since the horror had begun.

  “Yes, sire?”

  “I need you to get word to Plinius of what is happening here. Tell him we require rescue.”

  “Immediately, sire.”

  Costa was about to leave when Valerius grabbed his arm. “And tell your own family to leave immediately. I fear there is no place left in the city that is safe.”

  Costa bowed slightly. “Thank you, sire.”

  The ground shook again and a column nearby cracked, a large sliver of marble breaking away and shattering on the floor. Both looked at the ceiling with unease, then Valerius turned back to Costa.

  “Now make all haste, for there isn’t much time!”

  “Yes, sire!”

  Costa quickly disappeared and Valerius heard the sound of a horse galloping away minutes later. He turned to his head servant, Labeo. “Gather the staff.”

  Labeo bowed then left to execute his orders. Valerius returned to the window, pushing the curtain aside and looking at the mighty Vesuvius in the distance as it continued to belch ash and stone into the air, the entire sky now blackened as sheets of lightning raced across the rippling canvas of grays and evil. He turned and peered toward the sea, it barely visible despite being only several hundred paces away.

  He coughed.

  Stepping back from the window, he repositioned the curtain and took a drink from the goblet clutched in his hand since the air had become thick and difficult to breathe. He turned to see the staff assembled, patiently waiting for him to acknowledge them, but fear written across every face. They were men, women, children. Freemen and slaves. Husbands and wives, mothers and fathers. They were average everyday people with their own troubles and joys and responsibilities.

  And not one had abandoned their post.

  Valerius pointed outside without looking. “I have no words of comfort to offer, except this. I free you all of your obligations to me. Your obligation now is to your families, and to yourselves. Gather your loved ones and leave this cursed place. Make haste to the south and don’t stop until you see the light of day and the ash no longer falls. And don’t return until the mountain is quiet. And should we survive to see this through, you will all be welcome back.” He looked at the dozens of faces in front of him. Women with tears flowing freely, children with trembling lips, men with expressions too serious to not betray their own fear. He hoped his own face didn’t reveal the nausea he felt, his own stomach hollowed of any courage it might have once had. He clapped his hands together, the sound echoing through the room, startling many. “Now go, and may the gods be with you.”

  He turned back to the window, moving the curtain aside slightly as he listened to the foot falls slowly dwindle behind him, then nothing. He turned and started, his eyebrows shooting up as he saw almost a dozen of his staff still standing, now side by side in a row, four women and eight men, including Labeo.

  “You have been dismissed,” said Valerius. “Go and save yourselves.”

  Labeo stepped forward. “We have none to save but your family. We stand with you, sire.”

  The others all stepped forward, as synchronized as any combat troops he had ever commanded, and his heart surged with pride in the honor and courage being displayed before him, and albeit selfishly, in himself, knowing he could command such loyalty and devotion in the face of overwhelming odds.

  He bowed slightly. “You honor me, and it will not be forgotten.” He looked to Labeo. “Prepare two carts to carry my family to safety. Bring the horses inside the house so they can breathe. Load water and food for a journey of two days plus blankets and cloths to protect everyone from the ash. Remember to take extra water in case you need to put out a fire and to quench heavy thirst from whatever this is,” he said, wiping some of the ash off a nearby vase with his finger.

  “Immediately, sire,” said Labeo, bowing, then rushing out of the room with the others in tow.

  Valerius strode through his large home, it feeling empty now, his footsteps echoing off the marble, and found his wife, Avita, in their bedchambers spinning in a dress he hadn’t seen before.

  “Isn’t it just divine?” she asked, holding her arms out and spinning on one sandaled foot. “It only arrived this morning.” She rushed toward him. “Here, my darling, feel the material! It’s so soft, it almost feels like I’m wearing nothing but my jewels!”

  His eyes darted to her neck, a large ornate necklace, a gift from Plinius upon their marriage, adorned her powdered white skin along with bracelets, rings and earrings of ridiculous proportions.

  “What in the name of the gods are you doing?” he yelled, grabbing her by the arms to halt her latest spin. “Don’t you know what’s going on outside?”

  She glared at him for a moment, then her smile returned. “Oh, that? Why it’s nothing, just a little tempest. It will pass.”

  He gripped her tighter as she tried to pull away. “What are you talking about? People are dying out there! We are abandoning the city!”

  “Let go of me.”

  Her voice was low, almost a growl. He removed his hands from her arms, more out of curiosity as to what she would do next than any sense of obligation. She stepped over to a table filled with the accoutrements of female beauty and picked up a polished copper mirror, examining herself.

  “Am I beautiful, darling?”

  Valerius sighed then walked over to her. “Of course you are, my dear. As beautiful as the day I met you.”

  “Even after three children?”

  “Even more so.”

  The mirror clattered to the floor and tears erupted as she collapsed into his arms, her shoulders trembling, the shaking of the room going unnoticed. “I’m sorry, darling, I-I don’t know what came over me.” She looked up at him, her tears having burned tiny rivulets through her chalk powder revealing faint trails of her lightly bronzed skin underneath. Never afraid of a hard day’s work, she was darker than high society would li
ke, but she rarely paid it any mind, her natural beauty more than enough to make those who would criticize behind her back dismissed as jealous.

  “Forget about it,” whispered Valerius, his arms now wrapped around his wife. “But now you must go, and quickly. The servants are preparing the wagons. You and the children will go with them at once.”

  Avita shook her head. “Not without you.”

  Valerius smiled, wiping away the tears under her eyes with his thumbs. “You know I can’t. My duty to Plinius and the Emperor is clear.”

  “Forget them!” she cried. “Your duty is to your family!”

  “Of course it is, which is why you are leaving now. If I leave with you, I will lose my honor, and my family will be forfeit, the Emperor free to do with as he pleases. And you know the Emperor, he doesn’t tolerate failure. If I do not save the treasure kept here, he will kill us all for sure.”

  Avita placed her cheek against her husband’s chest and moaned. “Oh, I know, I know. He’s a horrible man!”

  Valerius patted her head then gently pushed her away. “Far less so than Nero was, I assure you.”

  She smiled slightly. “This is true. What he did to the Thirteenth was inexcusable! Sending them to Britannia with a crystal skull! Voices telling him to do so! The man was insane.”

  Valerius’ thoughts drifted to memories of his best friend, Flavus. They had grown up together, gone through training together, and his father had managed to get him a commission in the Thirteenth legion just before they had been ordered to Britannia. He remembered Flavus’ pride at his Legion being chosen for such a sacred and important mission.

  “According to the Emperor, we are under orders from Jupiter himself!”

  Flavus was one who was easily swayed by anything to do with the gods, as were many Romans. Valerius had a more tempered approach, praying as was expected, but also not accepting without question what those of less acumen might blindly attribute to a sign from one of the myriad of gods Rome now worshipped.

  Then there’s that damned Jewish god and these infernal Christians.

  The order had been out for some time that any Christians were to be arrested, but he personally hadn’t paid it any mind. They were too well hidden for him to encounter, though Plinius had coordinated several raids under orders of the Emperor. In a discussion on the matter, Plinius had expressed his discomfort with how these people were being treated, but he was loyal to his Emperor and therefore forced to obey his laws.

  Valerius would just as willingly let them go, but they insisted on trying to convert others to their cause, diverting the population away from their true gods.

  It was blasphemous.

  And dangerous in today’s Rome.

  With the economy barely in recovery, anything different that could be a distraction was viciously targeted, and Christians, trying to spread their new faith, were attractive fodder for a population needing someone to blame their travails on.

  He looked down at his wife, trying to remember what she had last said. As if she could read his thoughts, she smiled and said, “The Thirteenth?”

  He chuckled, letting her go. “There still has been no word on whether or not they ever made it. I’m certain if Flavus had I would have heard word, but with him being in the first line, if they encountered trouble, I doubt he would have survived.”

  He sat on the bed, his shoulders sagging under the weight of memories of his friend, worries and sorrow he hadn’t thought of in years returning. Avita placed a hand on his shoulder, squeezing gently. “If he died, I’m certain he died with honor.”

  Valerius looked up at her, his eyes glistening slightly. “If only he had more experience, just a few years of fighting he would have made the second line, perhaps even the third line.”

  “How many years did it take for you to make the Triarii?”

  Valerius stood, thinking back on his early days under Plinius. “Three, though I had the advantage of being in Plinius’ favor.”

  Avita stepped back, dropping her dress to the floor revealing her spectacular body. She bent over, riffling through her clothes and Valerius felt a stirring he shouldn’t under the circumstances.

  “And just where is our Lord in this, our hour of need?”

  Valerius rose and was about to throw his robes aside and take his wife right there and then when she suddenly stood straight, holding out some clothes triumphantly. She looked at him, recognizing the look in his eyes. She glanced down and cocked an eyebrow. “Put the spear away, darling, now is not the time.”

  She quickly dressed as he turned away in sexual frustration, turning instead to the nearby window. A quick glance outside had any amorous thoughts quickly tamped out, the only fires now burning those beyond the window.

  “I’m ready. I’ll get the kids,” said Avita as she left the room leaving Valerius alone with his thoughts.

  Plinius, where are you?

  Outside Omhajer, Eritrea

  Present Day, Six weeks before the crash

  Birhan couldn’t keep his heart from slamming into his ribcage, the excitement too great. What he had found was staggering, unfathomable in its magnitude. In fact, it was so life altering, it was terrifying. He was a simple herder, with no concept of true wealth. In fact, his subsistence living meant that he barely saw money beyond a few coins, his life one of barter and trade.

  But he wasn’t too much the fool to not know that what he had found was worth killing for.

  After he had confirmed what he retrieved was but one of many—so many in fact it was more than he could possibly count or carry in a hundred trips—he had decided to rebury his find, then bring the herd back in without mentioning it to anyone. The slab of metal in his pocket, a metal he was positive was gold, weighed heavily on him, threatening to pull down his pants with each step.

  “Birhan!”

  He nearly soiled himself as his good friend Hamid yelled a greeting. Birhan waved, forcing a smile on his terrified face as Hamid crested a nearby hill with his share of the herd. Their boss, Yemane, was wealthy—the wealthiest man Birhan knew—his herd large, needing six men to tend to it on a daily basis. The pay was fair, but Yemane was ruthless should something go wrong. Lose an animal? It came out of your share, even if it wasn’t your fault. As far as Yemane was concerned, any animal that cleared the gates was no longer his. And his foreman, Sheshy, was the most vicious man Birhan had ever encountered, he rumored to have killed an American soldier. Birhan had always wondered how the story could be true since he had never known Sheshy to have left the village his entire life.

  Maybe we can go to America with the money I get from the gold?

  The thought excited him and he almost forgot to keep his herd separate from that of Hamid’s. A couple of flicks of the wrist had his herd on the right side of the road, Hamid’s on the left as they covered the final distance to the farm.

  “Good day?” asked Hamid.

  Birhan hesitated, desperate to tell his friend of several decades what he had found. After all, why shouldn’t his friends share in his find? There was far too much gold in the hold of the boat he had discovered for him to ever use.

  “Yes,” he finally replied, and immediately upon hearing his voice he knew it sounded uncertain.

  And Hamid called him on it.

  “You don’t sound sure. Did something happen?” His jaw dropped, his hand instinctively tapping his cane, causing a slightly larger gap between their two herds. “Did you lose a goat?”

  Birhan shook his head. “No, but thanks for trusting me that I wouldn’t try to merge our herds and claim it was yours that had fallen,” he said, nodding toward Hamid’s cane.

  Hamid looked confused then looked at the cane, realizing what Birhan was referring to. He roared in laughter, causing the two herds to rush ahead slightly, startled. “Sorry, my friend, I’m used to working with Woldu. You know how that bastard is.”

  Birhan smiled, nodding. If there was one man who couldn’t be trusted, it was Woldu. He’d sell out his own f
ather if he thought it would save him facing the consequences of any of his own actions.

  He was a truly despicable human being.

  Not like Hamid, who was just like Birhan. He too was saddled with progeny, three daughters. Three! The mere thought was enough to make up his mind.

  “I found something,” he said, lowering his voice so it wouldn’t carry.

  “What? You found something, did you say?”

  “Yes. But don’t say anything to anyone. I’ll show you later.”

  Hamid shrugged. “Why, is it valuable?”

  Birhan nodded. “Which is why you must say nothing. You’ll understand once I show you.”

  Hamid seemed to be getting excited. He glanced all around them, joining Birhan in his nervous surveillance of their surroundings. They appeared to be alone, but Birhan couldn’t risk it. But Hamid seemed unable to control himself. “What is it? Tell me now!”

  “Quiet!” hissed Birhan, immediately regretting telling his friend.

  It’s this damned khat, it makes the tongue loose!

  Hamid frowned, looking angry. “Why, you don’t trust me?”

  “Piss off, you know that’s not it,” he hissed, now certain he had made a mistake. But if he couldn’t share with his best friend, who could he? He motioned for Hamid to come closer, stopping. He reached into his pocket and, looking around to make certain once again they were alone, pulled the bar halfway out in the rapidly fading light.

  Hamid gasped, his already wide eyes bulging in shock, his jaw dropping revealing a mouth that had been devoid of teeth for as long as Birhan had known him.

  “Where did you find it?”

  Birhan slipped the bar back in his pocket and continued after his herd, tapping the cane to keep them apart as Hamid scrambled to keep up. When he was once again by Birhan’s side, he replied. “By the river, a couple of miles back. There’s a buried ship.”

  “A ship? Buried?” Hamid’s eyes narrowed as if he didn’t believe what he had just heard.