New Pompeii (21 page)

“No matter. You are here now and that is good. Come through to the garden and have a few of our figs.”

The other guests continued to stare as Nick followed Barbatus and Naso through the
tablinum
and into the garden beyond. As he suspected, the
peristylium
was filled with people. Some were standing under the colonnade, concentrated near tables of food. On one of the walls a half-finished fresco of what looked like a plump, nude Venus was beginning to emerge. Otherwise, the ongoing works were less well hidden than in the main house. The view into the property next door had been left unmasked. It looked like additional rooms were being constructed.

“I’m building private baths,” Barbatus said. “Now we have decent running water, it seemed only wise.”

Nick felt the academic side of his brain tick over. There’d been a lot of debate as to whether the private water supply in Pompeii was working at the time of the eruption. From the excavations, it was thought that at least one bathhouse had been out of action. But did the rich have access to their own separate supply? Or had that also been damaged in the earthquake of AD 62?

“Augustus works in mysterious ways,” said Naso, almost to himself. Even with his unfamiliar accent, it was clear his comment was laced with irony. “He protects only a fraction of the town, but manages to fix our pipes.”

Nick didn’t say anything, but felt himself wince. Because although the tourists milling around old Pompeii probably didn’t notice, what they were actually seeing were buildings that had been damaged well before the eruption. Which probably made the place these people found themselves in all the more wondrous.

“Do you have any idea, Pullus, how frustrating it was to have a glorious bathhouse and no water to put in it?”

Nick nodded, but his thoughts were quickly evaporating. As had happened in the atrium, conversation was slowly fading as the other guests caught sight of him.

“It was something I’d bugged Titus about,” Barbatus continued. “Perhaps you don’t know, as you’re new here, but there was an earthquake – oh, about twenty years ago now. Left half the town in rubble, and everyone had to use the public fountains. We’d not got halfway through rebuilding by the time the ground started shaking again…”

Barbatus let his words trail off. Looking round, Nick noticed Calpurnia at the far side of the garden. She was sitting at the corner of a long table, leaning back and probably trying to get some relief from the weight of her stomach. His analysis at the temple had been correct. She was pregnant. It was also clear Barbatus wasn’t going to facilitate a second introduction. Instead, he led him back across to the niche, and they went through the motions of thanking the household gods. Once finished, Barbatus moved them on towards a long trestle table pushed up against the peristylium’s rear wall.

The
duumvir
picked a few figs from a pewter plate. Naso appeared at his shoulder. “We should meet again tomorrow,” said the aedile, “rather than now.”

Nick saw that Naso’s eyes were in continuous movement, checking each person within the peristyle. Likely calculating if they were close enough to hear what they were saying. Possibly considering if they were judging him by association. Barbatus didn’t seem to care.

“You know, Pullus,” he said. “Every day, I see dozens of people in this town. They either come to my door for an early audience, or meet me in the forum as part of my public duties. Naso sees just as many.”

“But no one’s seeing me to complain about the state of the roads,” added the aedile, his voice strained.

Nick reached for a fig. The fruit stuck against the dryness of his mouth. He was forced to take another mouthful of wine just to swallow it.

“Look,” continued Barbatus, “we invited you here to share our concerns.”

“You have regular meetings with us…”

“But you are someone who appears to have better hearing than your friends.”

Nick reached for a second fig, but didn’t eat it. He let it rest in his palm, in part so he had something to hold. “I’m not sure I’ll be able to help… being new here myself.”

Naso leant forward. “We’re growing concerned about the town’s security.”

Nick was about to deflect the comment – to again fall back on the script – but something in the aedile’s eyes made him pause. “From what I’ve seen, the town seems to be well run. Considering what’s happened.”

Naso sighed and turned to his host. “This is a waste of time.”

Barbatus ignored him. “People are starting to wonder where their food is coming from. And their money.”

“But there’s plenty of food. The market is full…”

“Of course there’s plenty of food. But for how long? People used to be able to see healthy crops in the fields, the ships, the merchants. They used to know where it was coming from, and that their supply was secure.”

Nick laughed. A cliché had come into his mind. “I don’t know where the sun goes each night,” he said. “But I bet you it will rise tomorrow.”

“True. But, as
duumvir
and aedile, we’re expected to provide for this town. And yet we don’t know where our money is coming from. Most of my guests here are hoarding coin, not throwing parties.”

“And certainly not organising games for the arena,” Naso added, his voice growing increasingly reedy.

“These are real concerns, Pullus. And we want you to take them back to your people. The crust of civilisation is thin, and the people will react if it is broken.”

“Most of the Empire has been in flames.”

“And yet no one can see a mountain looming above the town,” Barbatus said. “Nor can they see any ash or smoke in the sky. Where is the threat, Pullus? Where are the burning fields?”

“Fuck this,” whispered Naso, his voice likely carrying further than he had intended. A look from Barbatus caused him to lower it before he continued, “Do you know what happens when people find a focus for their fear? They attack. They attack their leaders.” He glanced at a nearby slave. “They attack their masters. And they attack monsters – whether they are real or not.”

Nick felt a sharp pain shoot through his temple. “Are you making a threat?”

Barbatus slapped Nick on his arm. It took a second for him to realise the
duumvir
’s attention was focused over his left shoulder. He turned to find Calpurnia heading towards them.

“Three things,” said Barbatus, directly into his ear. “The first is we shall speak again. The second is she’s no longer married. And the third is that she’s only had two births. So although she’s old, the field is still fertile.”

Both Barbatus and Naso quickly beat their separate retreats. By the time Calpurnia reached Nick, the
duumvir
and the aedile were already chatting with other guests.

“Pullus,” she said. “I hope you’re well?”

“Yes—”

“I thought I’d rescue you from my father’s politics… and Naso.” Her nose wrinkled. “The man’s a trader, you know.”

Nick nodded, noting her distaste. “Your father said people were worried about whether the food will continue to arrive.”

“No. That’s his interpretation. Everyone can see the villas going up around the town, and that the fields are starting to produce crops. What really worries
him
is who’s running things here. And what really worries
them
is that they can’t queue up outside your door.”

Nick didn’t say anything. Whelan had told him they’d wanted to take a back seat, to let the people here run things for themselves. But that didn’t appear remotely possible – not for a long time, anyway.

“But some people have more pressing problems,” continued Calpurnia. “My father makes all his money from his estates. Some around Pompeii, others nearer Rome. We’re from a very old family. The vines here are already doing well, though we could do with more rain. But Naso doesn’t have any land – he makes his money from industry and moneylending.”

“So Naso is new money, your father is old. He’s the
duumvir
, and Naso’s an aedile. But new money normally beats old, given enough time.”

“Oh, I don’t think Naso will be aedile for very much longer. Not when his cash flow stops. Unless you’re planning to support him in perpetuity.”

Nick glanced across to Naso. The man looked anxious.

“Garum,” said Nick. He caught a brief smile cross Calpurnia’s lips and knew he was right. “No port. No water. No fish. No garum.”

“He used to make the best in the town. You know, his villa was filled with paintings of his bloody fish sauce. But now the money flows from you people. Just like you control our food supply. And everything else we need.” She pointed to the table. “From these figs, to the bricks, to the paint that goes on to our walls.”

Nick tried not to confirm or deny anything she was saying. “You’re pregnant,” he said, trying to change the subject.

“Yes. My father thinks my husband is dead.”

“He didn’t arrive here with everyone else?”

“No. But that’s not unusual… almost everyone can name someone who is still missing.”

Nick couldn’t think of anything to say. He kept silent, all the time thinking of the plaster casts in the Neapolitan museum.

“I doubt we’ll hear anything before the baby arrives,” Calpurnia continued. “My father still hopes we’ll soon start getting regular news from Rome. Did he mention he knows the Emperor?”

“Yes…”

“The ironic thing is that my husband wanted to see the Festival of Vulcan, and I didn’t. Yet when the time came, off he went to Herculaneum with his brothers.”

Although he didn’t want to, Nick baulked. Herculaneum. In its own way, the town was even more of a miracle than Pompeii. But whereas generations of excavations had made Pompeii famous, most of Herculaneum remained buried under feet of rock. Not pumice, or ash. Rock.

“You think he’s dead too.” She spoke slowly, trying to read his expression. “By the gods… you
know
he’s dead.”

“No,” replied Nick. But it was simple really: if Calpurnia’s husband hadn’t been in Pompeii, then he hadn’t been transported. But to have been in Herculaneum? The poor man must have died in agony. “I’ve heard stories, that’s all.”

Stories? No. He’d seen the bones. The plaster moulds of Pompeii were popular with the tourists, but they always seemed somewhat ghostly. Detached. By contrast, the skeletons from Herculaneum were twisted from the heat that had first folded their limbs close to their bodies, then stripped the flesh from their bones, and finally made their brains boil and their skulls pop.

They were still screaming, all these years later. Nick took another heavy swig of wine. It hit the back of his throat hard, and made him cough. “I’m sorry,” he said. But Calpurnia had already turned her back on the other guests, just quickly enough to prevent anyone seeing the tears welling at the corner of her eyes. Her stoical mask was suddenly gone. For a second, her entire body shook. But, before Nick could say anything, she regained her composure.

“I suppose I should thank you,” she said. “For removing my doubt. My father is right. He is dead, and I am no longer married.” She held her stomach. “I only carry a part of him now, if it survives.” She turned back to face him. “So tell me, Pullus. Tell me again how we managed to survive by the will of a dead emperor?”

Nick didn’t say anything. He stared ahead, feeling each glance from the other guests like a needle. From the direction of the atrium, Barbatus glanced at him and, for a horrible moment, Nick thought he might come over. But his host was beaten to them by a small boy, who ran across the garden and came to a dead halt in front of Calpurnia. He identified the boy’s mother pretty quickly, a woman nearby who was straining to collect her child – but a man held on to her arm. Holding her back.

The boy pointed to Nick’s watch-strap mark. “Are you one of the people with the white wrists?”

Nick hesitated. “Is that what you call us?”

The boy nodded, before changing tack. “Some people are saying we’ve travelled in time.”

As Nick felt his jaw fall open, Calpurnia leant down and shooed the child away. “A lot of people want to know the truth,” she said. “And, in a way, I think by lying to you a few moments ago, I think I may have got to some of it.”

“How do you mean?”

“My husband didn’t miss the Festival of Vulcan,” she said. “It had long since passed when we felt his wrath. Which means, if the festival had just finished as you people claim, then maybe Augustus can control our calendar too.”

“I don’t know what you want me to say.”

“I want you to tell me the truth, Pullus. Just the truth. Because while this place you’ve brought us to could be mistaken for Pompeii’s twin, many areas of the town are wrong.”

Nick struggled for his words. “The volcano… Augustus…”

“And then there are the empty houses.”

“What?”

Calpurnia stopped, suddenly uncertain. “That’s the first time you’ve sounded genuinely confused,” she said. “You don’t know about the empty houses?”

“No.”

“The empty townhouses.”

“Empty? Or just unoccupied?”

“Empty,” she said. “There are dozens of houses with no owner. And who would leave so many empty houses, when there are so many crammed into tenements? Few people have noticed them, Pullus. But my father has. And when he found out, he only asked one question. Over and over.”

“And what was that?”

“‘Who else is coming?’”

N
ICK STUMBLED OUT
on to the street and came to an immediate halt. It was dark. Really dark. As the door to the House of Barbatus slammed shut, what little light there had been was also extinguished.

He’d stayed longer than he’d intended to, his discussion with Calpurnia ending once Barbatus had decided to introduce him to some of his other guests. Then the entertainment had started. A pantomime of dance and music, lit with simple oil lamps that hadn’t done much to lift the early evening gloom.

By the time torch-bearing slaves had started to arrive to accompany their masters home, it had become clear he would have to negotiate the streets on his own. Not that Barbatus had been happy about it – he’d offered him a bed – but the short walk back to the House of McMahon at least offered him the chance to clear his head of all the wine and figs.