Pompeii Read Free Page A

here. There was no river to support her, few wells or springs. Yet the Divine Augustus had decreed that the empire needed a port from which to control the Mediterranean, and here she was, the embodiment of Roman power: the glittering silver disks of her inner and outer harbors, the golden beaks and fantail sterns of fifty warships glinting in the late-afternoon sun, the dusty brown parade ground of the military school, the red-tiled roofs and the whitewashed walls of the civilian town rising above the spiky forest of masts in the shipyard.
    Ten thousand sailors and another ten thousand citizens were crammed into a narrow strip of land with no fresh water to speak of. Only the aqueduct had made Misenum possible.
    He thought again of the curious motion of the vapor, and the way the spring had seemed to run back into the rock. A strange country, this. He looked ruefully at his blistered hands.
    “A fool’s errand.”
    He shook his head, blinking his eyes to clear them of sweat, and resumed his weary trudge down to the town.
     

    HORA UNDECIMA
    [
17:42
hours]
    A question of practical importance to forecasting is how much time elapses between an injection of new magma and an ensuing eruption. In many volcanoes, this time interval may be measured in weeks or months,
but in others it seems to be much shorter, possibly days or hours.
    — VOLCANOLOGY (SECOND EDITION)
    At the Villa Hortensia, the great coastal residence on the northern outskirts of Misenum, they were preparing to put a slave to death. They were going to feed him to the eels. It was not an unknown practice in that part of Italy , where so many of the huge houses around the
Bay
of
Neapolis
had their own elaborate fish farms. The new owner of the Villa Hortensia, the millionaire Numerius Popidius Ampliatus, had first heard the story as a boy—of how the Augustan aristocrat Vedius Pollio would hurl clumsy servants into his eel pond as a punishment for breaking dishes—and he would often refer to it admiringly as the perfect illustration of what it was to have power. Power, and imagination, and wit, and a certain style .
    So when, many years later, Ampliatus, too, came to possess a fishery—just a few miles down the coast from Vedius Pollio’s old place at Pausilypon—and when one of his slaves also destroyed something of rare value, the precedent naturally came back into his mind. Ampliatus had been born a slave himself; this was how he thought an aristocrat ought to behave.
    The poor fellow was duly stripped to his loincloth, had his hands tied behind his back, and was marched down to the edge of the sea. A knife was run down both of his calves, to draw an attractive amount of blood, and he was also doused with vinegar, which was said to drive the eels mad.
    It was late afternoon, very hot.
    The eels had their own large pen, built well away from the other fishponds to keep them segregated, reached by a narrow concrete gangway extending out into the bay. These eels were morays, notorious for their aggression, their bodies as long as a man’s and as wide as a human trunk, with flat heads, wide snouts, and razor teeth. The villa’s fishery was a hundred fifty years old and nobody knew how many lurked in the labyrinth of tunnels and in the shady areas built into the bottom of the pond. Scores, certainly; probably hundreds. The more ancient eels were monsters and several wore jewelry. One, which had a gold earring fitted to its pectoral fin, was said to have been a favorite of the Emperor Nero.
    The morays were a particular terror to this slave because—Ampliatus savored the irony—it had long been his responsibility to feed them, and he was shouting and struggling even before he was forced onto the gangway. He had seen the eels in action every morning when he threw in their meal of fish heads and chicken entrails—the way the surface of the water flickered, then roiled as they sensed the arrival of the blood, and the way they came darting out of their hiding