Pompeii

and aft, had been thrown down and the timber was already bowing under the weight of passengers scrambling ashore. Luggage was tossed from hand to hand. A taxi owner, surprised by the speed of the exodus, was running around kicking his bearers to get them on their feet. Attilius called across the street to ask where the ferry was from, and the taxi owner shouted back over his shoulder, 'Neapolis, my friend – and before that, Pompeii.'
    Pompeii.
    Attilius, on the point of moving off, suddenly checked his stride. Odd, he thought. Odd that they had heard no word from Pompeii, the first town on the matrix. He hesitated, swung round and stepped into the path of the oncoming crowd. 'Any of you from Pompeii?' He waved the rolled-up plans of the Augusta to attract attention. 'Was anyone in Pompeii this morning?' But nobody took any notice. They were thirsty after the voyage – and, of course, they would be, he realised, if they had come from Neapolis, where the water had failed at noon. Most passed to either side of him in their eagerness to reach the fountain, all except for one, an elderly holy man, with the conical cap and curved staff of an augur, who was walking slowly, scanning the sky.
    'I was in Neapolis this afternoon,' he said, when Attilius stopped him, 'but this morning I was in Pompeii. Why? Is there something I can do to help you, my son?' His rheumy eyes took on a crafty look, his voice dropped. 'No need to be shy. I am practised in the interpretation of all the usual phenomena – thunderbolts, entrails, bird omens, unnatural manifestations. My rates are reasonable.'
    'May I ask, holy father,' said the engineer, 'when you left Pompeii?'
    'At first light.'
    'And were the fountains playing? Was there water?'
    So much rested on his answer, Attilius was almost afraid to hear it.
    'Yes, there was water.' The augur frowned and raised his staff to the fading light. 'But when I arrived in Neapolis the streets were dry and in the baths I smelled sulphur. That is why I decided to return to the ferry and to come on here.' He squinted again at the sky, searching for birds. 'Sulphur is a terrible omen.'
    'True enough,' agreed Attilius. 'But are you certain? And are you sure the water was running?'
    'Yes, my son. I'm sure.'
    There was a commotion around the fountain and both men turned to look. It was nothing much to start with, just some pushing and shoving, but quickly punches were being thrown. The crowd seemed to contract, to rush in on itself and become denser, and from the centre of the melee a large earthenware pot went sailing into the air, turned slowly and landed on the quayside, smashing into fragments. A woman screamed. Wriggling between the backs at the edge of the mob, a man in a Greek tunic emerged, clutching a waterskin tightly to his chest. Blood was pouring from a gash in his temple. He sprawled, picked himself up and stumbled forwards, disappearing into an alleyway.
    And so it starts, thought the engineer. First this fountain, and then the others all around the port, and then the big basin in the forum. And then the public baths, and then the taps in the military school, and in the the big villas – nothing emerging from the empty pipes except the clank of shuddering lead and the whistle of rushing air –
    The distant water organ had become stuck on a note and died with a long moan.
    Someone was yelling that the bastard from Neapolis had pushed to the front and stolen the last of the water, and, like a beast with a single brain and impulse, the crowd turned and began to pour down the narrow lane in pursuit. And suddenly, as abruptly as it had begun, the riot was over, leaving behind a scene of smashed and abandoned pots, and a couple of women crouched in the dust, their hands pressed over their heads for protection, close to the edge of the silent fountain.

Vespera

    [20:07 hours]

'Earthquakes may occur in swarms at areas of stress concentrations – such as nearby faults – and in the immediate vicinity of magma where pressure changes are occurring.'
Haraldur Sigurdsson (editor),
Encyclopaedia of Volcanoes

    The admiral's official residence was set high on the hillside overlooking the harbour and by the time Attilius reached it and was conducted on to the terrace it was dusk. All around the bay, in the seaside villas, torches, oil lamps and braziers were being lit, so that gradually a broken thread of yellow light had begun to emerge, wavering for mile after mile, picking out the curve of the