Pompeii

wheels except the occasional sound of goats' bells in the dusk.
    Attilius kept glancing off to the line of the aqueduct. Water was bubbling around the edges of some of the manholes, and that was ominous. The aqueduct tunnel was six feet high. If the force of the water was sufficient to dislodge the heavy inspection covers, then the pressure must be immense, which in turn suggested that the obstruction in the matrix must be equally massive, otherwise it would have been swept away. Where were Corax and Musa?
    An immense crash, like a peal of thunder, came from the direction of Vesuvius. It seemed to go rolling past them and echoed off the rock-face of the Appenninus with a flat boom. The ground heaved and the oxen shied, turning instinctively from the noise, dragging him with them. He dug his heels into the track and had just about managed to bring them to a halt when one of the men shrieked and pointed. 'The giants!' Huge white creatures, ghostly in the twilight, seemed to be issuing from beneath the earth ahead of them, as if the roof of Hades had split apart and the spirits of the dead were flying into the sky. Even Attilius felt the hair stiffen on the back of his neck and it was Brebix in the end who laughed and said, 'They're only birds, you fools! Look!'
    Birds – immense birds: flamingos, were they? – rose in their hundreds like some great white sheet that fluttered and dipped and then settled out of sight again. Flamingos, thought Attilius: water birds.
    In the distance he saw two men, waving.

    Nero himself, if he had spent a year on the task, could not have wished for a finer artificial lake than that which the Augusta had created in barely a day and a half. A shallow depression to the north of the matrix had filled to a depth of three or four feet. The surface was softly luminous in the dusk, broken here and there by clumpy islands formed by the dark foliage of half-submerged olive trees. Water-fowl scudded between them; flamingos lined the distant edge.
    The men of Attilius's work-gang did not stop for permission. They tore off their tunics and ran naked towards it, their sun-burnt bodies and dancing, snow-white buttocks giving them the appearance of some exotic herd of antelope come down for an evening drink and a bathe. Whoops and splashes carried to where Attilius stood with Musa and Corvinus. He made no attempt to stop them. Let them enjoy it while they could. Besides, he had a fresh mystery to contend with.
    Corax was missing.
    According to Musa, he and the overseer had discovered the lake less than two hours after leaving Pompeii – around noon it must have been – and it was exactly as Attilius had predicted: how could anyone miss a flood of this size? After a brief inspection of the damage, Corax had remounted his horse and set off back to Pompeii to report on the scale of the problem, as agreed.
    Attilius's jaw was set in anger. 'But that must have been seven or eight hours ago.' He did not believe it. 'Come on, Musa – what really happened?'
    'I'm telling you the truth, aquarius. I swear it!' Musa's eyes were wide in apparently sincere alarm. 'I thought he would be coming back with you. Something must have happened to him!'
    Beside the open manhole, Musa and Corvinus had lit a fire, not to keep themselves warm – the air was still sultry – but to ward off evil. The timber they had found was as dry as tinder, the flames bright in the darkness, spitting fountains of red sparks that rose whirling with the smoke. Huge white moths mingled with the flakes of ash.
    'Perhaps we missed him on the road somehow.'
    Attilius peered behind him into the encroaching gloom. But even as he said it he knew that it could not be right. And in any case, a man on horseback, even if he had taken a different route, would surely have had time to reach Pompeii, discover they had left and catch up with them. 'This makes no sense. Besides, I thought I made it clear that you were to bring us the message, not Corax.'
    'You did.'
    'Well?'
    'He insisted on going to fetch you.'
    He has run away, thought Attilius. It had to be the likeliest explanation. He and his friend Exomnius together – they had fled.
    'This place,' said Musa, looking around. 'I'll be honest with you, Marcus Attilius – it gives me the creeps. That noise just now – did you hear it?'
    'Of course we heard it. They must have heard it in Neapolis.'
    'And just you wait till you see what's happened to the matrix.'
    Attilius went over to one of the