Pompeii

Sabazius, and skinned them for their meaning. I was present throughout.' He remembered the flames on the altar, the smoke, the glittering hands, the incense, the sibyl's wavering voice: high-pitched, barely human – like the curse of that old woman whose son he had fed to the eels. He had been awed by the whole performance, despite himself. 'She saw a town – our town – many years from now. A thousand years distant, maybe more.' He let his voice fall to a whisper. 'She saw a city famed throughout the world. Our temples, our amphitheatre, our streets – thronging with people of every tongue. That was what she saw in the guts of the snakes. Long after the Caesars are dust and the Empire has passed away, what we have built here will endure.'
    He sat back. He had half convinced himself. Popidius let out his breath. 'Biria Onomastia,' he said, 'is never wrong.'
    'And she will repeat all this?' asked Holconius sceptically. 'She will let us use the prophecy?'
    'She will,' Ampliatus affirmed. 'She'd better. I paid her plenty for it.' He thought he heard something. He rose from the couch and walked out into the sunshine of the garden. The fountain that fed the swimming pool was in the form of a nymph tipping a jug. As he came closer he heard it again, a faint gurgling, and then water began to trickle from the vessel's lip. The flow stuttered, spurted, seemed to stop, but then it began to run more strongly. He felt suddenly overwhelmed by the mystic forces he had unleashed. He beckoned to the others to come and look. 'You see. I told you. The prophecy is correct!'
    Amid the exclamations of pleasure and relief, even Holconius managed a thin smile. 'That's good.'
    'Scutarius!' Ampliatus shouted to the steward. 'Bring the quattuorviri our best wine – the Caecuban, why not? Now, Popidius, shall I give the mob the news or will you?'
    'You tell them, Ampliatus. I need a drink.'
    Ampliatus swept across the atrium towards the great front door. He gestured to Massavo to open it and stepped out on to the threshold. Perhaps a hundred people – his people was how he liked to think of them – were crowded into the street. He held up his arms for silence. 'You all know who I am,' he shouted, when the murmur of voices had died away, 'and you all know you can trust me!'
    'Why should we?' someone shouted from the back.
    Ampliatus ignored him. 'The water is running again! If you don't believe me – like that insolent fellow there – go and look at the fountains and see for yourselves. The aqueduct is repaired! And later today, a wonderful prophecy, by the sibyl, Biria Onomastia, will be made public. It will take more than a few trembles in the ground and one hot summer to frighten the colony of Pompeii!'
    A few people cheered. Ampliatus beamed and waved. 'Good day to you all, citizens! Let's get back to business. Salve lucrum! Lucrum gaudium! ' He ducked back into the vestibule. 'Throw them some money, Scutarius,' he hissed, still smiling at the mob. 'Not too much, mind you. Enough for some wine for them all.'
    He lingered long enough to hear the effects of his largesse, as the crowd struggled for the coins, then headed back towards the atrium, rubbing his hands with delight. The disappearance of Exomnius had jolted his equanimity, he would not deny it, but in less than a day he had dealt with the problem, the fountain looked to be running strongly, and if that young aquarius was not dead yet he would be soon. A cause for celebration! From the drawing room came the sound of laughter and the clink of crystal glass. He was about to walk around the pool to join them when, at his feet, he noticed the body of the bird he had watched being killed. He prodded it with his toe then stopped to pick it up. Its tiny body was still warm. A red cap, white cheeks, black and yellow wings. There was a bead of blood in its eye.
    A goldfinch. Nothing to it but fluff and feathers. He weighed it in his hand for a moment, some dark thought moving in the back of his mind, then let it drop and quickly mounted the steps into the pillared garden of his old house. The cat saw him coming and darted out of sight behind a bush but Ampliatus was not interested in pursuing it. His eyes were fixed on the empty cage on Corelia's balcony and the darkened, shuttered windows of her room. He bellowed, 'Celsia!' and his wife came running. 'Where's Corelia?'
    'She was ill. I let her sleep –'
    'Get her! Now!' He shoved her in the direction of the staircase, turned, and