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The elections are held on the Kalends of March and Amarantus proudly votes for the first time. Later that night a terrible banging rouses him from a deep sleep. He leaps out of bed and Potiscus starts hee-hawing from his side of the room. Is it another earthquake? No. He can hear Pertinax barking but it’s only his normal alarm bark, not his earthquake yips. |
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The crash comes again. Someone is trying to break the door down. Amarantus reaches it a moment before Scumnicolus. The doorkeeper should have been sleeping on a mat in the fauces but was probably on one of the couches in the triclinium, which is hardly used these days. Amarantus lifts the bar and Scumnicolus pulls the doors open just in time: one more blow might have splintered the wood. They are astonished to see pear-shaped Fructus holding the bundle of wooden rods called the fasces under his arm, poised for another blow. Tall, thin Florus holds a torch. Flickering light shows Vatia behind them. He is wearing a toga praetexta and some kind of wreath. ‘What is it?’ cries Amarantus. ‘What’s wrong?’ ‘Nothing’s wrong,’ says Vatia, pushing past Scumnicolus. ‘I want to see if you’ve repaired earthquake damage to the house. Especially the upstairs rooms.’ ‘What are you talking about?’ cries Amarantus. ‘It’s the middle of the night.’ ‘In spite of your scurrilous notices, I have been elected aedile,’ says Vatia. ‘They just finished counting the votes.’ He beckons his two slaves and they come hurrying through the entryway and into the atrium with its view of stars overhead. Vatia gestures at the rainwater pool. ‘Why are you storing amphorae in there?’ he asks as Florus’s torch shows dark shapes in the square impluvium. ‘In case of another tremor,’ says Amarantus, ‘and collapse of a roof. Plus, I don’t have any clients to receive yet. Or rather, all my clients come to the bar.’ ‘I doubt you will ever have clients at all!’ Vatia grabs the torch from his slave and goes past the tablinum and into the garden. Amarantus sees a startled Grata standing on her mat outside Pompeia’s bedroom. Her eyes are wide, and she is clutching Pertinax, who is still barking. When the dog sees the three men, he wriggles free of her arms and, still barking, he comes closer. ‘Wait!’ cries Amarantus. ‘You can’t go up there!’ But it’s too late. The newly elected aedile is halfway up the stairs, his lackeys close behind. Pertinax has decided not to follow them up, but he is still barking. Amarantus utters a prayer to the household Lares and to the genius of the place. Then he mounts the stairs after them. |
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Fabia is sitting up in bed, her long dark curls falling around her shoulders. She does not look terrified, just annoyed. ‘As I suspected!’ cries Vatia, passing the torch close to the wall. ‘Cracks in the plaster! This wall is under strain and might collapse at any moment. I order you to evacuate this space immediately.’ ‘I will not!’ says Fabia, bravely lifting her chin. Without her makeup she looks very young. ‘What are you doing?’ comes a woman’s voice from the doorway. Pompeia wears a floor-length linen undertunic with her pine green palla wrapped around her shoulders. She has an oil-lamp in her hand and a slightly crooked wig on her head. ‘I am your new aedile,’ declares Vatia, ‘and I am inspecting your upper rooms for possible safety violations. ‘Take me to the rooms of your tenants.’ ‘Absolutely not!’ cries Pompeia. ‘You may have been elected aedile, but you do not take up your new position until the Kalends of July.’ Amarantus gazes at his former mistress in admiration. He should have thought of that. ‘Leave now,’ continues Pompeia, ‘or I swear I will take you to court and accuse you of immodest behaviour towards my daughter.’ ‘Immodest?’ splutters Vatia. ‘Me, immodest?’ He points at Fabia. ‘She’s the one who’s been seen meeting a certain gladiator at the Temple of Venus Pompeiana!’ ‘Fabia!’ cries Pompeia. ‘Is that why you’ve been going out so much? Are you secretly meeting Celadus?’ Fabia glares back defiantly. ‘I’m allowed to worship my favourite goddess.’ ‘We’ll discuss this later,’ snaps Pompeia and turns to Vatia. ‘Now I understand why you’ve suddenly turned against us. Out of jealousy and spite. Please leave at once.’ For a moment Vatia and Pompeia exchange fierce glares. Finally, with a yearning glance at Fabia, the newly elected aedile snaps his fingers to summon his slaves. Amarantus and Pompeia stand aside to let him pass. ‘Don’t come back until you officially take up your badges of office!’ commands Pompeia as Vatia starts down the stairs. ‘And don’t even come back then!’ she adds. At this he stops and turns, causing Fructus to bump into him. ‘I will come back the very first hour of my first day of office,’ he cries, ‘and if you have not blocked off all these upstairs rooms I will confiscate this entire property and sell it at auction.’ |
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They can all hear Pertinax’s barks getting fainter as the dog escorts Vatia and his goons back out to the night-time street. Other dogs around Pompeii have picked up the alarm; the night is now full of high, medium and deep barking. When Amarantus hears Potiscus the mule beginning to bray again, he hurries downstairs to comfort him. But when he reaches his bedroom, Potiscus is calm. The flame of a double oil-lamp shows short-haired Grata brushing him and speaking soothing words. Pertinax is there, too, panting with his eyes half closed as he lies on the straw near the mule. ‘Will Vatia really send away our tenants?’ Grata asks. Every time he sees her boyish hair, he remembers how she sold her locks to buy him a little signet ring with a mule carved into it. ‘I hope not,’ says Amarantus. ‘Superbus left huge gambling debts that I have still not managed to repay. My new strategy of serving exotic wine and snacks is beginning to pay off but in the meantime the rent from those rooms is the only thing keeping us afloat. Vatia takes up his post on the first day of July, so that only gives me a few months to find new accommodation for our tenants, pay off the debts and make the bar profitable again.’ |
