Extract from 'What Remains' a dual timeline novel

'What Remains' is a dual timeline Historical Fiction that circles events in Ancient Rome and culminating in the eruption of Vesuvius in AD79 and also in Ukraine in the modern day. 

In the following extract, see how I have embedded research into the revised date of the eruption (see post History Mystery) for more details. 

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The morning, which had started chill enough for Thalia to have hovered over the small glowing brazier, had turned warm. The cloak she had draped about Aglaea had long since been discarded and, along with her own, was bunched over Charis’s left arm. Hooked over the girl’s skinny right arm was the basket filled with their morning purchases. 

The cooler weather had heralded the return of the seasonal holidaymakers, who descended on the seaside town in droves for the cooler climate and breezes during the hottest months of summer. Well did Thalia recall the sweltering season when all who owned or could rent villas on the coast left Rome en masse to escape the oppressive heat, scorching air and dire stench of the overpopulated city. With the return of the rich patricians to the capital, the population of Herculaneum was halved but the marketplace was still busy with the hum of trade and the buzz of buyers. For the first time in months, the permanent residents could stalk the stalls without having to fight for access against the servants of the pleasure villas that ran the length of the coastlines. Herculaneum’s more common folk were revelling in the plentiful Autumn harvest of sea and mountain and the reduced prices that came from the decrease in competition. 

Already Charis’ basket held bunches of gold-green globes from the mountain vineyards, sweet yellow pears and a pair of blushing pomegranates. While Thalia found the fruit frustratingly fiddly to eat she knew Alexartos enjoyed bursting the gleaming ruby arils between his teeth. Thalia considered the stall before her, a pile of wrinkled walnuts formed a mountain much like the one that overshadowed the town and cast it into early shadows each afternoon. She selected a handful, shaking each in turn. Not all had sufficiently dried after picking so she discarded any that didn’t rattle in their shells. 

Thalia was in the process of handing over a coin when the pile of walnuts shifted, tumbling like a landslide from the table as the stones beneath their feet shifted with a roar that reminded her of the mob at the games in Rome. Her hand shot out to grab Aglaea and pull her close, the wriggling puppy in her arms pressed between them. Charis’ dark eyes were wide but she stood with her legs braced until the tremor stopped. Like Thalia, the slave had quickly become accustomed to the movements in the earth that were typical of the region. A burst of laughter bubbled from Aglaea, the unnatural child, who rather than fear the shaking found it unaccountably exciting. Thalia held her tight, exchanging glances with Charis who was bemused by the child’s evident joy in the unsettling event. 

The townsfolk, most of whom had stepped into the streets at the first shudder to avoid falling roof tiles, were checking the skyline for damage before going about their business, sidestepping the shattered tiles that littered the streets like giant bird droppings. Before them the middle-aged stall holder was on hands and knees, scooping up the windfall of walnuts, some had rolled their way down the sloped road several paces and were being scooped up by opportunistic children or crushed underfoot by traffic. 

‘That was the third one this month.’ Thalia murmured, ‘More than in the entire first year we lived here.’ 

The store-holder straightened, letting a cavalcade of nuts tumble from her palla back into the low-sided baskets on the makeshift table. 

‘The priests of Neptune will be making a fortune this afternoon selling sacrifices to the Earthshaker.’ The woman said with a dismissive shrug. 

Thalia was certain she was correct. Being the god of both the seas and earth-shakes, Neptune was a popular deity in this place. The golden horse offerings Artos had created had sold out in record time at the festival of Neptunalia and more than a dozen bulls had been sacrificed but it seemed that the Earthshaker had not been propitiated and continued to show his displeasure. 

‘The priests have not been so popular since the Year of Marius and Afinius, The quake that year brought down half the forum and the Temple of the Four. It was even worse in Pompeii. Most of the Patricians sold up their villas and moved closer to Rome after that. Plenty of sacrifices to Neptune that year. Not so many in the years following, too many starved to death or moved away in the aftermath.’ 

Thalia nodded, certain that this latest shake would cause a bounty for the priests. While she agreed with Strabo that the shakes were an earthly phenomenon there were many who were of a more superstitious mindset. 

The woman leaned over the table a little and lowered her voice. ‘They say Neptune was upset with Emperor Nero that year. I wonder what Emperor Titus has done to upset him?’ 

Thalia forced a smile and bent over to collect the coins that had spilled from her fingers. As she stood, Aglaea held another out to her. The coin caught the morning sun, showing the gleaming profile of Rome’s new Emperor. A shiver to run down the length of Thalia’s spine. For all her good sense she could not discount the disturbing pounding of her heart as the head of Titus seemed to stare in her direction. She forced herself to smile at the child and to take it carefully rather than slap the offending coin from the child’s fingers. The metal felt uncomfortably cold beneath her fingers. The inscription commemorated Titus’ fifteenth commendation as imperator and heralded another successful military victory.

 

Thalia pushed the coin in the direction of the shopkeeper, and turned from the stall, not waiting for change. She didn’t recall having such a coin in her possession and had been almost superstitious about avoiding any coins marked with that particular profile. Her skin crawled now at having touched it and the lingering feeling of being watched left the hairs standing on her forearms. Taking Aglaea’s hand in hers she drew the child down the street to the public fountain, pulled the half-grown pup from her arms and placed it on the ground beside the fountain. Thalia picked her daughter up, holding her over the basalt edge so that Aglaea’s short arms could reach the water. 

‘Wash your hands.’ 

The small face looked up at her with Artos’ blue-eyed stare. The stubborn mouth set. 

‘Not dirty.’ Aglaea held out her grubby palms to prove it. 

Thalia raised an eyebrow. Both palms were dark with grime and the creases well embedded with dirt. ‘You think not? I think they are as filthy as Ajax’s paws.’ 

They both looked down at the dog, seated at their feet, stubby tail wagging in the dust. Ajax had been a gift from the baker’s family and Thalia sometimes imagined that the child loved him more than both parents put together. He cocked his head charmingly to the side, his white paws were stained red-brown from the street. The creature yapped. Aglaea giggled, wriggling in her arms nearly as much as the pup. 

‘Wash your hands and we will see if we can find some late-season blackberries.’ 

Aglaea’s eyes lit up at the suggestion and she rubbed her hands beneath the water with some vigour but little effectiveness. Small rippling waves in the water’s surface heralded a small aftershock, the likes of which would continue throughout the day. 

Sometimes the unstable earth of the region made Thalia miss Rome and the earth that shook only in the arena. 

‘The aediles will need to send someone to clear the aqueduct,’ spoke Charis from her side, gesturing at the comedic mask with its open mouth through which normally water poured, now barely trickling. 

Thalia frowned. She hoped they would act quickly. Tempers frayed readily when water was in short supply and the entire town was dependent on the aqueduct. 

‘All clean Mammina, berries now?’ Thalia considered the girl’s streaky palm. It was foolish to imagine that superstitious fear could be washed off with water. Still, she moved her knee to wedge it below the child’s bottom, freeing her hands to help scrub the child’s beneath the waterline. Was it her imagination that something in the water smelled foul? She shook her head, seeing Titus' image had merely unnerved her. It had nothing to do with the quake, the barely flowing water or the oddly acrid scent she now imagined on her hands. Drying the child’s digits on the trailing edge of her palla, then drying her own as Aglaea displayed her clean hands for the dog to sniff at, Thalia forced herself to dismiss the portentous feeling of dread. 

‘Right. Let’s find some blackberries. No. Leave Ajax down. He can follow us. That way you have your hands free for berries.’ 

Aglaea considered the dog, tail still wagging in the dirt, but the thought of handfuls of berries was clearly enough to motivate her. Finally, the child nodded and placed a hand in Thalia’s. 

‘Come, Ajax.’ Aglaea called, the dog stood, its entire rear end wiggling in tandem with its naturally short tail, and trotting happily in their wake.