I

Fortune makes fools of those she favors too much.

—Horace

You’re going to make me get married?” My servant ­Aurora, usually so gentle with horses, drew hers to such an abrupt stop that he stumbled. She jerked the reins and turned him to face me. “Why?”

We were out for a ride along the shore of Lake Comum, at the foot of the Alps. My mother had asked me to bring my familia here, to the smallest of my villas, one which I inherited from my natural father. We hadn’t been here in several years, and I knew she thought she was coming to see, for one last time, the place where she began her married life and to say good-bye to people she has known most of her life. She appears to be in good health, but the disease that I’m not supposed to know she has—a karkinos in her breast—is a death sentence, whether it takes a few months or a couple of years to be carried out. My great fear is that she might have come back here to end her life where it began.

This was where I was born and lived until my father died, when I was quite young. The house sits on a small rise on the peninsula ten miles north of the town of Comum, giving it an unequaled view down the length of the narrow lake and up into the mountains. At this time of year, on a perfect morning in mid-July, no place in Italy is cooler or more lush. Aurora had been quiet, as though she had something on her mind.

“Answer me, Gaius. Why are you making me get married?” Aurora gripped the long reins tightly, as though she was thinking about slapping me with them.

My horse whinnied and shook his head as I reined him in. He had been fighting me for control since we rode out of the stable. “Livia says I have to. I’ve put her off for several months, but she’s given me an ultimatum. Her exact words were, ‘Either have that girl married before I come to Comum or get rid of her.’”

“‘That girl’? Does she even know my name?”

“I assure you, she knows it well enough to curse it.”

“And you feel you have to do everything Livia tells you to?” She put a defiant hand on her hip.

“She is my wife.”

Aurora snorted derisively. “We both know what that means.”

“It means nothing except that I have to keep peace with her, for your sake as well as mine.”

“Gaius, why don’t you just divorce her?” The pain she showed on her face was as profound as what I felt. “You only married her to please your mother. You don’t love her and she doesn’t love you. When you got married she seemed to accept our relationship, as long as we didn’t flaunt it.”

“She seems to feel that I am doing exactly that.”

“How?”

I patted my horse’s neck, trying to calm him, the way I’ve seen Aurora settle an animal down. My touch had little effect, but then I know how different—how wonderful—it feels to have her hands on any part of one’s body. Something magical passes through those hands into whatever she’s touching. “You have to understand. We’ve been married for barely six months. If I were to embarrass her by divorcing her like that, there’s no telling what sort of revenge she would—”

“Do you still think she killed her first husband?”

Fortunately there was no one in sight at the moment. Still, careless words have an uncanny knack for worming themselves into the wrong ears. “Be careful what you say. I have no way of knowing what happened to the man, but nothing would surprise me, given the fits of rage I’ve seen from her. At the very least I’m sure Livia would spread stories about us—you and me—and cause my mother great distress. That I will not allow, so I cannot divorce her, at least as long as my mother is alive.”

“You know I could never wish her death.” Aurora’s face darkened. As beautiful as she is—with her olive complexion, long brown hair, and dark eyes—she can also be alarming when she gets angry. I think it’s her Punic heritage, the visage that enabled Hannibal to terrify us Romans for nearly twenty years. “Gaius, you’re a brave man. I’ve seen you stand up to all kinds of danger. And yet you cower before these two women like a…”

“I believe ‘coward’ is the word you’re searching for. Or perhaps ‘craven coward,’ just for the alliteration. I truly would rather face a man with a sword in his hand. Then I could judge what my opponent was capable of and have some idea of how to counter his blows. I once saw a fox gnaw off one of its legs to get out of a trap. In the last few months I have come to understand that degree of desperation.”

Aurora let out a long breath. “So I’m to be sacrificed, like Iphigenia on the altar at Aulis. Why now?”

“Livia and her mother are coming up here. They’ll arrive in a day or two.”

“Oh, wonderful!” She threw her head back, as if raising a protest to the gods, or looking to be whisked away, the way some versions of the story say Iphigenia was, to be replaced by a deer. “This was such a pleasant holiday. I should have known it was too good to last.”

Her reaction was precisely why I had decided to break this news to her while we were away from the house. There was no way to make it sound good. She was right. We had been enjoying ourselves for the last five days. My friend Tacitus and his wife, Julia, had come up with us, stopping over for a few days on their way to Tacitus’ estate in Trans­alpine Gaul. They know the nature of my relationship with Aurora and are happy with it, so we can all relax and enjoy one another’s company, as long as my mother isn’t in the room.

At times Julia even seems to forget that Aurora is a slave. They sit in the garden, talking and laughing with their heads together, like the women in a Tanagra figurine. Julia isn’t as well-educated as Aurora—not even as intelligent, I suspect—but the experience of losing a child before birth almost two years ago has given her a different type of wisdom and maturity to complement her lively personality. If I were to let myself, I could imagine what it would be like to be married to Aurora and have Tacitus and Julia as our closest friends.

But I can’t let myself.

Clicking her tongue, Aurora tapped her horse’s sides with her heels and we resumed our ride, now turning back to the villa. I wasn’t ready to go back, but it was clearly futile to hope for any more pleasant conversation today, or some time alone in the woods. I hadn’t really expected any intimacy, knowing what I had to tell her. She looked out over the deep blue of the lake and the houses lining the opposite shore. Without turning back to me, she said, “So, who is to be my husband? He won’t be a happy man. I’ll guarantee you that, and I doubt you will be, either.”

I reached over and put a hand on her arm. “Please, let me explain. I’ve got the perfect solution to this problem.”

“Perfect” might have been too optimistic a word, but I did believe I had found an answer to our dilemma that would satisfy Livia and not impose too great a burden on Aurora.

I’ve never admitted to Livia that I’ve coupled with Aurora, but I’ve never denied it. She hasn’t asked, just assumed, correctly. Merely to satisfy Livia, I wasn’t going to marry Aurora to some young, virile man in my household. But, if I married her to my oldest, doddering, gray-haired slave, Livia would see through the subterfuge at once. Although our own marriage might be a sexless sham, at her insistence, she would never let me get away with putting Aurora into a similar relationship.

“Which of us should be wearing the Tyche ring now?” Aurora asked. When we were children we had found the ring—bearing an image of the goddess Tyche, or Fortune—in a cave near my house at Laurentum. Now we passed it back and forth between us, depending on who most needed the luck it was supposed to represent. At the moment it was on a leather strap around my neck.

“I think I’m going to need a good deal more fortune than you are over the next couple of days.”

“Don’t let Livia get her hands on the strap. She might strangle you with it. No, wait, a blow on the head is more her style, isn’t it?”

“I wish you would stop talking like that. There’s no evidence she did anything to her first husband.”

“But you think she did.”

I couldn’t deny that, and I couldn’t squelch my fear that she might harm Aurora, so we rode in silence for a while. We arrived back at the villa as several people were stepping out of a raeda.

“You said Livia wasn’t due to arrive for a couple of days,” Aurora said, not trying in the least to suppress her annoyance.

“That’s not Livia. Come and meet your husband.”

* * *

The people getting out of the raeda were servants from my estate in Tuscany. I had ordered several of them—three men and four women—to be moved up here permanently. And the moves were justified. This house at Comum, I now realized, was not being run efficiently. The income was adequate, but I didn’t understand why it wasn’t making more money. I had paid too little attention to it, and the familia here had gotten lazy. I thought these people from Tuscany had talents that would inject life into this place, but there was one man for whom I had a special assignment.

“Ooh, I hope it’s him,” Aurora said, pointing to a tall, blond Gallic fellow who was helping one of the young women down from the raeda. His name was Brennus, and I had brought him here to oversee the vines and wine-making on the estate. He had a most remarkable nose.

“I thought you were angry about this.”

Aurora gave me a mock-serious expression. “Well, if I’m to be forced to bed down with some man I don’t know, maybe I should make the most of my chance. You can think about that while you’re not doing whatever it is you don’t do with your wife.”

“Don’t get your hopes up,” I said as we dismounted. “Or your gown either.”

Her shoulders sagged. “I was only teasing, Gaius. You don’t have to talk to me like I’m some whore.”

“I’m sorry,” I said in little more than a whisper, hiding my face against my horse’s shoulder. “I’m truly sorry. I hate having to do this. I hate being married to Livia. I hate that my mother is dying. And, most of all, I hate that I can’t be with you.”

Aurora stepped closer. The anguish and the love on her face told me that she wanted to embrace me, and I wanted her to, but it couldn’t happen, not with all those people around.

“My lord,” my scribe Phineas said, drawing closer to us and raising a hand to interrupt us, “these are the people you sent for.”

“You’ve made good time to get here early in the afternoon.”

“Last night we stayed with your friend Caninius Rufus, my lord, as you suggested we do. I pushed us yesterday so we wouldn’t have too many miles today. Caninius was most gracious and sent you this.” Phineas handed me a sealed note.

“It is still a bit of a trek from his house.” I had brought Phineas with me on this trip because this house doesn’t have a scribe of his caliber and also to accompany his mother, Naomi, my mother’s most valued companion. In spite of his youth—he’s only a couple of years older than I am—I had placed him in charge of the trip to Tuscany because I knew I could trust him with any task.

“Thank you, Phineas. Please get the others settled and send Felix to my room.”

“Certainly, my lord. Will you need anything else?”

“No. You can get back to sorting those papers in the library.”

“Yes, my lord.” He started toward the house, obviously happier to be set to a task involving ink and papyrus, especially old papyrus. The small library on this estate has been neglected for years, and the estate’s elderly scribe had recently died. I had assigned Phineas the task of getting the library in order and picking out someone who could be trusted to maintain it.

I turned to Aurora. “You need to find something to do until I send for you. Put on a nice gown and that necklace of your mother’s that looks so good on you.”

“I thought I was about to meet my husband.”

“I need to talk to him first. He doesn’t know yet that he’s going to be your husband.”

* * *

Felix had lived on my uncle’s estate in Tuscany since before I was born. I knew little about him because he made himself so inconspicuous. Although he was about fifty, he looked younger, with barely any gray in his hair. The only sign of his age was that he had begun to gain weight in recent years. Working under the steward in the house, his primary responsibility was to keep track of our food and other household supplies and to procure things as needed. I knew he had done one other important task for my uncle. That was why I had chosen him to play the role of Aurora’s husband.

He knocked on my door and I told him to enter. “Close the door behind you.” I wished I could leave the door open. The rooms in this old-fashioned house are particularly small. It makes them easier to heat in winter, which is colder here than in Rome, but oppressive to someone, like me, who dislikes confined spaces. The frescoes were done in a dark, heavy style, popular some years ago, which only added to the gloom.

“Yes, my lord.” He was tentative, uncertain, as he had every right to be, looking around as though trying to comprehend where he was and why he was here. A slave who has served as long and as well as Felix has in one position would not be summarily moved somewhere else without a serious reason.

“Welcome to Comum,” I said, remaining seated at my writing table, crammed into a corner of the room.

“Thank you, my lord, but, if I may be so bold as to ask…why am I…here?” His intonation on the word “here” made clear his instant dislike for the place. I could sympathize. This villa was older and much smaller than the one in Tuscany. Because I seldom come here, I haven’t spent any money on updating or remodeling it. Even though I was born here and am fond of the area, the house itself doesn’t appeal to me the way several of my other estates do. In fact, it has an ominous feel to it, like the story I’ve heard of a house in Athens that was haunted by the ghost of a man who’d been murdered and stuffed down an abandoned well in the garden.

“Don’t worry,” I said, “you won’t be here long.”

Instead of consoling him, that statement caused his eyebrows to rise and his breathing to quicken. “My lord, am I to be sold? Have I done something to displease you?”

“No, not at all.” I held out my hand to calm him. “I want you to do something else for me—a different task but, I think, a not unfamiliar one.”

“And what would that be, my lord? All I’ve ever done in your household, and your uncle’s before you, is watch over your stores.”

I touched the pointed end of my stylus to my lip, as though warming it so I could write something. “That’s not entirely true. At one time you were married to my uncle’s servant, Delia.”

He nodded, his eyes growing wary. “Yes, my lord, I was. She was a sweet girl.”

“She had a child, didn’t she?”

“Yes, my lord.” He looked down.

“And it wasn’t yours, was it?”

“No, my lord,” he said without looking up.

I tapped my stylus on the table. “Delia, I assume, was my uncle’s lover. Am I correct to think that the child was his?”

“As far as I know, it was, my lord.” He studied his feet as though he had never seen them before.

“So my uncle married her to you to divert someone’s attention from his affair.”

“Yes, my lord. His wife’s. She strongly disapproved of his affair with Delia, as I suppose any wife would.”

Was that statement as insolent as it seemed to be? But I had to let the comment go because I needed his help. I was beginning to wonder if the Stoic doctrine of a recurring cycle of events might not be true. I had almost forgotten that my uncle had ever been married, to a woman named Tullia. It lasted less than a year, and nothing was ever said about it in our family. If only that part of the story could be repeated in my own life. I could endure another six months with Livia if I knew there would be an end to it after that and the whole fiasco could be forgotten.

“And that was…thirty-five years ago?”

“Yes, my lord. As soon as Delia realized she was pregnant, your uncle married her to me. I was eighteen at the time. Delia was a year younger.”

“Was there any particular reason he chose you?”

Instead of answering the question, Felix raised his tunic. He was wearing a loincloth, unusual for a man who wasn’t doing hard work, but not unheard of. He lowered the cloth enough for me to see that he had been castrated. I couldn’t help but recoil from the sight.

“When was that done?”

“When I was sixteen, my lord.” He shivered at the memory and I motioned for him to cover himself again.

“Did my uncle do it?” I had never heard of my uncle doing such an unspeakable thing to a servant. Enough owners, wanting male servants whom they could trust around their wives, have done it that Domitian recently issued an edict against the practice.

“No, my lord. It was done by my previous owner.”

“Why?” Before I put any man in close proximity to Aurora, I had to know his full story, and there was apparently more to Felix’s story than I had suspected.

“My owner’s daughter got pregnant. I was not the father, my lord,” he added quickly. “But another servant in the house was. The girl accused me, and her lover swore that he had heard me boasting about it. He even said I told him about a mole on her body in a place that only a lover would see. He, of course, had seen it. My master…did this to me and made his daughter watch.” His voice caught and he paused. “He swore he would do the same, or worse, to any man who touched her. Once I had recovered, he sold me to your uncle.”

I ran my fingers on the edge of the table while I considered this astounding development in my plan. “Men who have been castrated are sometimes still able to couple, even if they can no longer father a child.”

“Sadly, my lord, I am not one of those.”

I tried not to show my relief. “So my uncle knew you would not be able to couple with Delia.”

“Yes, my lord.”

“Does anyone else in the household know you’ve been castrated?”

“I don’t think so, my lord.” He seemed to be trying to decide what to do with his hands. He clasped them in front of him, then lowered them to his sides. “It’s not something one boasts about. I act as though I’m overly modest and that’s why I wear a loincloth and prefer to bathe alone. There’s a rumor that I’m a Jew, ashamed of my circumcision. I’d rather be teased about that than about…this.”

“Your voice isn’t unusually high.”

“No, my lord. For that I am thankful.”

“So Delia’s child really was my uncle’s?” That would confirm what I had learned over the past few months as I considered who among my servants would make a suitable—that is, safe—husband for Aurora. I had a cousin I’d never heard of.

“I’m sure he was, my lord, although your uncle never acknowledged the boy. I raised him as my son until your uncle emancipated him and found him a place as an apprentice with a goldsmith in Comum.”

“What was the boy’s name?”

“He was called Marcus Delius, my lord.”

Another point confirmed. I had seen one reference to that name in a letter. “Where is he now?”

“I don’t know, my lord. I was told that he ran away.”

That would have made him no better than a fugitive slave. Although he had been freed, Delius still had an obligation to my uncle and to the goldsmith who was feeding him and training him for a respectable profession. “When did that happen?”

“Not long after he was apprenticed, my lord. Twenty years ago.”

I was barely four at the time. I could not recall ever having heard the name Marcus Delius until I was looking through some of my uncle’s letters and notes earlier this summer. When I saw the name and guessed his relationship to me, I felt some impulse to know more about him. As the only surviving child of an only child, I have no circle of relatives, so even a bastard cousin piques my curiosity. But if no one had seen or heard of him in twenty years, it seemed unlikely that I would ever learn anything. It would be like trying to track an animal days after it has passed through a forest and the trail has grown cold or been washed away.

“What else do you know about him?”

“Just that he was a difficult lad, my lord. His mother died when he was eight. After that, there was little anyone could do with him. He ran roughshod over the other children in the household—even older ones—and you could never get the truth out of him. He took great delight in sneaking up on people. He had no respect for me as his father. Sometimes I felt he had guessed the truth. I think your uncle freed him just to be rid of him.”

“Or to remove evidence of his indiscretion.”

“That could well be, my lord. But that was the last anyone in our house heard of him or spoke of him.”

I paused to think what I was going to say next. Although I had known from two comments in my uncle’s letters that Felix was married to Delia, I hadn’t been able to learn why he was picked to play the role of her husband. I thought it must have been because my uncle believed he could count on the man to restrain himself and be content to pretend to be a husband or that he had hung some dire threat over his head, like the sword of Damocles. As it turned out, the blade had been hung a bit lower, but it meant that Felix was the best possible candidate for the role of Aurora’s husband.

“My lord, you said I wasn’t going to stay here. Do you have some task for me? At my age I hope it’s one I will be able to carry out.”

“Yes, and I don’t think you’ll find it onerous.” I paused and took a breath before saying the words that would commit me. “I want you to marry my slave Aurora.”

Other than blinking a couple of times, he showed no surprise. “Is she pregnant, my lord?”

“No, she’s not. But otherwise the situation is the same as the one my uncle faced.”

“May I ask if you love her, my lord?”

I slapped the stylus on the desk and Felix stepped back as much as the small room allowed. “No, you may not. That is most impertinent.”

My outburst didn’t faze him. “If you do love her, my lord, then the situation is not the same as your uncle’s.”

I stood without moving any closer to him, but Felix, who was somewhat taller than I am, leaned back anyway. “What do you mean?” I demanded.

“Your uncle did not love Delia, my lord. He treated her well and was affectionate to her, but she told me that he did not love her. He had told her so himself. She was not to expect love from him, he said. It broke her heart. More than that, it broke her will to live when she became ill.”

I was surprised to hear that. From what I had seen of my uncle with Aurora’s mother, Monica, I would have said that he loved her. He grieved deeply when she died. But this was not a conversation I wanted to be having with a slave.

“You understand your role then.”

“Yes, my lord. Your uncle made it clear that I was not to touch my ‘wife’ except to show a bit of affection in front of others—holding hands, a peck on the cheek perhaps. I assume those rules will apply in this case.”

“Yes, but don’t overdo it.” It galled me to think of any man being allowed even that degree of intimacy with the woman I love.

“Will we be sharing a room?”

The question stopped me for a moment. “I’ll have to work all that out, but I suppose you will.” Livia wouldn’t stand for any other arrangement, I was sure, even though we do not share a room ourselves.

“So your wife will think it’s a real marriage?” His tone was more kind than accusatory.

“That is my hope.”

“When will this marriage begin, my lord?”

I sat back down at the writing table and picked up my stylus. “This afternoon.” When something is inevitable, there’s no point in delaying it. The dread is usually worse than the actuality.

He nodded his understanding. “Will I have any other duties in the house, my lord?”

“Yes, you’ll be doing in Rome what you were doing in Tuscany. My man in Rome is sixty. Keeping supplies in order for such a large house is starting to wear on him.”

“I’d best work with him for a while, my lord. It will take me a month or two to get acquainted with the people you buy from and to see who’s cheating you.”

I looked up at him in surprise. “Why do you think someone is cheating me?”

“Did the sun rise this morning, my lord? As surely as that, merchants are always cheating you. There’s a reason why Hermes is the god of travelers, merchants, and thieves. It’s merely a question of how much cheating your servants allow or are aware of, and how deeply they’re involved in it.”

“How much cheating goes on at my estate in Tuscany?” That estate has always been the most profitable of my properties.

Felix straightened his shoulders, like a soldier coming to attention. “Only the little bit that I simply cannot ferret out, my lord. There’s always that little bit, no matter how diligent one is.”

* * *

“Aurora dear, may I come in?” Julia’s voice sounded from the other side of my door. I was too angry to have company at the moment, but I couldn’t refuse her. Sometimes I wonder what it would feel like to be able to say no, even to Gaius. Not that he’s ever forced me to do anything I didn’t want to—until today.

“Yes, my lady.”

I stood as she entered my room and closed the door. She’s shorter than I am, as most women are, with a round, fair face and the impish smile of a child who’s always planning some mischief. She was carrying something in a bag.

“First of all,” she said, “let’s have none of that ‘my lady’ business when there’s no one else around. We’re friends and we have to get you ready for your wedding. Gaius is telling everyone it will take place today.”

“Today?”

“Yes, in a few hours, I think.”

“Damn him!”

Julia twisted up her mouth as though she had tasted something sour. “Aurora, you know I won’t tell anyone anything you say, but you need to be careful how you talk about him. You never know who might be listening.”

I had crossed the boundary between servant and friend. “Yes, of course, I’m sorry.”

“Now, you want to look your best for your wedding, don’t you?”

“I don’t even know who I’m being married to. Why would I want to look my best for him?” I folded my arms over my chest. I knew I looked and sounded like a petulant child, but I was hurt, deeply hurt. Gaius should have told me. It was as simple as that.

Julia touched my hair. “It’s not your husband you’re trying to impress, silly girl. We’re going to make Gaius Pliny regret he ever decided to do this.”

I stamped my foot and could hardly keep from crying. “Why did he do it, Julia? Why can’t he stand up to Livia and his mother? Tell them to—”

“You should count yourself lucky that he doesn’t.” Julia hugged me for a moment, then sat me down. “That shows you he’s a man who cares about those around him and how they feel.”

“What about how I feel?”

“Gaius knows how you feel. And you know he loves you. You two have told each other that, haven’t you?”

“Yes, but—”

“Then trust what he’s told you. Men like him and Tacitus don’t always have a choice about what they do. What Gaius is arranging is his best option in this situation. If he didn’t find you a husband, he’d have to send you somewhere else. This way, he is actually standing up to Livia. She wants you gone, but he’s keeping you here, where he wants you to be.”

I sighed heavily. I hadn’t seen the situation in those terms. “I guess you’re right. But what am I supposed to do tonight? Am I to couple with my ‘husband’?”

Julia looked at me, with her head cocked, like I was the stupidest person she had ever met. “Do you honestly think Gaius is going to put you in a room with a man without making it clear to him that he’s never to touch you? If he could find a eunuch for the job, I’m sure that’s who would be your husband.”

I laughed in spite of myself.

“That’s the spirit. All you’ll have to worry about is how much he snores or farts in his sleep.”

“I hope you’re right.”

“Of course I am. I assure you, it’s not going to be easy for Gaius to marry you to another man, even if it’s only a pretense. And, by the time we’re done here, he’s going to be on his knees begging your forgiveness.”

Opening her bag, she pulled out a white tunic—the traditional bride’s dress. Motioning for me to stand, she held it up against my cheek.

“This was my wedding gown. I added the filigree. With my pale skin, I would rather have worn something darker, but it will look stunning on you. I let down the hem.”

“Wait. You brought your wedding dress? Did you know Gaius was going to do this?”

“Oh, well…he said…something about it.”

“He told you and Tacitus before you left Rome but didn’t tell me?” My voice was rising, just like my anger.

The look of surprise on Julia’s face seemed genuine. “He didn’t tell you?”

“Not until this morning.”

Julia held the dress away from me. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know—”

“Oh, that man!”

“Don’t get yourself worked up. You don’t need a lot of distress now.”

“You mean, distress like being forced to marry some man I’ve never met.” I sighed and tried to calm down.

Julia patted my belly. “Have you told Gaius yet?”

“No.” I put my hand over hers. “I was going to tell him this morning, when he asked me to go riding with him. But then he told me about this marriage.”

“So you’ve told me—”

“Only after you suspected.”

“But you admitted it. And yet you’re angry at Gaius for not telling you something important.”

It wasn’t fair of her to inject logic into the conversation. “You haven’t said anything to Tacitus, have you?”

Julia gave a quick shake of her head. “No. I promised you I wouldn’t. But a man has every right to know when a woman is carrying his child.”

“Because it’s his property, I know, just like I’m his property, to be married off whenever he sees fit.”

“Aurora, you know Gaius doesn’t think of you that way.”

Before I could say anything—and what could I say? I sounded ridiculous to myself—we heard a knock on the door. A woman’s voice that I didn’t recognize said, “My lord Pliny would like to speak with Aurora.”

Julia, who was standing closer to the door, opened it just a crack and said, “He’ll have to wait. We’re getting her ready for her wedding. He wants her to get married, so that’s what we’re doing.”

* * *

I finally had a few moments to open the note from Caninius Rufus that Phineas had handed me. Caninius is a fine poet, and we’ve known one another since childhood. This note was short, but not pleasant to read. He was writing a poem in which he wanted to make an allusion to the eruption of Vesuvius and the death of my uncle almost six years ago. “Would you mind,” he asked, “describing what you saw? I know those memories are painful, but I hope enough time has passed that you can think back on them more calmly now.”

I dropped the note onto my writing table. Fortune had spared my mother and me from that catastrophe. Now it seemed determined to keep the memory in front of me.