To see the previous installments, click on the following links: #1, #2 , #3, #4, #5

I remember that day well. It was 24 April 77 A.D., ante diem octavum Kalendas Maias, Vespasian VIII et Titus VI consulibus, as the Romans still count the time, clinging to their old ways. As you can imagine, the consuls of that year were the Emperor Vespasian, for the eighth time, and his son Titus. The sun had already reached the twelfth hour of the day; dusk was slowly setting and its light was falling, casting long shadows that enveloped the Via dell'Abbondanza with a still glow. Yet, despite the chiaroscuro of the evening, there was an eerie stillness in the air. In the distance, in the Forum, the scars of the great earthquake of ‘62 were still visible, silent reminders of Pompeii's fragility.

The arrival of the duoviri was solemn, as if the gravity of the crime had permeated the air around them. The two figures in purple-edged robes, bearing the authority of Rome, crossed the threshold of Marcus Varius' villa with an imposing bearing, but in their countenances it was impossible not to detect the shadow of bewilderment and concern. The atrium with its compluvium offered them its usual coolness, which today was marked by tension.

As they entered the peristylum, their footsteps echoed, interrupting for an instant the funereal silence that reigned there. All around them, the beauty of the flowers - roses, lilies, acanthus - contrasted eerily with the bloodstains that adorned the polished marble and the smooth surface of the plants.

To be continued

Header Image:

Image of a street in Pompeii. Source: Recreation through Artificial Intelligence