Chapter 12

CHAPTER 12 The sun was high in the sky as they approached the city. They tied Peg to a tree in an olive grove, about a half mile from Pompeii's eastern gates. Marcus hugged Peg. "I'll be back." The mare nosed him in the chest, looking him in the eye. The ground rumbled again — the tremors were definitely getting stronger. Marcus looked back nervously at the mountain and loosened Peg's rope. "If we're not back, you need to break free from here and get out on your own."

Peg eyed him. "You understand me?" he said. "Don't wait for us." The mare snorted. Marcus hoped that meant yes. He hugged her one last time, and Tata rubbed her nose before they headed for the city gates. Tata's plan was to speak to Pompeii's magistrates — the men elected to lead the city. They would know the best way to warn the people of Pompeii. Marcus and Tata wove through the crowded streets, keeping their eyes out for men who might help — and those who might be hunting for them. It didn't take long to reach the Forum — an open square surrounded by five buildings and the city's main temple, dedicated to Jupiter. Statues of emperors and generals seemed to glare at Marcus as he followed Tata to the magistrates' building. Marcus's heart pounded as they approached the entrance, where three steely-looking guards stood watch. "Stop, slave," a guard ordered. Tata held his head up.

"Sir, I have an urgent message for the city's leaders. The city is in danger. We must warn the people of Pompeii." The man barely glanced at Tata from beneath his helmet. "Be gone," the guard ordered, shooing him as though he were a stray dog. "Sir," Tata said. "It's the mountain. There will soon be a terrible explosion. We—" The guard raised his spear menacingly.

"Go from here! Nobody in there wants to talk to a filthy slave!" Suddenly Marcus couldn't help but see what the guard saw when he looked at Tata. With his tattered tunic and body stained with bruises, Tata looked little better than the beggar woman. The other guards stepped up, their spears glinting in the sun. This was hopeless, Marcus realized. "You are making a mistake," Tata warned, taking Marcus's arm and hurrying him away. They walked out of the Forum and headed toward the main street. "We'll have to tell people ourselves," Tata said. "We'll go to the shops and restaurants. Hopefully some people will listen." Marcus hoped Tata couldn't read his thoughts: They were wasting their time. Nobody would take the word of a slave. They stood on the sidewalk, waiting to cross the crowded street. Two laughing little boys ran behind their mother. One held a wooden sword. "I'm Cyclops!" the boy sang.

The gladiator match! That's where everyone was heading! Marcus watched the boys, but then his eyes drifted up to Vesuvius. What he saw stopped his heart: a wisp of smoke, rising out of the peak. The mountain seemed to be coming alive. "Tata…" Marcus pointed up at the smoking mountain. Tata stared in horror — and fascination. They both stood there, their eyes glued to the mountain. Which is why they didn't see the golden chariot that had stopped suddenly right in front of them — or the pair of cold, pale eyes that glared at them. By the time Marcus saw Festus and his guards rushing toward them, it was too late. Penned in by the crowds, he and Tata were trapped. And seconds later Marcus was staring at the glinting tip of a spear. "Idiots," Festus hissed. "You actually believed you could escape?" Tata shook his arm from the guard's grip and stepped toward Festus.

"Sir, please, a disaster is coming. The mountain is about to explode. People must leave the city right away." Festus laughed cruelly. "You think you can save yourself by telling tales?" The guard grabbed Tata roughly, and once again Tata shook himself free. He seemed to be gaining strength from the crowd, from the fear and panic in the eyes of the people all around them. "You've felt the earth tremors. And now look at the mountain. You can see for yourself, the smoke! Any moment it's going to explode." Festus didn't even look at the mountain. He put his face close to Tata's, screaming, "You dare try to outsmart me? You think I'm a fool?" "Think of your uncle, sir, of Linus," Tata said, struggling as the guard gripped him again. "He would agree with me. I'm certain." Festus's fat cheeks turned bright red. "My uncle was a weak-minded idiot," Festus said, spitting out the words. "He cared more for a slave than me, a man who shared his own blood!" And suddenly it was all clear to Marcus — why Festus had sold Tata so quickly.