Chapter 16

CHAPTER 16 They lifted open the door and peered into the darkness. All they could see was a rickety wooden ladder leading down into the blackness. The smell of sulfur wafted up, stinging Marcus's eyes. "It must lead to some kind of tunnel," Tata said. "Where does the tunnel go?" Marcus asked. "There are tunnels under many Roman cities," Tata said. "Most lead out of the city. People used them to escape in an enemy attack." But what if this tunnel didn't lead out of the city? Before he could ask, Tata was climbing down the ladder. He was quickly swallowed by the pitch

darkness. Seconds later his voice echoed up from below. "Yes, Marcus, it's a tunnel! Come quickly!" Marcus climbed onto the ladder and fumbled his way down, down, down. When he reached the bottom, Tata took his arm. "This way," Tata said, turning him. "Follow closely behind me." They moved blindly into a narrow passage, crawling on their hands and knees. It was hot as an oven and the passage was so narrow that their shoulders brushed against the rough sides. The stink of sulfur made Marcus gag. Sweat poured into his eyes. His heart hammered. The tunnel seemed endless. And the farther they went, the more terrified Marcus felt. What if the sulfur killed them? What if the tunnel collapsed? Marcus tried to fix his thoughts on his heroes, to gather strength from the stories that had always inspired him. He imagined he was Odysseus, braving the wild seas as he returned home from a decade of fighting. He thought of Hercules, fighting the ferocious beasts. But those stories

were of no help to him now. His muscles cramped, his arms and legs shook so violently that it was hard to move. A terrifying idea took hold of him: that this tunnel would never end, that he would be forever trapped in this evil darkness. They'd never make it out. But suddenly his mind flashed to a new story, one that was still being written. And it was this story that gave Marcus the strength to keep moving. It was the story of a slave boy who saved his own father by hurling a live cobra through the air, who escaped from killer clouds, leaping flames, and fiery boulders that came hurtling from the sky. He was not favored by the gods or aided by powerful kings. It was the strange words of a mysterious beggar woman that guided him. A tattered mare who carried him. And his father — so wise and good and brave — who showed him the way through the darkness. It was this heroic boy who kept crawling through the tunnel as tears poured from his stinging eyes, who found the strength to help Tata kick open the door at the end of the tunnel. They

clawed through piles of rocks to get to the surface, just outside the city gates of Pompeii. They staggered across a stone-covered field to the olive grove. The old white mare was waiting for them. Marcus put his face close to Peg's, looking into her gentle eye. Tata gently brushed away the rocks and ash that covered her coat. "You waited," Marcus said. Snort. Of course she hadn't left them. Marcus and Tata climbed onto Peg's back. Without so much as a tap, the mare took off toward Rome. She ran swiftly, her feet barely touching the ground. They were many miles away when the cloud of ash and gas above Vesuvius collapsed down to earth. The cloud ignited, turning into a flaming whirlwind that blasted down the mountain at speeds faster than any chariot. Within seconds, the city of Pompeii was burned and buried. But the horror of Pompeii was now behind Marcus, and all he felt of the mountain's fury was

a whisper of heat on his back. He gripped Tata tightly, and together they looked ahead, for the bright lights of Rome.