Chapter 3

CHAPTER 3 Marcus dove to the ground, his chin smacking the hard stone. He braced himself for the crushing blow of thousands of pounds of marble hitting him. He heard a terrible crash! But he felt nothing. He peeled open his eyes and peered around. To his amazement, the broken statue was just behind him. It must have sailed right over him. Marcus whispered a thank-you to the gods. Poor Achilles had lost his head, which was now rolling slowly in the street. Marcus could practically hear the warrior's deathly cries.

But Marcus himself was in one piece, and the earth had stopped shaking. Marcus pulled himself up. He put his hand to his chin, and it came away streaked with blood. Otherwise he was unhurt. A humpbacked street vendor came up to him. "Don't even think about stealing those apples," he barked, reaching down and snatching two apples that had escaped from his baskets. "I wouldn't," Marcus said, spotting a third hidden behind the fountain. He should give it to the man, he knew. But just the thought of the juicy apple made his stomach flip with joy. Festus fed his slaves nothing but watery gruel and old cheese. The fruit seller didn't spot it, and Marcus said nothing. "That giant beast must be restless," said the man, spitting on one of the apples and rubbing it against his rough tunic. "Giant?" Marcus asked. "Everyone knows that's why the earth is shaking," the man replied, looking at Marcus as though he must be stupid not to know this. "There's a great beast living under the mountain.

Every few years it wakes up and the city shakes. Then it goes to sleep again." Marcus thought of his father — Tata. Talk of monsters and magic always made Tata shake his head. Tata said it was only natural that people would make up stories or blame the gods for what they couldn't understand — wild storms and killing fevers, dead crops and mad dogs. But science always held the answer, Tata believed, if you looked hard enough. Marcus didn't say this now. It wasn't right for a slave to correct the opinion of a free man, even if the man was just a poor fruit seller. What amazed Marcus was that people in Pompeii just accepted these tremors, shrugging them off as they would a rainstorm. Even now, shoppers were already back to haggling for bargains. The fruit seller turned away and Marcus grabbed the hidden apple, slipping it into his pocket. He picked up the heavy laundry sack and threw it onto his back with a sigh. Festus wouldn't care if a monster really had come stomping through Pompeii. Marcus had better get back to

his master's villa soon, or he'd be greeted with a beating. He was turning to leave when he noticed an old woman sitting in the street, dazed. The shaking must have knocked her down. Passersby stepped around her as if she were a heap of trash. Marcus ignored the woman; there were beggars everywhere, after all. But she looked so miserable. With a sigh, he once again dropped the laundry sack. He went to the woman, crouching down next to her. She was a beggar, it seemed, her tunic stained and tattered, her bare feet crusted with sores. She scowled at him. "Scat, thief!" "I wasn't going to steal anything," Marcus said. He should have ignored the hag like everyone else did. But then the woman's face softened. She studied Marcus with her catlike green eyes. She was very old, with sagging cheeks and deep wrinkles. But Marcus could imagine that a long time ago she might have been pretty. "What do you want, then?" she asked.

Almost without thinking, he reached into his pocket and took out the apple. "Here," he said. She looked hungrier than he was. The woman took the apple in one of her gnarled hands. "Help me up, please." Marcus held her arms as she got to her feet, and stood with her as she steadied herself. And then she suddenly grabbed his hand, gripping it with surprising strength. "Be careful, kind boy," she whispered. "I have seen the signs. Terrible doom is coming for the

people of Pompeii." She leaned so close that he smelled the strange spices on her breath. "When hope is lost, follow the hand of Mercury." She stepped back. "Do you understand?" Marcus had no idea what she meant. All over Pompeii there were statues of the powerful messenger god, with his winged sandals and helmet. But what did that matter to him? "I understand," he lied. Now he just wanted to get away from her. "The end is coming," she said, finally letting go of his hand. "This world will burn!"