POMPEII

DIES MARTIS A.D. III KAL. IVL. DCCCXXXII A.U.C. (29 Jun 79 CE),

My prayers have gone without response.

I do not go to the hill to wonder at the message of the gods.

Gnosos hints and quivers at my wife.

I see sometimes a look in her eye, an askance glint not meant to be seen, that makes the slave flee the room, pale.

The earth beneath our feet has taken to shaking.

VIII days ago, I furiously took notes after our augury for aedile. The auspices were quite foul and raised a fair amount of impious muttering from the magistrates presence. We will try again in X days, seeking the blessings of the gods, who appear quite querulous and dark-minded these days. I fell into a deep sleep after I had squeezed from my mind every last detail, and sketched out a templum on a wax tablet, hoping to project my visions onto that space of divination, if only in my head.

When I awoke, I was covered in blood. My desk and table were likewise soaked. The bodies of three crows were exploded before me, wings outstretched, lying over my tablet and notes.

My screams raised my wife and Gnosos from their respective slumbers. Julia fainted as she entered, seeing the carnage, with Gnosos catching her as she fell, fortunately.

The next day I began my vigil at Venus’ shrine, seeking wisdom and forgiveness. Neither yet has been forthcoming, but I have given up my pursuit of those dark omens. My wife’s mind seems much calmed by this and I give her a smiling front, but inside I am full of doom. Even the earth, the Mother of us all, shakes…in fear or anger, I don’t know.

Written by: L. Claudius Pulcher

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