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Panic. Pure, unadulterated terror as I had never seen before. Chaos. Undiluted horrors pouring through the stands as the ground shook and quaked beneath our feet. Events like these had occurred before, though nothing of this magnitude. As sure as the ground rumbled, the massive volcano erupted in a torrent of wicked force. It wouldn’t be long now before the contents of great Vesuvius would be upon us.
My name is Laurentinus, a former slave to the once proud family of Diocletianus Egnatius Drusus. I had been servant to the Drusus clan since my life began anew. Born into a family of wealth in Herculaneum, I was known as Priscilla Floriana in the clan of Otho. However, several years after marrying age, it was discovered that I had been masquerading as a male, binding myself whenever I went out, and adopting a virile persona. Upon discovery of my secret, I was cast out by my family and made to live a life of exile.
I fled to Pompeii, adopting the name of my eldest brother and becoming one with the house of Drusus. I got into a spot of trouble in my entry to the city, earning myself the role of a slave. The house of Drusus became my place of living, though I could hardly call it home. For a slave, home is found not in one’s familia, but in the work one does in the hope that freedom is not so far off as the next lifetime.
The Ides of March in the eighth year under Nero— seven years since my forced departure from my home— saw the origin of the Drusus’ descent. However, the news and subsequent tragedy were not known to the house until after they had come to pass.
As most days passed in a routine fashion, the day of the Ides was not different. Dawn saw my awakening before the rest of the house, ready to prepare the paterfamilias for his morning salute. Through the second hour, I stood at his side while numerous clients flowed in to greet the noble head of the Drusus clan and receive their daily sportula.
Hours of the early to late morning were tense that day. The only son of the Drusus clan was to announce his declaration of office. While the women of the house aided in his preparation, I was tasked with purchasing food for the day’s meals at the local shops. As the eldest of household slaves, this was a task entrusted only to me by the lady of the house and one I begrudgingly accepted.
Making my way to the nearby marketplace, I had in my grasp a tablet listing foodstuffs for the upcoming banquet. The paterfamilias that morning had announced a banquet for the evening in honor of his son’s declaration and predicted victory to the office of aediles. That evening’s gustatio was to include dishes of cabbage and turnip-stuffed dormice, spiced with the finest garum and honey, followed by rich bread and cabbage. The mensae primae would be no less elaborate— courses of roast game and exotic fauna, coupled with an array of vegetables and breads. To finish the meal, the lady of the house had written instructions to procure fresh fruit: baskets of figs and pomegranates, and a large selection of rich nuts and legumes.
Arms laden with my purchases, I was making the return journey to the estate when the first tremor shook the ground. Thinking not much of it, I continued on. The ground had quaked before, surely this was not unlike past events. Several paces forward, and another tremor rocked the ground, this one more violent than the last. The baskets of goods toppled out of my arms as the earth’s quaking became more violent still.
The trembling of the ground remained steadfastly violent for what seemed to be hours, though it couldn’t have been more than one at most. I remained where I had fallen, huddled on the ground, too timid to attempt further movement. Eventually the quaking ceased, and I stood up to retrieve the fallen foods. The celebratory meal was still to take place despite the rocking of the ground.
I ventured back to the estate, careful to step over debris and fallen rubble. As I neared the house, a hideous wailing caught my ears. This was a sound akin to the screeches of a wounded animal. I neared the house, and as the earth’s dust settled and parted, I saw the cause. Rufinius Egnatius Drusus, son of my paterfamilias, was on his knees in front of what used to be his home.
Too shocked to fully comprehend what lay before me, I cast the baskets from my arms and turned away. In my haste, I whirled and fled towards the only place I could think to go— the Forum; for in the baths, a slave and master could be equal, news could be shared, stories could be told. Feigning calm, I entered the apodyterium of the female division of the bath complex. Though I received strange looks from the other leisure-seekers, the looks would have been doubly troubling had I entered that of the males. My masquerade as a male persisted, though I still maintained a slightly feminine visage.
Like the tepid air of the three rooms, gossip swirled around me, yet none of it relevant to my current plights. I had entered the forum’s baths in the hopes of discovering the magnitude of damages that had been done to the city as a result of the earth’s violent quaking. However, through the tepidarium, caldarium, and frigidarium alike I heard nothing of what had transpired just hours before.
It wasn’t until I reached the communal natatio that I heard something worthwhile. Damaged though it was, the city would recover and we would rebuild that which had been destroyed. This was not uncommon news. The city had suffered plights before, always to come back from them stronger than before. What had captured my interest, was in fact not about the city. I had heard mention of the Drusus name.
Wading toward the source of the gossip, my inquiry was answered. The boy I had left weeping only earlier had been stripped of his title as a noble by his father, sent into exile like myself all those years ago. This news came with a great deal of scandal. His apparent plans to usurp his father were made public, bringing with them a massive plague of shame over the house. Although I cared not for the house of Drusus, my association with them was known and I too would feel the effects of the treachery. I left the bath complex shortly after. News such as that could be more damaging to oneself than the sharp bite of a dagger. My departure spoke of more than just an exit from the Forum. In it, it symbolized my unspoken withdrawal from the service of the Drusus familia.
Those unfortunate events had transpired not five years from the present. Shortly after my leave from the Drusus clan, I sought a new life in the Amphitheatre, still under the guise of a male countenance. In the years since my leave of his servitude, the name of Drusus was dragged through the mud, leaving the family in tatters.
The combative troupe became my familia; the school, my life. Now, in the first year of the reign of Titus, I was no longer in the service of a tyrannical magister. Instead, my rank of slave held true, though I was wholeheartedly versed in the art of stadium combat. Gone was the timorous Laurentinus of the past, born again to the wily fighter of Thracian style.
In those bygone years I was quickly engulfed in gladiatorial training, versing myself well in the various styles of combat until I was prepared for my first public battle. My first fight was to take place in celebration of a new emperor, several days after the August Ides had passed. The games were initially said to be held in the honor of noble Titus, yet they were truly a proclamation made by my once-master in an attempt to salvage his noble title.
The day dawned hot and clear. I was ready. I anxiously waited out the morning, through the animal fights and execution of criminals until afternoon reared its head and I was sent into the arena to fend for my life. Blow after blow, strike, parry, and slash, I fought my opponent with everything in me. Several times my shield caught his three-pronged weapon, several times did he entangle me in his net. While not an equal match in weaponry, I made up for it in skill.
The fighting came to a head, both of us bloody and beaten. One misstep from my opponent sent him sprawling and vulnerable. As we awaited the verdict from the editor, the ground suddenly began to quiver and roll and a thunderous boom sounded from afar. The spectators turned to the north, where a magnificent cloud could be seen over the far-off mountain. An act of nature of this magnitude had never before transpired. In a fleet of panic, nobles and commoners alike fled from the arena, though what from they couldn’t be sure. I myself stood frozen in my stance as if nailed to the ground by a god.
The rush happened in a fashion of such alarm as I had never seen before. Chaos ensconced the masses as they poured out of the stands, the very fabric of our world unraveling as it became whim to the will of Vesuvius. Events as these had occurred before, though nothing of this magnitude. As sure as the ground rumbled, the massive volcano erupted once more in a torrent of wicked force. I was certain that it wouldn’t be long now before its contents would be upon us.