Passions
Prologue
Pompeii, June 79 AD
A small problem gets larger if you ignore it.-written on the walls of the Basilica, Pompeii
The open, outdoor temple ringed with columns echoed with noisy excitement as the sun set, casting the crowd in a reddish-orange shadow. Slaves sitting beyond the columns of the temple pounded on drums or strummed the kitharas. The beats pounded in time with the trios’ footsteps to the white, marble alter. The group assembled for the ritual chanted in harmony with the music.
“Bring the sacrifice!” the wrinkled priest, naked but for a crown of grapes, bellowed.
A man dressed as a satyr walked forward with a maenad by his side. Behind them, a slave wearing a loincloth pulled a bull along by a rope. The satyr carried a wooden staff with grapevines wrapped around it and a goatskin. The maenad waved a bright torch and rattled a drum suspended by a string from her left arm. She chanted with a feverish look in her onyx-colored eyes.
Giuliana closed her eyes, ashamed of her inability to watch the sacrifice, but unwilling to work at correcting this flaw at the moment. The performing of sacrifices to the gods was necessary, and Giuliana had been present at sacrifices since the time she was a babe, but the witnessing of spilt blood never ceased to cause her pain. Her body cringed in agony every time she witnessed the shedding of blood. Just the sight of blood made her physically ill. This was why, along with the fact that she was not an augur, the visions horrified her.
They had started about a year ago. She’d been in attendance for a sacrificial ceremony near Vesuvius. The chants had vibrated through her soul. Like spirits from Hades, vapors had risen from the ground, white and filmy, smelling of rotten eggs. The augurs in attendance started breathing the pungent gas, prophesying of glorious days to come and the greatness of Rome. Yet, when Giuliana inhaled the fumes, the visions assailed her like an arrow through the heart. She saw, in rapid succession, death, screaming, and rivers of blood engulfing Pompeii. Then, as fast as the images started, they disappeared. She was standing up, the ceremony had halted, and everyone stared at her as if she were mad. Tears coated her cheeks and her limbs quaked. Terrified, Giuliana had fled the temple, people’s laughter following her retreat.
She’d tried to convince herself that it was only delusions of her mind, nothing real. But a few days later, she received another vision of the waters in the wells drying up. A month later it happened. Then, she’d seen the earth shaking like the disaster sixteen summers past. Within the week, rumbles began as if the earth itself was bubbling with mirth at the misery to come.
Fearing she was losing her mind, Giuliana told her family. They’d all laughed it off as a silly fancy of the female mind. For a while, she allowed herself to believe her family until the visions continued, growing in intensity, as if her very mind was preparing to erupt.
Giuliana attended another ceremony at the base of Vesuvius. Since the visions had started during a sacrifice, maybe they would conclude the same way. At least, she’d hoped. After the ceremony, she talked with the priest, but he wouldn’t listen claiming that since she was not an augur she could not receive divine inspiration.
Now, the visions occurred more often, sometimes twice a day. Always the same dark-as-pitch sky and rivers of blood coating Pompeii. Again and again.The bull groaned its last cry, pulling Giuliana’s attention back to the present. She heard the slip of a dagger slice the animal’s throat. She finally opened her eyes as the orgiastic dances of the maenads began. Seeing the vapors seeping up from the ground around the temple, she forced all her concentration inward, closed her eyes and prayed.
Great Bacchus, open my mind and help me see our salvation. You have shown our fate, but I must believe there is hope. Help me, Great One!
The wind whipped her hair back. Giuliana slowly opened her eyes. The sun bathed the earth a crimson-yellow. The temple and people vanished one by one as the wind swirled in a circular motion before her. She tried to focus on the vortex but sand and dirt blew into her eyes, blocking her vision. Strangely, the smell of sandalwood tickled her nostrils, reminding her of the woods she used to play in as a child.
Then, as if he’d emerged from the cyclone itself, a man appeared. He was tall and built like Hercules with hair the color of gold and eyes that sparkled like the Mediterranean. Giuliana wanted to speak, ask his name, study him some more, but the moment she blinked – he was gone.
