Page 35 of Vesuvius

Felix froze. This was his chance to leave, to break from Pompeii at last. The precious seconds he’d waste doubling back would be better spent rushing to the brothel to collect his prize. Besides, by the time he could pick his way over, Loren would have recovered, stood, brushed off dirt. Or someone else would stop to help. Felix didn’t owe Loren anything.

But he watched, and no one spared Loren a second glance as a cart careened towards the intersection.

Cursing through gritted teeth, Felix flew for the street corner, bursting through onlookers.

A gap in the crowd revealed Loren on his knees, palms pressed against stone, the same fainting spell that had toppled him the day before, when Felix pantomimed wearing the helmet. Dehydration, exhaustion or something worse. Something Felix didn’t want to consider.

Loren straightened as Felix hopped across the stones. Their eyes locked, Loren’s wide and unfocused. Tugging him up by his underarms, Felix hauled them both to safety just before the cart, manned by a distracted driver, rumbled over the crossing.

He had no chance to catch his breath before Loren took the lead in a panic, dragging him into an alcove, crammed nearly chest to chest. The nearness made Felix itch.

‘Look,’ Loren hissed. He gestured to the road opposite the intersection.

Twin swathes of scarlet hung vibrant and vicious half a block away. The capes belonged to a pair of armoured men stalking down the street – Darius, the statesman’s guard, and a comrade. Neither had noticed the commotion of Loren collapsing.

‘Is that’ – Loren panted in Felix’s ear – ‘the soldier? Who chased you?’

Felix squinted at the guards, blood turning cold. ‘I was headed down that street. I would have run right into them.’

‘Gods,’ was all Loren managed before he slumped to the ground.

Darius and his partner turned out of sight. Felix looked to Loren. ‘Are you hurt?’

‘No, I . . .’ In an instant, he snapped back to himself. His crossed eyes refocused. ‘Are you?’

‘I’m not the one who passed out.’

‘From the heat.’

‘I hadn’t seen them,’ Felix said. ‘But you knew. You warned me. How?’

‘I didn’t,’ Loren said weakly. ‘You were running away. I only meant to – to stop you. Our agreement.’

‘Loren,’ Felix insisted, but he had nothing else to say. This mad, impulsive boy had foreseen danger and saved him. No one ever stuck their neck out to help him. ‘Thank you. For that.’

At first, Loren looked confused. Then his eyes widened. ‘Idid that. I changed what I . . .I did that.’ He leaped up and stumbled from the alcove, wobbly as a hastily made table. ‘Come on. We should go.’

‘Not back to Nonna.’ Felix planted his feet. ‘Anywhere else.’

‘But . . . I had more to ask.’

‘Then go alone. Leave me here and ask her whatever you want.’

A stalemate. Felix knew Loren wouldn’t leave him alone. Too many of his escape attempts lay between them, spoiling any naive trust Loren had ever held.

‘I . . . suppose we should avoid the market for now, with the guards.’ Loren’s mouth pinched. ‘But Felix . . . if questions alone make you uncomfortable, how will you react when we find answers?’

Loren staggered away – opposite Nonna’s shop and away from the statesman’s guards. Felix waited a beat longer, feeling stung. He’d won this round, but Loren’s parting remark landed like a slap.

With a sigh, Felix followed. Tonight. He’d leave tonight.

After he made sure Loren didn’t trip into traffic again.

In the Forum, Loren exchanged coins with a stall-keeper for two hunks of honeycomb, dripping with syrup. He presented one to Felix, who let it melt on his tongue and leave his fingers delightfully sticky. Then they hurried to the harbour to watch the last ships of the day sail in, as far from the market and its wandering guards as Pompeii permitted.

A wooden dock stretched over the water. The tide was up, and when Felix sat beside Loren on the boards, his toes skimmed cool water.

‘Nonna told me once that the coastline changes,’ Loren said. ‘A thousand years ago, where we sit now was deep underwater. Maybe in another thousand, the water won’t be here at all.’ Honey trickled down his wrist, and he chased it with his tongue.

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