Page 66 of Vesuvius

‘Raising taxes,’ Felix said. ‘He’s one of Rome’s envoys.’

‘I track the council’s votes,’ Loren said. ‘Session after session, the answer hasn’t changed.’

‘Hasn’t changed yet,’ Julia corrected, ‘because I have stood in the way every time.’

‘You – of course.’ Loren sat back and studied the map. ‘Your estate gives you sway with Umbrius and the council. And if you continue pressuring against a vote to raise taxes, Servius can’t leave. It’s an impasse.’

‘When Servius faces an impasse, does he strike you as the type to relent? To bargain?’ Julia grabbed her goblet, relieving its duty as a map weight, and swallowed a mouthful of wine. The freed parchment corner curled. ‘I’m afraid it’s more complicated.’

‘Then what is it?’ Felix snapped. ‘I hate politics. Life ought to be yes or no, none of this complicated shit.’

Julia arched a brow, unamused. ‘You wouldn’t survive a day in Rome.’

‘I survived eleven years in Rome.’

‘Yet you’re here, meddling in the politics you despise.’

Felix muttered a series of barely audible curses. The hem of his tunic brushed Loren’s elbow.

Julia turned back to Loren. ‘Before my father retired to his estate here, he was a travelling merchant. His contracts took him throughout the empire and landed him the favour of Vespasian. This was how he met Servius, who, if you recall from the letter, tried to strike a deal with my father. Rope him into his ring. My father wasn’t pious by any means, but the objects Servius sought . . .’

Loren’s stomach sank with the suspicion he already knew. Still, he said, ‘Valuable. Priceless.’

‘Divine,’ she corrected. ‘Have you noticed his gloves? They cover scarred palms, burned from handling relics beyond what humans can stand. Even so, he persists. Servius has a lust for it, the idea that mortals can touch hands with gods. He went so far as to operate his dealings out of a temple in Rome. Andthatwas too scandalous for my father. He tipped Vespasian off, and within weeks, the smuggling ring was scoured.’

On his perch, Felix stiffened, rigid and lifeless as an amateur painting. A question formed on Loren’s tongue – a shapeless interrogation that somehow would draw a link between Servius, smuggling and Felix – but Julia spoke first, and the thought faltered.

‘Servius’s ire with me is as personal as it is political. You read the letter. Once Vespasian declared his punishment, Servius saw the opportunity to sink Pompeii and thus sink my father, if only he could get his hands on the estate. My father was elderly. Servius decided to bide his time.’

‘But you inherited the estate when your father died,’ Loren said.

‘An untraditional arrangement. Servius didn’t expect it, certainly. I imagine he didn’t see me as a threat, but I’m everything he hates in a person. A woman, educated and clever enough to stay two paces ahead.’

‘So he should kill you. What’s stopping him?’ Felix said, voice flat. Loren winced, but Julia only smiled, cold as ever.

‘If Servius has ever erred,’ she said, ‘it’s by underestimating me.’

Loren fiddled with a coin, spinning it on its side. ‘How many times did you reject him for marriage?’

‘More times than appropriate. He thought I’d relent eventually. But now he’s grown impatient. Clovia was an unfortunate casualty.’

‘Julia, if Clovia was only a message, surely he’ll do worse to you.’ Loren cast an eye to Felix. Unless justice was delivered and Servius stopped, he had the sinking feeling the senator would keep hunting Felix. Even after he put the helmet back. Even after he left town. Felix’s ability to handle such a relic would be too valuable to let it slip away. ‘And I have reason to suspect he still smuggles, despite his exile. We have evidence. Go to the council. Go to Umbrius.’

At last, Julia’s mask crumbled. Eyes lit, she straightened and gave a shrill laugh. ‘My power is tenuous. I’m a woman who owns property by the skin of her teeth. Were I to accuse a senator from Rome, of all places, of wrongdoing, we would test how thin that skin is. Do you think for one moment they would believe my word over his? Damn the evidence!’

‘But it isn’t right. What does the council stand for if not the people? How can we fix injustice if we choose to do nothing?’

‘We can’t.’ Julia slammed her goblet down. Wine sloshed over the rim and onto the map, spreading across Pompeii in a bloody streak. ‘You are no hero, Loren, and your political ambition is at odds with your ideals. You must lose one.’

‘If I don’t?’

‘The alternative is obscurity. Or death if you’re lucky.’

‘Go to the council. They’ll listen, we can show them.’

‘Lorenus,enough.’

Loren’s world halted. In an instant, it pared to a singular moment: Julia’s face, purple and furious, shoulders trembling with barely restrained rage. Felix’s body tensed to flee. Wine saturating cities. His full name on Julia’s lips.

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