mountain was darker, almost black, rising massively above the bay to a pointed summit. And there was the source of the trouble, he thought. Somewhere there, on the mountain. Not on the seaward side, but round to landward, on the north-eastern slope.
'Who are you anyway?' Pliny eventually managed to rasp out. 'I don't know you. You're far too young. What's happened to the proper aquarius? What was his name?'
'Exomnius,' said Corax.
'Exomnius, precisely. Where's he? And what does Acilius Aviola think he's playing at, sending us boys to do men's work? Well? Speak up! What have you to say for yourself?'
Behind the admiral Vesuvius formed a perfect natural pyramid, with just that little crust of light from the waterfront villas running around its base. In a couple of places the line bulged slightly and those, the engineer guessed, must be towns. He recognised them from the map. The nearer would be Herculaneum; the more distant, Pompeii.
Attilius straightened his back. 'I need,' he said, 'to borrow a ship.'
He spread out his map on the table in Pliny's library, weighing down either side with a couple of pieces of magnetite which he took from a display cabinet. An elderly slave shuffled behind the admiral's back, lighting an elaborate bronze candelabrum. The walls were lined with cedarwood cabinets, packed with rolls of papyri stacked end-on, in dusty honeycombs, and even with the doors to the terrace pushed wide open, no breeze came off the sea to dispel the heat. The oily black strands of smoke from the candles rose undisturbed. Attilius could feel the sweat trickling down the sides of his belly, irritating him, like a crawling insect.
'Tell the ladies we shall rejoin them directly,' said the admiral. He turned away from the slave and nodded at the engineer. 'All right. Let's hear it.'
Attilius glanced around at the faces of his audience, intent in the candlelight. He had been told their names before they sat down and he wanted to make sure he remembered them: Pedius Cascus, a senior senator who, he dimly recalled, had been a consul years ago and who owned a big villa along the coast at Herculaneum; Pomponianus, an old Army comrade of Pliny, rowed over for dinner from his villa at Stabiae; and Antius, captain of the imperial flagship, the Victoria. The pimply youth was Pliny's nephew, Gaius Plinius Caecilius Secundus.
He put his finger on the map and they all leant forward, even Corax.
'This is where I thought originally that the break must be, admiral – here, in the burning fields around Cumae. That would explain the sulphur. But then we learnt that the supply had gone down in Nola as well – over here, to the east. That was at dawn. The timing is crucial, because according to a witness who was in Pompeii at first light, the fountains there were still running this morning. As you can see, Pompeii is some distance back up the matrix from Nola, so logically the Augusta should have failed there in the middle of the night. The fact that it didn't can only mean one thing. The break has to be here' – he circled the spot – 'somewhere here, on this five-mile stretch, where she runs close to Vesuvius.'
Pliny frowned at the map. 'And the ship? Where does that come in?'
'I believe we have two days' worth of water left. If we set off overland from Misenum to discover what's happened it will take us at least that long simply to find where the break has occurred. But if we go by sea to Pompeii – if we travel light and pick up most of what we need in the town – we should be able to start repairs tomorrow.'
In the ensuing silence, the engineer could hear the steady drip of the water clock beside the doors. Some of the gnats whirling around the candles had become encrusted in the wax.
Pliny said, 'How many men do you have?'
'Fifty altogether, but most of those are spread out along the length of the matrix, maintaining the settling tanks and the reservoirs in the towns. I have a dozen altogether in Misenum. I'd take half
'Who are you anyway?' Pliny eventually managed to rasp out. 'I don't know you. You're far too young. What's happened to the proper aquarius? What was his name?'
'Exomnius,' said Corax.
'Exomnius, precisely. Where's he? And what does Acilius Aviola think he's playing at, sending us boys to do men's work? Well? Speak up! What have you to say for yourself?'
Behind the admiral Vesuvius formed a perfect natural pyramid, with just that little crust of light from the waterfront villas running around its base. In a couple of places the line bulged slightly and those, the engineer guessed, must be towns. He recognised them from the map. The nearer would be Herculaneum; the more distant, Pompeii.
Attilius straightened his back. 'I need,' he said, 'to borrow a ship.'
He spread out his map on the table in Pliny's library, weighing down either side with a couple of pieces of magnetite which he took from a display cabinet. An elderly slave shuffled behind the admiral's back, lighting an elaborate bronze candelabrum. The walls were lined with cedarwood cabinets, packed with rolls of papyri stacked end-on, in dusty honeycombs, and even with the doors to the terrace pushed wide open, no breeze came off the sea to dispel the heat. The oily black strands of smoke from the candles rose undisturbed. Attilius could feel the sweat trickling down the sides of his belly, irritating him, like a crawling insect.
'Tell the ladies we shall rejoin them directly,' said the admiral. He turned away from the slave and nodded at the engineer. 'All right. Let's hear it.'
Attilius glanced around at the faces of his audience, intent in the candlelight. He had been told their names before they sat down and he wanted to make sure he remembered them: Pedius Cascus, a senior senator who, he dimly recalled, had been a consul years ago and who owned a big villa along the coast at Herculaneum; Pomponianus, an old Army comrade of Pliny, rowed over for dinner from his villa at Stabiae; and Antius, captain of the imperial flagship, the Victoria. The pimply youth was Pliny's nephew, Gaius Plinius Caecilius Secundus.
He put his finger on the map and they all leant forward, even Corax.
'This is where I thought originally that the break must be, admiral – here, in the burning fields around Cumae. That would explain the sulphur. But then we learnt that the supply had gone down in Nola as well – over here, to the east. That was at dawn. The timing is crucial, because according to a witness who was in Pompeii at first light, the fountains there were still running this morning. As you can see, Pompeii is some distance back up the matrix from Nola, so logically the Augusta should have failed there in the middle of the night. The fact that it didn't can only mean one thing. The break has to be here' – he circled the spot – 'somewhere here, on this five-mile stretch, where she runs close to Vesuvius.'
Pliny frowned at the map. 'And the ship? Where does that come in?'
'I believe we have two days' worth of water left. If we set off overland from Misenum to discover what's happened it will take us at least that long simply to find where the break has occurred. But if we go by sea to Pompeii – if we travel light and pick up most of what we need in the town – we should be able to start repairs tomorrow.'
In the ensuing silence, the engineer could hear the steady drip of the water clock beside the doors. Some of the gnats whirling around the candles had become encrusted in the wax.
Pliny said, 'How many men do you have?'
'Fifty altogether, but most of those are spread out along the length of the matrix, maintaining the settling tanks and the reservoirs in the towns. I have a dozen altogether in Misenum. I'd take half
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