Vesuvius Maximus

by Jimmie Vaughn

[The following is a short story set in Pompeii right before the destruction of the city by Mount Vesuvius.  It follows the final hours of a minor priest who has a premonition concerning the devastation to come.  While the story is fictional, the information regarding life in a Roman city and the descriptions of the city itself are historically accurate.]

During the early morning hours of the 24^th of Augustus, AD 79, the city of Pompeii slept peacefully while the watchful stars floated serenely above the land.  From a heavenly perspective, the city seemed small and insignificant compared to the vast land of Italia in which it dwelt.  Even the vast Roman Empire led by the benevolent Titus seemed trivial when compared to the magnificence of the earth.  However, to the inhabitants of Pompeii, whether slave or citizen, the city was their home.

            In the western corner of the city, within sight of the Forum Gate, lived a priest of the fetial class named Marcus Seudius Clemens.  While considered lowly among the many priests of the city, his heart was devout.  On this night, as the rest of the city slept quietly, Clemens lay drenched in sweat, tossing and turning upon his bed—a prisoner of his own mind.  Visions of fire and death consumed him…Standing before the grand temple of Jupiter, Juno, and Minerva on the northern end of the Forum, Clemens stood frozen, watching in horror as his city burned.  Smoldering ash rained from the sky, bodies of the dead and dying littered the ground, and the terrified screams of both man and beast filled the air with a crazed cacophony of pain and despair.  Tearing his eyes away from this dreadful sight, Clemens turned and fled into the temple.  He planned to pray before the statue of mighty Jupiter, king of the gods, and beg for his city to be spared.  This was not to be, however, for as he caught sight of the statue, a new terror filled him.  Falling to his knees, he cried helplessly as the headless god sat powerless upon his throne.  Clemens knew that this was a sign.  Pompeii was lost, and the gods would not save them.  Through his sobs of grief and terror, Clemens gradually became aware of a new sound.  The cold hand which gripped his heart warned him that death drew near.  He could hear the Roar…

            Screaming, Clemens jumped out of his bed and frantically looked about him.  His fear turned to joy as he realized that he was still alive.  Still, a sense of urgency gripped him for he could hear the pounding echo of the Roar in his mind.  Clemens believed his dream to be a warning from the gods, but he was confused on how to act upon it.  As merely a minor priest, his betters would not take him seriously.  Sighing, he decided to visit the temple of which he had dreamt.  Perhaps there he would find some answers.

            After splashing water upon his face from the basin beside his bed, Clemens hastily put on his toga and left the room.  Walking to the atrium, he allowed himself a moment to soak in the warmth of the morning sun as its light shone through the open roof.  As he enjoyed this simple pleasure, he found himself admiring the grand images of Jupiter which adorned the surrounding walls.  Would this god, whom Clemens had faithfully worshipped for decades, truly allow Pompeii to be destroyed?  Shaking his head, he stood and made his way to the kitchen where a simple breakfast of bread and slightly stale cheese awaited him.

            His home was a humble dwelling, for he was not rich.  Single storied, it was centered around the atrium which provided the house with most of its light during the day—or at least, during a sunny day.  A small impluvium in the room’s center caught rainwater and stored it for future use.  The rooms which connected to the atrium from all sides consisted of his bedroom, kitchen, tablinium, a storeroom, and his personal shrine to Jupiter.  Most rooms were sparsely furnished.  His bedroom contained merely a bed, a small table which held a water basin, and a chest in which several personal items were kept.  The kitchen, as if deserving such a title, was practically just another storeroom that happened to contain some food within its claustrophobic confines.  The tablinium, however, where his occasional guests were received, was slightly more decorated.  Its walls were painted with colorful images of Lares and Penates, the gods of the home, as well as other pictures which displayed scenes straight out of the past—mainly of the founding of Rome by Aeneas.  Three couches capable of seating up to nine people were placed around a table where Clemens and his guests would dine.  Statues of the gods and ornately decorated vases were arranged meticulously around the room.  Clemens had personally supervised the decorating of his house, and he had been no easy task master.  Several local painters and carpenters would as soon curse him as say hello.  Though relatively small and simple, the house was his home, and he loved it.

            When Clemens had finished eating his meager meal, he walked through the tablinium and down a short corridor which led directly to the street.  As he exited his home, sights and sounds assaulted his senses.  Merchants dragged their heavily laden mules toward the Forum, messengers ran recklessly to complete their errands, and people talked and laughed as if they had not seen one another in ages.  Yet Clemens hardly noticed any of this, for he had been born and raised within vivacious Pompeii.  Even the putrid stench of the streets, which contained many droppings from the various creatures which traversed it, failed to kindle a reaction from him.

            Turning, Clemens began to walk quickly toward the temple.  Besides stopping to bid “good-morning” to a few familiar faces, he did not allow himself to become distracted by the activity of the city.  Once, he even deftly hopped across the stepping stones in order to cross the street and avoid a group of troublesome children who were carving pictures of faces, phalluses, and the gods only knew what else onto the path.

            Before long, Clemens found himself within the Forum.  In short, the Forum was a large rectangular area open to the sky where people sold wares, worshipped the gods, played music, and even hosted sporting events such as boxing and bullfighting.  However, this brief description does it no justice.  In a sense, the Forum was the center of Pompeii.  All of the inhabitants of the city—whether citizen, slave, priest, or politician—mingled within its vast expanse.  Giant marble pillars outlined the Forum and many statues of prominent citizens and rulers decorated the area.  Clemens made his way resolutely to Jupiter’s temple, hardly noticing any of these things.  Worry still gnawed at his mind, and he found himself constantly looking up at the sky—as if he expected ash to rain down upon him at any moment.

            As he climbed the many steps which led to the temple’s entrance, he took a deep breath and prayed silently that all would be well.  The Temple of Jupiter, Juno, and Minerva was one of the grandest in the city.  It dwarfed the surrounding structures and seemed to caress the sky with its magnificent arched roof.  Six pillars supported the roof’s frontward overhang, which shadowed the podium where the priests would address the people during times of sacrifice.  Clemens, reaching the top of the steps, entered the temple through its high doorways.

            Inside of the temple, colorful paintings and beautifully carved statues graced the eyes.  Priests walked to and fro going about their daily rituals, and several average citizens were praying to the gods and offering gifts in order to earn their favor.  While these citizens surely meant well, the many gifts which were offered continued to pile up higher and higher over the years.  Sadly, the temple was beginning to resemble a giant storehouse instead of a place of worship.

            While the temple supposedly was the center of worship for Jupiter, Juno, and Minerva, it was really just Jupiter upon which it focused.  Indeed, the entire complex was centered on a giant, mighty statue of the king of the gods—the same one from Clemens’ nightmare.  Approaching this statue, Clemens fell to his knees, loudly beseeching Jupiter to spare Pompeii from whatever horrors awaited it.  The other priests and citizens stopped their activities to observe this obviously tormented figure.  Their curiosity quickly turned to dread as Clemens suddenly convulsed and fell to the ground screaming.  The same visions had once again overwhelmed his mind, but, this time, they were even more potent.  Once again the Roar consumed him…

            Suddenly released from the dreadful vision, Clemens awoke to find himself surrounded by an odd mixture of concerned priests, citizens, and slaves.  Ignoring their worried questions, he jumped to his feet and faced the group.  He now knew that time was running out, and he could think of only one thing to do that might save them all.  Addressing a group of slaves, he commanded that they bring him the fattest bull that they could find as quickly as they could.  Turning to the other priests, he ordered them to fetch wine and incense.  As an afterthought, he asked that a musician be found as well if possible.  Though he had no real power, his sense of fear and urgency seemed to infect all those around him, for they hurried to carry out his instructions.

            Soon all was ready.  Clemens stood before the statue of Jupiter next to a hastily assembled alar.  While normally these rituals would have been performed outside before the people, Clemens felt that here, before the god’s image, his offering would take a more immediate effect.  Pulling part of his toga over his head, Clemens motioned for the bull to be brought forward.  As the beast blindly followed the slaves to its doom, Clemens began to recite the necessary prayers and incantations that would ensure the sacrifice would be accepted.  Retrieving the wine and incense from the priests, he poured an offering to the god—much more than was usually required.  The sound of Clemens’ prayers mixed eerily with the dreary melody of the musician as he played his pipes.  Finally satisfied, Clemens grabbed the axe from the hand of a slave and raised it above his head.  When the bull was positioned directly over the altar, he brought the axe crashing down—killing the poor beast instantly.

            Clemens watched silently as the creature’s blood flowed over the altar, spilling onto the floor and drenching his feet.  He realized that he was breathing heavily and shaking.  It was like some other being had inhabited his body during the sacrifice.  Never would he have normally acted so violently and desperately.  Still, he felt more at peace now.  Perhaps his actions had spared the city the fiery fate he had witnessed.  Unfortunately, these thoughts were short lived.  Outside the temple, the sun had reached its zenith in the sky, and, far in the distance, the mighty mountain of Vesuvius awoke.  The ground shook violently, causing people all over the city to stumble and fall.  Buildings began to crack, and several poorly constructed houses collapsed quickly.  Terror filled the hearts of the people as they watched smoke rise from Vesuvius.

            Inside the temple, Clemens had fallen to the ground.  He did not understand.  Why did the gods not accept his sacrifice?  Why were they so angry?  Looking back at Jupiter’s statue, Clemens’ gasped in disbelief.  As the ground continued to shake, a crack appeared around the god’s neck.  Before Clemens’ eyes, the neck soon crumbled into dust and Jupiter’s proud head fell to the ground with an ominous thud.  Now a new thought entered Clemens’ panicked mind.  He realized that Jupiter would never deface his own image.  With a feeling of hopelessness, he closed his eyes and accepted his fate.  Even the gods, it seemed, were powerless to stop this catastrophe.

           Cradling his head in his arms, he let his tears flow freely as he lay still and listened for it.  He knew it was coming to bring the fire and death.  He did not have to wait long.  Suddenly, the ground stopped shaking and an unnatural silence filled the air.  However, the inhabitants of Pompeii had no time to feel relieved.  A new terror awaited them.  They watched in silence as Vesuvius began to tremble, as if a giant beast were within it struggling to break free.  Sadly, it did.  The people began to scream anew as colossal Vesuvius opened its mouth and Roared…

Blogger Bio:

Jimmie graduated from Belmont Abbey College with a BA in History and a minor in medieval studies in 2010. He has started graduated school at ASU since August 2015 and hopes to earn his MA in Public History with a concentration in Museum Studies. When he's not drowning in homework, he enjoys hiking, reading, writing, daydreaming, and hanging out with other nerdy people. He aspires to work in a museum while writing historical fiction novels on the side. He pleads for your purchase of his would-be-published book in his clairvoyance as a broke author.