A Day of Fire by Kate Quinn EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
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- Author:Kate Quinn
- Language: English
- Genre: Ancient Historical Fiction
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The Son
Victoria Alvear
“The depth of darkness to which you can descend and still live is an exact
measure of the height to which you can aspire to reach.”
—Pliny the Elder
Pompeii
In the first year of the rule of Emperor Titus Flavius Caesar Vespasianus
Augustus
I discreetly tightened my loincloth as I approached Pompeii’s Sarno Gate.
The mere sight of the chipped arch funneling us into the city—the
knowledge that I was that much closer to her—made my body respond in a
most embarrassing way. I did not need my tented tunic announcing to the
world my business in Pompeii. Thank Priapus for the pressure of the cloth.
The line into the city inched along like a bloated leech. I shook my head
to clear the image from my mind. My uncle’s insistence on regular
bleedings drove me to distraction. “Balancing your humors will help clear
the spots on your face,” he’d said. “And it will help you grow. Some boys
don’t finish growing until they are in their twenties,” he added with
undisguised hope.
I resisted scratching the spot on my back where the last of the little
suckers had been removed after the physician bled me, and I suppressed a
shudder at the memory of that glistening, slimy body swollen with my own
blood. So far, my uncle’s “plan” to help me grow bigger had failed
miserably. The former general, the great naturalist, the admiral of Emperor
Titus’ navy, was a big, ox-like man. As was my father, everyone always
told me, though I never knew him. It was almost as if my uncle took it as a
personal affront that I did not take after him or my father but am built like
my mother—his own tiny sister, Plinia—instead. As if I were pleased by
this cruel trick of the gods.
Reeking rivermen and sweat-stained traders from Salernum pressed in
all around me. I would have to scrub well at Julius’ house before going to
see my girl.
Of course, just as I was almost through the arch, some old farmer got
the wheel of his onion cart stuck in a rut, forcing the rest of us to stop. I
should have known. Pompeii was such a busy port town; there were always
delays. Like my lover, the city teased me continually. And as always when
there were delays, I wondered if I should’ve come in through the
Herculaneum Gate or even the Marine Gate. But I reminded myself that I
was less likely to run into people who might recognize me on this end of
town. I needed to stay anonymous. Even to her.
When I finally emerged into the dirty, bustling inner streets, I began
counting as I always did. Just 331 until I got to touch Prima again.
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