Roman Ice Read online

  “Sabina said you were looking for tunnels under Vesuvius.”

  “What were you doing with my daughter?”

  “We were talking, um… at lunch. She said… something about looking for tunnels.”

  “And that interests you why?”

  “My family business is mining, and I have training as an engineer.”

  Martinus stopped his drawing and looked up. “Hmmm, come here. Tell me what you see,” he said.

  Agrippa looked at the map. A skylight threw enough light in the room to see the scattered writing and drawing. A mountain, Vesuvius, was in the upper right corner and Herculaneum in the lower left. He could see the roads, alleyways, and buildings of the city and a series of lines that looked like rivers. One line ran up to the base of the extinct volcano. He described this to Martinus.

  “Yes, but you’ve walked around this area,” Martinus said, running a finger around the map, “and did you see any riverbeds?”

  “Just the one that runs to the south of here.”

  “Correct. So what do you think these are? Think like a miner.”

  “Tunnels?”

  “Yes,” Martinus said, clapping him on the shoulder.

  “Is someone mining here?”

  “No. Something even more interesting. These tunnels are created by the volcano.”

  “By the volcano?” Agrippa repeated, trying to digest the meaning. “How do you know?”

  “Come with me.”

  Agrippa followed Martinus about fifty yards to the east of the hut to a rough embankment. Large chunks of rock lay all around and Martinus picked his way through the rock pile toward what looked like an opening. He lit an oil lamp once inside and grabbed a second lamp.

  “Follow me,” said Martinus. “And be careful. Many of the rocks are loose.”

  The ground was flat for about twenty paces, and then sloped down. Another sixty paces and the rock pile gave way to a somewhat smooth floor. The light from the lamp only carried about thirty feet and showed they stood on a solid rock floor with patches of sand and gravel.

  Larger rocks were scattered, but it was easier to walk here and wide enough for a large cart. The ceiling rose to a height of twelve feet and curved down on each side to meet the floor. It reminded Agrippa of the arched storage areas under Rome, but this was not man-made.

  “Interesting,” said Agrippa. “How large is this space?”

  “Large,” replied Martinus, “but let me show you what’s interesting. Stay here a few minutes. I’ll go ahead with the lamp. Take this one, but don’t light it yet.”

  “Okay…”

  “Are you afraid of the dark or underground spaces?” asked Martinus, the light pooling around his body.

  “No.”

  “Okay, wait here,” said Martinus.

  Agrippa watched the circle of light move toward the right, then go dark before appearing again farther right.

  “The tunnel splits,” yelled Agrippa.

  “Exactly,” Martinus yelled back. “This place is a maze. The tunnels go all the way to Vesuvius. Light your lamp and follow me. There are more below us.”

  They explored for an hour, Martinus showing Agrippa the network of tunnels and how some of them looped back on each other. It was easy to move about as the smallest of the tunnels was wider than two men with their arms outstretched. Martinus pointed out where he had scratched marks on the walls to show where they were and the direction to the exit. Just before they turned around, Martinus grabbed Agrippa by the arm. “Be careful and stay close. I want to show you one more thing before we go back.”

  They walked up to a near perfect round opening in the floor. The edges were smooth, with no sand or pebbles. Martinus motioned Agrippa to stay on one side as he walked around to the other side, knelt down, and crawled up the edge. He held his lamp over the hole. The light revealed the floor of another tunnel about fifteen feet below.

  Back at the hut, Agrippa’s mind was racing. How many tunnels were there? Where did they lead? But more important, what was Martinus looking for? He got hold of his runaway imagination and tried to appear more mature than his years.

  “How did you find this? How much have you mapped out? Did you find anything?” asked Agrippa.

  Martinus laughed. “It’s okay. I was like you when I first found the tunnels. Sit down. Let me pour us some wine, and I will explain.”

  “I was a tutor for wealthy families in Herculaneum,” he continued, “until my wife suddenly died two years ago.”

  “I am sorry,” said Agrippa and mumbled a silent prayer to Pluto.

  “Thank you. Sabina seems to still suffer. She is just learning how cruel the gods can be, and I am a poor substitute for her mother,” he said.

  Agrippa remembered Sabina’s turn of mood at the river and regretted not having said something more sympathetic.

  “What is it?” asked Martinus, watching him.

  “It’s nothing. Ah… I remembered something I need to tell Nero,” said Agrippa.

  “Humph,” said Martinus, and he sipped his wine.

  “My patron was a compassionate man and allowed me time away from tutoring to grieve. He opened his vast library and suggested that reading the ancient masters was a way to heal the soul,” he continued.

  “Well, the old masters were interesting, but it was a misplaced scroll that started my recovery. It was in the back of the collection and described tunnels beneath the old volcano that contained minerals and gold.”

  “My patron never mentioned it and he doubtless didn’t know it existed. Like many wealthy men, he seemed more interested in the status of having a large library, acquiring things just to say they own them.”

  “Anyway, the scroll contained a map of the tunnels and notes that revealed where gold was located, but a crucial part of the papyrus had been torn away—the section showing the entrance. This is why I hire people like you and your friend to dig.”

  “Yes, but we went in the tunnels today,” said Agrippa.

  “I found that entrance a few months ago. I think it appeared when that hillside collapsed in the earthquake last year. But the notes are oriented from the original opening. We need to find it to get the gold.”

  “Couldn’t we figure out the map from inside the tunnels?”

  “That’s what I’ve been doing, but I’m not skilled in mining, and I have few resources,” said Martinus.

  Agrippa stared at Martinus. This was his chance. He was educated in engineering and loved mining; however, he hated the sandal-kissing that took place among the family patriarchs. He wanted respect for his own accomplishments. He wanted to create his own legacy.

  “What are you thinking?” asked Martinus.

  “Why are you showing me this?” said Agrippa.

  “I am a scholar and can decipher old documents and I think I can find investors,” said Martinus.

  “If you’re looking for money, then I’m not your man,” said Agrippa. He wondered if Martinus had guessed about Nero.

  “No. No. I’m not looking for money from you. Like I said, I’m a scholar. I found the tunnels, but I do not know of mining. You say you have training. Perhaps we could help each other?”

  They talked long into the evening and exchanged ideas about the tunnels. At some point, Agrippa agreed to stay and work with Martinus.

  The next morning Agrippa awoke with a headache. He remembered having agreed to work with Martinus, but now, looking at the meager surroundings of the work camp, he wondered if it had been too much wine talking for him last night. He started walking and soon found himself at the river. Sabina was there washing something.

  “Hi, Sabina,” he said, hoping he sounded cheerier than he had the previous afternoon.

  She jumped, then ran to him and threw her arms around his neck.

  “Daddy said you’re staying.”

  “Ah…”

  She stepped back, her hands gripping his shoulders. Her eyebrows lifted and her lips pouted.

  He met her wondrous green eye
s and realized that he was done thinking.

  “Yes,” he said.

  She threw her arms around him and pressed her head to his shoulder. It felt like she was squeezing the life out of him. It felt good.

  They walked back, and at some point Sabina grabbed his hand. Agrippa smiled. When they reached the hut, they saw Nero and Martinus talking. Nero looked ready to travel from the way he was cleaned up and dressed.

  “Are you crazy?” Nero yelled when he saw the two of them approaching.

  Sabina followed her father inside the hut, and Agrippa led Nero some distance away from the hut in order for them to talk in private.

  “The guy’s a nut,” said Nero. “He has no money, and he’s digging around with some old treasure map. You’re wasting our time.”

  “He’s not crazy. There’s nothing for me back in Rome,” insisted Agrippa. “You have your family and politics. You could even be emperor one day. This is my chance to make something on my own. I’m sorry our adventure is not ending like we planned.”

  “How much of this is the girl?”

  “A little.”

  “A little?”

  “Okay, a lot, but it’s not just her. I think there is gold in the tunnels,” said Agrippa.

  Nero grabbed a rock and hurled it through the trees. He told people what to do. Not the other way around. He walked a short circle before stopping again to face Agrippa.

  “Fine. This is what you want?”

  “It is, my friend. It feels right.”

  Nero stared at Agrippa a long moment, then his shoulders relaxed.

  “I wish you well, then. And you’re right about my future. My mother keeps telling me I’m to be emperor. She’d even poison someone to make it happen.”

  Nero grasped Agrippa’s shoulders. “Write me with your progress, Agrippa. If you find gold, all the better. I will send all the help you need,” he said.

  They embraced like brothers.

  3

  79 AD

  Herculaneum

  Agrippa,

  I need you to come to Rome as I require your help to train men in your special line of work. It is safe as Rome again resembles the time before Nero and few people will remember you were his closest friend. Besides, most who did were killed in the civil war.

  Emperor Vespasian has repaired the damage from the civil war and has begun construction of new buildings. I think you would be fascinated by the Flavian Amphitheater. They say it will seat 50,000 people when complete.

  We need you back in Europa. The frontier of Britannia is weak at the Caledonian border. The emperor is eager to increase the lead and gold supply. You will also have my personal centurion guard during your stay.

  Please come. I have restored your old villa, and it is available to you and Sabina.

  Yours in friendship,

  Gaius Suetonius Paulinus

  Agrippa set the letter down on the table and walked to the window overlooking the bay. It had been more than a decade since they had killed Nero. His mining business with Martinus had continued to thrive, despite the loss of Nero’s sponsorship. He and Sabina had moved from the villa near the mining operation to Herculaneum city. It’s not Rome, he thought, but nothing was.

  He took up sailing, a hobby he enjoyed after their sons moved on to lives of their own, and Sabina pursued her social endeavors. This looked to be a good day. Winter had brought more rain than usual, a boon for the water supply and farmers, but annoying for landlocked sailors. The strong spring winds honed his sailing skills in ways that made up for missing the life of an explorer. Rome wants me back, he thought.

  An arm settled around his waist. “It’s a good day,” said Sabina.

  “It is. Feel the warmth in the breeze? The winds will be challenging today,” said Agrippa.

  He turned and placed his hands on her hips. He felt a peaceful wave flow through his body. Her features had softened over the years and her dark hair was interrupted by the occasional gray strand, yet he still imagined her as she stood in the doorway of the hut the day they first met. Her green eyes remained sharp and penetrating. Maybe that was why he enjoyed sailing—the great green ocean, full of challenge.

  “Where did you go?” she asked.

  “I’m here. I was just thinking about how lovely your eyes are,” he said, trying to cover his wandering attention. This happened more frequently. His memory was fine but, he kept thinking of the past and things left undone.

  “I saw the letter from Gaius,” she said.

  His heart lurched like a boy caught with his hand in the bread basket.

  “Stop,” she said, feeling his body tense. “I’ve seen you stare out into the bay, so lost in thought you didn’t answer me. Don’t you think I know why you threw yourself into sailing? You’re restless, Agrippa. You need something to do.”

  “But—”

  “Shush,” she commanded. “Go to Rome and help Gaius. Maybe I’ll join you. The boys won’t miss us.”

  “I…”

  She laughed. “You’re like an open book, Agrippa. I’ve been reading you for twenty years. Maybe you’re skilled with your tunnel secrets, but I’m your wife. I see your brooding long before you know you have a problem.”

  “Sabina. My love.” His mouth stretched into a smile. He moved his hands up to her cheeks and tenderly kissed her. They embraced in the warm sunshine a few minutes, and then she took his hand and led him back inside.

  A week later, Agrippa left for Rome. He planned to sail to the port of Ostia and then travel by carriage to Rome. Sabina insisted on going with him to the boat in the early dawn. She gathered her robe against the cool morning mist and watched him prepare the small craft. They embraced and said their goodbyes as they had before so many of his adventures. He rounded the breakwater and turned to see her silhouette against the sunrise, one hand raised in farewell.

  Three days after Agrippa’s departure, the ground shaking awoke Martinus in the middle of the night. Somewhere in the villa a vase crashed on the tile floor. The tremors had grown worse, and he feared that Vulcan was arousing the long-dormant mountain. A sudden shock wave, followed by a tremendous roar, threw him to the floor. Crockery shattered, and the neighborhood dogs barked. He pushed himself back on to his feet and ran to the rear of the villa where he could see the mountain. An immense black column of smoke was belching from Vesuvius.

  As he tried to make sense of what was happening, another violent explosion ripped from the top of the mountain. He saw a burst of orange and black fly up and out. Large chunks arced outward from the blast, and he braced himself for the sonic wave that pounded Herculaneum less than a minute later. The volcano had not erupted in countless lifetimes, but Martinus knew what was happening, and he set out to evacuate his family. Ash and small pumice rained down on the city and was ankle deep in places, making it difficult to run. The air smelled like it was burning and the healing houses overflowed with people hit by debris.

  Martinus got Sabina and his grandsons out of their villas and down to the harbor. There was a long queue for few boats. He turned back toward the city.

  “Where are you going?” Sabina said, grabbing her father’s arm.

  “I must retrieve the box,” he said.

  “Leave it.”

  “I’ll be back before the boats arrive.”

  “Marcus, go with your grandfather,” said Sabina to her oldest son.

  Martinus grabbed a board and held it over his head as they ran toward the lava tube where the box of scrolls was stored. He lit two lamps just inside the entrance and continued into the same braided maze he had shown Agrippa a quarter century earlier. He searched for a scrap of papyrus.

  “Grandfather, let’s go back. We don’t have time,” said Marcus.

  “No, the box contains all of our research. It can’t fall into the wrong hands,” he said, writing on the papyrus. Minutes later, he placed the note in the box, closed the lid, and they ran back outside. An odd brown-orange light made everything appear dead, and they both coughe
d from breathing the ash and smoke.

  “Let’s go,” said Martinus, grasping the box. Marcus covered his grandfather’s head as best he could as they moved back into the city and toward the docks. The ash fall obscured the bay.

  The ground bucked, throwing them both down. Marcus looked toward the volcano and saw a massive wave of black racing toward them.

  “Grandfather! In here.”

  He forced entry into a stone building and slammed the door. Martinus cradled the box to his chest as he watched the wall and door blast away. He opened his mouth to scream as Marcus disappeared. Then all went black.

  4

  2013

  London, UK

  Darwin Lacroix unrolled the scroll on the table in the sunroom of his parents’ home in Pembridge Mews. He decided to stay with them in London for the summer before pursuing a PhD at the University of California Berkeley. At almost thirty years old, he knew moving back in with his parents was not optimal. But it was free rent and close to world-class research libraries at the British Museum and the Museum of London Archeology.

  Hair flopped over his eyes as he leaned over the scroll. He brushed it back and made a mental note to visit a barber. He looked every bit the graduate student with a perennial five day beard and hair that looked windblown on the calmest of days. The scroll before him was a copy from a collection assembled by his forebears.

  A couple years earlier, his grandfather Emelio had begun to talk of a family quest. The Lacroix family hailed from Corsica and had run a shipping empire across the Mediterranean since the Middle Ages. They were of Genoese ancestry and now French when the island was sold off in the mid-1700s. Darwin had thought the Lacroix quest a tall tale until Emelio sent him part of a Roman scroll. Sunlight sliced through the London drizzle as he recalled that conversation.

  “Where did this come from?” asked Darwin.

  “Your great-great-grandfather Pasquale found it in the late 1860s. Back then the family’s shipping fleet ran between all the cities in southern France, North Africa, Italy, and Corsica. He was quite a character,” said Emelio. “Anyway, explorers had discovered Herculaneum under the rubble of Vesuvius about a hundred years earlier. It roused every wannabe treasure hunter in the Mediterranean.”