Chapter 16I stood on the porch of my villa, uneasily watching the gray cloud rise up from Vulcan’s Mount. After long centuries of lying dormant, it had begun spewing smoke and ash in the past few years. Our people were becoming more and more frightened. Ægidius, the high priest, did nothing but demand more sacrifices. And Fabius Crispus Sartorius, our vaunted leader—he sat in his tablinum and downed goblet after goblet of the blood-red wine from vines our ancestors had brought with them from Rome.
“Pardon, my lord.” My freedman hovered in the doorway.
“Yes, Alfio?”
“A message has arrived from your father.”
“Thank you.” I held out my hand, and he placed the scroll in it. He continued to hover, knowing there was a possibility a response was required. I broke the seal and glanced over the
