Pliniad: Ibant

On a wooden table with a stool a figure hunched over the documents. Piles of Wax Tablets surrounded him, stacked in piles too intricate to be left to chance, but too detailed to be easily understood. The hunched over man was rocking himself softly back and forth, he was asleep. The man had, after a somber luncheon and cold bath demanded by his profession and custom, returned to his work. He was a man whose health has failed him not through vice, but from the lack of vigor that old age and academic work brings. Once these naps were occasional and short, but as the man grew older and frail they seemed to increase.

A blast shook the house. The old man fell into his table. Bottles of ink spilled and wax tablets scattered across the floor. The man shook himself awake, saving what few documents he could from the growing flash flood of black ink.

A Chorus of screams broke the silence.

"Ehu" spoke his family,

"Oimoi" shouted the slaves.

When heard the crash and felt the ground shake beneath him. He rose, ignoring the pops and cracks from his body's feeble attempts to resist his will.

"Plinia, Plinius, what is happening?"

A cacophany of broken ceramics, screams, and prayers to the pantheon could be heard in the halls outside.

"Demetrius, to me, the hall."

Pliny Barked. Pliny absent mindedly grabbed a blank tablet from the pile of blank tablets and sliding his stylus inside hobbled out to see the commotion. "Brother, the mountain." Came the response from his sister as he raced to her. Plinia, his sister and mother to his adopted son, bored all the trappings of a noble stoic matron. She allowed her age and her stoic persona to grace the house, and in this moment she was grasping this duty with what willpower the shock left her.

His nephew, Pliny, now a full man, but only just, remained by his mother's side and spoke.

"You missed the shot of Fire outside, a surge of flame shot up from a cloud of dust, from the summit of Vesuvius."

The Younger Pliny looks to his mother, and seeing she is well composed leaves her side and walks towards his uncle.

"The Fire is gone, but the smoke remains. Have you seen or heard of such a formation before?"`

With a gentle nudge on The Elder Pliny's shoulder, and a point out the window of their villa. They looked out to the normally scenic sight of the Mountain, the harbor, and the Cities at its feet.

"There are Islands like Sicily to the south where the mountains emit bright flames. They say those hills are sacred to Vulcan and emit a bright fire."

Pliny rattled off what memories he compiled now many years, and several topics ago. He turned to see if a sense of normalcy offered his nephew and sister any comfort. It did not. He changed his voice.

"But I have never seen anything like this, and they do not describe this fir tree of smoke like here."

From the porch of the villa the mountain sprouted a trunk of smoke with pufts emerging from the columns. Below at the foot a smaller less impressive ring of smoke formed from the burning cities and villages below.

“Dominus, a messenger from Rectina, it is urgent." Says the Nuncio.

Pliny's academic curiosity washes away from his face for a moment.

"Rectinae..."

He looks out to the mountain of smoke and in the distance sees the great city of Pompeii. "Commander Marcus"

Pliny barked, the Roman officer came forward with his four attendents. Pliny was a Natural Historian by profession, but his role at Misineum was first and foremost a naval officer. The Officer salutes and nods, Pliny doesn't waste time responding back. His face demanded silence and he received it.

"I have orders for each and all of you.”

All 5 stood at attention. Pliny looked at the older one in the center, bearing the helm of a ranking official.

“Commander, I want you to make preparations for the fleet to disembark."

The man saluted and walked with haste, Pliny gestured the other four attendants to follow him into his room.

Pliny went to his room and with a few quick snaps, Demetrius, a portly old slave with a gleaming bald head and chin begging to be hid by a beard came to assist him in putting on his armor.

"But sir, her message." The Nuncio pleaded.

"I know what your message says. You may read it to me once I have made preparations for it." Pliny snapped at the Nuncio. The soldiers looked at him and the messenger backed down.

Pliny continued as the Slaves took down his toga and assembled his armor. Helping with his aging arms, they placed his Mail over his chest. Then began placing his Breastplate over his chest and began tying the straps. Pliny pointed to the stout officer with graying black hair.

"Lucius you are to inspect the reserve fleets, if they can be cast off within the next 2 hours see that they join the main force, if not I am handing you my authorization…"

Pliny begins scribbling notes in his tabula

"to commandeer 10 Merchant vessels of similar capacity."

He passes the Tabula to the officer, who salutes and leaves. He snaps his fingers, another wax tablet is brought to him. He looks at the younger officer with Dark Black hair and a beard, a growing fashion of the day.

"Marcellus, order the Flagmaster to signal the fleets. All in range are to converge onto Pompeii. They are to assist and aid any refugee craft."

The Young Officer saluted and left. The slaves fitted his sword and his helmet on, Pliny opened the second tabula and began writing, The Two final soldiers, burlier men who seemed accustomed to shouting in loud spaces.

"Titus and Valens, go to the barracks and assemble a rescue party, their orders are to disembark with me for Pompeii, but to travel with the minimal equipment needed for peacekeeping, tell them I want every available square foot reserved for survivors."

The two officers similarly saluted and left.

There was a moment of silence in the room.

The elderly woman Plinia grasped her son's arm, who looked back to her. Demitrius looked to a stone amulet inscribed with an egyptian child on his neck, preparing himself for what was to come. The nuncio looked only at The Elder Pliny, who wordlessly went to a large shelf opposite his desk and opened his satchel. The Young er pliny placed his hand on his mother’s shoulder and then walked towards his uncle.

The Elder Commander gathers the rest of his necessities in his satchel, tabulas, Papyrus Scrolls, some coins, he then went to his shelf of Plants and grabbing a few cloths to wrap them in, gathered some Lavender spines, a jar of sap boiled from comfrey root, and several large dried ‘broadleaf plantain’ leaves. Pliny didn't need to be a naturalist to know that there was likely to be burn wounds, but he did know how to treat it.

"Father, will you allow me to join you?"

His nephew, Pliny spoke with a waver in his voice. His nephew and adopted son tried to match the Elder Pliny's composure and sense of duty. The mountain behind them roared behind them drowning out the sea and the waves that otherwise filled the house with gentle sound.

The Elder walked to The Younger Pliny, who stood in defiance of his own body begging him to tremble. The Younger Pliny knew what his role demanded him to say, and so without hesitation he said it.

"You may,"

Said The Elder Pliny, Plinia turned away for a moment, to allow her Romanitas to win the fight against her motherhood. The Shadow of the smoke darkened the sky as though a storm was coming. The Wind could not be heard.

"But if you do so, you neglect your duties to your mother and this house."

The Younger Pliny straightened himself, nodded, and with his right arm clasped his Uncle's. "Then I will fulfill my obligations to House Plinii, and take my leave."

He walked slowly to his sister, blinking rapidly so as to prevent the tears from forming.

"Your son has the house in my absence, for now I want you to use the sea-onion and garlic mixture I gave you for your heart. When you have recovered, see to it that all things are in order for my return."

She nods, and she kisses him solemnly on the cheek. Before being led away by the younger Pliny.

"Now, Messenger, what was your message?"

Pliny now prepared to lead the fleet. The Nuncio bowed.

"Rectina is trapped in Pompeii, and requests your aid immediately."

Pliny smiled for a brief moment.