As the drops of rain became heavier, Felix quickened his pace, pulling his slaves tunic tight around his shoulders. He had been enjoying his new servant position in Pompeii with his master’s son, Marcus. The lavish villa lifestyle was certainly something to be envied.
The villa came into view, it’s tall stone exterior and sturdy columned porch advertised a comforting escape from the weather. Before entering the house, Felix went into the shop to the right of the villa doorway, flashing a quick smile and waving at the sculptor, Caius, who rented the shop space from his master. Caius beckoned Felix further inside and handed the young slave a small carved votive, telling him that Marcus had inquired after one earlier that morning. Though he wished to stay and talk further, Felix knew that his service would be needed in the household, so he quickly said farewell and left the workshop.
The rain had worsened in the short time Felix had spent inside the shop, and he rushed to the villa threshold to avoid the stinging bite of the raindrops. As he entered the atrium, the votive dropped from his hands and clattered to the floor, snapping into stony shards, the clang of it mingling with the gasp that escaped his lips. On the floor of the atrium lay Marcus, slain. The pool at the center of the room was clouded with his blood, the raindrops that fell through the opening in the ceiling created thick ripples in the sullied drinking water.
In desperation Felix turned to the Jupiter shrine that stood in the corner of the atrium, pleading the god for help. The stoic statue gave no reply, but it’s carved outstretched hand seemed to point to the faint pattern of bloodied footprints that led in a dotted trail from Marcus’ body.
As Felix followed the evidence, he couldn’t help but remember Marcus’ face. This young man who had triumphantly survived Caesar’s wars, who had ran in the Lupercalia, now lay on the floor—lifeless at the hands of some coward.
The footprints led into the villa garden, but the rain had already claimed any further evidence that may have been left in the dirt outside. Felix looked about anxiously, his eye suddenly catching the glint of something lying in the mud before him. Bending down, he reached out to grab it and held it up to examine. A bloodied knife.
The foliage beside him suddenly rustled and Marcus’ wife, Julia, stepped out from within them, barefoot. “You there, slave!” She pointed, “What have you done? You have killed my beloved husband!”
