“This is where the Via Spagnola tunnel ends and joins with the network around the theater,” he interrupted. “It should be a little brighter because of the electric lights though it's still pretty dim. I'll keep the flashlight on. These tunnels meander around but it's the only way to view the theater since it's still buried.”
“Why haven't they worked harder at excavating it?”
“Money. Difficulty. Interest. They've been doing better lately. Though it's an uphill battle since parts of it are buried beneath more than ninety feet of volcanic rock. It's a shame because this theater is a jewel. It sat between two thousand five hundred and three thousand people and it had all the bells and whistles. Bronze drums for making thunder, cranes for flying the gods across the stage, seat cushions, trays of sweets and nuts, saffron water to spray the patrons. Amazing.”
“And exciting. It must have seemed magical to them.”
“Good theater still seems magical to us.”
“And you found out all of this from that newspaper reporter?”
“No, I did a little research. You said you wanted information. I didn't dare disobey.”
“Bull. You were interested yourself.”
“Busted.”
“It's surprising that the theater wasn't destroyed by the lava flow.”
“It's one of the freaky things that happened that day. The flow picked up enough mud to encase and protect it. It might have been excavated intact except for the greed of the people who came after it. At one point King Ferdinand was melting down priceless bronze fragments to make candlesticks.”
“I thought you had no respect for the preservation of antiquities.”
“I respect the artifacts themselves. And I don't like stupidity or destruction.”
“Could Cira have been here at the theater when the volcano blew?”
“Yes, it's believed the cast was rehearsing for an afternoon performance.”
“What play?”
“No one knows. Maybe as the excavations progress, we'll find out.”
“And they might find Cira buried here.”
“You mean, fact following fiction? It's possible. Who knows? The archaeologists are discovering new things all the time.”
“New things from a dead world. But somehow it doesn't seem dead, does it? I was thinking while we were driving here from the Naples airport that if you closed your eyes, you might be able to imagine what life was like before the eruption. I wonder what it was like for them that day. . . .”
“I was wondering, too. Shall I tell you?”
“Your research again?”
“It started out that way but it's hard to keep a clinical attitude when you're this close to the source.” His soft voice came out of the darkness. “It was a normal day, the sun was shining. There had been earth tremors but nothing to worry about. Vesuvius was always rumbling. The wells in the country had dried up but it was August. Again, not unexpected.
“It was a hot day but it was cooler here in Herculaneum because the city was on a promontory over the sea. It was the birthday of an emperor, a holiday, and people were in town to see the sights and celebrate. The forum was crowded with hawkers, acrobats, jugglers. Ladies were carried on litters by slaves. The public baths were open and men were undressing and preparing to be bathed by attendants. There were athletic events at the palaestra and the victors were about to receive their olive wreath crowns. They were only boys, naked and suntanned and proud of their feats. Mosaicists were cutting their polished stones and glass, bakers were making their breads and tarts, and Cira's friends and fellow actors, maybe Cira herself, were rehearsing their play at the finest theater in the Roman world.” He paused. “I can tell you more. Do you want to hear it?”
“No.” Her throat felt tight and she could almost see and taste the bittersweetness of that morning. “Not now.”
“You said you wanted the flavor of her time.”
“You certainly gave it to me,” she said unevenly. “It seems impossible that it all disappeared in the blink of an eye.”
“No, not impossible. We manage to destroy pretty efficiently without the help of nature. Look at Hiroshima. And it was more like a bellow than the blink of an eye. Reports said that great bull-like bellows seemed to come from the earth itself. Acrid sulphuric smoke was everywhere and a mushroom cloud shot up from the mountain.”
“And everyone dropped everything that made their lives worth living and ran.”
“Those who could do it. There wasn't much time.”
She was suddenly having trouble breathing. “I want out of here. How close are we to the tunnel where this anteroom is supposed to be located?”
“Just ahead.” He shone the flashlight on her face. “You don't look too well. Do you want to go back?”
“No, let's go. Show me. That's why we're here.”
“No, it's not. We're here because you had to see this theater. It's been bugging you.”
“It's natural that I'd want to see this place when the woman who looks like me—”
“You don't have to make excuses to me. You wanted to be here. I brought you. Now you want to go home. I'll take you home. But you haven't really seen the main excavation. I can get you closer to the stage by accessing the next tunnel.”
She shook her head. “I'm ready to go back after I see where you and Sontag have put the coffin.”
He shook his head. “Stubborn.” He shone the beam on the ground and took her hand. “Come on. We'll take a quick peek and get you out of here. There's nothing much to see. We've walled off the entrance to the robbers' tunnel so that no one stumbles into it before we're ready.” He led her forward. “I'm not sure your hot, smoky dream tunnel isn't preferable to this one. It's oozing slime and filth.”
“But you know where you're going. You're not lost and continually going down blind alleys.”
“No, I know where I'm going. You're safe with me.”
She felt safe, she realized suddenly. His voice was as sure as his grasp around her hand, and the darkness was no longer suffocating but . . . intimate. She felt strange. She wanted to pull away. No, she wanted to move closer. She did neither. She let him lead her into the darkness.
Do what she'd set out to do. See the tunnel where Trevor had set up his big con, check out the vomitorium, and then get back to the villa on Via Spagnola.
Are you sure you still want to visit the vomitorium?” Trevor asked as he moved ahead of her through the tunnel toward the villa. “I think you've had enough for one night.”
“Stop treating me like I'm some kind of invalid. Of course I want to go. It's not as if being down here has been particularly traumatic. You were right, we couldn't get that close to the anteroom tunnel.”
“And there's nothing major to see in the vomitorium. So let's skip it for now.”
“No, I have to know what's waiting for me.” Lord, she was tired of this overpowering darkness. What a horror it must have been for the thieves who had dug their way into the bowels of the earth, not knowing what they were going to find around the next bend. “You said some of these tunnels collapsed over the years. Did it happen here?”
“I ran into a couple dead ends while I was exploring. Don't worry, the walls seem pretty sturdy around the vomitorium. I wouldn't let you down here if they weren't safe.” He stopped. “We turn here. If you're sure you want to go.”
She didn't want to go. She wanted to run straight back to the villa and go to bed. She wanted out into the light, dammit. She felt as if she'd been buried alive.
As Cira had been buried alive by those falling rocks?
“Jane?”
“I'm going.” She moved past him down the turnoff for the tunnel. “You said it's not that far off the main tunnel. It shouldn't take long. Right?”
He moved ahead of her. “It depends on what you consider long. I have an idea time's moving a little slow for
