Preparations

Preparations
Marcus

I wake before dawn, Felix already at my bedside, nudging my hand with his nose. He whines softly, his tail thumping against the wall, insistent on his breakfast. “Good morning, Felix,” I murmur, scratching behind his ears. He nudges me again, impatient, and I laugh. 

I rise from bed and dress quickly in a simple linen tunica, securing it at the waist with a belt. The warm smell of bread and honey drifts through the domus as I step into the dining room, Felix following at my heels. 

Aurelia is arranging the breakfast tray on the table. “Good morning, Dominus Marcus,” she says with a bow. “Your breakfast is ready.”

“Thank you, Aurelia,” I reply. 

I sit down at the table as Aurelia sets a small bowl of scraps on the floor for Felix. He sniffs it and digs in.

She bows once again and returns to the kitchen. The soft sounds of other servants moving through the domus reach me–the scrape of brooms, quiet footsteps, faint murmurs as they go about their morning tasks. I finish the last of my bread and figs, glancing out at the sunrise. Work is waiting. I stand, ready to meet it.

“Come on, Felix. You can go with me today. Let’s not keep Quintus waiting.” I reach down and pat him on the head. The dog follows me to the door. Before we leave, I pick up his ball, tuck it into my pocket, and we set off toward the forum. 

We step outside as the streets of Pompeii are waking. Merchants prepare their stalls, and the delicious smells of freshly baked goods drift from nearby bakeries. My dog and I walk through our neighborhood, and I greet friends and acquaintances as we pass. 

By the time I arrive at the forum, the square is already alive with activity. Quintus waits near the central platform, a rolled scroll tucked under his arm.

“Good morning, Marcus,” he greets me. “All the stalls are still set the way we had them yesterday. Nothing was touched overnight.” 

“Good morning, Quintus,” I reply. “That’s great news. We can pick up right where we left off.” 

He squats down to look Felix in the eye, petting his head. “Are you going to help us today, good boy?” he asks the dog. 

“Hopefully, he helps more than he hurts,” I mutter with a smirk. 

We begin our inspection, moving from the market stalls to the offerings tables. I pause at the altars, studying the flower garlands draped along the pillars. “If the sun hits these flowers too early, they could wilt before the ceremony begins,” I say. 

Quintus nods, jotting notes on his scroll and carefully adjusting the placement of the decorations to keep them safe from the morning heat.

“We need to go over the schedule of events once more.” I scan the list on my scroll. “Make sure each procession, offering, and performance is timed correctly so nothing overlaps. Otherwise, everything seems ready for the Vinalia Rustica.”

Quintus nods. “The townspeople are excited. You can feel it in the air.”

I pause, looking over the forum, the bustle, the neatly aligned stalls, and the ceremonial spaces prepared to honor Jupiter and Venus filling me with pride. The coordination, the smooth execution, the anticipation of the festival, is the kind of order I value most.

“It’s all falling into place,” I tell Quintus. “We’ve done well.”

He smiles, folding the scroll under his arm. “It will go well, Marcus. Thanks to your planning.”

“I couldn’t do any of it without your help.” We walk along the forum streets, Felix following closely, and settle at a table near the edge of the forum, unrolling Quintus’s scroll between us. I lean over it, tracing the order of events with my finger as I speak. “Jugglers, dancers, musicians, and games after that.” 

Quintus taps his stylus against the scroll. “Should we move the games to begin before the performers? That might give the crowd time to spread out.”

I nod. “That could work. The games will build the excitement leading into the performances.”

He taps his chin thoughtfully. “Right. That makes sense.” 

We continue through the performances, talking over timing and order, making sure nothing will overlap or cause confusion. I’m fully absorbed in coordinating the day while Felix curls up at my feet, lifting his head now and then to glance up at me as if checking if I’m still paying attention to him.

“All right, all right. I see you,” I murmur, giving him a quick scratch behind the ear before returning to the schedule.

I hear a commotion from the far side of the forum. I look over and see two merchants arguing over a stall. They’re pointing at the tables and shouting, their voices growing louder and angrier with each moment. Quintus and I both rise from the table. Felix lifts his head, ears up, body low and tense, watching the men.

We step closer, keeping our eyes on the merchants making trouble. Both of the men lean forward, their chests pressing toward each other, hands stabbing through the air as they argue. Their words are sharp, cutting through the morning bustle. I can see their anger in their stiff shoulders, tight jaws, and fingers jabbing at each other.

“Enough!” I call, stepping forward. My hand hovers near my belt, brushing the hilt of my sword, a warning in my posture. Both men freeze, blinking at me, their anger colliding with my authority. Quintus moves up beside me in case anything happens and he needs to back me up. 

I glance at the space between the stalls, studying the men, ready to act again if they make a sudden move. “You two will not argue over this space. There’s no need,” I say firmly. “Shift your stalls back a step. You each get your corner, and no one loses space. Agreed?”

The merchants glare, breathing heavily, but the message seems to reach them. One grumbles, nodding his head and backing off. The other follows. I keep my gaze fixed on them, making sure they understand I mean every word I speak.

Quintus immediately notes the adjustment on the scroll, recording the change in placement exactly as it happens. Felix stays at my feet, the fur on the back of his neck standing on end. 

I watch for any signs of renewed argument, but the two men seem to settle down—for now. We step away and walk back through the forum, talking about the preparations once more before realizing it’s nearly time for the midday meal.

“Look at that. The sun is already high enough that my stomach should be growling any minute,” Quintus says with a chuckle. “Would you like to come to my house for lunch? Felix is welcome, too.”

“Thank you, Quintus. That’s very generous. I’d be glad to, and I know Felix would. He’s always ready for lunch.” We head down the street toward Quintus’s place. 

When we reach the small house, I follow my friend inside, the warm air and the scent of roasted lamb greeting us. Cornelia stands by the hearth, wiping her hands on her apron.

“Marcus! Welcome,” she says, smiling. “I hope you haven’t had too busy a morning.” She then turns to Quintus, placing a kiss on his cheek before pulling him into a warm embrace. 

“Not at all,” I reply. “The forum is nearly ready for the festival, but I’m glad to take a break.” I glance down at my dog. “And Felix seems very glad to be here as well.”

Julia, only four, runs in from the backyard, squealing as soon as she spots him. ‘Felix! Felix is here!’"

Her two-year-old brother, Gaius, is right behind her, his eyes wide with wonder. “Marcus, can we ride him?”

I can’t help but laugh. “He’s a dog, not a pony. But you can toss his ball for him.” I reach into my pocket and pull out Felix’s ball. “Here. Throw it, and he’ll go and get it for you.” I hand it to Gaius. 

He grabs it eagerly, eyes shining, and tosses the ball across the room. Felix chases after it, picks it up, and trots back to Gaius, dropping the ball at his feet. The children shriek with excitement, petting Felix and showering him with praise.

“Be gentle,” Cornelia says with a smile. “He’s big, but he’s not a toy.”

“I know!” Julia giggles, hugging Felix’s neck. “You’re so soft, Felix!”

The dog nudges Gaius gently with his nose, which makes the boy laugh. Julia squeals again, tossing the ball across the floor once more, and the dog brings it back to them immediately.

I laugh and follow Cornelia into the dining room, where Quintus pours wine into small cups for us and sets bread and olives on the table. “I hope you’re hungry,” he says, gesturing to the food.

“I’m starving,” I admit, sliding into a chair. “It smells wonderful, Cornelia.”

The children continue to play with Felix in the other room, occasionally racing through the dining room and past the table, giggling. I keep a watchful eye on them, though I can’t suppress a smile as the dog patiently indulges every hug and rough pet to the neck.

“Felix is perfect with them,” Cornelia says, standing by the hearth. “I’m glad he’s so gentle with the children.”

“He’s a good boy,” I agree. “And he’s very loyal.”

Julia tugs at my sleeve. “Marcus, can he stay with us forever?”

I chuckle. “For now, he lives with me, but I think he enjoys visiting your house.”

The children erupt in laughter again as Felix brings back the ball for another round. Quintus and Cornelia exchange amused glances, clearly used to this kind of chaos by now, while I settle in to enjoy the meal and the rare moment of calm before the festival planning resumes.

As I sit at their table, watching my friend and his wife, I can't help but think how different their life together is from mine. They’ve built a beautiful family, have a warm home, and have created stability. I’ve always had my work, my plans, and Felix by my side, but there’s something about the way they move through life with the ease of shared love and understanding that makes me wonder if I might one day have that kind of romance myself. I want a wife to share my days with and children to raise and watch grow. Perhaps someday I’ll find that, too.