Fortuna

Fortuna
Fiona

I follow Flavia, Sabina, and Tullia through the market on my second morning in Pompeii, staying close as they move between the stalls, their voices overlapping as they talk to one another. Yesterday felt just as disorienting. We spent the morning here in the market, passed the afternoon in the small apartment while we did chores and talked, and then I spent an uneasy stretch of hours alone after they left for their evening work, not knowing what to do with myself or how to exist in a place where I don’t belong.

“Let’s get some figs first,” Flavia says as she slows at a stall. 

“You say that every morning,” Sabina replies, glancing at the selection. 

“Well, everyone knows figs are the best fruit,” Flavia explains. We approach a stall, and she asks, “How much for these?”

He weighs the figs. “Three dupondii.”

Flavia doesn’t hesitate. “Two.”

He shakes his head once. “Three.”

Flavia exhales and then gives a small nod. “Fine. Three.”

The vendor scoops a portion of figs into a small container and hands it over to her, accepting the coins in return.

“We’ll need bread as well,” Tullia says as we rejoin the flow of the crowd.

Sabina nods. “Yes. Let’s go to the bakery before the better loaves are gone.”

Tullia leads us, and we move away from the stalls toward a nearby shopfront where the scent of fresh bread drifts into the air. Inside, the bakery is warm, and the counter is lined with loaves of different colors, shapes, and sizes.

Tullia steps up to the counter. “I’d like a round loaf of bread, please.”

The man behind the counter selects one for her and sets it down. “This one is fresh from this morning.”

Tullia digs a coin out of her pouch. “It looks perfect. Thank you.”

She hands him the money, and he gives her the bread. She puts it in her basket, and we turn back toward the street and the stalls beyond.

Once we’re back outside in the forum, Flavia adjusts her grip on her basket and looks over at me. “Come on, Fiona. We’re only just getting started.”

Tullia glances down as we walk. “I need new sandals. The straps on these are giving out.”

Flavia nods. “We’ll go to the sandal stalls next.”

Sabina adds, “There’s one along the outer row. This way.”

We head toward the edge of the market, where the stalls thin and rows of sandals are laid out for sale.

I follow them, but the same thought keeps invading my mind. I shouldn’t be here, not in this era, not before the volcano has even erupted. The question sits there with everything else I don’t know how to handle yet—what is the year, and how do I ask without raising questions I can’t afford?

The question leads into the next one before I can stop my anxiety from running away. Even if I figure out what year it is, that doesn’t fix anything. I don’t have any money. I’m staying with ladies of the night, and they’ll expect me to start doing the same work they do or come up with some other way to pay my share. People here don’t just exist without work, without connections, or without some kind of role.

I don’t have anyone or anything that belongs to me in this time. 

I keep my expression pleasantly neutral as I walk, but my thoughts won’t stay still. How do I explain who I am without sounding like a lunatic? Without raising suspicion? 

The part I keep trying to push away won’t stay quiet. I’m stuck here with no clear way back, no map for how to undo this or reverse whatever brought me here. Nothing I’ve studied tells me how to return, and nothing around me offers an answer. All I have is the fact that I’m here now, and the growing certainty that if there is a way home, I’m going to have to find it myself—without knowing where to start.

The thought doesn’t disappear, but it recedes just enough for me to notice we’ve reached the next stall. Tullia steps forward, already addressing the vendor as she lifts a pair of sandals. They’re soft pale leather with thin straps decorated with small gold beads and tiny colored stones that shimmer as she turns them, the ornaments glinting along the lines that cross over the foot and curve up around the ankle.

“How much for these?” she asks. 

The man answers quickly, naming a price, and she doesn’t hesitate before responding.

“That’s too high,” she purrs, leaning in. I can’t tell if she’s pouting or being seductive, but either way, it seems to be working. The sandals are gorgeous, so I can’t say I blame her.

The vendor offers a lower amount, and Tullia nods, selects a few coins from her pouch and says, “That will do.”

Sabina leans toward me and whispers, “I would’ve paid the first price. Those are beautiful.”

I laugh under my breath at her bluntness. “Yes, they definitely are.”

Tullia slips on her new sandals. “Fiona, could you please carry these? I don’t want to get the bread dusty.”

“I’d be happy to,” I say. 

She tosses her old ones in my empty basket.

Flavia shifts her basket on her shoulder, looking toward the next stall. “Come on,” she says. “We’re not finished yet.”

We start walking again, Sabina still close beside me. “Cassius said he’d return tonight,” she says, rolling her eyes. 

“I think he might have eyes for you,” Tullia replies, looking back at her. 

“And Cassius is a wealthy man,” Flavia adds. 

“Most of them are, or they wouldn’t be able to afford us,” Sabina says, tossing her hair over her shoulder. 

“Too true.” Tullia laughs.

I keep my eyes forward as I listen, saying nothing, but the longer the morning goes on, the more aware I become of how little I’ve contributed to any of the conversation. They’ve been talking easily between themselves, and I’ve done nothing but follow along in near silence, which has to seem strange by now. I should say something—anything—but what could I possibly be contributing to this conversation? And worse—when are they going to ask me about myself and what I’ve been doing with my life? What will I say if they do? How long will they believe that I just don’t remember anything?

I woke up this morning in their room, expecting something else entirely—either a hospital bed in my own time or the bottom of the pit I fell into—anything that would explain this as a mistake that hadn’t really happened. I expected the illusion to break the moment I opened my eyes. Instead, the room remained unchanged, with the others already awake, the day already moving forward without me.

Now, as we continue through the market, I glance briefly upward toward the distant outline of Mt. Vesuvius rising above the city, still and quiet against the sky—for now. 

I don’t know how soon the eruption will come, and as I look at my new friends, I can’t help but hope it’s still far off. I follow them, staying close, trying to keep up, while the reality that I’m stuck here sinks in deeper with every step.

After we’ve stopped for fresh herbs, grapes, and a new bottle of wine, Flavia slows after the last row of stalls. “That’s enough,” she says. “We’ve got what we need, don’t we?”

Sabina exhales. “I think we have more than enough, and it’s getting too crowded.”

Tullia glances over at me as we turn away. “Fiona, do you need anything before we go?”

The question catches me off guard. I shake my head quickly. “No, I’m all right, thank you.”

Flavia studies me for a second and then nods. “If you think of something later, we’ll come back tomorrow.”

I nod, and we leave the market behind, the streets narrowing as we walk. Their conversation drifts back to tonight—who might come by, who’s worth the time, as well as who isn’t. Dread gnaws at my gut. They left me behind last night, but that doesn’t mean they will again.

At some point, they’re going to expect me to go with them, to do what they do, and I have no idea how to face that. I don’t know how to refuse without making myself a burden they won’t want to keep.

When we reach their room, Flavia pushes the door open, and we step inside, everyone setting their baskets down. I take in each of these stunning creatures, these beautiful, generous women, and feel even worse about what I’m about to do. I have to lie to them again.

Flavia glances toward the water jugs. “We need to get water for dinner. Who wants to come with me?”

“I’ll go,” I say, hoping to keep busy and helpful.

Sabina raises an eyebrow. “You sure? It’s a long walk to the well.”

“I’d love to help,” I insist. 

Tullia laughs. “It won’t kill you. Besides, the water tastes better when you bring it yourself.”

Flavia hands me a jug, and I follow her out into the street. The fountain is small, just a stone basin set into the wall, with water running from a short spout. Flavia fills her jug first. When it’s full, I lift mine and fill it the same way. Once we both have full jugs, we start back toward their room, carrying them carefully.

When we return, we set our heavy water jugs down, and I see that Sabina has already laid out the figs, the bread, and some cheese she sliced. “This should be enough for breakfast,” she says, sliding a knife back into its sheath.

Flavia moves near the fire. “I’ll make some posca.” She lifts a small clay pot and sets it over the flame. I watch, unsure what to do, and simply follow the others as they pick up pieces of bread and figs and sit down around the table.

The cheese is salty, the figs sweet, and the faint warmth from Flavia’s pot, which is some sort of herbs mixed with vinegar that I’ve heard of but never tasted, drifts toward me. We eat quietly for a few minutes, the room filled with the occasional remark about the food, and I try to focus on the taste, but my blood pressure rises as the thought of tonight caves in on me. 

Finally, I can’t hold back. “What… what is today’s date?” 

“August sixteenth,” Flavia says. 

“That’s right.” I nod. “And… the year?”

She looks at me like I’ve lost my mind but says, “Seventy-nine–of course.”

“Of course.” I do the quick math in my head and drop the fig I’m holding on the floor. The city has no more than eight days left.

“Fiona, you’re even paler than usual,” Sabina says, her eyes filled with concern. “Are you all right?”

The words tumble out before I can stop them. “I need to tell you who I am and where I’m from now. I didn’t forget before—it simply wasn’t the right moment to share with you. I’m not from this time. I came from the faraway future. I know things I shouldn’t. I know things that haven’t happened yet.”

Tullia stops chewing and leans toward me. “What are you saying, Fiona?”

“I—I was moved through time,” I reply. “By Fortuna, the goddess of chance. She placed me outside of my proper hour.” 

I use Fortuna’s name because she is the one symbol or deity I know they might believe, my one shot at being seen as touched by fate.

The three of them exchange glances, and I hold my breath.

Finally, Flavia nods. “I told you she was a guardian spirit. I said that right when we first saw her.”

Sabina stares at me, her eyes filled with awe and curiosity. Then she looks back at Flavia, who is nonchalantly pouring the drinks as if I’ve just told them I’ve come from Rome rather than the future. “You did say that, Flavia. I’ll give you that,” Sabina says. She turns back to me. “Will you tell us of your era?”

“Now, wait a damn minute,” Tullia says, setting her breakfast down and standing to step closer, examining me. She crouches to bring her face level with mine, her gaze fixed and unblinking. “How do we know you’re telling the truth?”

I swallow hard and take a deep breath. “There’s no way you could possibly know for certain whether anyone is telling the truth about anything,” I say. “But I can promise you this—in just over a week, your city will be destroyed. And if I am still here, I will make sure your lives are spared.”

Tullia straightens slowly, studying me for a moment, then she nods. “You are right,” she says, her tone softer now. “One can never fully know whether someone speaks honestly or not.”

“Well, I believe you, Fiona,” Sabina says. 

“As do I,” Flavia adds. “What reason would she have to lie to us, Tullia? She can’t be a criminal. We have nothing to steal.”

“Oh, all right,” Tullia says. “You won’t hear me call you a liar, Fiona.” 

Relief crashes through me, but it’s fragile. “Thank you,” I say. 

Sabina looks worried now. “Then tell us—what did you mean? You said our city will be destroyed. By which of the gods?”

Tullia looks me in the eye. “Yes. If you expect us to believe you, you will explain.”

I hesitate, but then force the words out. “There’s a mountain… just outside the city.”

“All of Italia has mountains,” Tullia snaps. “What about it?”

“It’s not just a mountain,” I say. “It’s a volcano, and it’s going to erupt.”

Sabina looks confused. “Erupt?”

“It will explode,” I say. “There will be fire, ash, smoke—everything will be thrown into the sky. The ash will fall back down over the city and bury everyone and everything.”

Flavia’s face turns pale. “Everyone?”

“Yes. The ground will shake. The sky will turn black. You won’t be able to breathe.”

“That’s—” Sabina shakes her head, backing up a step. “That’s not real. That can’t be real.”

Tullia stares at me, her confidence slipping. “What is this mountain called?”

“Vesuvius.”

Flavia grips Sabina’s arm. “If this is true—if even part of it is true—”

“The gods would warn us,” Sabina says quickly. 

“Maybe they are,” Flavia whispers.

“Then we’re going to the temple. First thing in the morning,” Tullia says. 

Sabina nods. “Yes. The priest of Venus will know what to do.”

“You will come with us. You will tell him everything,” Tullia adds. 

“I will,” I say.

I feel terrible for lying to them about Fortuna. They seem like such amazing women, but I want to be able to protect them—and myself—when the time comes.

The morning had started with the fear that I might have to sell myself just to make it through the night. But now, as I sit here, that seems laughable. What does it matter? In just over a week, the city will be nothing but ash and rubble. I’m not going to survive this. None of us is. And here I am, caught in a time I don’t belong in, with no way out, and no clue how to stop the volcano that’s about to end Pompeii.