Pompeii | The Beekeeper and the Prima – Episode 2

Digital illustration of Pompeii for melissocosmos

You can also read the first episode titled "Explosive Love in Pompeii | The Beekeeper and the Prima" here.

Episode 2 — September 78 AD

The Grape Harvest, the Betrothal, and Omens No One Understood

The Start of the Harvest on the Estates

The time for the grape harvest had come. From early morning, people moved up and down between the rows of vines. The grapes had grown heavy, and the clusters hung ripe, bursting with juice. Baskets were being filled. Hands were stained with must. People shouted to one another to keep up with the work. Loaded carts stood waiting. During those days, the entire land around Pompeii seemed to be working hand in hand with the people.

Tasting the Fruit and Rome

Marcus Holconius Saturninus was at the estate from early on. He was not a man who easily trusted luck, especially when that luck bore the color of his wine. He took a cluster from a worker's hands, plucked a grape with his fingers, and tasted it. He chewed slowly. He looked at Titus Claudius Atticus.
"How does it taste to you?"
Atticus did not answer immediately. He took a grape himself. He tasted it.
"It will yield good wine."
Saturninus smiled.
"I want something more than just good."
"I know."
"Rome knows it too."
Atticus looked at him without smiling.
"That is exactly why we must be careful."
Saturninus turned to the workers.
"Do not lose a single cluster."
And the harvest continued.

Processing the Must and the Transformation

At the estate's facilities, the first quantities of grapes were already arriving for crushing. The workers' feet pressed the grapes inside large vessels, and the juice flowed thick, dark, and sweet. The must filled the jars. Its scent was powerful. Sweet at first, almost intoxicating. And behind that sweetness, there was something alive. The juice was no longer just juice. It was beginning to change. The people knew this from experience, even if they lacked the knowledge that humans would acquire many centuries later. The must would boil, and through fermentation, it would become wine. Campania had known this transformation for generations. And during those days, amidst the noise of the harvest, everyone was thinking about the crop.

The Messenger from Rome and the Imperial Order

That same afternoon, a messenger arrived at the estate. He did not wear the clothes of an ordinary worker. Atticus saw him from afar and went towards him.
"Where do you come from?"
"From Rome."
Saturninus approached. The messenger bowed slightly and delivered the letter. Saturninus broke the seal. He read it. His eyes lingered on one sentence for a moment. Then he smiled.
"What is he asking for?" Atticus inquired.
Saturninus folded the document.
"The Emperor wants to try something different."
"Wine?"
"Not this time."
Atticus waited.
"Mead."
The foreman raised his eyebrows.
"Mead?"
"And an exceptional one at that."
Saturninus looked towards the vineyards.
"He wants something that brings Campania to mind."
"Then we will need good honey."
Saturninus immediately turned to his son.
"Severus."
Severus stepped forward.
"Go to Felix the beekeeper."
"What do you want?"
"Honey."
"How much?"
Saturninus looked at the letter again.
"A lot."

Severus's Visit to the Beekeeper

Severus left the following day. The path to the beehives was familiar to him. He did not particularly like bees. Felix was there when he saw him approaching.
"I wasn't expecting you."
"I didn't come to see you."
Felix smiled.
"That reassures me."
Severus did not smile.
"We need honey."
"How much?"
Severus told him the amount. Felix stopped.
"That is not an order. That is a plunder."
"Can you fulfill it?"
"I can."
"Then fulfill it."

The Agreement for the Imperial Mead

Felix leaned over a beehive.
"What do you need it for?"
"Mead."
He looked up.
"With the must?"
"That's what they told me."
For the first time, Felix's interest became evident. He knew that honey could be turned into a drink. He also knew that the way it would combine with the sweet grape juice required great care. The natural fermenting world of the grape was right before them.
"It will require good must," he said.
"We will have it."
"And good honey."
Severus looked at him.
"That is why I came to you."
Felix smiled.
"Then we have a deal."
Before Severus left, Felix asked him:
"When do you need it by?"
"As quickly as possible."
"I will need a few days."
"You have them, but do not be late."
Severus turned to leave. And then Felix stopped him.
"Severus."
He turned around.
"What?"
"Who is the mead for?"
Severus looked at him for a moment.
"For a man who does not expect to drink anything mediocre."
And he left.
Felix was left alone. He looked at the hives.
"A man who doesn't drink mediocre things wants a lot of honey," he muttered. And he laughed.

Preparations for Prima's Betrothal

That same week, at Saturninus's house, the preparations had begun to take a different shape. The wedding was approaching. Prima's betrothal to Vivius Scorpus was no longer just an agreement her father had announced. It was starting to become a reality. Women brought fabrics. Others examined jewelry. They discussed the attire Prima would wear. People came and went through the house. There were discussions about tables, wines, food, invitations, and relatives. And amidst all this, Prima stood quiet. Aemilia Vitalia observed her.
"You are silent."
"I have a lot to think about."
"That is exactly what worries me."
Prima looked at her.
"Why?"
"Because when you think a lot, you never say what you are thinking."
Prima smiled faintly.
"And what would you like me to be thinking about?"
Aemilia stepped closer.
"The man you are going to marry."
Prima lowered her gaze.
"I am thinking about him."
"And?"
"And what?"
"Nothing."
Aemilia did not insist. But she had seen something in her friend's face. Something that wasn't there a few days ago.

Scorpus's Visit and the Hidden Memory

Scorpus appeared at the house a few days later. He was a mature man, bearing the confidence of someone who knew his position in society was strong. He spoke with Saturninus about the preparations. About family obligations. About estates. About people who needed to be invited. About things that mattered to men. Prima sat a little further away. Scorpus turned towards her.
"I hope you are pleased."
Prima raised her eyes.
"I am."
It was the correct answer. Aemilia, standing beside her, understood it wasn't necessarily the true one. Scorpus smiled with satisfaction. Saturninus did too. Only Prima remained silent. Because at that moment, without wanting to, she remembered a stone fountain. And a young man who had stood before her, his face wet with water. She didn't even know his name.

The Encounter in the Courtyard and the Acquaintance

Felix learned Prima's name on the day he went to deliver the first batch of honey. He brought carefully sealed vessels with him. The path to Titus Atticus's house was familiar. He did not expect to see her. That was why, when he saw her, he stopped for a moment. Prima was standing in the courtyard. He lowered the vessel from his shoulder. Their eyes met. This time it wasn't at the fountain. They weren't two strangers just crossing paths. It was the second time. And the second time was different. Felix approached.
"I am Lucius Caecilius Felix."
Prima looked at him.
"I know."
He was surprised.
"You know me?"
"My father speaks of you."
Felix smiled.
"I hope he says good things."
"He doesn't speak much."
"Then I don't know if that is good or bad."
Prima smiled. It was the first time they smiled at each other.
"What did you bring?" she asked.
"Honey."
"So much?"
"You haven't even seen it all yet."
Prima looked at the vessels.
"Why is so much needed?"
"For mead."
"Mead?"
"For Rome."
Prima raised her eyebrows slightly.
"For Rome?"
"For someone who only drinks what he considers exceptional."
"And can you give it to him?"
Felix looked at her.
"My bees can."
Prima smiled. And then, Titus's voice was heard from inside.
"Prima!"
The smile faded. Felix took a step back. Titus appeared in the courtyard.
"Leave the vessels there."
"Yes, sir."
Felix left them. Before leaving, he looked at Prima one last time. She did not speak. But her eyes followed him all the way to the exit.

Digital illustration for melissocosmos

The Confession to Aemilia

That same evening, Aemilia was waiting for her.
"You saw him."
Prima did not answer.
"The beekeeper."
"Yes."
"And?"
Prima remained silent. Aemilia smiled.
"That 'and' was very long."
"Nothing happened."
"I didn't say it did."
Prima turned towards her.
"I know nothing about him."
"Exactly."
"Exactly what?"
"That you know nothing, and yet you already want to learn."
Prima did not answer. But that night, for the first time, she said his name to herself. Felix.

The First Tremor of the Earth at the Estate

A few days later, the sky was clear. The harvest continued. The workers had returned from the vineyards. In the courtyard of the estate, there were baskets of grapes and jars full of must. Some were laughing. Others were eating. The horses flicked their tails nervously because of the flies. And then, the ground moved. Not much. Only for a few moments. A jar shifted. A clay cup fell and broke. The horses reared. The workers stopped. Someone shouted. The earthquake passed as quickly as it had come. For a few moments, no one spoke. Then the shouting began.
"Earthquake!"
"It was small."
"I felt it."
"Me too."
Saturninus came out of the building. He looked around. Almost nothing had happened. Only a few utensils had fallen. Atticus approached.
"Should we worry?"
"No," he said.
And then, as if wanting to convince himself more than the foreman:
"The earth remembers that it is alive."
Titus made the sign he usually made when something caused him anxiety. They did not discuss it further. The work had to continue.

The Sacrifice and the Ominous Portents

A few days later, the sacrifice for the harvest took place. The altar had been cleaned. The people had gathered. The smoke rose into the air. The priests performed what custom demanded. The animal was sacrificed. And then came the moment no one expected. The haruspex (omen-reader) leaned over the entrails. He examined them. He stopped. A second priest stepped closer.
"What do you see?"
The man did not answer immediately. The liver did not look as he would have expected. Its color was strange. Its surface had lesions that made the priest pull his hand back. He leaned in again. He looked. Then he stepped back.
"The gods have not accepted the offering."
A silence spread around the altar. Saturninus approached.
"What does this mean for the harvest?"
The haruspex raised his head.
"I cannot tell you what will happen."
"Then what can you tell me?"
"That something has displeased the gods."
No one laughed. Not a single person. For those people, the priest's opinion was no joke. It was a warning. And when a man did not know the cause of a thing, he sought its meaning in the gods. The priest requested the area to be cleaned. Then he gave one more command: to plant cyclamens around the altar. Small flowers. Simple. But for them, protective. That is what they believed. That is what they did. And no one thought there might be another explanation.

Felix's Curiosity and the Imperial Anticipation

In the afternoon, Felix passed by the area. He saw the cyclamens. He stopped. He did not know what had happened. He asked a worker.
"Why did they plant them?"
"To keep the evil away."
He looked at the flowers.
"Is evil afraid of flowers?"
The worker laughed.
"That's what the priests say."
Felix smiled.
"Then let's hope they are right."
And he continued on his way. In Rome, Vespasian was waiting for news from Campania. When he was informed that the mead was being prepared, he smiled.
"Finally."
An official dared to ask:
"And if it is not good enough, Caesar?"
Vespasian looked at him.
"Then we will blame the bees."
The man smiled awkwardly. The Emperor added:
"But if it is good, we will praise ourselves."
And he laughed. The empire went on with its life. Rome waited for its drink. Campania waited for its wine. Saturninus waited for the harvest to finish. Scorpus waited for his wedding. Prima waited for something she couldn't even name yet. And Felix waited to see a pair of blue eyes again, which he had begun to remember more than he would have liked.

The End of September and the Shadow of Vesuvius

The final days of September arrived. The vineyards began to empty. The jars were filling up. The must worked silently. The honey had been delivered. Saturninus's people continued their preparations. And at Prima's house, a new fabric for the wedding gown arrived. Aemilia touched it.
"It is magnificent."
Prima looked at it.
"Yes."
"Aren't you happy?"
Prima took some fabric in her hands.
"I don't know."
Aemilia looked at her carefully.
"You know."
Prima raised her eyes.
"What?"
"You just don't want to say it yet."
Prima did not answer. Outside the house, the wind gently moved the branches. Somewhere far away, a dog barked. And above everything, behind the city, stood the mountain. Vesuvius. Quiet. Green. Serene. As it always was. No one in Pompeii knew what it hid inside. No one could imagine that this September would one day remain buried along with everything people believed would last forever. For now, though, there was the harvest. There was the wine. There was the honey. There was a betrothal leading to a wedding. And there was a twenty-seven-year-old man who had begun to think about a woman he shouldn't be thinking about. And a twenty-four-year-old woman who, without admitting it even to herself, had begun to wait for the moment she would see him again. September was fading away. And Pompeii continued to live.

To be continued with the October episode in Pompeii

(Story source: Melissocosmos)

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