though he read Cato's mind, Remus huffed as they ran. "I finished with the vines an hour ago. A friend found me to tell me about the fire."
They reached the gate, and Cato fumbled at the latch, then tumbled into the enclosure.
He could see no farther than the several rows in front of him, so consumed with flames and smoke were they. He started forward, as though to rescue them, then backed away from the furious heat. The blackened posts Remus had criticized were a ready fuel, enough to overwhelm the green vines and moist soil. The still-green grapes sizzled and burst like fruit cooked for a sweet meal.
"What shall we do?" Remus stood behind him, ready to help.
The orange and black flames and the thick smoke obscured Cato's view of the entire vineyard. He ran the length of the rows, assessing the damage, desperation and grief building.
Of the eighty rows, nearly half burned. But the fires had begun at the head of the vineyard, and had not yet spread the length of each row. Vines still clung to their trellises at the ends of rows, with the peaceful mountain looking on.
"Bring water!"
Remus looked confused. He knew there was no way they could douse the widespread flames.
"We will make a break in the rows!"
Remus nodded at that and grabbed the two-handled cart they used for bringing water from the nearest fountain. He disappeared through the gate.
Cato's nostrils burned with the heat and stench, but he snatched up a hoe used for aerating the soil and plunged between two burning rows. He ran to the last vine that burned and hacked at the disintegrating trellis, breaking its connection with the one beside. The heat was near to melting his face, but anger spurred him on, and he used the long tool to pull the burning vines away from those that still lived.
Breathless and sweating, he finished with one plant and turned to the row behind him to repeat the attack. He felt the fire singe the hair on his arms, but tore the two plants apart, then ran through the gap to attend to the next row.
Remus appeared, trundling his cart full of water pots down the first row. Isabella was with him. "There!" Cato directed with a shout and raised hand. "Soak the ground in the gap. Soak the live plants."
Remus obeyed at once, with Isabella assisting.
"It is not safe for you here, sister. Go home!" He spent only a moment seeing that Isabella, of course, ignored him. He turned back to his task. Remus would follow with the water as long as it held.
Sometime later, after Remus had disappeared to retrieve more water and returned to soak more plants, Cato reached the last burning row, hacked a break between the vines, helped Remus and Isabella pour the last of the water, and then collapsed to the grass to watch vines at the head of the rows burn themselves out. The fiery orange turned to red embers, glowing like rows of evil eyes staring at him.
My vineyard.
His eyes burned with more than the smoke and heat. He swiped at his cheeks, streaking black soot from his hands across his face.
Isabella lay against him, crying. "I am so sorry, Quintus. So sorry."
His own grief burrowed deep into his heart. The lifeblood seemed to drain out of him, into the field. It had been his dream to make a success of the wine-making business here. Now what would become of his dream?
"There are still many vines left." Remus sat with his hands stretched out behind him, as though he might fall over with fatigue. "You still have more than half the crop, I believe."
Cato inhaled and nodded. "We will make the best of it, then. As we always do."
Isabella clutched his hand and he returned the pressure.
"Come." He pulled his sister to standing, and Remus followed. "Let us get clean. Mother will be anxious to hear news."
They trudged back through the city, and Cato was heedless of any stares that might have greeted his appearance. His mind was full of the ruined vines, the ruined dreams.
He took himself to the Forum Baths, and let the soot and sweat soak from his
They reached the gate, and Cato fumbled at the latch, then tumbled into the enclosure.
He could see no farther than the several rows in front of him, so consumed with flames and smoke were they. He started forward, as though to rescue them, then backed away from the furious heat. The blackened posts Remus had criticized were a ready fuel, enough to overwhelm the green vines and moist soil. The still-green grapes sizzled and burst like fruit cooked for a sweet meal.
"What shall we do?" Remus stood behind him, ready to help.
The orange and black flames and the thick smoke obscured Cato's view of the entire vineyard. He ran the length of the rows, assessing the damage, desperation and grief building.
Of the eighty rows, nearly half burned. But the fires had begun at the head of the vineyard, and had not yet spread the length of each row. Vines still clung to their trellises at the ends of rows, with the peaceful mountain looking on.
"Bring water!"
Remus looked confused. He knew there was no way they could douse the widespread flames.
"We will make a break in the rows!"
Remus nodded at that and grabbed the two-handled cart they used for bringing water from the nearest fountain. He disappeared through the gate.
Cato's nostrils burned with the heat and stench, but he snatched up a hoe used for aerating the soil and plunged between two burning rows. He ran to the last vine that burned and hacked at the disintegrating trellis, breaking its connection with the one beside. The heat was near to melting his face, but anger spurred him on, and he used the long tool to pull the burning vines away from those that still lived.
Breathless and sweating, he finished with one plant and turned to the row behind him to repeat the attack. He felt the fire singe the hair on his arms, but tore the two plants apart, then ran through the gap to attend to the next row.
Remus appeared, trundling his cart full of water pots down the first row. Isabella was with him. "There!" Cato directed with a shout and raised hand. "Soak the ground in the gap. Soak the live plants."
Remus obeyed at once, with Isabella assisting.
"It is not safe for you here, sister. Go home!" He spent only a moment seeing that Isabella, of course, ignored him. He turned back to his task. Remus would follow with the water as long as it held.
Sometime later, after Remus had disappeared to retrieve more water and returned to soak more plants, Cato reached the last burning row, hacked a break between the vines, helped Remus and Isabella pour the last of the water, and then collapsed to the grass to watch vines at the head of the rows burn themselves out. The fiery orange turned to red embers, glowing like rows of evil eyes staring at him.
My vineyard.
His eyes burned with more than the smoke and heat. He swiped at his cheeks, streaking black soot from his hands across his face.
Isabella lay against him, crying. "I am so sorry, Quintus. So sorry."
His own grief burrowed deep into his heart. The lifeblood seemed to drain out of him, into the field. It had been his dream to make a success of the wine-making business here. Now what would become of his dream?
"There are still many vines left." Remus sat with his hands stretched out behind him, as though he might fall over with fatigue. "You still have more than half the crop, I believe."
Cato inhaled and nodded. "We will make the best of it, then. As we always do."
Isabella clutched his hand and he returned the pressure.
"Come." He pulled his sister to standing, and Remus followed. "Let us get clean. Mother will be anxious to hear news."
They trudged back through the city, and Cato was heedless of any stares that might have greeted his appearance. His mind was full of the ruined vines, the ruined dreams.
He took himself to the Forum Baths, and let the soot and sweat soak from his
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