....amongst the chaos of the shops, tabernas and street traders, that Pompeiian maelstorm that accosted the senses. Though it was still early day, the days were leaving spring's temperate humours and pushing at summer's furnace door. They were all spread out along and into the street, the basket makers 'three for the price of two!!', the music from the exotic bird traders' stalls, competing with the squeals of the pig soon to be the fresh meat display on the butcher's hook. He passed the already busy tonsors, crowded with the local male preened peacocks yapping about where to deabauche tonight.

'Ahhh...yes my wonderful Pompeii!' he smiled to himself. Alas it'll all be very irritating within a few days, particularly if the heat persists.

He was finally standing in the front room of the Scriptorium. Lurcio had informed him about how the girl had disappeared shortly after he'd left for Gaul. Well a Greek freed woman, he'd hardly been surprised. Well what about the fresco?

Vincent sat down on the nearest stool and stared up at the wall.



'A trip to the temple' he thought 'to apologise to the Goddess in his prays. About as sensual as a dried leaf!'

No matter, through Lucilla he'd inherited the best library in Gaul, alongside a couple of highly accomplished copyists. I think some antique book auctions here might get things moving a bit. Will have to visit Blanche to get the word around.