Sol Invictus — the unconquered sun — on this, like any other day in
high Summer, gently lifted its fiery head above the horizon, stretched
its arms out in shafts of life giving warmth across fields of fecundity,
ripening fruit, lemons, dates, figs and vineyards fulsome with swelling
grape for wine or table, and with long strides, extended its shadows
to the very foot of rampart, gate and wall.
Penetrating through chink and gap in stone and mortar and finally
climbing over the upmost battlements to illumine the paved streets
and cobbled pavements of this Italian town awakening from its
slumbers in the dog days of a sultry August night.
Like any other day—this small town basking under the Mediterranean
sun—shook itself, scratched itself and made ready for the day.
Men, women, children of many a varied cast and class prepared for the
first meal of the day. For some a sumptuous repast, for others, bread
fresh baked and eaten in haste with a handful of olives picked
up at an inn open early for the morning trade.
Lucius, felt elated, a lucky man they said,
and elected Aedile for the coming year.
He strode out happy, for the day ahead.
The muleteer said standing near...
“A great achievement at his tender age,
notwithstanding his wealth and power,”
as he muttered to his boy, a slave
who nuzzled his beast and cowered.
“Good morning Lucius,” the Lady said.
She smiled sweetly, he nodded good day,
adorned with pearls and gold on head,
she waved and went upon her way.
The publican, a blunt but cheery sort
chased his man, following close behind.
“A drink on me to celebrate, the votes I bought
on your behalf, all those I helped to bind.”
The sun climbed high on this summers day as Lucius drunk his fill.
He praised the Gods, declaiming as he paid the bill,
“Oh! How blessed to be a Roman on this glorious summers day
A citizen and Aedile, a consequential man of great Pompei.”
The publican looked up and smiled.
“Is that distant thunder that I hear,
a storms been brewing up for days
it will come tonight I fear.....”
A shadow passed across the town turning day to bible black.
The Publican, the Muleteer, his boy and beast and Lucius,
his luck short-lived, all turned to stone, immortalized...
against the odds... Sol Victus, for a while.
