Cornelia spends the day with her slave, gathering her things. She collects jewellery from her hidden box, plaits her hair. She will not be rushed. As the day passes, she feels the low rumble of eruption vibrate through the floor. Carefully she puts on the two gold rings, the gold bangles in her pocket. At the door she looks up at her furious Versuvias, spurting rock and smoke. Cornelia takes a gold coin and places it in her slave’s small hand. “Thank you,” she says. “I release you.”

The woman looks at her, “You’re too late.”