Greetings to you and to all in your household. To your wife and children I send my best wishes for health and prosperity. And I do beseech you to remind that mischievous Celtic slave girl to keep our little secret. I am confident you will not endeavor to enquire of her as to its nature.
My thoughts often turn to home and the superb wine pressed from the vineyards on the slopes of Vesuvius. And it is on the subject of Vesuvius that is the occasion for this epistle.
My travels in the East have introduced me to certain men of knowledge, and who claim that the superb soil of a region is sometimes associated with the past wrath of Vulcan displayed in a fury of fire, smoke and terrible destruction. They further informed that such incidents follow not long on the heels of great shaking of the ground as Vulcan himself hammers his forge closer and closer to those to whom he would bring harm.
You no doubt remember clearly the great shaking that destroyed much of Pompeii just two years before I was called to my first tour of duty in Cappadocia. And so I write urge that you and your family relocate to Rome or Capua without delay.
Whatever you do — don’t just roll up this letter and stick it on the shelf.