mistress of the vatican.pdf - End Time Deception

Mistress of the Vatican
each new deluge the ruins of the ancient forum disappeared a little
more into the twenty feet or so of silt, deposited there by centuries of
floods. The jagged tops of triumphal arches and colossal temples stuck
out of the mud, tombstones commemorating the glories of a vanished
race.
Fires, too, were an ever-present threat. Logs rolled out of fireplaces;
untended candles shed sparks on straw-covered floors, and suddenly a
whole city block was ablaze. As residents ran naked into the streets,
dragging out chairs and tables, the volunteer fire brigade passed buckets
of water from the nearest fountain, which was often quite a distance
away. Since water thrown from a bucket had little effect on a raging
inferno, most fires were simply allowed to burn themselves out, while
“firemen” doused the roofs of buildings across the street to prevent
sparks from igniting.
Even the ancient stones themselves posed a threat. In Olimpia’s time
most of the buildings were hundreds of years old and had been patched
together from parts of imperial Roman baths and basilicas. The city
had no salaried building inspectors, and every few months a house, a
tower, or a wall would groan in pain and come crashing down with
very little warning, killing everyone in its path. Even the most exalted
Romans were not spared the dangers of falling masonry. In 1499 the
ceiling of the Vatican audience chamber fell on Pope Alexander VI,
knocking him unconscious and killing the servant standing next to
him.
Casting a penetrating gaze around her new city, Olimpia must have
realized it was dirtier, noisier, uglier, and far more lethal than Viterbo.
But it was here, in Rome, where she would finally realize her lifelong
dream of working in politics. Her new husband, Pamphilio, would
surely want her advice.
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