by Melissa Addey
Published February 4, 2021
Genre: Historical Fiction
ebook/paperback; 318 pages
Rome, 80AD. A gigantic new amphitheatre is being built. The Emperor has plans for gladiatorial Games on a scale no-one has ever seen before. But the Games don’t just happen. They must be made. And Marcus, the man in charge of creating them, has just lost everything he held dear when Pompeii disappeared under the searing wrath of Vesuvius. Now it will fall to Althea, the slave woman who serves as his scribe, to ensure the Colosseum is inaugurated on time – and that Marcus makes his way out of the darkness that calls to him. First in the Colosseum series.
Excerpt:
“What were you thinking?”
The triclinium of my master’s house looks as though it has been turned into a brothel. The wall panels, which usually depict classical scenes befitting a grand holiday villa, have been repainted entirely since this morning with images more befitting… well, a brothel. The tables are opulently laid for tonight’s gathering and the couches for the guests are draped with elegant throws and plumped-up cushions, but my mistress is staring at the household slaves, who have all been stripped naked. Their newly plucked private parts have been painted in gold, the better to highlight them. They stand huddled together, faces drained with shock.
“Lucius! What were you thinking?”
My mistress is appalled. She comes from one of the best patrician families, albeit a rather impoverished and distant branch. In marrying my master, a handily wealthy import-exporter from the equestrian class, she has had to put up with many failings of etiquette over the past few years, most of which she is adept at smoothing over, but this time he has gone too far. She stands in the doorway, trying to look away from the images on the walls, which leave nothing to the imagination. Men with men, women with women, men with women, women with beasts… all in fresh, bold paint, some of it significantly larger than life. Her young daughter is coming, and she puts out an unseeing hand behind her back, seeking to push the girl away.
“To your room, Lucilla,”
“But mother –”
“To your room!”
Lucilla reluctantly departs. I’d like to follow her, but my mistress is blocking the doorway and I don’t want to draw attention to myself. Although I am the only slave fully clothed, I fear that my apparel might offend her even more than if I were naked. I stay still, pressed against the wall in the corner.
“Splendid, isn’t it,” says my master, casting a lingering glance over one of the slave boys. “It’ll be a memorable evening.”
“Memorable?” My mistress’ eyes are bulging out of her head, her already pale skin drained white. “It looks like something organised by –” her voice drops to a hiss “– Nero!”
“Fit for an emperor?” he asks. Deliberately misunderstanding.
“Fit for a madman,” she spits back. “I cannot be seen at such a gathering!”
“Just as well I’ve arranged a substitute for you then, isn’t it?” he says.