L.J. Trafford's Blog, page 3

How to end a series: BIG!

I am now at the point of plotting out Vitellius’ Feast which will be the final book in the Four Emperors Series.

By the time I have written the final sentence of Vitellius’ Feast I will have contributed over 400k words on the subject of 69 AD.

So how to end what has been a rather enjoyable ride through Palatine, Galba’s Men, Otho’s Regret and Vitellius’ Feast? Answer=BIG!

Luckily history is on my side. Vitellius was a big man of ample appetites and tastes.

Suetonius says of him:

But his besetting sins were luxury and cruelty. He divided his feasts into three, sometimes into four a day, breakfast, luncheon, dinner, and a drinking bout; and he was readily able to do justice to all of them through his habit of taking emetics.

Which gives me scope to try and out do some of Nero’s excesses depicted in Palatine.

We also have drama a plenty with the burning down of the Temple of Jupiter amongst many shocking events that took place towards the end of 69 AD.

Along with the inevitable deaths, including one historically attested death of a character I know readers are extremely fond of (me too!).

So all in all we have excesses and action, death and mourning, treachery and betrayal to come in the final showdown.

But also some kind of conclusion to the lives of the characters who survive to the end. An ending for them all. One that I hope will satisfy.

A scene that hasn’t made the cut for Otho’s Regret

I really love this scene. But during my third edit of Otho’s Regret I’ve had to face up to the fact that it has to go.

The third edit is the most brutal edit. It is the point where if a scene doesn’t push the plot along it goes.

This scene has plenty of good characterisation but we need to get to the very important banquet scene quicker, so it has to go. Sob.

_______________________________________________________________________________________

Philo had just sat down and flipped open his note tablet ready for a morning’s work when Verenia appeared.

“Pompeia and Teretia have gone out,” he replied automatically.

“I know I waited until I saw them leave,” was Verenia’s suspicious reply. “I need to ask you something.”

She sat down opposite him.

Recalling the last time he’d be in her company alone Philo told her, “Epaphroditus has a wife.”

A response that fluxommed her and rather unfortunately left a gap that Philo filled with, “And when he chooses a mistress he always opts for a slave girl. Sorry, Verenia.”

“Why would I want to know Epaphroditus’ marital status? I met the man once, quite by chance. I came by to ask about Lysander,” stressed Verenia.”I was of the opinion that you might be the person to talk to.”

Her tone suggested that she was rapidly changing her mind on that score.

“Oh,” said Philo feeling a hot flush heading up his neck. “Sorry. What did you want to know about Lysander?”

Verenia rested her elbows on the table. “He has invited me to this dinner at the palace.”

“Oh yes he told me, it’s an engagement party for Otho and Statilia Messalina. It should be a nice evening.” He smiled at her. She did not smile back.

“The emperor will be there,” stressed Philo.

“I don’t know anything about him.”

“He is a very nice man, very friendly and chatty and always willing to help you out whatever.”

Verenia narrowed her eyes. “You’re talking about the emperor aren’t you?”

“Oh, well Lysander’s very nice as well,” said Philo rather unconvincingly.

Adjusting her stola she said, “There is a reason why I waited for Teretia to leave. I love my cousin, of course I do but she always sees the best in everyone.” Meeting Philo’s eyes. “I’m not criticising. I envy it. I wish I could. But I’ve been taken in before. I’ll not let it happen again. You and I, we’re different. You may look like you’ve just fallen off the latest boat but I’ll wager Doris that you’re not as naively dim as you appear.”

Behind Verenia’s rather insulting rhetoric there was a truth. Though Philo maintained an expression of benign mystification during every single conversation Verenia had struggled through with him, he had worked for Nero and it had been a rare month when he hadn’t been asked to source a good assassin.

“I know,” she continued, “that you will tell me the truth. Unadulterated.”

Mainly because Philo lacked imagination and was therefore a lousy liar.

Philo flipped his note tablet shut. “What do you want to know?”

“Start with his father.”

Which was one of the odd things about life on the outside, the obsession with who your father, mother, uncle, grandfather was. Not something that discussed at the palace where a large contingent of the slaves had no idea of their parentage. Philo though he’d had a mother lacked for every other category of relative. Verenia was in luck though because Lysander was a vernae, that is a palace born slave, and thus Philo was able to tell her with confidence.

“He was a singer.”

“Was?”

“Yes he was_,” Philo trailed off.

“Was?” repeated Verenia.

“He died.”

“Yes he was died?” Her scepticism at Philo misusing a verb was well placed and the freedman shuffled awkwardly on the bench. “What happened to him?”

“Well he was, he was. Well he was executed.” Then to Verenia’s rather shocked expression, “But it wasn’t really his fault.”

“What did he do to have such a fate?”

“He was a very good singer.”

“I’m sure he was, but you’re avoiding my question. Why did he get executed?”

“Because he was a very good singer,” repeated Philo. “And Nero was a singer and he wasn’t as good.” He shrugged. “That’s all there was to it really.”

Compared to some of the executions Philo had done the paperwork for the death of Lysander’s father counted as a more legitimate reason than most he’d signed off.

“His mother was pretty keen that Lysander not become a singer after that.”

“His mother? She is?” asked Verenia rather shakily.

“Oh she’s alive,” brightened Philo. “She was a very high ranking attendant to Empress Agrippina. She is currently married to Gaius Baebinus, they have a very nice house on the Caelian Hill. He is a most successful and well respected businessman,” he supplied more happily.

“Currently married?” asked Verenia. “What does that mean? Is she contemplating divorce?”

“Lysandria would never divorce Gaius Baebinus.”

She had a much cleaner method of disposing of husbands.

Verenia, with clear difficultly, let this pass saying, “You’ve known Lysander for many years.”

“Yes.”

She fiddled with her shawl again before asking. “He is a good man?”

From her tone Philo could tell this was very important to her, crucial therefore he deduced, she’d be wanting a cracking answer.

“Err,” began Philo inwardly weighing up the relevant criteria to measure Lysander against deciding on several factors in his list before his thought processes were interrupted by Verenia.

“Oh for Juno’s sake,” she swore. “Is he emotionally cold?”

Philo blinked. “No.”

“Is he cruel?”

Another blink. “No.”

“Is he violent?”

“Gosh no.”

“That’ll do,” she told him standing. “Thank you for your help.”

Philo was midway through saying “It was no trouble” when he realised she was most likely being sarcastic and stopped himself.

Galba’s Men – A Collection of Tasty, tipbits.

As everybody who is in Galba’s Men appeared in Palatine, here is a taster of some of the journeys various characters will be undertaking in Galba’s Men.

For some there will be adventure, for some tragedy, for some joy and for others despair.

Epaphroditus:

Though he’d enjoyed his break spending time with his family he was starting to get just a little bored. An Otho scheme was always worth hearing, if only for the sheer level of preposterousness it invariably held.

Alex:

The world is neatly divided between those who can make an amusing anecdote out of being chased out of the Temple of the Great Mother by a dozen Syrian eunuchs armed with costume jewellery, and those who prefer to bury the story in red-faced humiliation. Alex fell firmly into this second camp, hurrying back to the palace thoroughly ashamed as the Galli priests stood in the temple doorway bouncing up and down and yelling at him in their strange native tongues.

Mina:

They reached the far end of the scrum, Mina jumping to her feet and looking back at the pandemonium she had somehow got through.

“Bloody Juno!”

Sporus:

It was possibly the most energetic act he had ever committed. His arms burned from the effort and his feet scrabbled and scraped on the bricks but the thought of freedom from those whirling nutters gave him the necessary spur.

Philo:

Philo was thus a man on the edge, a precipice of an edge which he expected to plunge off at any moment.

Statilia:

“May I say how attractive you look tonight?” came a melodious voice.

Its owner was not a handsome man; he was bulky with bowed legs yet he was rewarding her with the most charming smile. Statilia felt almost giggly under his appraising eyes.

Flash Fiction – prompt is Frankenstein’s Wish

Dr Frankenstein goes a’courting.

“Seriously Victor, did you really think it would impress me?”

Actually Victor had, a sentiment he attempted to eloquate to Elizabeth.

“But my darling I have worked for so many months, at every hour of the day to create life afresh where there was none, to resurrect the spirit from the grave, to bring back the dead! And all for you my darling,” he beseeched.

Elizabeth regarded the creature that sat awkwardly on one of Victor’s dining room chairs.

“It’s ugly.”

The monster, due to Victor’s less than celebatory sewing skills, was unable to form much of an expression but there was, Victor thought, a gleam of hurt in his one eye.

“And it smells.”

“Maybe a little,” conceded Victory through the almost visible pong. “But that is because I was unable to secure a living specimen to fashion him from. Apparently that would constitute a ‘murder’ or so I am informed. I had no choice but to use the newly dead for his components.”

“Ewwww,” winced Mary and then after a moments pause dared to enquire, “Where did you get them from?”

“I’m sorry my darling?”

“The components for this thing Victor!”

“Oh. I have a contact at the prison.”

“The prison???”

“Yes, he retrieves the newly dead from the gallows for me.”

“What????”

“But Elizabeth my dear there is no need to fret. He keeps them refrigerated for me. There’s no danger of purification for at least another 72 hours.”

“Let me get this straight, Victor Frankenstein. The present you have brought me for my birthday is a zombie convict who is likely to melt into a puddle of putrid liquid by the end of the week?”

Put like that Victor was forced to recognise that he probably should have followed his first instinct and brought her a bunch of flowers.

“Oh you really are the pits!”

And she flounced out with a swirl of her crinoline.

Victor sagged onto the chair. The monster reached over and put a scaly, rotting hand round him, patting Victor’s shoulder consolingly. over his

Victor leaned into him. “Thanks mate. I appreciate it.”

At least it hadn’t gone as badly as the time he’d given Dorothy Mileau a white mouse with a human ear sewn onto it for Christmas.

She’d squealed throwing Monty the Mouse into the air. Monty disappearing down a drain whilst Victor was distracted by Dorothy’s bashing parasol.

Women! Why could he never get it right with them?

At this rate he would never receive his dearest wish; to lose his virginity.

A very nice review of Palatine from a lovely lady who tot...

A very nice review of Palatine from a lovely lady who totally gets it.

She understands that ‘my’ Nero has no great malice, he is just a man who can do whatever he likes: so he does.

He’s also not terribly bright.

http://thedeathofcarthage.com/1390/book-review-palatine-by-l-j-trafford/

A Taster of Otho’s Regret

For those of you who know your Roman history this is a fairly momentous first meeting.

“This is Flavius’ nephew.”

Epaphroditus took another look at the boy. “I have heard much about you, your heroics at the siege of Yodfat pleased Nero greatly. He had you marked for a good position when you returned to Rome. This new emperor I am sure will be willing to recognise your successes.”

“You’re talking about my brother. I’ve never been to Judaea. I’ve never been anywhere. I’ve not done anything.”

“Oh,” said Epaphroditus, then to Caenis, “Am I?”

“You are.”

“You look a lot like him.”

A platitude that failed placate Domitian, who said, “He’s ten years older than me.”

“I was going to say you look like him when he was your age,” soothed Epaphroditus.

Domitian did not look soothed.

Caenis put an arm around her stepson, “Come on lets join Flavius. They’ll start the entertainment soon.”

Characters in Five Quotes: Tigellinus

1) Tigellinus strode in, his unsteady gait betraying his unusual wakefulness; he was drunk, roaring drunk.

2) But Tigellinus was afternoon drunk. He was the Praetorian prefect. A friend to Nero. He thought himself invincible

3) “I thought you weren’t coming.”

“Why would you think that?” slurred the prefect.

“Because you weren’t invited.”

“Wasn’t I? I go to everything, it is my thing. Besides I’m the pre, pre, pre, the soldier thing, I look after the emperor.”

4) Dribbling from the side of his mouth, Tigellinus had yet to experience the all-time killer hangover that was waiting to hit him, or the painfully stiff neck incurred while sleeping curled up by an ornamental fountain

5) Diplomacy had never been Tigellinus’ strong point. It was difficult to know what his strong point actually was, each positive aspect to his nature being anchored down firmly by the negative

Galba’s Men v Palatine

The main difference between Palatine and Galba’s Men is that Palatine is all about a well executed conspiracy. Whereas Galba’s Men is about a series of misunderstandings that lead to terrible events.

And this time round the terribleness is going to effect not just those at the top.

What Nymphidius Sabinus unleashes in Palatine is going to have consequences for everyone.

5 Fabulous Research Locations for Palatine

1) Baths of the Diocletion in which is held the Epigraphical museum.

http://archeoroma.beniculturali.it/en/museums/national-roman-museum/baths-diocletian/epigraphic-museum

I cannot tell you how useful this museum was. Want to know what sort of jobs women had back in classical times?

Or the wording of a curse?

Or the proper job title of a palace freedman?

This is the place to go to.

It also houses a funerary inscription to Tacitus. Yes, that Tacitus.

And this

It is an inscription found on the Esquiline Hill in a quiet little side street. It lists the titles of one Imperial Freedman name of Tiberius Claudius Epaphroditus.

I think we can surmise he was not a modest man.

I pretty much spent the whole day here, making copious notes.

Characters in 5 Quotes – Epaphroditus

1) His path from imperial slave to pre-eminence had been a treacherous one; he’d survived by successfully skidding between palace factions, keeping his head down when others were literally losing theirs, and by being really quite good at his job.

2) Epaphroditus was just old enough to remember Livia, though not her husband the Emperor Augustus. If asked to recall he offered some vague waffles, infected by the freedman’s insistence that his life began on the day of his manumission from slavery. This was a shame since he possessed the type of tip top stellar imperial gossip that sadly never makes the history books.

3) With an absurdly generous emperor you could find yourself at the end of the day up by a seaside villa, a dozen slaves, and two bags of denarii just for complimenting Sporus’ slippers. Epaphroditus had done very well for himself.

4) Aphrodite was an intelligent woman, and even if she had not caught Mina’s suggestive eyes, the quick flash of panic that ran across her husband’s countenance would have alerted her. He smoothed it away and offered her the smile he utilised whenever he was about to suggest something he knew she would object to.

5) The grounds and house were confiscated and shortly after the old Eemperor’s death they were discreetly handed over to Epaphroditus. A reward which had garnered much palace speculation.