L.J. Trafford's Blog, page 4
July 20, 2015
Characters in 5 Quotes – Straton
1) An evil, raised scar ran across his neck, the origins of which had been hotly discussed by several generations of imperial slaves.
If it gave comfort that some brave soul had once stood up to Straton, the fact that he had survived such a deadly encounter had given rise to the all too plausible rumour that he was immortal.
2) Pressed against Juba’s naked back, the overseer decided to start his day off on a high. Feeling something distinctly stiff pushing into his spine the slave squeaked, “You can’t.”
Which made Straton chuckle. Because he could.
3) Love was an emotion that hit the overseer periodically every few years and always culminated in an absolute disaster that had Felix threatening to slice off his penis with a meat cleaver.
4) Turning to his side Straton removed a dagger from his hip with something akin to annoyance, punching its owner (a pale slave he had whipped earlier that day) in the face impatiently and gesturing Mina to follow him. Mina had one thought: “What a man!” Then immediately scratched it as the consequences of spending too much time with eunuchs
5) Straton only legitimately took orders from one man, Felix. Anything else he deigned to do had been carefully weighed up as to its “fun factor”. Coshing Sabinus would definitely fall under that category
July 13, 2015
Sigh.
I do most of my writing in the train in and out of work in notebooks.
Otho’s Regret now being edited, I found myself on the train this morning with nothing to write. Which was a decidedly odd feeling.
So I turned my mind to Book IV: Vitellius’ Feast.
Seems to me that there are three main plot strands….
July 9, 2015
From Nero in Greece: The Tour!
From Nero in Greece: The Tour!
It’s a draft so all grammatical mistakes are my own etc etc.
Philo stood by the far wall of Sporus’ lounge examining the brand new frescoes, attempting to decode the story, assuming it be the life of a God or a hero. What perplexed him were the handstanding naked youths, their genitals painted with an accurate eye, dangling downwards.
“Are they Baccanates?” he asked Epaphroditus. “They seem very jolly.”
“They’re even jollier done that end,” replied the Secretary pointing to a section of the frieze further down the wall.
Philo followed his finger and was instantly assailed by a hot flush that worked up his neck. “Gosh,” he breathed.
“I don’t think that is even anatomically possible,” said Epaphroditus pointing at a particularly lurid depiction of a sexual act that had Philo’s brown eyes opening extremely wide.
They were interrupted from their pondering by a grand entrance; four huge black Ethiopian slaves carrying a golden sedan chair on which sat Sporus dressed in a purple dressing gown with fluffy matching slippers, his hair hidden beneath a white towel knotted atop his head. The slaves lowered to their knees, placing the chair on the ground. Sporus took a regal step and flourished a hand. Two slaves dashed to the couch and lifted it between them, carrying it over to the eunuch and placing it down, saving him a valuable five steps. Sporus threw himself dramatically onto the couch, sprawled across it, one leg escaping from his gown and showing off his smooth, shaved calf and thigh. He waved a hand, giving Epaphroditus permission to speak.
The secretary fought to suppress a smile at such antics. Even the usually grim Straton showed off his four remaining teeth. In actuality this merriment indicated less amusement and more glee; for if Sporus carried on in this manner Straton anticipated an afternoon of exercise for his whipping hand.
Epaphroditus turned calmly to the litter bearers. “You four are reassigned.”
Then to the two coach bearers. “You two are reassigned.” And then over to Sporus’ beauticians, all twelve of them. “And so are you lot.”
An outraged Sporus squeaked, “You can’t do that!”
“Yes I can,” Epaphroditus told him evenly, arms folded across his chest.
“I’m the Empress!” declared Sporus pushing back his shoulders. an action that caused the towel to fall from his head, revealing short dark curls, so very different to Poppaea’s auburn hair.
“No you are not. You are the Empress’ stand in. You will share her slaves. They are the most experienced in created her look after all. We shall also have….”
Epaphroditus looked to Philo, he read from a list “Seventeen tiaras, three solid gold ankle bracelets, two lapis lazli broaches, nineteen silver hair combs, four full golden dinner sets including pepper sellers.”
“The Emperor gave those to me.”
“No he didn’t. You ordered these items personally. They should not have been sanctioned.”
July 8, 2015
Very Nice Palatine Review
I always like to hear which character readers liked best, in this case its Philo. I have a particular soft spot for Philo as he is the character that I probably know best. This was by necessity since in Galba’s Men he gives a potted history of his life so I had to fix certain facts. Whereby the background of characters such as Epaphroditus remains somewhat sketchy and gets filled in book by book I know who Philo is, how he will respond in any given situation and the very particular way in which he speaks.
But I wouldn’t like to write a book solely from Philo’s point of view. I think it would be far too depressing. To get inside Philo’s head is to enter a pretty dark place. There is a whole slice of his life that he keeps shut off and doesn’t address which limits him, as Lysander puts it, to ‘reading and tidying things.’
Philo himself mentions in Palatine that feeding a flamingo a piece of cake rates as one of the few times he considered himself happy.
Philo’s world is a bleak one.
At least until he meets a certain young girl…..
July 3, 2015
An extract from Nero in Greece: The Tour!
Emperor Nero having accidentally kicked his wife Poppaea to death is now to marry the none too keen on the idea Statilia Messalina.
Sporus, Nero’s eunuch lover, is determined to stop this wedding.
“Nooooooooooooooooooooooooo!”
A high pitched squeal from the back of the hall and from behind a pillar shot Sporus running full pelt down the centre. The Emperor and Empress turned round.
“What the____?” began Nero.
A thought shared by the trumpet players, who went spectacularly off key.
The Guards proved their general useless once again by their motionless gawps as Sporus headed towards the Imperial party. Epaphroditus though, was much quicker off the mark.
“An assassin!” declared the secretary and then shot off towards the bombing eunuch before the Emperor could recognise him.
Sporus, surprisingly for such a natural coward, was unfazed by the sight of the Emperor’s Private Secretary running towards him, he was even unfazed by the two Praetorians who finally joined the race. His thoughts were solely concentrated on stopping this pantomime of a wedding. Nero wouldn’t hurt him so, not after he saw how upset his darling Sporus/Poppaea/Whatever was at this betrayal. His eyes firmly on Epaphroditus, intending to scout round him at the last moment Sporus utterly failed to see Straton slip out from his hiding spot.
Crack, thump. Sporus hit the marble floor, oompthing the air out of him, banging his chin on the ground, a red slash on his ankle bleeding from Straton’s targeted whip shot.
The overseer grabbed him by the other ankle, dangling him upside down. “Got me eunuch,” he grinned.
Epaphroditus on his interception mission, realised with dismay that he was moving too fast to stop in time.
“Minerva’s Arse!” he swore as he careered into Straton, sweeping him from his feet.
The two Praetorians in a similar dilemma added to the pile up with a smack. The confusion of limbs, whips and swords freed Sporus from the overseer’s hold and he wriggled out from beneath Straton ,crawling along the floor.
Epaphroditus, his eye smarting from an accidental encounter with Straton’s fist, pushed his way free and threw himself on top of the eunuch flattening him.
“Oh no you don’t,” he hissed in Sporus’ ear.
At the far end of the hall the wedding party stood in bemused silence. “What is going on?” asked Statilia.
Nero, keen to appear in charge in front of his soon to be wife, cupped his hands over his mouth and called. “EPAPHRODITUS! WHAT’S GOING ON?”
“All under control Caesar.” Came the call back.
“Well that’s good,” Nero smiled to Statilia. “Shall we go in?” Taking her arm with a pat. A third, perfectly tuned, blast from the trumpets and the great doors of the banqueting hall were flung open.
June 23, 2015
June 19, 2015
Flash Fiction – prompt is Breakfast
THE S WORD
I swirl my bread in the yolk breaking the membrane, the orange liquid released pools round my fried tomato.
“Top breakfast, Laura.”
“Breakfast? Have you seen the time?”
“Brunch then.”
“More like lunch,” she complains clearing away my mug even though there’s still a mouthful of tea left in it.
“I had a heavy night,” I admit. “But this has helped enormously. Don’t have any nurofen do you?”
“I can’t keep them in the house.”
A statement of sufficient mystery to entice me, despite my thumping headache into asking, “Why?”
Perhaps my sister is in one of her anti pharma quests again, the cupboards stuffed with natural remedies that naturally do nothing.
Or maybe her husband, Alan has a secret codeine addiction, this is a far better prospect for I refuse to believe that he really is as dull as he appears. He tells people he works in the city, in banking. Which is perfectly true, he works in a branch of HSBC in Reading city behind the counter.
That’s how he met Laura, she used to bring in the takings from the sandwich shop she worked in and he’d pay them in. Alan tells me they struck up a flirtation, a phrase that makes me shudder imagining all kinds of gruesome plays on words such as bap, dosh and rubber stamping.
I tried to talk her out of their first date pointing out that her knowledge of him was purely based on the parts of him she could see above the counter.
“For all you know he’s wearing culottes and kitten heels.”
In retrospect I rather wish he had, it would have given us more to talk about, I have a wicked collection of kitten heeled shoes.
Anyway I digress, partly because Laura’s answer to my question is her answer to everything these days, “Because I’m pregnant.” She tries to take my plate away, I wrestle it back from her.
“There’s still the tomato left.”
“Fine.”
As I slice into the tomato I tell her, “Could have done with a sausage though, its not a proper fry up without a sausage.”
It wasn’t a criticism, more of a helpful suggestion so her response is way over the top. Her hand flies up to her mouth and she turns away, hanging over the sink taking in deep gulpfuls of air.
“Don’t mention that word.”
“What word?”
“The ‘s’ word.”
Laura disapproves of my language, “But I didn’t say shit, or shag or shaft or sex _ oh you mean sausage.”
That propels her back to the sink.
“Do you need some water” I ask seeing the distinctly green tinge of her usual flawless complexion.
She nods and sits back down or rather sits up on the breakfast stool. My sister doesn’t so much as veer towards shortness but rather limbo dances straight under it with inches to spare.
“It’s the morning sickness,” she explains in between taking careful sips of her water. “Or all day sickness I should call it. It’s awful, Tess, the strangest things set it off.”
“Like the ‘s’ word.”
She nods, cautiously. “And any of its fellow animal products. Just the thought of them, let alone the sight sets me off. Stupidly I decided to cook Cottage pie for Alan’s supper last night, it’s his favourite.”
It would be, no doubt his nan cooked it for him when he was a little Alan in a knitted tank top and shiny red sandals.
“So I went to Tesco’s to get the mince and Oh Tess it was dreadful!” Her hand shooting up to her mouth again. “All that meat, that raw meat, all bloody and bleeding. Shelf after shelf of it. I couldn’t bear it, I just couldn’t bear it and I…….oh this is so embarrassing.”
I place down my knife and fork, “What happened?” I ask trying to keep the gleeful anticipation out of my tone.
“I knew I was going to be sick, I couldn’t hold it in, it was bubbling up my throat so I just grabbed the nearest receptacle.”
Only my sister would use the word receptacle.
“Which was?”
She looks at me with distraught eyes. “The shopping basket.”
I pondered, thumb on my chin. “That’s quite a holey receptacle. In fact I don’t think it could really be classed as a receptacle given the holes.”
Laura hands her head down in shame, “It went everywhere. They had to do a tannoy announcement for a cleaner to come and mop it up.”
I’m laughing, I can’t help it, but it’s a silent gasping sort of laugh so Laura doesn’t notice. Thankfully.
“Then the cleaner came and he put his yellow wet floor sign right by my feet. Oh it was so humiliating!”
I manage to wipe away my tears of mirth before she looks up, pressing my lips together in what I hope is a suitably sympathetic line.
I pat her hand, “I’ll do the washing up. You sit down and put your feet up.”
“Thanks, Tess.”
“Tess!”
“Who’s that?” hisses Laura.
“It’s Devan. He stayed the night.”
“Devan? Who’s Devan?”
“We met last night and he needed somewhere to crash.”
“So you brought back a complete strange into your pregnant sister’s home?”
“Actually I told him it was mine.”
Which retrospectively was a terrible idea since Devan strides out of the bedroom and thinking he was in my flat didn’t think about throwing any clothes on.
“Tess,” he grins, cheeky as a bum pinching vicar. “There you are. Fancy going back to bed?” He gives a chortle that stops mid innuendo laced hohoho as he spots Laura perched on the stool.
“Ah,” he says following her eyeline downwards to his _
“Chipolata!” squeaks Laura and heaves up her stomach contents all over the breakfast bar.
June 10, 2015
Somehow managed to miss out this Sporus quotes in my top five.
Besides, he was very fond of his penis and had been intending to hang onto it until his death when they could pickle it, put it in a jar, and display it on a plinth in the temple of Mars Ultor for all he cared.
June 8, 2015
Characters in Five Quotes – Nero
As June 9th is the anniv...
Characters in Five Quotes – Nero
As June 9th is the anniversary of Nero’s suicide in 68 AD, how could I fail to represent him in five quotes from Palatine http://www.karnacbooks.com/product/palatine-the-four-emperors-series-book-i/36826/
1) You could always tell when Nero was about to enter a room. The air was sucked out, there was a momentary silence, and then you were hit in the face with a full blown typhoon. It was, Epaphroditus imagined, like hearing the whistle of a ballista bolt above your head just before it obliterated you off the face off the earth.
2) “You will leave. You will all leave. I wish to spend time with my Poppaea. Rome needs an heir as everyone keeps telling me. It is my duty. Our duty.”
Good luck with that one, thought Epaphroditus as he departed to the sounds of a giggling eunuch and his amorous emperor
3) Where it had fallen down was the timing, which was his department. He wasn’t going to beat himself up about it, though. Who would have thought to check the delivery schedule for the day? And why would anyone have thought it necessary to inform him about the delivery of a water organ? And how was he supposed to know that water organs were Nero’s newest and greatest passion? Nero’s passions were so numerous it was impossible to keep track of them all. And water organs? Why water organs?
4) Nero, placated, attempted a smile. “Answer me honestly, Epaphroditus.”
“I always have, Caesar.”
“Tell me, am I a good lyre player?”
Epaphroditus affected incredulity. “Caesar, you have spent many years in a painstaking cultivation of the art.”
“I have, haven’t I?”
“How could one fail to be a good player after such a length of study?”
It was a good question and one Epaphroditus had wondered about for years.
5) “We should expel all the Gauls from Rome, don’t you think? They are going to be in on it and they’re just waiting for the signal and then they’ll kill us all in our beds. We should execute them first. Can you look into that?
“I am going to Gaul. No, don’t protest. I am going. When the troops see their emperor and see him weep before them …
We could use the elephants. The ones from that show last year, we could ride them to Gaul, across the Alps. Like Hannibal. Vindex would never expect that. Poppaea could sit on the trunk dressed up like an Indian. I can just see you in a turban, you’d look so sweet. Get Calvia to design an outfit
June 5, 2015
Palatine Out really, really soon!
Palatine out 22nd June http://www.amazon.co.uk/Palatine-Emperors-Series-Karnac-Library-ebook/dp/B00YI7SZF8/ref=dp_kinw_strp_1
You could always tell when Nero was about to enter a room. The air was sucked out, there was a momentary silence, and then you were hit in the face with a full blown typhoon. It was, Epaphroditus imagined, like hearing the whistle of a ballista bolt above your head just before it obliterated you off the face off the earth
