Author Note
The year was 80 AD. The Roman Empire held most of Europe in its merciless grip. The Roman army, at constant war, labored to feed an insatiable beastâthe city of Rome itself.
It must have been a terrible time to be alive. There was pernicious inequality. There were fires, plagues, and violence. There were crazy Emperors like Nero, who years before had drained the Imperial coffers and terrorized the city. There was even a volcanoâthe infamous Vesuviusâwhich in 79 AD unleashed its fury on the people of the Pompeii region, condemning them to history.
But perhaps it was also an amazing time to be alive. It was the eve of the opening of the great Flavian Amphitheater, aka the Colosseum, an architectural wonder of the world. There were opulent public bathhouses, glorious temples, and an incredible network of roads. Never before had so many different kinds of people come togetherâto do business, to trade ideas, and, of course, to fall in love.
I hope you enjoy the story!
Greta
Chapter One
Rome, 80 AD
She examined the captiveâs hands, searching for a sign from the gods. Her very life rested upon this choice.
âDo you favor him, Clodia? Or shall we look at some others?â asked her sister, Davena.
Clodia ran her finger down the manâs stomach, sensing him shudder. He was one of so many, his bare torso pressed between so many othersâa tragic horde of ill-fortuned souls filling the marketplace with their misery.
âThe mango says these are from Pompeii,â her sister added. âCan you imagine? Surviving the eruption of that terrible volcano? Such brave boys!â
Clodia marveled at Davena, how easily she sauntered past the men she called âboys,â breathing in the smell of a pink gardenia while her own slaves cooled her with ostrich-feather fans.
Clodia herself could not pretend any enjoyment. She found the slave market shameful, the essence of Romeâs brutality. Yet she knew that coming here was the least of her sins.
She was the wifeâno, the widow nowâof mighty general Paulinus, the man who captured Queen Boudica and brought the wild tribes of Briton to their knees.
âGlory to Gaius Suetonius Paulinus,â the guests had cheered at her husbandâs funeral games. But Clodia could not bring herself to join them. It was no secret that her husband had been a butcher. Over ten thousand Iceni women and children slaughtered in a single battle. Ten thousand innocent lives erased. All for the glory of Rome.
Clodia begged the goddess Minerva to erase her thoughts. But no matter how much she wished to forget Paulinusâs deeds, she could not. Neither could she escape the thought that in some sense, the blood her husband had spilled was on her hands, too.
And now, as the Fates would have it, so was his money.
Paulinus had no men in his family. No sons, nephews or brothers to carry on the Suetonius name. By law, then, Clodia inherited everything.
It was the worse fate she could have ever imagined. Paulinus came from an old Roman clan, the kind who found Roman law tedious. It was said that Paulinusâs sister, his closest blood relative, had already set a price on Clodiaâs head. Or so they whispered at the baths.
Clodia looked up at the man before her. Somehow, she had not let go of his hand.
âApologies,â Clodia murmured, placing it gently by his side. His finger grazed the back of her hand, igniting an invisible spark where it touched.
When she looked up, the man was peering down at her, a curious gaze in his blue-gray eyes. But before she could blink he was looking forward again, his eyes fixed on some invisible horizon.
He was lean, filthy, and smelled of the sea. His hair was thick and yellow and grew in serpentine ropes that mingled with his beard, which grew so long and tangled it seemed stolen from Medusa herself.
He was a ghastly vision, but his power could not be concealed. He stood two heads taller than Clodia, his arms full, his legs long and solid as tree trunks.
But will he do what I require, when the time comes? There seemed no way to be sure.
At the edge of the piazza, Clodia spied the long toga of the cityâs most famous gladiator trainer, the procuratore of the Ludus Magnus. The manâs slight build and delicate manner belied a boundless ambition. Even Clodia had heard of his efforts to maintain the favor of the emperor with increasingly bloody spectacles.