The next day, Rome was all abuzz with the news of the fight the evening before. Old women in the markets spoke to each other with disapproval in their stares and sternness in their tones. Men eating their Breakfast Meals at Piada Hut (1) sniggered at and nudged each other, knowing eyebrows raised. Already, several young citizens (‘most of whom were male’, a report delicately said) had been arrested for writing graffiti on the Colosseum walls (2) professing their… love… for the female gladiators.
And in the gladiator school, well…
“Briccus, will you at least put your hands up?” an exasperated Master Barcus said, his hands over his eyes, as Kiminax fumed at her opponent.
“Aw, but if I did that, I might win!” Briccus said in a mock pout. “And I don’t wanna win! I wanna kiss her!” he added with puckered lips- “Yeech!” he spat, as Rufus scampered down his armour with considerably less stealth and more speed than he had climbing up. “Gods, Ronnicus, what’re you feeding that thing?” he said, wiping the taste of the molerat’s kiss off his lips as he turned behind him.
“A little something called Formaggio Marcio,” Ronnicus said, grinning. “Want some?”(3)
Briccus twitched. His eyes goggled, and he was twitching slightly as he tried to accommodate the mental image of him eating the cheese.
“Maggots…” he whispered in horrified fascination.
The cheese had maggots in it.
“Yeah, and they’re still alive!” Ronnicus said.
There were maggots crawling out of it, peeking out of it.
“That’s how you can tell they’re fresh!” he continued. (3a)
Wriggling, writhing, pale little maggots… with their segmented bodies, and their little black jaws…
“Huh, I guess he didn’t want any,” Ronnicus said, taking another bite of the cheese.
“You know what, Ronnicus? Maybe you should bring that cheese with you into the arena,” Matser Barcus moaned. “All you’d need to win is eat it in front of someone.”
“Wot’ff vat ‘ou fay, fir?” Ronnicus asked through an entire mouthful of the stuff. There was a rush of wind, a cloud of dust, and- “Hey, where’d everybody go?” Ronnicus asked, swallowing.
“The latrine,” Kiminax said, pointing to where the crowd had gathered.
“Uh, Kim,” Monik said, shuddering as Ronnicus kept on eating, “You’re not at all grossed out by what Ron’s eating?”
“Nope,” Kiminax said easily. “Remind me to tell you about black pudding sometime.”
“I’ll pass,” Monik said- anything that could make maggot cheese seem normal, well, just wasn’t. “Hon,” she said to Ronnicus, “you better not let Al-Wadjet see you eating that. He’d have a fit.”
“No he wouldn’t.”
“Oh yeah? How can you be so sure?”
”Where’d you think I got the cheese from?” Ron munched.
“…So, you going to go to the banquet tonight?” she asked, a faint hint of green visible even through her dark skin.
“Ugh, I don’t know,” Kiminax grumbled. “The last thing I want to see’s a bunch of Romans.”
“You kidding me, Kim?” Ronnicus asked. “This is like, gonna be the biggest event of the year! Well, our year, anyway. You can’t pass it up!”
“Why not? One banquet’s the same as another, right?”
“Girl, trust me- you don’t know what you’re talking about,” Monik said, placing a hand on Kiminax’s shoulder. “When the Romans party, they par-tay!”
“Oh wow, and I thought I’d run out of reasons not to go,” Kiminax grumbled.
“Okay, now I know something’s going on,” Monik said, her hands on her hips. “What’s the matter with you, Kim? The party’s in your honour, why won’t you go? I mean, Bonita’s not invited, so she’s not gonna be there-”
“She’ll be here,” Ronnicus said, beautiful visions dancing in his head
“-and you’ll even get to see your parents there! I don’t see what the big deal is, Kim!”
“Well, for one, that Dracus guy’s going to be there-”
“So? After last night, I think he’d be more scared of you than you are of him.”
“Secondly, you guys won’t be there.”
“So what? We can’t be happy for you?” Monik said dismissively. “It’s your party, Kim- you have to go.”
“Don’t worry, we’ll be okay,” Ronnicus said, placing a hand on Kim’s shoulder. “I mean, it’s not like the Huns are gonna come charging across the mountains- I hope,” he squeaked.
“Staring at the moon again?” Rufus asked.
“It calls to me…” Ron said, wide-eyed.
“Crazy talk aside…” Monik said, (4) shooting Ronnicus an exasperated look. “Look, Kim, what’s the problem?”
“Well… um…”
“Well um what Kim? What else can there be?”
Kim mumbled something.
“What’s that, Kim? I didn’t hear you.”
Kiminax mumbled again.
“Kim, if you don’t tell me what’s wrong, I can’t-”
“She’ll be there!” Kim shouted.
“She?”
“Yes, ‘she’! You know!”
“No, I- oh, okay, I get it” Monik said as comprehension dawned.
“I mean, I kissed her! I kissed her!” Kiminax moaned.
“Yeah, you sure did,” Briccus said dreamily, as he came staggering back.
The trio didn’t say anything; instead, as Kiminax and Monik glared at the blond gladiator, Ronnicus took another piece of maggot cheese from a pouch on his belt, and took a huge bite.
“As I was saying,” Kiminax said through the dust cloud, “I can’t go there! It’ll be so the drama if I did that-”
“What so the drama about it?” Monik insisted. “Come on, Kim, we all know you did that so you’d both end up leaving the arena alive. You’re a nice girl; it’s not like that’s such a big secret.”
“But-” Kiminax began, when Ronnicus interrupted.
“Yeah- I mean, would you kiss a girl otherwise? Bleeech! I know that’d be the only reason I’d kiss a guy,” he said, his face a rictus of disgust.
“Uh, yeah, right,” Kiminax said uncertainly. “Look, guys, it’s okay, I-”
“Open the gates! Open the gates!” someone called from outside the school. “I bear a message from the Emperor!” The messenger didn’t even wait for the gates to open fully, speeding his horse through with only inches to spare, so great was his hurry. “Who among you is the gladiatrix Kiminax?” (5)
Kiminax raised a timid hand.
“The Emperor, has sent me, to tell you that he wishes, the pleasure of your presence at the banquet tonight,” the messenger proclaimed in short, halting gasps. Kiminax pitied him; he looked even more tired and out of breath than his horse- and that was saying something.
“Well, girl,” Monik grinned at a shocked Kiminax. “Let’s find you something to wear- kay?”
(scene change)
“Good evening, Lady Croetia!,” Dracus said, standing at his villa’s gates. “So good to see you!”
I wish I could say the same, Lady Croetia thought as she gave a polite grin in return.
“Senator Gaius! So glad you could come!”
Good- that means one of us is happy.
“General Africanus! Where have the years gone?”
Considering they brought me to your doorstep- straight down the drain.
And so it went on and on, Dracus greeting each and every one of his guests- and considering that the Emperor himself was rumoured to be coming, there were a lot of guests. As they came in, each of them noticed that Dracus’s mind seemed to be elsewhere; his stiff smile seemed to have been painted on, and his equally formal posture told the more politically astute and/or paranoid guests that Dracus had other, more important things on his mind.
In a way, they were right.
How am I going to pay for all this? Dracus moaned inwardly.
He had counted over ninety people already, and he knew that even his lavish villa couldn’t accommodate that many people. Granted, quite a few of them were the various bodyguards and security personnel that seemed to gather around the rich like flies, but even with them eating outside the villa (where all servants belonged), Dracus was sure this party was going to be a disaster. Visions danced in his head, mental images of him sitting at a table, frantically trying to balance his books, while his house burned and a brute from the moneylender stood ready to stab him. (6)
“Hey, nice party, General D,” Shiko said, as the last of the guests went into the house. “You got any more of those little fruits on sticks?”
“Any more- Shiko,” he said in a quiet, dead voice. “Tell me you didn’t eat the party treats? At least, not all of them, did you?”
“Of course I did!” Shiko sniffed. “You think I’d be asking you for more if I didn’t?”
Dracus didn’t say anything; instead, he just sat down at the front of his gates, out of the sight of his guests, and began to very quietly cry.
“Doy…” Shiko sighed. “Hey, blue boy, I was kidding, okay, kidding! We’ve got lots of the stuff left.”
“W-what?” Dracus asked, wiping the tears from his cheeks. “You sure?”
“Duh, of course I’m sure.”
“Oh, well, that’s a relief.”
“It’s roasted dormice we’re out of.”
“…Oh- oh! I get it! Very good, Shiko!” Dracus laughed. “You really had me going for a minute! I mean, you’re joking, right? Right?”
“What do you think?” Shiko asked, and stood back to enjoy the show.
(scene change)
“And how are you enjoying the food, gladiatrix?” one guest, a woman who resembled certain fertility goddesses, asked Kiminax.
“Very well, thank you,” Kiminax said uncertainly but politely- in her village, her father’s position as Druid meant that he would often share his table with dignitaries and chieftains, as well as their families. In turn, they would share their table with him and his family- occasions which, truth be told, were not much different from this; at least, not to Kiminax.
It was just that, with the Romans, it all seemed to be magnified tenfold, even thought the Emperor had not arrived yet. From the fake laughter of those kowtowing to their superiors (7), the barely heard whispers of those seeking a more direct route to power, to the loud music and lavish clothing, she had seen and heard it all before, just not on the scale the Romans seemed to do it.
And the food.
Oh the food.
The banquet began, like in Kiminax’s village, with a glass of honey-flavoured wine, but here the diners all dropped a piece of burnt toast into their silver goblets before drinking (8), right before the appetizers were served, and Kiminax gaped in awe at the variety; celery and lettuce competed with shallots and sea urchins for the diners’ attention, and as much as she disliked the Romans, Kiminax couldn’t help but try at least one of each dish.
Which meant that she was filled to bursting by the time the main courses came in. rabbits’ livers marinated in eggs and milk, cooked in a wine and fish sauce and served with a strange, but sweet custard, whole boar boiled in sea water, whole deer stuffed with dates and damsons- and the roasted dormice (Shiko’s mouth had been bigger than her stomach, much to Dracus’s relief). Can’t forget them. (9)
“My dear, is that all you’re eating?” a large man laughed from his seat across the table. “Come now, you’re Roman now! You should eat like one!”
“Oh, dear, come now,” one woman said condescendingly. “She’s been here only- what, a week or so? Isn’t that right, General?” she asked, turning to Dracus.
“I don’t know- not long,” the blue-skinned man replied candidly. “Is it important?”
“Of course it is,” the woman chided good-naturedly. “I’m trying to win an argument with my husband- you know how he is. Anyway, I think we can all agree she’s been here for a short time; you cannot expect her to learn what it’s like to be civilized in such a short time, much less Roman.”
“Our dog managed it,” her husband noted, holding out his glass for refill.
“Well, that’s because it’s a dog, husband mine,” she retorted in that same genial tone. “Dogs can learn.”
“Excuse me,” Kiminax said. “I suddenly feel ill,” she continued pointedly.
“Allow me,” a female slave said, taking Kiminax’s arm.
“What? Hey!” Kiminax said, as the slave gently but firmly led her away. “Where are you taking me?”
“I do believe you’ve offended the slave, my dear wife,” the man said as Kiminax was led away, still protesting.
“We’re Roman, husband dear,” the woman sniffed. “Our very existence offends the barbarians.”
“Thank Jupiter!” Dracus finished with a triumphant flourish, to the laughter of those nearby.
(scene change)
“Where are you taking me?” Kiminax asked indignantly as she was led through the halls away from the banquet, and to a balcony on the villa’s second floor.
“You parents are safe,” the slave replied simply, when she suddenly realized she was trying to pull along a brick wall.
“Wait- what do you mean, ‘my parents are safe’? I thought they were safe already! Has something happened-”
“No, no!” the slave laughed. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you. It’s just that I decided that they shouldn’t be here.”
“What? Why not? Wait- you’re a slave. What do you mean ‘you decided’?”
The slave smiled. Now that Kiminax could take a close look at her, this good-looking, tan woman, with a fall of short brunette hair covering one side of her face, seemed to have an odd aura of authority about her. “Let’s just say I know people,” she smiled. “Look, don’t worry, they’re with friends-”
“Hey, you! Aren’t you supposed to be serving drinks or something?”
“My apologies, Mistress Shiko,” the slave said humbly at the woman just now coming up to them, glass in hand, not missing a beat. “Our guest had eaten her fill before the main course arrived, and as she is unfamiliar with Roman custom, I thought I would take her to the vomitorium, so that she may return to enjoy her feast.” (10)
“Yeah, whatever,” Shiko said, waving a hand dismissively. “Go back to the table. I’ve got a few things I want to talk about with your new friend.”
“Of course, Mistress Shiko,” the slave said, before hurrying away.
“Okay, what were you two talking about?” Shiko asked brusquely when she was sure the slave was out of earshot. “And don’t give me any innocent looks either- ‘going to the vomitorium’, yeah right!”
“N-nothing that concerns you,” Kiminax said defiantly.
Shiko raised an eyebrow as she walked over and gazed over the balcony. “You know, there are a lot of ways I can punish you for saying things like that. Yeah, I’m a slave, but as your friend said: I know people.”
“You were listening.” It was a statement, not a question.
“Duh! Hmm, let’s see, I come here for a quiet drink, or at least get away from all the Romans, and I see two slaves gossiping in the halls! What else was I supposed to do?” she asked, turning back to Kiminax.
“Leave us alone, maybe?” Kim scowled.
“Oooh, looks like someone’s woken up on the wrong side of the cot,” Shiko laughed. “Come on, Kimmie, that’s not nice. Especially since…” she trailed off, instead letting a wink and a salacious grin do the rest of the talking.
It’s started, Kiminax sighed inwardly. “Look, Shiko, back there at the arena, I was-”
“Trying to save both our lives, I know,” Shiko said calmly, taking another drink. “Whatever.”
“You know, I’d have thought you’d be a lot more grateful.”
“Not anymore, Kim,” Shiko said in a calm, but bitter whisper. “I’m way past that. Trust me, I’ve seen too much to be scared by a little dying,” she added. The way she smiled when she said that, combined with the way the light the outside torches illuminated her, gave Shiko a haunting look that chilled Kiminax’s spine. “To tell you the truth, there’s a lot of things and people I wouldn’t mind leaving behind.”
There was an uncomfortable silence for a few moments, when Shiko turned to her, suddenly perked up. “And speaking of leaving people behind- where’d you go? I understand not wanting commitment, but kissing me, getting my applause, and then leaving just like that? Kimmie, Kimmie, Kimmie- that’s just plain rude.”
Shiko took a drink as Kiminax found herself blushing as furiously as she did back in the arena. “Well…” the dark haired woman continued, amused at Kiminax’s discomfort, “I was that good, huh?”
“What?” Kiminax asked incredulously.
“You mean I wasn’t?” Shiko asked, shocked.
“No! I mean, yes! Wait, I mean-”
“Gotcha,” Shiko grinned.
“…I hate you.”
Shiko’s only reply was a wicked laugh. She was still wiping tears from her eyes when she spoke again. “You shoulda seen the look on your face, Princess!” she said. “I mean, I’ve seen blue-boy back there lose it a few times, but you, you-”
She burst out laughing again.
“Well, I’m glad one of us is having a good time,” Kiminax sniffed.
“Awww, did I make widdle ol’ Pwincess Kimmie mad?” Shiko mocked, when her tone suddenly changed to become rich, seductive. “Want another kiss to make it all better?”
Kiminax gaped, her mouth opening and closing to beat a goldfish. Later, she would not have been able to quite articulate just why that question had shocked her so. Much later, however, when it was all over, she would have allowed herself to realize that it’s not every day that she had the acceptance of her secret desires so openly thrown in one’s face.
“What- hey!” Shiko exclaimed upon seeing Kiminax’s astonishment. “I wasn’t being serious!” she added- but there was a hint, just a hint, of red in those pale cheeks, and Kim suddenly couldn’t help but wonder…
Were the thoughts running through her head now running through Shiko’s as well?
Suddenly there was a flourish of trumpets, and the two women turned in its direction, both relieved for the distraction.
“Lookee who’s here,” Shiko said herself. “It’s the big cheese himself.”
“Who?” Kiminax asked, her mind still a bit of a mess.
“Who else? The Emperor.”
(scene change)
Kiminax returned to the banquet room alone, Shiko having complained of a Roman sickness (in that, she was sick of Romans), and if she had thought the banquet was noisy before, she soon found out just how wrong she was. The Emperor, resplendent in gold trimmed white and purple robes moved into the room. Kiminax couldn’t help but be reminded of when she first laid eyes on a Roman Legion: like them, he moved at a deceptively gentle, deliberate pace, but despite its slowness, there was no doubt in anyone’s mind that the Emperor would only stop when, and only when, he wanted to.
And in this case, he wanted to stop in front of the newly returning gladiatrix. “Returning from the vomitorium, I see,” he said with calm cheer, and Kiminax was immediately on her guard, because she knew that she could see what most of the Romans here could not: despite his appearances as an overweight fop, one look into his hard eyes told Kiminax all she needed to know about the man. “You must be enjoying yourself.”
“Yes, I am, great Emperor,” Kiminax said with an equally icy calm politeness, and there was a quiet sigh of relief from those who doubted the barbarian’s graces, as well as an equally silent gasp of indignation that the barbarian should be the first person that the Emperor talk to.
“I would certainly hope so, my dear,” Nero said. “It is, after all, in your honour, my dear gladiatrix. Isn’t it, General Dracus?”
“Uh, y-yes, great Emperor!” Dracus fawned, as Nero turned back to regard Kiminax.
“Now my dear, what do you say we step outside for a moment, you and I?”
There was another murmur through the room, another sense of relief. So that’s why he approached her first!it seemed to whisper. She is rather good looking, after all. Tit should be all right, so long as he does not forget us!
If Kiminax heard it, she didn’t pay attention. She would have correctly dismissed it as untrue, anyway. For reasons she could not explain, the man she followed outside, with an almost-second-chin, gaudy clothes and lyre slung at his waist, seemed far more dangerous than the legion that attacked her village, more dangerous than any gladiator, more dangerous even, than Shiko.
“I’ve always preferred starless nights like this one, Miss… Kiminax, wasn’t it?”
“Yes, great Caesar,” Kiminax answered.
“Please, dispense with the formality. Call me Nero,” the Emperor smiled.
Kiminax looked up at him, defiance in her eyes. Strangely enough, she didn’t feel scared. In her mind’s eye, she could see him giving the orders to raid her village, or at least personally appointing the man who did. She could see him at the head of a massive Roman army, his very name a symbol of might making right.
“I am afraid I cannot do that, great Caesar,” Kiminax said, but her tones were of those of quiet defiance.
Instead of the angry explosion she expected, Nero merely nodded calmly, and went back to looking up at the sky. “Are you aware of the stir you’ve caused, my dear Kiminax?”
“Great Caesar?” Kiminax asked, her brow wrinkling in honest bewilderment.
“You don’t know? In the space of one fight, your first in the arena in fact, you’ve garnered more admirers than other gladiators who have fought for their whole lives. Even the current fame of your opponent lies merely on the fact that she was the recipient of your kiss. That’s quite a lot of support for a gladiator, much less a newcomer such as yourself.”
He then turned his gaze downwards, his contemplative gaze fixing on Kiminax. “I want to know where your loyalties lie. I need to know.”
“My… loyalties?”
“Yes, but of course! As I said, you’re a very popular gladiator at the moment,” he said, in tones that said it was entirely up to him how long that moment was going to be- and how it would end. “With your public, or even private, endorsement, a man can become very powerful indeed. Men such as your owner, General Dracus, for example- or his Emperor.”
Kiminax couldn’t believe what she was hearing. She walked up to the pudgy emperor, until she was nose to nose with him. “You want to know something, Nero? I don’t know what you’re planning,” she spat quietly, “and personally, I don’t care- just as long as you leave me out of it.”
“Are you sure?” Nero asked calmly. “After all, the right choice of master could mean your freedom and that of your family.”
“And what? Being in debt to you? To Dracus? That’s a strange way of defining ‘freedom’,” Kiminax scoffed. “If there is a way that my family will be free, truly free, your power games have nothing to do with it.”
“Oh dear, so you will not join me?”
“Not you, not Dracus, nor any Roman,” Kiminax whispered angrily, and then, realizing what she just said, braced for the explosion.
Instead, Nero just laughed, laughed merrily. “Excellent, Kiminax!” he said in sincere mirth. “Simply excellent! That is good to hear!”
“Caesar?” Kiminax asked, her bewilderment and uncertainty returning with a vengeance.
“Oh, but I have kept you away from your own party long enough, haven’t I? Come, my dear, let’s go back inside.”
(scene change)
One of the main indications that Dracus was a man who continually strived for fame, yet never got it right was the size of his vomitorium, capable of only housing one person at a time. Earlier in the banquet, this had caused some problems, but now, as it was winding down, it was a good place for secrecy, even if it did stink a bit-
“-for which I apologize,” the female slave who had been talking to Kiminax said.
“No need to,” Vespasian replied. “You know as well as I do that we Arcani cannot choose our hiding places.”
“Yes sir.”
“You know, this is exactly why I don’t like these large dinners- you’re always obligated to visit the vomitorium at least once.”
“Yes sir.”
“And don’t you ‘yes, sir’ me. Another thing I’m sure we both know is that the only reason you’re my second in command is because those fools in the Senate would never accept a woman in charge. Anyway, what have you to report?”
“Well, from what she told Nero, Kiminax seems determined to remain a political wild card.”
“And so we’ve gained nothing. Jupiter! If she would only pick a side! Wait- could her refusal mean that they try harder to win her over?”
”I doubt it, Vespasian- Nero seemed pretty pleased with her decision. That alone tells me she’s pretty resolute.”
Vespasian sighed. Of course he’d be pleased- at the moment she was too popular to take out directly, which would mean that if she had taken sides with Dracus, she could have proven a serious thorn in his side. Nero had gained enough power for himself; it was preventing others from doing the same that preoccupied him.
No matter the consequences.
“Vespasian?”
“What?”
“You were thinking out loud, again.”
“Sorry, there’s been a lot weighing on my mind. I feel like Ulysses, caught between two crashing cliffs.”
“If that is the case, Jason,” the slave said, placing her arms around Vespasian’s neck, “then your Medea wishes to remind you of the existence of pigeons.”
“Doves, dear, doves,” Vespasian answered, returning the embrace. “And where exactly, is the dove that will save the ship of state, between this clash of political islands?” (11)
“Call it a hunch,” the slave said, becoming serious again, “but my guess is that it may be Kiminax. There’s something about her… her determination, maybe, or perhaps her resourcefulness- I don’t know. I just feel it.”
“If you say so,” Vespasian replied. “And her parents?”
“Safe and sound, as you requested, and if you don’t mind saying so, that was a very kind gesture of yours.”
“How could I not, Diacta?” he said, brushing aside the hair at the side of her face, where was revealed a scarred mess where an eye had once been. “I can’t help but feel, if she has been through a tenth of what you’ve had to endure when you were enslaved…”
“Shhh, no more,” she said, as she locked their lips in a passionate kiss.
Inwardly, they both sighed ruefully: it appeared they had little choice for romance as well.
Historical Notes:
(1) Like any large city, Rome had a great deal of fast food shops (not too sure about franchises though), where the Roman on the go could pick up a ready made meal, such as a kind of coarse, unleavened bread calledmaza, which, when flattened and topped with pickled fish, onions and whatever the Romans could think of, became a pastry calledpiada. Sound familiar? (1a)
(1a) And on that note: I know this is a bit of a long shot, but if there are any culinary historians out there with an authentic recipe forpicenumbread (a kind of bread with dried fruits in it, and flavoured with honey), can you email it to me?
(2) To all the urban artists out there, hold your spray cans with pride- the Romans did it too, and now their scribblings are precious moments of human history- for truly, no manner of modern literature could compare with “Romula tarried here with Staphylus” and “If you want to make love, ask for Attice. The price is 16 asses”. How we have progressed.
(3) An actual food found in certain parts of Italy, where it’s called Casu Marzu. I can’t say exactly where; its production is technically illegal under Italian law, which means I wouldn’t tell you where it’s found or how to smuggle it out of Italy, even if I knew (and besides, it’s nothing you wouldn’t otherwise be able to find on Google anyway, baby).
It has a somewhat gooey texture, and its pungent taste is (to my tastebuds at least) like that of ordinary cheese, only much, MUCH stronger- it’s the sort of food you taste with your spine.
Whether or not it was actually invented by an enslaved Egyptian boy genius, however, is up to debate.
(3a) True.
(4) Ancient beliefs held that the moon had connections with madness and mental illness, which is why the words ‘lunar’ and ‘lunatic’ have the same roots in the Latin word Luna- moon.
(5) I’m not sure if this is the proper way to describe a female gladiator, of just a modern affectation. In any case, I want to remind my readers that you’ll fail History if you use this fic as a reference.
(6) Legend has it that, during the sack of the Greek city of Syracuse in 212 BC by the Romans, Archimedes refused to follow the orders of a Roman soldier and was stabbed to death. The reason for his stubbornness? Ever the mathematician, Archimedes insisted on finishing his sums first.
Ah, Archimedes- remember that name.
(7) An interesting note: There have been some tantalizing archaeological clues that, while the Roman Empire might have had only stretched eastward as far as the Middle East, they might have had diplomatic contact with empires much further in that direction- such as the region which would one day be known as China…
Just a little historical titbit I thought I’d share; nothing to do with the story.
(8) In order to counteract the acidity of their wines, Romans would drop a piece of burnt bread into their cups before drinking- which is where we get the term ‘toast’ from.
(9) Yes, I was hungry when I wrote this chapter. Bloody near starving in fact, and this section is the result.
(10) The vomitorium was a common feature in those houses whose owners liked to have large banquets. If any guests had eaten their fill, yet wished to consume more, they would retire to the vomitorium. There, with the help of slaves they, well, vomited the food they had just eaten. With their stomachs newly emptied, the guest would then be able to go back to the table and start stuffing themselves again.
And yet, I’m still hungry.
(11) In the tales of Jason and the Argonauts, the great hero has to pass between two clashing cliffs called the Sympeglades, which he managesonlyby releasing a dove to cause the cliffs to clash prematurely, and then dashing his boat through as they opened again, and ever since the Argo made it through, the Sympeglades ave never clashed again.