|
.jpg)
|
|
|
"Intriguingly different historical settings!" ~ Booklist ROMAN FORUM
|
|
Available NOW!
|
VENI. VIDI. VICI. "I came. I saw. I conquered."
Julius Caesar first set his Roman foot on British soil in 55 BC and his impressive military forced the Britons to pay tribute in tin, an essential ingredient for the production of bronze. Once the Romans strong-armed a presence on the island, they also discovered gold and silver deposits, along with a steady supply of mundane commodities like hunting dogs, wool and slaves.
The Romans came first as conquerors. Then as architects and administrators. Finally, they came as colonists, bringing wives and children to this distant outpost of Roman life. The Romans transplanted their language, their villas and baths, and their deities to the 'backward' Celtic world. They recreated Rome in a new place. Isn't it ironic that the British did the very same thing in the 18th and 19th centuries, when they exported their culture to an empire that spanned the globe?
Though they were never able to subdue the Scots, Rome controlled portions of Britain for 400 years. The time referenced in VEXING THE VISCOUNT (405 AD) was near the end of that occupation. Rome was imploding. By 410 AD, the Emperor Honorius advised Romans in that distant outpost to defend themselves against the native Britons, for he would send no more troops from the south.
But barrows and standing stones dot the UK, enigmatic glimpses into what was. You can’t walk the land without sensing the magic of its past.
My heroine Daisy is right. Sometimes, the rocks do cry out with words only the heart hears.
|
In VEXING THE VISCOUNT, I give my readers two love stories for the price of one. Of course, Daisy and Lucian are the main focus, but we also see glimpses into the Roman past in the courtship of freedman, Caius Meritus and the Celtic slavegirl, Deirdre. Here's a taste:
Londinium, 405 A.D. The sound charmed Caius toward the garden. The girl’s voice was like a flute, all rounded and wispy with air wrapped around the tone. And sad. In all his life, and as nearly as he could reckon it, he was around thirty years old, Caius had never heard such a lament. The song weaved its melodic fingers around his heart and squeezed. He peered from the corner of the villa into the mistress’s herb garden. The air was alive with tiny honey bees and the steady, constant hum of green, growing things. The new girl, Deirdre, was bent over, clawing at weeds, singing her sad, Celtic song as she worked. Then the song stopped and she straightened, arms extended over her head in a huge stretch. Her palla rose almost to her knees, baring shapely calves and delicate ankles. Her feet were naked, her toes and heels grass-stained. The fading sun flashed behind her, showing the separation of her thighs and a shadow of the dark triangle of hair under her thin palla. When she leaned down to grasp a long-stemmed cankerwort by the stubborn root, Caius saw the outline of her breasts swinging free. The girl yelped suddenly. Bee sting, Caius decided. She stuck her finger in her mouth, sucking fiercely. The innocent gesture made his body respond in a not so innocent way. He’d desired women before, but none had ever made him stiffen quite so unexpectedly. He’d never had a woman. When he’d been a slave, his master hadn’t permitted it. But now, Caius was a freedman. If he wished, he might take a woman to his pallet. Though male slaves were in danger of emasculation if they were caught in unsanctioned coupling, a female slave was more prized if she proved fertile. He would bring the girl no harm if . . . Without his conscious volition, he walked toward her. In the sparse amount of Celtic he’d gleaned from his dealings in the market, he told her to show him her finger. With care, he plucked out the stinger, still pulsing its venom into her reddened and swelling skin. He pursed his lips and blew softly on the spot. “Better?” he asked. Her smile washed over him like a breaker. And he knew in an instant. He was a drowned man who just hadn’t quit struggling yet. It was said to be not at all an unpleasant end once a man gave up. Best to let the deep claim him.
|
 |
|
|||||
|
||||||
|
||||||
| Copyright © 2007 «Emily Bryan». All rights reserved. | ||||||
|
|
||||||
|
|
||||||