COLOSSEUM: Blood and Roses

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© 2023 Lorraine Blundell. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

Published by AuthorHouse 06/06/2023

ISBN: 979-8-8230-8290-7 (sc)

ISBN: 979-8-8230-8289-1 (e)

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CONTENTS

Dedication

Timeline

Characters

Part I

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Part II

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Part III

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Part IV

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Chapter 41

Chapter 42

Chapter 43

Chapter 44

Chapter 45

Chapter 46

Chapter 47

Part V

Chapter 48

Chapter 49

Chapter 50

Part VI

Chapter 51

Chapter 52

The Author

Historical Notes

Glossary

To My Readers

OTHER NOVELS BY THE SAME AUTHOR

Cleopatra: Arsinoe’s Curse

Cleopatra: Whispers from the Nile

Marie Antoinette: Secrets from the Grave

Pompeii: Death Comes Calling

Empress of Pompeii

Pompeii: The Peacock Murders

Pompeii: My Love Must Wait

Whispers from Pompeii

Herculaneum: Paradise Lost

Medici: The Queen’s Perfume

Rome: The Titus Conspiracy

DEDICATION

For Jenni and Steve

WITH THANKS

Jenni and Izak

Steve and Candace

Joan

Michelle and Paul

Kate

Professor Miles Prince

Dr. Harold Cashmore

FRONT COVER DESIGN

London Montgomery

TIMELINE

THE COLOSSEUM

The Colosseum is visited by 4 million tourists a year and is one of the most loved and iconic buildings in the world. It is one thousand, nine hundred and thirty-seven years old.

CHARACTERS

Historical character *

PART I

Emperor Caesar Vespasian Augustus ordered a new amphitheatre to be made from the spoils of war.

Inscription

Dedication Stone

The Colosseum

1

ROME

Ave Imperator! Moriture te Salutant.

(Hail Emperor, those who are about to die salute you.)

Suetonius

The Titus Inaugural Games

Day 4

80 AD

L ivinia sat anxiously wringing her hands. The decision she’d made to attend the Colosseum had not been easy, but the seer’s words echoed in her ears, do not hesitate .

She knew that Quintus would fight second and the first of the bouts was due to begin after the executions which would soon be in progress. This would be the most arduous, dangerous fight of his life.

She averted her eyes from the arena in front of her.

This wasn’t Volterra or Pompeii, fights were to the death by the command of Titus, which he thought was appropriate to celebrate the opening of the new amphitheatre to honour his father, Vespasian, who had died after working for so long to bring the project into being.

‘Let Quintus live, please, don’t take him from me,’ Livinia beseeched the gods. She looked around her wondering if she’d mistakenly spoken aloud in her distress, but no one seemed to have noticed her.

Livinia knew she wasn’t strong enough to survive losing a son for the second time. She’d made up her mind if that happened then she’d take her own life.

She held her hands in her lap so as not to make her anguish obvious. Because of her family’s social standing she’d been invited to sit in the royal box, which was an unusual honour. Her late husband, Marcellus, had been a Roman Senator and a loyal supporter of Vespasian.

Livinia was almost out of view in a row at the back, of course, but for that she was grateful, she did not wish to be noticed.

She glanced across at Titus, his gaze intent on the central arena. So much would depend on his decisions on this day.

Events seemed to be frozen in time.

Desperation was written on her face.

2

ROME

Rome will exist as long as the Colosseum does, when the Colosseum falls, Rome falls.

The Venerable Bede

The Great Fire

The Reign of Nero

July 64 AD

Adjacent to the Circus Maximus

A t first it was just a teasing, yellowish red flicker – a small, insignificant ‘something,’ lick, lick, licking at the edge of a rotten, sagging piece of the furniture factory’s ancient timber door. It was a tiny pulse of light in the dark night that had already fallen, concealing the squalor of the buildings near the shadowy wooden bulk of the Circus Maximus and hiding their occupants’ shady transactions, as well as their other vile human transgressions.

Nearby, the followers of the god Mithras gathered in the underground rock hewn temple dedicated to his worship to pray. They saw nothing beyond the cult’s dark, enclosed walls.

The narrow laneway outside the factory lay empty, foul and silent, except for one old vagrant at the far end, coughing and shuffling on shaky legs as he disappeared from sight around the corner.

The transformation when it came was swift and startling.

From the rags of decrepit old age emerged a youthful figure, moving fast.

A pile of discarded rags lay strewn on the paving stones. Further up the laneway behind it the tiny, pulsing flicker was also undergoing a transformation. From an existence barely more than nothingness, it eventually became the raging flames of the most relentless killer inferno that would ever devastate the city.

I am but a small, flickering light in the darkness, yet I will play an important part in changing the history of Rome.

A terrifying, scarlet sky the colour of blood greeted those awakening to a nightmare. The fire spread ferociously seeking the easiest pathway through wooden structures as it rolled on relentlessly through the Circus Maximus, destroying it, and over the elite villas and gardens of the wealthy on the Palatine Hill. It respected neither the hovels of the poor nor the gleaming marble of the law courts or temples.

The Forum burned.

The air was filled with ash and smelled of fire, as those living in the high wooden insulae in Rome’s narrow streets ran wildly seeking safety.

Mostly, they attempted to reach the city walls, running terrified towards open fields.

One old woman, having been knocked to her feet as she was pushed out of the way, cried out vainly for help.

‘Who will save me? Don’t leave me!’

The crowd swept onwards condemning her to her fate.

Men with flaming torches said to be from the estate of Tigellinus, Prefect of the Praetorian Guard, were seen reigniting dying embers where the fire had passed through. Rumours later began that Nero had ordered the city destroyed.

The vigiles acting as firemen but with little suitable equipment of any kind, stood no chance of success.

Pushing and shoving by the terrified crowds caused some citizens to fall. They were trampled while others froze where they stood, screaming in sheer terror. Once through the nearest city gate they fled past the homeless who lived beside the graves on the Via Appia and hid in fear.

Night fell once more over a scene of chaos and destruction. Some insisted that the end of the world had come.

A flaming sun rose with the dawn the next day in an angry, crimson sky and everywhere there was death and terror.

Antium

(Anzio)

Nero’s Royal Villa

South of Rome

Furious waves flung themselves at the rocks and man-made vaulted caves on the beach below the rugged clifftop, leaving frothing spume in their wake.

‘Poppaea, you’re out here early this morning.’

Nero walked towards her and placed his hand gently on his wife’s shoulder. She turned to greet him.

‘Yes, my love. I was unable to sleep.’

‘Are you quite well?’

‘I am, my dear,’ she smiled up at him.

She was beautiful, her face lovely and untroubled, but her beauty hid a woman of huge ambition capable of the worst crimes, but also the most loyal of friendships. He placed his arm around her and together they made their way back inside the villa.

This was the place of Nero’s birth.

He visited Antium often, enjoying the seclusion. He’d built a new harbour which had already been successfully completed and the palace was stacked with priceless sculptures and other art works, offering all of the luxuries that could be desired.

A small temple to the goddess Fortuna stood nearby in the grounds and Poppaea visited it each day praying for a healthy son. Unfortunately, her first child to Nero, a daughter, had not survived long after birth.

An exhausted royal messenger rode up to them urgently, his horse showing the effects of the long, hard ride.

‘Caesar, a message for you!’

Nero’s face paled as he read the brief news from Rome signed by Offonius Tigellinus, the Praetorian Commander.

‘What news?’ Poppaea asked, concerned at his expression.

‘I must go, there’s a huge fire in Rome, stay here where you’ll be safe.’

‘Be assured I will,’ Poppaea agreed as she stepped back and watched them prepare to leave. She was far from displeased that she’d not be leaving with them.

Nero called for his horse and within minutes he was gone accompanied by guards. They looked up at the angry sky and smelled the ash long before dismounting on the fringe of Rome to gauge the severity of the situation.

‘By all the gods!’ Nero exclaimed in horror. ‘I’ve never seen anything like this before. It’s an inferno!’

Tigellinus had ridden out of the city to meet them, relieved to be no longer in control of such a perilous situation.

‘Caesar, thank the gods you’re here,’ he exclaimed, his expression grim, ‘how will we ever put out this fire?’

‘First, we must save all of those possible. Open up my estates and provide what areas of safety you can for the people,’ Nero ordered.

As day melded into day the terrible situation became clearer. Food and clothing were provided for the poor many of whom had lost what little they’d owned. Most of them remained sleeping in the fields.

The struggle to move forward was difficult and long. Nero put new rebuilding rules in place to move insulae back from the edge of the streets, which would be opened up. The high, wooden insulae were to be replaced with safer housing to prevent the horror of the fire recurring.

Very slowly Rome would become a new, more beautiful and safer city. That, however, was not the end of the matter.

Ugly rumours ripped through the citizens of Rome that Nero had given orders for the fire to be lit. There were volatile emotions at play, but little did anyone guess that these would be accelerated further by what was yet to come.

It was a dangerous time in the devastated city.

The Transitoria Palace

The Palatine Hill

‘They’ll calm down eventually,’ Nero reassured Poppaea when she arrived back in Rome.

‘I hope you’re right,’ she replied uncertainly.

‘Come, sit with me. I want to tell you about a wonderful new project I have in mind.’

Poppaea settled herself comfortably and her eyes widened in wonder as he spoke. She could barely believe what she was hearing, but said nothing as he outlined his plans.

‘A huge portion of land has been razed to the ground by the fire. There will never be another opportunity as good as this one to change the use of that land.’

Poppaea nodded her agreement.

‘I’m tired of having nothing better than where we live now. This palace is old and unfit for use as the residence of an emperor.’

‘I’ll build a new palace that will make a statement of power and enchant all who see it. The whole estate will include fountains, a lake large enough to hold a warship and other exotic spaces. Only the best craftsmen will be employed to create my vision. Obviously, it will also include a park that the common people may enjoy where they are permitted to walk.’

‘Will that take up all of such a large amount of land?’ Poppaea frowned, as she tried to imagine the immensity of it.

‘Easily, I would think. This Palatine palace is no longer usable due to fire damage but the new palace will be for entertainment as well as to live in.’

‘What inspired you to do all this?’ Poppaea questioned him curiously.

‘I thought you might have guessed,’ Nero teased her.

‘No, I don’t know.’

‘Baiae, our favourite resort, of course.’

‘You’re right, I should have guessed.’

South of Rome

Baiae was a secluded, exclusive and hedonistic resort for the royal, powerful and wealthy of Rome. It was ridiculously expensive and purposely well out of the reach of anyone else. Villas of royalty and senators were foremost to be seen gracing the clifftop of the resort with their presence.

Its luxurious villas, sandy beach and blue sea sparkling under a warming sun, soothed and revived those fortunate enough to be able to afford its elite lifestyle.

Gambling and shopping were extremely popular with huge amounts of money, assets and even villas often changing hands. These were the pursuits of the very wealthy.

The central area offered shaded pathways for leisurely walks the severity of the sun shielded by trees. Numerous fountains gave the illusion of coolness.

It was a place of secrets as befitted the most important of its residents, especially the Emperor. Servants were carefully hand selected and rarely did murmurs of gossip reach those outside this privileged circle.

By night every known sexual preference or perversion was gratified in orgies to rival any seen in Rome, in fact, usually here they were even more extreme.

Baiae boasted a magnificent public bathhouse with an impressive oculus, a theatre and every amenity one could imagine. Interior villa pools provided artistic pleasure, some with niches displaying graceful statues, and it wasn’t unusual to see small replicas of boats carrying food being floated from one guest to another enabling each to select their choice of delicacy.

The water in which they bathed was warmed by the circle of volcanoes that ringed the resort. Spas were particularly popular, offering heat whenever desired and providing places of relative privacy for intimate conversations and more.

Some wealthy villas on the waterfront enjoyed the use of fish ponds where they could be bred and served fresh to the dinner table. Great care was taken with the quality of the water in the ponds which were located on the seashore. Plump, juicy oysters were also farmed in Baiae’s waters to be served in luxurious splendour to guests.

Extravagant parties were commonplace on boats just off-shore where behaviour of any kind was expected and indulged in. By night, flares were lit stretching the length of the beachfront and the water was clear and warm, inviting naked bodies to enter. What followed was no one else’s business.

What happened in Baiae stayed in Baiae.

Life was magical.

There was only one problem for the famous and rich who resided there. Most were from the elite social class of Rome and this pampered lifestyle hid powerful political intrigue which was not minor in nature.

Murder plots were hatched and even carried out in this most idyllic of places. In some ways its beauty was misleading.

Things are seldom what they seem.

3

Nero fiddled while Rome burned.

Anon

The Transitoria Palace

The Palatine Hill

64 AD

T he flames from the executions could be seen across the whole of Rome which was exactly Nero’s intention. Once and for all, he intended to stop any rumours, many still circulating, that the great fire had been started on his orders.

If it wasn’t Nero then who was it?

It had to be either the Jews or the Christians. The followers of Mithras were not a problem. That was the religion of the soldiers and they also accepted the gods of Rome.

‘It couldn’t have been the Christians,’ Tigellinus insisted, ‘they’re very passive people who only want to be left alone to practise what they believe in.’

Nero frowned.

‘So, you’re saying it was the Jews?’ asked Poppaea, herself a Jewess and there was a sharp edge to her voice. She’d often had meetings at the palace with their representatives and promised them her support.

‘There are certainly Jewish prophecies that might have caused this,’ Tigellinus persisted.

‘Enough!’ Nero exclaimed. ‘It’s too late now. Someone has to pay and it’s not going to be me, I wasn’t even there! The punishments will go ahead.’

A lavish dinner was planned and the elite of Rome would all be in attendance. No expense would be spared and there would be unique entertainment, as yet not announced.

The evening of the dinner arrived and the palace and gardens looked their best. Falernian wine and delicacies such as stuffed dormice, peacocks’ tongues and chilled ice with special added flavours brought in at great expense from outside Rome were placed on the tables.

There was nothing that wasn’t beautiful, from the flowers, soft lyre music, jewels worn by the women attending and flickering candlelight in silver candle holders.

Poppaea turned all heads with her expensive turquoise silk robe, golden earrings that swung from her ears and exquisite perfume that wafted around her wherever she walked.

‘Are you enjoying yourselves?’ she asked several guests as she circulated through those carefully selected to attend.

‘How generous of the Emperor to invite us,’ was the inevitable reply.

The evening was a spectacular success.

Nero walked to the front of the room.

‘Entertainment for the evening will now begin,’ he announced cheerfully. ‘I’m sure you’ll all agree that it’s timely and rather spectacular.’

The curtains were drawn back so that all attending could see through the large windows where the garden, previously shrouded in darkness, had been lit with lamps. They saw posts set into the ground.

Surprised expressions