Tag: Historical

Below you’ll find works that directly and indirectly influenced the creation of Stilicho’s Son. Some online resources are defunct. Of special interest are the Peter Brown and AHM Jones books which focus on the culture…

One historian records that Eucher (Flavius Eucherius) and his imperial escort escaped a close encounter with Alaric’s forces and reached Rome, where he was executed sometime in the winter of 408. Throughout his life, Volusian…

Wrapped in a shroud and covered with a wagonload of pig bones, I left the church the following morning. The Master’s Men were told the wagon carried the trash and a corpse of a man…

The only thing you should fear is the truth, but that’s not what you’re looking for anyway. Don’t spend all your life trying to be only what you should be. Some men think God loves what you are. Always remember I did.

“Blessed is our generation,” said the priest as he, Gallus, and I sat in the basement one morning. “We are not thrown down,” the priest continued, “for we have been recognized by the light. We…

October had arrived, bringing the end of the campaign season, when armies often establish camps before the wet winter. But in this age of invasion, whole tribes were driven by an inexorable push that found…

Fear has different colors. Where it had been the blackness of death that drove me to Volusian’s house in the first place, now it was the slavish gray of a life indebted to him that…

New episode #roman #HistoricalFiction “You owe your pretty boys and gold cups and your entire pitiful existence to us, and I’d rather spend one evening with any filthy, horse-fucking German than another moment at your fine Roman table.”

My father was more devoted to your father than to his own family. But this isn’t Theodosius’s world. Your father’s heavy hand won’t work here. My father tried to maintain the world Theodosius left, but how could he when all your father left it was Honorius?

“The Augustus has serious matters consuming his time,” Olympius explained. He sat on a couch in front of me, his legs crossed, foot swinging. Slaves brought him a cup and offered me one.

I convinced the Huns to escort me to the palace to request an audience with the Augustus. It wasn’t easy to convince them, but Sigizan was my father’s most loyal man, so he did what I promised would save my father’s life.

Fifteen Huns from my father’s bodyguard escorted me to Ravenna. Sigizan, Father’s most trusted man, led us. I’d known him since I was a boy, and he hated me almost as long. But I had to trust him as my father did, and I knew I could for the moment. We entered the eagle-topped gates on the one narrow road that passes into the city.

Copyright © 2015 Teresa Wymore. All Rights Reserved. Historical fiction | On Wednesday, August thirteenth, a legion of Roman soldiers mutinied. Bribed and angered by rumors of treason, they rioted, burning their camp and slaughtering…

Copyright © 2015 Teresa Wymore. All Rights Reserved. Historical fiction | His brows rose with interest, and it felt as if I had taken a blow, but I told myself it wasn’t cowardice, only honesty…

Copyright © 2015 Teresa Wymore. All Rights Reserved. Historical fiction | Arsace met me when I arrived at the Palatine late in the day on the twelfth. The Palatine was the complex of imperial residences…

Copyright © 2015 Teresa Wymore. All Rights Reserved. Historical fiction I addressed Namatian. “Julian had many good arguments. He thought the fable about a tower was absurd. God was afraid of men reaching Heaven, so…

Copyright © 2015 Teresa Wymore. All Rights Reserved. Historical fiction I shouldn’t have taken up his offer, but it was quite beyond my control. Like a siren, his affectionate reminiscences and petty complaints lulled me…

Copyright © 2015 Teresa Wymore. All Rights Reserved. Historical fiction His face went slack. He took my compliment like a defeat. “I’ve heard you lost your nerve,” he replied, sitting back down. “Don’t lose your…

Copyright © 2015 Teresa Wymore. All Rights Reserved. Historical fiction “Not at all, only something Proba told me.” “Where are my manners?” He listened attentively as I told him the story. When I finished, he…

Copyright © 2015 Teresa Wymore. All Rights Reserved. Historical fiction It was Sunday, the Sun-King’s day, named by Constantine, that emperor whose allegiance was as fickle as his ambition was voracious. Under the protection of…

Copyright © 2015 Teresa Wymore. All Rights Reserved. Historical fiction In the end, I avoided Proba’s bed. I wondered for a time whether it was the wisest choice or even the most interesting one. Nevertheless,…

Copyright © 2015 Teresa Wymore. All Rights Reserved. Historical fiction I stayed on at Tibur, sharing dinner again with Proba the following evening and then contracting a malady that caused my eyes to burn. It…

Copyright © 2015 Teresa Wymore. All Rights Reserved. Historical fiction I arrived for dinner to find myself the only guest. When I asked about Pelagius, Proba explained that he and Celestius had been requested to…

Copyright © 2015 Teresa Wymore. All Rights Reserved. Historical fiction The day following my dinner with Proba and Paulinus, I prepared to return to Rome. I realized I wouldn’t have much more time before my…

Copyright © 2015 Teresa Wymore. All Rights Reserved. Historical fiction The sheer number and clarity of his words overwhelmed me, but silence took hold of me more from thoughts of Porphyry, a philosopher who, along…

Copyright © 2015 Teresa Wymore. All Rights Reserved. Historical fiction After spending several days with the Caecinae that summer, I rode to Hippo, a smaller African city near Carthage, where Bishop Augustine agreed to meet…

Copyright © 2015 Teresa Wymore. All Rights Reserved. Historical fiction “When a man hears of another who sleeps on stone, he should beat himself with lead,” announced Celestius loudly. “When a man’s vowed celibacy, the…

Copyright © 2015 Teresa Wymore. All Rights Reserved. Historical fiction Bishop Paulinus finished, looking to Proba for her response. When she smiled, his face lit up. The famous bishop had been reading his poetry as…

Copyright © 2015 Teresa Wymore. All Rights Reserved. Historical fiction My first day in Africa that summer had been at the house of my uncle in Carthage, Bathanar, commander of the African Legions and married…

Copyright © 2015 Teresa Wymore. All Rights Reserved. Historical fiction Proba arrived escorting a retinue. Her green mantle billowed around her shoulders, and the saffron linen of her dress clung to her small frame. Gallus…