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.