When In Rome...

"When in Rome, do as the Romans do."
I've been trying to immerse myself in the ancient Roman culture since March, when I began writing my first historical fiction novel. It's not the first novel I've written, but the first in a category which requires so much research of the setting. Always fascinated with history and different eras of life, I discovered that Rome was perhaps the most scandalous society to ever exist, even more so than that which Westerners live in today. Political corruption, sexual promiscuity and perversion, extravagant wealth and wasteful indulgence.... Rome boasted the strongest army in the word, the largest empire, and a reputation for gory entertainment. It was perfect writing material.

I always write fiction, but I wanted to bring the ruins of this mighty empire to life, creating an authentic and believable day-in-the-life of a Roman citizen. I realized my knowledge of Rome came from Russel Crowe's depiction of the gladiator, and I couldn't depend on Hollywood's replica to be true, which meant many trips to the library to seek out the history section. I found myself becoming ansy, however, wanting to sit down and write the story. Nevermind paging through Roman Life, let's get onto Michaelius' forced employment to the Prefect, swordsmithing for the games! So I set my fingers to the keyboard, prepared to start my story in the lovely Roman countryside.

Then I realized, when in Rome, know where Rome is. I mean, I knew Rome as the capital of Italy, but what about in ancient days? How far did the Empire stretch? Where was the palace located? Where would Michael's home be in relation to the great city? From there I began studying the geography, the Seven Hills of Rome, and the layout of the Roman Forum. Michael's home would be Velia Hill, which followed the road to Capitolium Hill where the markets, public baths, expensive villas, Senate house, and Imperial Palace made up the Roman Forum.

It was incredible to see how well my plot timeline unfolded when I created a vivid and believable setting for my characters. Until I sat down and took the time to study the culture and nuances of Rome, I wasn't able to make Michael a reality. Author Lisa Lenard-Cook emphasizes the importance of setting not only as a place or time period, but also as a mood, a comfort zone, and a viewpoint. Setting allows the reader to connect with the viewpoint character, sensing his mood toward his surroundings and his current situation (whether good or bad), and in turn feeling some degree of comfort or discomfort in the setting, depending on the character's response. Here is an excerpt from my novel Iron Bloom that emphasizes setting:

“Keep up, there!” Macro hollered over his shoulder. “Sejanus wants us at the palace this afternoon.”

Michael felt no urgency in reaching the bottom of Velia hill and the Roman Forum, but the Guard had different ideas. They had ridden straight through the night, following the dirt road that wound down Velia toward the valley where Rome’s great city resided in all her richness and glory, representing all the things Romans were proud of: power, beauty, and industry.

Michael turned in his saddle and raked the sky with blurred eyes, searching for a wisp of smoke, but any evidence of his home—or what had been his home—was lost to the green slopes of the hills. His stomach turned sour again as he faced forward. There was nothing he could do for his mother and sister until he reached the palace and received an audience with the Prefect. The hours muddled together like the marshy swamps on either side of the road and Michael slipped in and out of consciousness as sleep threatened to overwhelm him. The sun blazed on his head, the air was thick and intoxicating, and the horse hooves tattooed a lulling beat on the gravel, sending him into a stupor.

Suddenly the company halted and Michael’s transport snorted and pranced, jolting him awake. The sun was completing its arc across the sky and glanced off the white stone and marble of the city spread at Velia’s feet. Michael had been to the capital many times when delivering an order and the ride down the sloping road never failed to stir wonder inside him. The buildings of the Forum were built from limestone, marble, and unburned brick, covered in sloping shingles that burned red in the setting sun. Michael became alert as they passed beyond the wall surrounding Velia and entered the Forum. It stretched from the bottom of Velia to the foot of the Capitolium hill and was filled with people on foot, on horseback, on litter, all jostling one another on their way about. Clusters of apartments and lines of shops, larger businesses, and establishments of leisure spread out before Michael and he lost track of where he was amid all the distraction.

The company navigated the crowd and emerged into a market square, where Michael’s eardrums began to throb with the noise. Street vendors advertised their ware in a dozen different dialects, buyers squabbled and bartered, children ran unattended, caged animals bleated. Michael’s nostrils flared at the smell of fish and fruit rotting in the heat, the scent of burning garbage, and the overpowering odor of feces. His eyes stung with the potency of so many scents, and the sights, rather than stimulating, only succeeded in exhausting him.

They left the market behind and moved uphill through streets that bisected the richer part of the city. Magnificent villas of sandstone and stucco had windows thrown back to tempt in the summer breeze as foreign slaves cleaned and prepared the evening meal. Michael’s stomach growled when the smell of pork drifted out one window and freshly baked bread from another.

Shortly after that, the company arrived at the main square. Michael cringed when he spotted the Temple of Caesar, a tribute to the first Imperial ruler and a celebration of everything Rome had become. Surrounding Michael on all sides were shrines and temples of the gods, as well as public houses and baths. Small shops were erected at the foot of temple stairs, selling amulets and idols, and food meant for sacrifices. Michael’s eyes locked on the men and women ascending the stairs to worship, stepping over the paralytics and the blind that begged for money.

            They moved farther northwest, up the Capitolium, past the Senate House and tribunals to the Imperial Palace. Dread bubbled like acid in Michael's stomach with every step that brought him closer, but he was resolved to face the Prefect.