A Mist of Prophecies (Novels of Ancient Rome) by Steven Saylor

By Steven Saylor

In the 12 months forty eight B.C., Rome is in the middle of Civil conflict. As Pompey and Caesar struggle for regulate of the Republic, Rome turns into a hotbed of intrigue, pushed by way of espionage, greed and betrayals.

A attractive younger seeress staggers around the Roman industry and dies within the palms of Gordianus the Finder. probably mad and claiming no reminiscence of her earlier, Cassandra― like her Trojan namesake―was reputed to have the reward of prophecy, a present many in Rome may pay for handsomely...or hotel to homicide.

Obsessed with Cassandra's secret, Gordianus investigates her homicide. As he peels away the veils of secrecy surrounding her existence and dying, he discovers an online of conspiracy linking a lot of Rome's such a lot ruthless and strong ladies. Now Gordianus's pursuit not just endangers his personal lifestyles, yet may well switch the way forward for Rome.

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It was for Meto that I had gone to Massilia the previous year, seeking news of my adopted son's fate; an anonymous message had informed me of his death in that city while spying for Caesar. How Meto loved Caesar, whom he had served for many years in Gaul! Having been born a slave, Meto could never become an officer like Caesar's other lieutenants, but he had become indispensable to his imperator nonetheless, serving him as a private secretary, transcribing his memoirs, sharing his quarters-sharing his bed, some said.

Said Manlius. " said Canininus. "Now that Caesar's about to give Pompey a good thrashing…" And with that, the conversation turned away from the madwoman, for now, at last, there was the fresh news of Caesar's crossing to give us men something to talk about. Later that day, at the evening meal, I happened to mention the incident of the madwoman. The family was gathered in the dining room. Shutters were drawn to keep out the cold air from the garden at the center of the house, and a brazier had been lit to heat the room.

The only voters left in Rome are the common rabble, who'll cast their lots however Caesar tells them to. Pompey and all the Best People ran for their lives when Caesar crossed the Rubicon-except for those who couldn't bear the journey, like myself. How can any so-called election held under such circumstances constitute a true vote of the people? The last elections were a farce and a scandal, a mime show put on for the sole purpose of putting Caesar's handpicked men in office. " groaned Canininus.

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