The Wedding Shroud - A Tale of Ancient Rome (60 page)

Pomegranates were used for contraceptive purposes, but I was unable to find any conclusive evidence as to their efficacy. Sylphion, however, may have been effective because it is now extinct, presumably because demand outstripped supply. It was the main commodity for Cyrene, with that city’s coins bearing an image of the plant.

The Etruscans followed the tenets of the Etrusca Disciplina, with its complex branches of haruspicy, divination and interpretation of lightning. Their belief in prophecy and the proroguing of fate was raised to a science. In fact, the prediction of their civilisation’s demise after ten sacred saecula appears to have come true. Unfortunately, as the Syracusans seized control of Etruria’s trade routes and the Romans slowly dominated its cities, the more life-affirming cult of Fufluns was overtaken by a death cult preoccupied with the torments of the journey to the afterlife.

The characters that appear in the novel are fictitious, except for those referred to in ancient history and legend. The fame of Marcus Furius Camillus, who is mentioned by the Roman historian Livy and named the second founder of Rome by the Greek biographer Plutarch, is still recognised by modern Romans—Furio Camillo is an underground railway station in Rome. However, any characteristics I may have attributed to him are purely my own invention. Livy also wrote of the valiant Mamercus Aemilius who led Rome to victory in two Fidenate wars (for simplicity, I chose to compress these two conflicts into one). The stories of Lars Tolumnius (Laris Tulumnes), Tanaquil, Lucretia and Verginia, and the great king Servius Tullius, all featured in the histories of Rome. A consular general named Manlius Aemilius Mamercus (upon which I modelled uncle Aemilius) is also mentioned by Livy, but no details of his life are provided.

When I finally made a pilgrimage to Veii I found very little remains other than a few archaeological sites in the beautiful Parco di Veio national park.  It was pleasing, though, to think that the old city, once considered the most splendid in Etruria, may still lie buried among wooded ravines and open spaces rather than under bitumen and concrete.

As for the sixth-century-
bc
married couple, I finally saw them in the Louvre in 2003. The memory of our meeting still makes me smile.

Postscript

The map included in this book uses Latin place names rather than Etruscan equivalents eg Tarquinia instead of Tarchna. In 2012 I toured many Etruscan sites in Lazio and southern Tuscany and learned that the city where the League of the Twelve met was called Velzna and was located at the site of modern day Orvieto. The town of Volsinii (modern day Bolsena) was in fact where the Romans re-settled the population of Velzna after they conquered that city in 264 BC. As such, the reference to Volsinii on the map is anachronistic. This is an example of the changing face of research into the Etruscans. More and more is being discovered by archaeologists. The true site of Velzna has always been debated by historians but digs commencing in 2000 at Orvieto revealed a sanctuary believed to be the Fanum Voltumnae ie the shrine at which the Rasennan congress gathered each year.

Elisabeth Storrs graduated from the University of Sydney in Arts Law having studied Classics, and has long held an interest in the history, myths and legends of the ancient world. She lives with her husband and two sons in Sydney and over the years has worked as a solicitor, corporate lawyer, chartered secretary and corporate governance consultant. This is her first novel.

The Wedding Shroud
was judged runner-up in the 2012 Sharp Writ Awards.

For more information please visit
www.elisabethstorrs.com
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Special thanks to my husband, David Storrs, without whom I would never have completed this book, and who overcame his ambivalence to historical fiction to read it and make valuable suggestions. To my sons Andrew and Lucas, who have only ever known a mother who forgot sometimes to return from Etruria and start cooking dinner, and to their grandma, Jacqui Storrs. To my father, John Drane, who first gave me a love of ancient history, and my mother, Beth, who encouraged me to use my imagination—I am sad they did not live to read the novel.

Many thanks also to Natalie Scott, who has been a wonderful mentor for as long as I have been writing, together with patient members of my writing group who listened to all my versions over ten years—particularly Cecilia Rice, who continued to encourage me after each rejection. Thanks to Joyce Kornblatt, my other mentor, who convinced me to think of myself as a writer and helped me find a new voice to tell the story; Tara Wynne, who first saw the potential in the novel; and my agent, Gaby Naher, who championed the book and has calmed my nerves on many an occasion. Thanks also to the Pier 9 team, and to Colette Vella in particular, who helped me to finally realise my vision and solve some problems with Caecilia’s stubborn Romanness; and to Catherine Taylor, whose intelligence and enthusiasm made the copyediting process enjoyable. Finally, many thanks as well to all those not mentioned who have supported, encouraged and given valuable advice over the course of the writing of this book.

Sources I found of particular value in my research were: Sybille Haynes’
Etruscan Civilization
(The J. Paul Getty Trust, 2000); Eva Canterella’s
Bisexuality in the Ancient World
(Yale University Press, 1992); editors Nancy De Grummond and Erika Simon’s
The Religion of the Etruscans
(University of Texas Press, 2006); Jean-Rene Jannot’s
Religion of Ancient Etruria
(University of Wisconsin, 2005); and Livy’s
The Early History of Rome
(translated by A. de Selincourt, Penguin Books, 1971).

If you enjoyed reading
The Wedding Shroud
and would like to see what happens next in the trilogy, here is an extract of the sequel,
The Golden Dice
, which will be released in 2013.

War has broken out between the Etruscan city of Veii and its close neighbour Rome. With a mere twelve miles between them across the Tiber, the enemies are only a god’s footstep apart.

During a ten year siege, three women must follow very different paths to survive.

Caecilia, protagonist of
The Wedding Shroud
, chooses to return to her Etruscan husband Vel Mastarna. In doing so she exposes herself to the enmity of his people while incurring the hatred of the Romans who consider her a traitoress…

Semni, a young Etruscan girl who is promiscuous and reckless, becomes a servant in the House of Mastarna only to find herself embroiled in the schemes of the seer, Artile, to gain influence over Caecilia’s children…

In Rome, the grave whore, Pinna, uses blackmail to escape her grim life and ultimately influence the strategies of a general…

Against the backdrop of a conflict between two implacable enemies,
The Golden Dice
explores the lives of women in war while once again giving a glimpse into the sexuality, politics and culture of two very different ancient worlds.

THE GOLDEN DICE

BY

ELISABETH STORRS

He smelt of leather, horse and beeswax polish, the bronze of his armour cold against her despite her heavy woollen cloak. When he kissed her though, hard and hungrily, his mouth and tongue were warm despite chill lips and cheeks.

‘You need to take this off,’ she said, as she always did, pressing against the corselet, needing the feel of his body.

‘Don’t worry, I plan to,’ he replied, as he always did, then laughed and kissed her.

She could not move away from him, arms tightening around his waist, not trusting that he had returned, that another year had passed and he had not been killed.

For there were only two seasons now: war and winter.

Before this, it had been summer that made Caecilia smile with its lazy heat and languid evenings. But after seven years of conflict, she welcomed the hint of ice in the north wind and the bare stripped branches of trees ready to bear the burden of snow. Short days and long darkness no longer seemed oppressive because, in winter, her husband would come home.

Another long clear note of the war trumpets sounded. Still holding Mastarna close, Caecilia turned her head to scan the tumult around her, glad the horns did not herald a charge but instead a return, as line after line of soldiers entered through the massive double gates of the Etruscan city of Veii.

The vast town square and wide avenues seethed with the colour of the massed crowd while timber and terracotta clad houses and temples were gaudy with garlands and ribbons. As the army marched into the forum a surge of people breached its formation, military discipline forgotten as wives and children hastened to kiss husbands and fathers while mothers and older men embraced sons.

Amidst them, fine, long legged war horses shifted and whinnied as they were held fast amidst the throng, steam rising from their hides in the coldness of the afternoon, hot breath snorting from their nostrils.  Adding to the clamour was laughter and merry tunes from double pipe, castanet and timbrel, although snatches of sobbing broke through also, the lament of women who had realised their men had not returned; a tragic counterpoint to celebration.

Caecilia could not ignore their sorrow. Even in her happiness a tight knot of apprehension remained, the voice that told her that this reunion was due to respite in conflict not its resolution; chiding herself not to sour the sweetness of Mastarna’s sojourn with the anticipation of his inevitable departure.

There was a rhythm to the fighting.

When the war season began with the lengthening of days and the greening of fields, the Veientanes would ride out to meet the Romans who were assaulting Veii with a dogged vengeance. A vengeance sought in the name of Aemilia Caeciliana. A vengeance sought against her.

For seven years Caecilia had watched her people, who were no longer her people, hew pickets and planks and stakes from Veientane woodland to build stockades and siege engines to surround her adopted city; hindering trade, blocking supplies and raiding farmlands until, by bright autumn and the falling of leaves, Veii’s patience would falter as it waited - waited for winter - and the enemy to retreat. Each city pausing. Licking its wounds. For Roman bellies need to be fed too. Roman crops need to be sown: barley and pulses and wheat. Roman families need to embrace their men, and Roman generals need to be elected.

Mastarna’s cheek, heavy with bristle, brushed against hers, his own apprehension hinted in his deep, low voice; a voice whose timbre always stirred her. ‘And the baby?’

Smiling, she broke from him and searched for two women who stood jostled by those celebrating around them. Both were grinning as they observed husband and wife. The stout, wiry haired maid called Cytheris gripped one hand each of two small boys while the nursemaid, Aricia, stepped forward on command and handed a swaddled bundle to her mistress.

‘Another son,’ Caecilia said proudly.

Mastarna took the babe with the confidence of a man practised in such a task. Even so, the mother wondered at the sight of a warrior cradling soft tininess against the hard contours of his corselet.

Exchanging his nurse’s warmth for the cold comfort of his father’s armour didn’t please the child. His protests were loud and strident. Unperturbed, Mastarna chuckled, planting a kiss upon the baby’s head as he hugged Caecilia once again. ‘Thank you. I could have no better wife.’

‘Nor I a better husband.’ She reclaimed the bawling baby who settled immediately at her touch.

‘Now where are those other sons of mine?’ Mastarna turned to face his older children. Wide eyed and wary of the scarred, metal-clad giant who had returned into their lives, the boys were speechless.

Mastarna’s thigh high greaves grated as he crouched down beside them. ‘Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten me?’

The older boy was solemn, bowing in greeting. ‘Of course I know who you are, Apa. Hale General Vel Mastarna!’