Dramatis Personae E-Book

Mark Thielman

• Herausgeber: Wildside Press
• Kategorie: Abenteuer, Thriller, Horror
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 29

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2024

Beschreibung

In the ancient city of Pompeii, Cicero Caudinus investigates the murder of playwright Blasius Pachomius, whose death threatens to disrupt the city's uneasy peace. With tensions high from recent earthquakes and public unrest, Cicero, along with Aedile Graccus Triarius, delves into the tangled web of actors and hidden motives. As they interrogate the suspects, including a blind soothsayer and an ambitious actress, Cicero begins to unravel a plot fueled by rage and betrayal.

Leseprobe

Table of Contents

COPYRIGHT INFORMATION

DRAMATIS PERSONAE, by Mark Thielman

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

COPYRIGHT INFORMATION

Copyright © 2024 by Mark Thielman.

Original publication by Wildside Press, LLC.

wildsidepress.com | bcmystery.com

DRAMATIS PERSONAE,by Mark Thielman

Blasius’s dying words, I hoped, had been witty.

A soldier directed me to a long, narrow room behind the theater’s stage. Blasius Pachomius’s body lay on the floor, clad in a blood-soaked tunic. I heard the scrape of sandal-clad feet as Narcissus Sura and Graccus Triarius joined me. No one averted their eyes. We had each commanded troops in the First Jewish-Roman War and regularly attended the gladiatorial games. Neither a lifeless body nor a little blood would shock us.

“A most inconvenient time.” Narcissus always delivered his words in a gravelly whisper, a result of a throat wound he had received during the siege of Jerusalem.

I nodded. “Certainly for old Blasius here.”

Narcissus’s eyes flared. “Cicero Caudinus, you know how restless the people are becoming. Two gamblers fighting over a lost wager is one thing. But an unresolved stabbing only adds to our difficulties.”

Narcissus served as one of the Duumviri, the magistrates who oversaw the city’s administration. This death would prove another burden to him. Anyone who walked the market could feel this city becoming a boiling pot.

“Cicero Caudinus meant no offense,” Graccus said. “It was he, after all, who sponsored this play.” Graccus was one of the Aedile, one of two deputies to the Duumviri.

Narcissus grunted. “Then I doubt you got value for the gold you handed this playwright.”

Graccus’s eyes returned to the body. “Certainly not the work of a soldier.”

Multiple cuts and tears rent Blasius’s garment. Some wounds appeared minor, merely damaging the cloth and scratching the skin. Others had penetrated. A great deal of blood had been shed. I agreed with Graccus’s assessment. None of the injuries showed the purity of thrust a trained Roman legionnaire would deliver. I widened my gaze. Near us, a pottery jug smelled of fine wine. At the far end of the room, away from the body, I saw the tangled mass of Blasius’s bedcovers.

Narcissus held his fingers a blade’s width apart. “Although the wounds appear to have been caused by a gladius.” He referred to the sword carried by the legions.

My thoughts drifted.

“Are you listening, Cicero?”

The question brought me back. I looked to Narcissus, who apparently had been speaking.

“I apologize, Duumvir.”

The older man’s frown deepened. “I said that this will not do. Have you seen the triremes and merchant ships in the harbor? We grow fat and rich. These should be grand times. But first, these minor earthquakes occur. Then, reliable wells run dry. The citizens are unsettled. There is talk of people seeing spirits. Those in the market claim to have witnessed silvery wisps rising from the earth. And now a murderer runs loose. This will not do.” He snapped his fingers. A soldier appeared at Narcissus’s side holding a goblet. The Duumvir drained the cup and then tossed it aside. It landed with a clank and rolled. “This will not do,” he repeated.

I nodded in agreement. “That is why I commissioned the writing of this play. I felt that something lighthearted, a comedy, might help the people forget these troubles.”

“And seeing the merit of this idea, I promptly licensed it,” Graccus said. “Yesterday, as you know, was the final performance. I do feel the play lifted the morale of the citizenry.”

“Yes, yes,” Narcissus said, although his mind appeared elsewhere.

I gestured toward the dead man. “I had a conversation with him before they performed yesterday.”