By Thomas Holt
Heritage tells us that during sixty nine advert, Nero fled his palace in Rome, stabbed himself within the throat with a pen, and was once trampled to loss of life through horses in a muddy ditch. yet this is one other threat: Nero didn't die in that ditch, yet an individual who appeared greatly like him did. this provides Nero the chance to begin a brand new existence in pursuit of his first love—music. yet Nero is being pursued by means of those that have cause to suspect he's nonetheless alive—one wishes him lifeless, the opposite is a passionate fan of his dreadful tune and desires his genius well-known.
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Extra resources for A Song for Nero: A Novel
You could say that. ’ That was a hint, so I sat down next to him and waved to the innkeepeer for more booze. When it came, the man went on, ‘That song is by the emperor Nero himself. The fat, ugly, murdering bastard,’ he added, with feeling. ‘So I expect you’re surprised to hear it being sung by respectable folk. ’ ‘Stone quarries,’ I repeated. ’ He nodded. ‘You bet. Bloody terrible place, by all accounts, though I’ve never been there. Anyway, it’s one of the places where that evil shit Nero used to send people to die.
That’s assuming you can find one. The nearest trees were the beeches where the Sweet Young Things were still hammering away at it (which reminded me, I had to get a move on; they couldn’t keep going for ever), so I crept up as quietly as I could and had a snoop round for a fallen branch. No joy, but they didn’t seem to have heard me, so I took a chance and broke a long, whippy shoot off a sapling. Just the job, right down to the handy little fork near the tip, which would do just as well as any fancy three-tined Egyptian bronze hook.
Oh’ I said. ‘It’s not true, then. ’ He looked uncomfortable. ‘I never said that,’ he replied. ’ ‘But you did—I mean... ’ Well, it was none of my business. Still, it struck me as a bit farfetched that anybody, even a Roman senator (and they’re all as crazy as a barrelful of polecats), would set himself up for a second term in the slate quarries just for the sake of an apt quotation. Then again, I’m just a farm boy from the back end of Attica , so what would I know about Roman noblemen? ’ I’d done some discreet asking around in the inn, and found out that we were no more than three days’ walk from Camarina, and once we got there we stood a fair chance of finding a ship bound for the African coast without having to hang around for too long.
A Song for Nero: A Novel by Thomas Holt