What would compel a girl to set foot in the house of Rome’s most devious and vindictive senator?
How about murder?
When the wife of Senator Gracchus is found dead under suspicious circumstances, Livia Aemilia agrees to help solve the crime. Yes, it’s a big risk, but it’ll be worth it if she can prove Gracchus poisoned his wife.
Because if he’s a murderer, Livia and her husband Avitus would finally be rid of Gracchus and his nefarious schemes to ruin them. With justice on their side and God guiding their plans, what could go wrong?
The more Livia digs, the more it looks like Gracchus is guilty of poisoning his wife. Until the next victim dies, and everything she thought she knew is turned upside down.
A fast-paced, witty, and inspiring tale of vengeance vs. mercy set in the Roman world of the early church.
What would compel a girl to set foot in the house of Rome’s most devious and vindictive senator?
How about murder?
When the wife of Senator Gracchus is found dead under suspicious circumstances, Livia Aemilia agrees to help solve the crime. Yes, it’s a big risk, but it’ll be worth it if she can prove Gracchus poisoned his wife.
Because if he’s a murderer, Livia and her husband Avitus would finally be rid of Gracchus and his nefarious schemes to ruin them. With justice on their side and God guiding their plans, what could go wrong?
The more Livia digs, the more it looks like Gracchus is guilty of poisoning his wife. Until the next victim dies, and everything she thought she knew is turned upside down.
A fast-paced, witty, and inspiring tale of vengeance vs. mercy set in the Roman world of the early church.
Livia was not fond of poetry. Let that be stated from the start. She was not looking forward to tonight’s celebration of stuffy poetry in flowery language recited by snooty women and hosted by a friend of her sister-in-law, Hortensia, the snootiest of them all. Worse yet, their hostess had insisted every attendee pen at least one brief ode or epigram. Even Livia.
“You like flowers,” Hortensia had said when she’d invited Livia. “You can write a nice ode to a rosebush.”
Like that was going to happen.
But Livia had married into this exalted stratum of society and the sooner she got to know these women the better. She couldn’t afford to miss this opportunity to mingle with Hortensia’s peers at a function where no men were present, providing a rare opportunity to observe these women when their husbands weren’t watching.
So Livia had written the stupid poem. It wasn’t an ode to a rosebush. Or a marigold. Or a butterfly. Since poetry was a deadly bore, she’d written an ode to deadly poison (a topic intended to disqualify her from the “honor” of reciting her literary masterpiece).
An ode to poison had seemed brilliant at the time, but as the litter jostled and swayed its way to the party, Livia prepared for the worst. Would Hortensia cluck her tongue at Livia’s lack of poetic sensibilities or find the poem offensive? If so, Livia would fall from Hortensia’s good graces. But since she didn’t care two figs for Hortensia’s graces (good or otherwise), Livia decided not to fret over it.
The swaying litter came to a stop outside the front door of a grand house. Torches flanked the open doorway, creating a warm glow of welcome that did nothing to dispel the tension in Livia’s gut. Clambering from the litter, she allowed her maidservant Roxana to adjust the drape of her sleeveless stola so it fell in perfect folds over her ankle-length tunic of sunny yellow.
After a few tugs, the maid stood back, her dark brown eyes assessing her mistress. “You look gorgeous, my lady. The equal of any lady in Rome.”
It was almost true. Roxana had worked long and hard to create the complex braids of hair that adorned Livia’s head this evening, and she’d transformed Livia’s plain face into a woman of elegance. Which was important because tonight she must hold her own with some of the elite of Rome.
Roxana gave Livia’s hand a squeeze. “Promise me you’ll enjoy yourself, my lady.”
“I’ll do my best.”
As Livia headed for the door, she sent a quick prayer to heaven. Lord Jesus, help me hold my tongue and be patient with these women even when they look down their long patrician noses at me. Help me find the few who care about something more important than the latest scandal or the contents of their jewelry chests.
Livia pasted a confident smile on her face and strode into the house. Passing through the front atrium and into the large central courtyard, or peristyle, where the guests were gathered, she stopped under the colonnaded walkway that framed the peristyle to size up the situation. This home’s peristyle boasted a central fountain with a scallop-shell basin made from imported pink marble. Radiating from the fountain were paved pathways bordered by shrubbery manicured into rigid symmetry. These were accented by a selection of statues featuring the family’s notable ancestors and the most important Roman gods and goddesses.
Livia smirked at a statue of the goddess Minerva. What a scandal she could cause if she told these women she no longer worshiped the Roman pantheon. But that wasn’t what Livia wanted to accomplish. She was here to figure out who among these women might be worth befriending.
Wandering the perimeter of the peristyle, Livia studied the clumps of well-dressed strangers to determine who the leaders were. In any group no matter how exalted, there were one or two who held sway over the rest. They weren’t always the ones with the most powerful husbands or the longest list of famous ancestors, but they were the women who mattered.
The nearest group contained five women. Four of them tittered and repeated innocuous platitudes, agreeing with every statement made by a willowy woman with a severe chin and understated jewelry. She would be one to get to know. Livia fixed the woman’s face in her memory and moved on to the next group.
After circling half the peristyle, Livia spotted her sister-in-law. Hortensia’s face and figure were too angular to be called beautiful, but she had the poise and presence of a queen. Speaking of queens, Hortensia was deep in conversation with none other than Lollia Paulina, who’d briefly been married to their previous emperor, the mad Caligula.
The fabulously wealthy Lollia was this evening’s guest of honor. Hortensia had been bragging about it for days.
Livia drifted nearer. Noticing her, Hortensia deigned to introduce Livia to the esteemed guest, smiling with something approaching warmth. Well, well! Perhaps mixing with this crowd had thawed Hortensia enough to smile without cracking her brittle mask of Roman perfection.
After exchanging pleasantries with the ex-empress, Hortensia excused herself and led Livia away. As they walked, Hortensia murmured into Livia’s ear, “There’s someone I need you to befriend. This may be our best chance, so I want you to learn as much as you can.”
If Hortensia thought Livia was willing to become a pawn in her social scheming, she was dead wrong! Livia was composing an oh-so-polite rebuttal when they stopped beside two women whose faces hinted at a shared lineage.
“May I present my old friend Calida, wife of Senator Merenda, the city’s latest Urban Praetor. This is my new sister-in-law, Livia Aemilia.”
Calida and Livia exchanged polite greetings. The Urban Praetor was one of the most important magistrates in Rome. Did Hortensia think Livia would ingratiate herself to this woman in order to gain favor with her husband?
Wrong!
Hortensia turned to the second woman. “And this is Calida’s sister Salvia, wife of Senator Gracchus.”
Livia barely managed to hide her shock. Gracchus was her husband’s bitterest enemy. She gave Salvia a gracious smile. “Good to make your acquaintance.”
“We’ve been looking forward to meeting you,” Calida said, laughter sparkling in her eyes. “Although I doubt our husbands would approve.”
“Fortunately, they aren’t here, and we shan’t tell them.” Hortensia smiled benevolently at Livia. “If you’ll excuse me?”
Her sister-in-law sailed across the peristyle to greet a newcomer, leaving the three women assessing each other. While the sisters’ features and coloring were similar, their demeanors were not. Calida was relaxed with a quick smile and warm brown eyes. Salvia was wary and withdrawn. Livia sensed deep emotions behind her gaze. Anger. Bitterness. Determination. This was a woman who was profoundly discontented with life.
After several seconds of silent scrutiny, Salvia said, “Are you one of Hortensia’s sycophants?”
Livia gave a derisive laugh. “Hardly.”
“Be nice.” Calida waggled a finger at her sister. “You’re here to enjoy yourself for once.”
“No, I’m not. I’m here to accomplish something.”
Calida rolled her eyes. “My younger sister is not fond of the chattering magpies who normally flock to events like this hoping for a chance to enhance their standing by claiming they dined with a Vestal Virgin or the ex-wife of an emperor. Hortensia assures me you are not that type.”
“I’m not.” Livia said. “I was dreading a tedious evening of dull poetry, inane small talk, and insults couched as compliments. Are you offering something more interesting?”
“We are.”
Livia gave her first sincere smile of the evening. “It appears I may enjoy myself after all.”
Instead of returning the smile, Salvia frowned. “If you hate inane small talk, why are you here?”
Her sister tsked, but Livia wasn’t offended by Salvia’s blunt question. She preferred bluntness to the cattiness of most women. She flicked a hand at the clusters of bejeweled women. “I’ve married into this world. The sooner I learn who to watch out for and who I can ignore, the better. And you? Do you and your sister often attend events hosted by wives of your husbands’ rivals?”
“Only when it’s worth our while,” Salvia replied. “Hortensia assured us it would be to my benefit to meet you.”
Uh oh! What had Hortensia promised them? “Why me?”
“Hortensia told us you hate Gracchus and that you’ll help me find a way to see him suffer.”
“Wouldn’t Hortensia make a better choice?”
“No. She’s ambitious. She weighs every action, always considering what’s best for her husband’s career. I’m told your husband has no such ambitions, and with your background, you aren’t mired in generations of competing political sympathies.”
That was the most courteous insult regarding her provincial origins that Livia had ever heard. Salvia almost made her lack of illustrious ancestors sound like an asset.
Almost.
“I’m looking for an ally without any competing political considerations that could get in the way.” Salvia raised an eyebrow. “Are you that woman?”
“I might be. Tell me more.”
“I married Gracchus because I was led to believe the alliance would be beneficial to my brother and my brother-in-law. Unfortunately, my husband has proved to be as shameless in his alliances as he is in his dalliances.” Salvia wrinkled her face as if she’d bitten into an unripe quince. “I did not expect his affections, but I did expect him to honor my family’s reputation. I can no longer turn a blind eye to my husband’s corrupt and perfidious activities, and I won’t stand idly by while he drags my family’s honor through the muck. Thus, I’m searching for means to take revenge.”
Livia was taken aback by the woman’s vitriol. She must tread with care.
“How do you suppose I can be the instrument of your revenge?”
“I know more than my husband realizes regarding his illicit dealings. I can bring you information your husband can use to build a case against him.”
Exactly what Avitus and his brother had been seeking! And this woman was offering to drop it in her lap.
But Gracchus must not be underestimated.
“How would you bring me this information without your husband becoming aware of it?”
Before Salvia could elaborate, the hostess gathered the women and started the recital with a brief ode to Erato, the muse whose inspiration the poets relied upon tonight (although Erato might deny responsibility for some of the poems that were offered).
The poetry was as tedious as Livia had anticipated, but Calida supplied an irreverent whispered commentary that had Livia stifling chuckles. Between poems, Salvia and Livia worked out an arrangement for communicating without their husbands’ knowledge. By evening’s end, they had a plan and a budding friendship.
The hours spent composing the deadly ode hadn’t been wasted after all.
If Christian fiction is your genre, then An Ode to Poison is for you. For readers of general historical fiction, it might be best to give this one a pass.
An Ode to Poison follows Livia, wife of Avitus, as she tracks down a serial murderer adept with poisons in ancient Roman times. Along the way, she teaches Avitus more about her Christian faith, and the importance of loving his enemies. While several of the more pointedly evangelizing speeches felt a little clunky, this was still a decent, if elementary, mystery.
Despite her somewhat inferior status as a woman in Rome, Livia has a fun and spunky attitude which brings much of the spirit of the novel. Her relationship with her maid Roxana is easily one of the most enjoyable in the novel. Livia’s desire to bring justice in all circumstances is unerring and is a wonderful ideal to aspire to, especially for potential young adult readers. The opening scenes with Livia, as she is learning to mix and mingle with a new class of Roman women, were particularly bright and fun. While she is obligated to submit to her husband in this era, she balances is it admirably with her own moral convictions.
If you are a historical fiction reader, this may not scratch the itch for you. Although there are clear nods to the ancient Roman setting, much of the dialogue feels far more modern than is appropriate for the time. As a mystery, it was well-constructed, and the murderer was not immediately apparent. However, the narrative itself certainly could have been more focused, with a few elements sticking out as not quite relevant to the plot.
An Ode to Poison is a good addition to the Christian fiction section, but fans of other genres may not be as enthused.