In 79 AD, two men heralded as demi-gods, stepped onto Roman Triremes as they prepared themselves for the Naumachia.  They were both champions, having proved themselves through epic gladiatorial combat; but now, as they looked over the dozens of ships crowded in the man-made harbor, they would have a chance to join the ranks of legend. 

None of that fame mattered to Verus—a man who had been forced into this barbarity.  As he stared long and hard at thousands of opponents across the lake, all begging for the combat to begin, only one of the many faces mattered to him—that was the man that caused the nightmares, the man that undid everything.  That was the man they called Priscus the Gaul. 

THE CONTEXT OF THE STORY

What started out as a traditional fight to the death ended up being the most dramatic gladiatorial bout ever recorded blow for blow.  No other fight in Roman history has been more sensational, more remarkable than the fight between Priscus and Verus.  The bout’s curious place in history stems from it’s unique beginning and remarkable end.  

In 80 AD, Titus, the new emperor of Rome, was in a difficult position.  His father had left him the emperorship only a year before, and he had little time to prove himself capable of handling the massive empire.  At stake were his position of power, his wealth, and, very possible, his life.  Not only did Titus have a poor reputation to overcome, he also had a mounting amount of expenditures due to the construction of the Fluvial Amphitheatre or, as it is better known, the Roman Colosseum.  Coupled with these challenges, during his emperorship, Mount Vesuvius erupted in 79 AD and a fire swept through Rome in 80 AD.  The people interrupted these as bad signs, or Auspices, of Titus' emperorship.  The Emperor had only one trick left to redeem his reputation—the successful inauguration of the Colosseum.   

Putting on a successful game for the people of Rome was an intricate and important part of Roman society. It was akin to the political campaigns of the current day.  Great lengths and expenditures were taken to ensure everything went smoothly.  Not only did the emperor have to outdo the visceral stunts of his predecessors, he had to make up for so many black marks against his reputation.  His choice of the two primary fighters to inaugurate the Colosseum would not only determine his life, but also the life of his legacy.  After some deliberation, he finally chose to link his fate with Verus and Priscus by choosing them as the main attraction.     

The inauguration of the Colosseum on March 1, 80 AD was planned to begin with awe.  Hundreds of exotic creatures from the furthest reaches of the world were carted in and released on condemned criminals or prisoners of war.  These spectacles, however surprising at first, turned dramatically disappointing, as the animals were so frightened by the roar of applause that they lost all desire to fight.  Things were not looking so good for Titus.

 At noon, while the crowd was busily eating, public executions were held.  This did little to satiate the blood lusting crowd.  After the executions, large groups of fighters were pitted against each other: these were either condemned criminals, who were forced to fight until one man was left standing, or inexperienced gladiators.  As each gladiator or criminal fell to the ground in defeat, Titus let the crowd decide whether they should live or die—which was a nice political touch.  Being disappointed from the uneventful morning, and bored from that afternoon, the crowd most often chose death for the combatants in the middle.  After these group bouts ended, single gladiatorial pairs were brought out; this was considered the height and most crucial part of the entertainment.  The paired matches did little to win the favor of the crowd—which still demanded death from the losing combatants.  The inauguration had turned into a political disaster—that is—until Priscus and Verus took the field. 

HISTORICAL INACCURACIES OF THE BOOK

The author has gone through great lengths to ensure the historical acuity of this book as well as keep it fast paced and entertaining.  Many of the gladiatorial fighting styles, techniques, diets, and weapons that are contained in this book are derived from revelating research that is being conducted in the graveyards of Ephesus.  Although many of the ideas and concepts in this book are based on fact, I feel that I must qualify three important things about the novel. 

The two main characters in the book are Priscus and Verus.  Although these are real characters, based on real people, little is known about their lives before their grandiose conflict in 80 AD.  It is postulated that Priscus was a Celt and had some ties in Gaul, and that Verus was recruited to be a Gladiator while he worked as a slave in a stone quarry.  The monumental fight between these two warriors is, however, well documented by Marshal in Liber de Spectaculis, and stands as one of the few accounts of actual gladiatorial combat. 

The Naumachia described in this book did happen, but its appearance is chronologically incorrect.  Instead of occurring before the inauguration of Fluvial Colosseum, this specific Naumachia took place after.  Little to nothing is known about the preparation for a Naumachia.  It is known that when Julius Caesar orchestrated the first naval gladiatorial battle, slaves were the principle fighters—not trained gladiators—and they fought on boats that acted more like fixed bridges.  There did, however, seem to be a trend among the emperors to surpass their predecessors; for this reason—amongst others—it seems logical that eventually trained soldiers would engage in the Naumachias of Rome—as presented in this book. 

The last major element that is historically inaccurate is the use of modern months, dates, and years by the characters.  The original Roman calendar is believed to be a lunar calendar that was supposedly invented by Romulus and began in 753 BC.  Since then the calendar had several subsequent changes, including days added and months altered.  Later, while in the position of Pontifex Maximus, Julius Caesar completely overhauled the system.  What makes the calendar even more convoluted is that the Romans did not keep track of years; instead, the years were named after the Consul who was in power at the time.  In the late republic, Romans finally began to keep track of the years and counted up from the founding of Rome—approximately 753 BC, but there were many discrepancies and debates over the numbers of years that had passed.  Dates given by this method are numbered ab urbe condita, which means after the founding of the city and are abbreviated as AUC.  A rough way to convert modern AD years to AUC years would be to simply add 753 to the AD years; this, however, would only give you an approximate AUC year.  To convert BC years to AUC, one would take 753 and minus the BC year.  In  The Sea Kings of Rome series, I decided to use the modern calendar instead of the Roman one, because of the endless problematic debate that would ensue, not to mention the difficultly the reader would have placing everything into context.