by marthamarks | FICTIONAL CHARACTERS, Stefan
When I first started writing Rubies of the Viper, I expected that Stefan would be the co-protagonist. He seemed to have all the right stuff: a gorgeous, gigantic physique, a happy-go-lucky disposition, and a lifelong relationship with the heroine.
As often happens in writing, however, the character soon began to exert his independence and took off in his own direction. Before I knew what was happening, the Leading Man had turned into a Hound Dog.
I guess it just couldn’t be helped.
Stefan is, to put it delicately, a chick magnet. Hardly a woman looks at him without getting ideas. Rich or poor, patrician or plebeian, free or slave… they all find themselves drawn to his irresistible animal magnetism. And he, kind soul that he is, (almost) always is happy to oblige.
But Stefan’s great physical presence hides a couple of nasty little secrets.
He’s a coward. A lover, not a fighter. On several occasions, when he has an opportunity to defend the woman he supposedly loves, he just stands there and lets somebody else come to her rescue.
He’s also a moral weakling. All those women throwing themselves at him… It’s not his fault. He can’t help himself. Fidelity just ain’t in his blood.
—text copyright © Martha Marks—
by marthamarks | Alexander, FICTIONAL CHARACTERS, Slavery
If there’s one character in Rubies of the Viper that almost everybody loves, it’s Alexander. And honestly… what’s not to love?
As my husband says: “Alexander is a mensch.”
When the novel opens, Alexander has been a slave for eight years. We soon learn that he was born free in Corinth, Greece; enslaved as a young adult (for reasons that eventually become clear); and sent to Rome, where Gaius Varro purchased him as a steward to manage his estate. The idea of buying a brand-new slave and turning one’s entire fortune over to him to manage may sound strange to modern readers, but it was not uncommon in ancient times. Life then, as now, was full of ironies!
Remarkably, given his personal history, there is very little slave-like in Alexander’s demeanor or character… and therein lies one main source of his difficulties in getting along with his master and (later) mistress. Another source of conflict is—more of that irony—that they are dependent on his financial and managerial skills, even as he is legally dependent on them. (See A Master’s Carrot and Stick.)
Despite Alexander’s many admirable qualities, he is property, and as such comes into Theodosia Varro’s possession when her brother is murdered. How the two of them work through the evolving dynamics of their mistress-slave relationship is a key plot element in Rubies of the Viper.
What most separates Alexander from the broad spectrum of “other characters” in my novel is the fact that he is one of two Point of View characters. His innermost thoughts and view of events happening around him alternate with Theodosia’s innermost thoughts and view of events. So, not only do readers get inside Theodosia’s head, they also get inside Alexander’s. The play of those two separate-but-equal perspectives sets up much of the dramatic tension in the novel. (See Is Theodosia stupid?)
I have to admit that Alexander totally created himself as Rubies of the Viper came into existence. I did very little to bring him to life… just let him come out. He began as a minor character in my plan for the book and developed into the co-protagonist because of his extraordinary talents and rare (for anybody in first-century Rome, and especially for a slave) personal virtues.
Like most readers, I adore Alexander. Sharing him with the world has been one of the great pleasures of publishing this novel. I’d love to see your comments about him if you’ve read Rubies of the Viper. Just remember… no spoilers, please!
—text copyright © Martha Marks—
by marthamarks | Slavery
Readers of Rubies of the Viper often ask: How accurate is the picture of Roman slavery that emerges in it? Could a slave like Alexander really interact so easily and openly with his owner? Were slaves ever that well educated? That smart? That moral? That loyal?
The answer is: In many cases, yes.
Certainly, there were many slaves who were uneducated, disloyal, conniving, and self-serving. (My character Lucilla comes to mind.) Many never met their owners, much less built a personal relationship with them. (My characters Nicanor and Etrusca are rare examples of farm slaves who leap the barrier in that regard.) Many adults and children were abused—sexually, physically, and psychologically—on a regular basis. (My characters Lycos and Marcipor are unfortunate examples.) Many spent their entire lives in conditions that we today simply cannot imagine or believe. (My description of the Varro family’s latifundium, or large farm/plantation—horrific as it is—is spot-on accurate. See Gigantic Estates.)
But the image of Roman slaves that emerges from the characters of Alexander and Stefan is also historically accurate. Many managed their masters’ estates competently and honestly. Many were true companions to their masters, often from childhood. Many served the same master loyally from birth to death.
But they were still property… and that fact was never far from their minds.
Every aspect of a Roman slave’s life was 100% under the control of another person. The master or—as in Rubies of the Viper—mistress determined what they ate and wore. What work they did, when, and how. What kinds of sexual relationships they could have.
A master’s understanding of what he wanted from his slaves—total obedience and loyalty, in most cases—and his methods of getting what he wanted were perfected long before the first century A.D. They consisted primarily of what we would call the carrot and the stick.
The carrots: a tolerable life, decent food and living conditions, a semblance of family life, a chance to have their own savings and property (peculium), and a hope of manumisson
The sticks: corporal punishment, threats of being sold or sent to labor on a plantation, and even the possibility of death at the master’s sole discretion
Manumission was common in the first century, and many Roman slaves who were freed rose to positions of great power and wealth. But they never escaped the stigma of the social position they began with.
I found Slaves and Masters in the Roman Empire: A Study in Social Control to be a tremendous resource for accurately building the relationships between the slave and free characters in Rubies of the Viper. Anybody who is interested in this subject will find this book useful.
—text copyright © Martha Marks—
by marthamarks | Travel
One of the most fascinating things I discovered in researching The Viper Amulet, the sequel to Rubies of the Viper, is the fact that it was relatively easy to travel throughout the Roman world in the 1st Century. Paved roads and roadside inns were widely available along all the major routes.
Unfortunately, so were bedbugs.
The greatest travel-related challenge in ancient times is also becoming a major challenge in ours: avoiding bedbugs in the places where we stop for the night. No first-century traveler was immune from the dratted things, and increasingly, that seems to be the case today. Bedbug infestations reportedly rose 80% from 2000 to 2010.
The bedbug turns out to be one of man’s oldest pests. The blood-thirsty little critters have been sharing our beds—and chomping away on us in the wee hours—all the way back to prehistoric times. We evolved together, apparently.
The bedbug that is making its presence felt in hotels from Albany to Zanesville is small, but it’s big enough to see if you look for it. During the day, it snoozes under mattresses and in carpets, or maybe tucked away in cracks and crevices. At night, it crawls out for a fancy feast of human blood. If it’s in the bed and you’re in the bed, it will find you… and you won’t know a thing until your arms, legs, or torso—or all of them—begin to itch.
A serious case of bedbug bites can create a widespread rash of raised red bumps that itches like heck. Unfortunately, the more you scratch it the worse it itches and the greater the risk of infection. We at least can call on antibiotics and anti-itch creams to deal with the problem. I’m digging around to find out if there were any herbal remedies available in the first century, because my characters really could use them!
But even with our antibiotics and creams, we moderns can’t be too complacent. This vile beastie has developed a resistence to insecticides and seems to have learned that today’s travelers—with our multiple layers of clothing, commodius suitcases, and continent-hopping habits—are irresistible traveling companions.
So, I guess it’s true: the more things change, the more they stay the same.
—text copyright © Martha Marks—
