Synopsis:

Saturnalia is almost over, but drunks and gamblers aren't the only denizens of Londinium knocking on the doctor's door. The winter of 836 a.u.c. (83 A.D.) is cold and bitter. The year's final exhale will be colder still.

Arcturus--the half-native, half-Roman doctor and occasional problem-solver--has seen much in his thirty-three years. He's risen--despite not playing the politics game. He is Agricola's doctor. And Agricola's friend. And Agricola is the governor of Britannia.

Now, on a frozen December afternoon, he learns the governor is in trouble. The Emperor Domitian has sent a spy to Britannia--a spy carrying papers demanding Agricola's resignation. It doesn't make Arcturus any warmer to know that the spy, a Syrian named Vibius Maecenas, is betrothed to the woman who brings him the story. The woman--Gwyna--is as unforgettable as her information.

When Arcturus sends his freedman Bilicho to follow her, he finds himself, hours later, in an underground temple, staring at a shapeless hulk on top the altar. It's the trussed, dead body of Maecenas, with a gaping hole in place of a throat.

If Arcturus doesn't find out who murdered him and why, Domitian might think the governor is responsible. The fat, dead Syrian will ignite a civil war, one hot enough to thaw the ice in frozen Britannia.

He has seven days to unravel fact from story, truth from rumor, and motive from murder. He must walk a carnival landscape of fear and uncertainty, strewn with sadistic pimps, drunken whores, well-bred politicians and four more deaths.

Nox Dormienda is a nightmare vision of Roman Britain, a lightning-paced historical mystery that blends hardboiled prose and impeccably researched historical background. It is the first novel of a new series and a new genre of mystery fiction: it is Roman Noir.

Book Excerpt:

December Weather
The weather outside matched my mood. The sun had teased us on the way here, whispering promises of warm days, lovely sunsets, and happy endings. The sun was a liar.

Fortuna
I tucked my hands into the dirt underneath him and heaved. Agricola stood back; Avitus blended into the darkness by his side. Everyone stepped away a few inches—bad luck to touch a corpse. Except for a medicus, of course. I was used to bad luck.

Memories
The woman was a native. Her face reminded me of Camulodunum—the good part of the memory. Blonde hair was tied back in an old-fashioned knot at the nape of her neck, and the carnelians on her sleeve glittered red against white skin. I enjoyed watching her reach for an olive.

Poetry
Virgil was right: never trust Greeks, gods or cats bearing gifts.

Imperial Art
So there was Domitian, bald and chinless, spiteful and suspicious, as real as he ever was. I nodded at the Emperor and kept walking.

Horses
We weren’t night creatures, horses and men. We were meant for the sun, or at least the grey haze of day.

A Battle
She fought me with her mouth, pulling my hair and scratching my back and the match was about even. She might even have been winning a little.

Drinking
People drank too much for two reasons: they were either very happy or very miserable, and I didn’t know many happy people.

The Woman
I was shaken up inside like a small pair of dice in a too large cup—tossed by a drunk on a losing streak.

Lupo’s
The graffiti was worse down here, and so was the stink. Bodies, bodily fluids and sour wine mixed in a heady aroma that made me almost dizzy with nausea. I guess the women got used to it. I guess they had to.

Chickens
The chickens were scratching desultorily, but they weren’t sacred chickens and I didn’t believe in signs, anyway.

Visiting
She turned her head, to make sure I was behind her, and gave me a look normally reserved for bill collectors. I don’t think she cared for my toga. She tapped lightly on the door three times.
“My lady? You have a guest. A Roman.”
She made it sound like a disease.

Deities
We wanted our gods to be kind—unless we wanted them to be cruel to someone else. We were Romans, after all: god was always on our side.

Himself
I was a healer. A problem-solver. A Roman. A native. A man with too many names and not enough time.

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Author Comment:

Nox Dormienda is my first novel, and an attempt at something new: a more visceral approach to historical fiction, with an affectionate nod to the classic noir writers of the past. I call it Roman noir ... and I hope you like it.

Topics/Categories:

Ancient Medicine, Ancient Religion, Ancient Rome, Celtic History, Detective Fiction, Hardboiled Literature, Roman Britain, roman noir

Genre:

Mystery - Thriller

Type of Work:

Book

Publishers:

Five Star

Purchase From:

Barnes and Noble
Amazon

Original Publish Date:

2008-07-18

ISBNs:

1594146667 978-1594146664

Reading Guides:

http://www.kellistanley.com/Arcturus_Mystery_Series/Readers_Guide.htm

Publishing Notes:

Available in a plethora of on-line stores, but ordering from an independent book dealer is encouraged!

Formats:

Hardcover Hardcover (Large Print)