The Horse Changer (48 page)

We had all become old men, even Tiberius. And so we burned the remains of Horace without a tear shed, then consecrated his ashes to gods that do not exist; I don’t think any of us in that circle believed in the Olympians, though I was the only one ever to admit it openly and certainly the only one with the courage to taunt the empty skies.

At any rate, we gave up the ashes of our friend to something, and looking at the men I had fought with and against through all our long years, looking at Caesar even, I wondered if Horace was right.

I have never believed we remain one being inside our aging bodies; it is a principle of my faith that I am something more than flesh; my mind and my spirit wax large even as my body fails. But I must say Horace had given me pause. Perhaps, as we stumble along toward what will ultimately be our grave, nothing at all really changes, not the essentials, anyway; perhaps we are all still the young fools we were at the very beginning.

There is something beautiful in that, I suppose, something immortal even. And though it ought not to be, perhaps it is even true.

In travail
remain steadfast;
in joy temper your pride.
You will die, Dellius.

Whether you waste your days in sorrow
or recline on the grass drinking
Falernian wine at every festival:
it is the same.

Why do the tall pine
and white poplar
offer shade?
Why does the river run?

While the fates let the black thread of your life
spin out uncut,
enjoy the wine, walk serenely
in your garden, bathe with sweet oils.

Your house and fields
and all your wealth
your heirs will come to own
once you leave.

Born of a king
or the lowest field slave
it doesn’t matter:
your last road is always the same.

And you will follow it until,
almost by chance, you come upon
a certain ferryman who will take you
into the eternal exile.

With few exceptions I have substituted modern place names for the ancient ones. With respect to proper names, I have employed the Roman name and spelling unless the individual is better known by the anglicised version. With Octavian, I have broken with a long tradition of calling him Octavian in the aftermath of Julius Caesar’s assassination. My choice fits with the historical facts, he was emphatically called Caesar, but I made the decision so that the reader might more perfectly appreciate the power of the name.

In the ancient histories Quintus Dellius shows up in the oddest places and often for no very clear reason. There is no evidence he was ever elected to public office, nor is his military rank ever mentioned. The only safe bet is that he was an eques, which is to say his father was a Roman citizen in possession of at least 100,000 denarii. We know Dellius served Dolabella and that he was probably with Dolabella in Spain for Julius Caesar’s last military campaign. Circumstances suggest that he might also have been present for the murder of Gaius Trebonius. Dellius is not mentioned as leading an army into Judaea. Nor is there any record of his imprisonment in Samaria. A Roman army of four legions did arrive in Judaea commanded by Aulus Allienus, but that is all we know. Josephus credits Malichus with the assassination of Antipater.

It is possible Dellius met Horace at Philippi. We know Brutus recruited Horace in Athens, where Horace was studying. Horace himself confesses to being an incompetent officer. Dellius and Antony may or may not have known each other before Philippi. What is clear is that Antony very quickly promoted Dellius to a position of prominence in his court. Dellius famously led a delegation to the royal court of Egypt only a year after joining Antony. Dellius essentially vanishes from history after he leaves Antony’s service and joins Caesar’s staff at Actium in 31 BC. In fact, all that we know about him after this final change of patrons is that his new circle of acquaintances dubbed him ‘The Horse Changer’. This sobriquet compares Dellius’s adroit shifts from one patron to the next with a rider who comes galloping into a post station and changes to a fresh mount.

Virtually every public scene in this novel occurred as I have described it; some details are at variance with the historical accounts, but I usually made adjustments because the histories either left inviting gaps or they were not entirely credible. Where there are private exchanges beyond the scope of the historical record, I have asserted my rights as a storyteller. Everyone named in this novel existed, except for Livia’s horse, Artemis. There actually was a tall red horse originally owned by an eques named Seius. Dolabella possessed this horse in Syria, Cassius took ownership of it after Dolabella’s death, and finally Antony won the horse with the death of Cassius; nobody ever recorded the ultimate fate of the animal or bothered to mention its name. Judah, the secretary, entered history in the same year that Dellius completed his autobiography. More about that I hope to present at a later date.

Livia and Nero were chased by bounty hunters and nearly burned to death in a forest fire close to Sparta, but there is no record of anyone assisting them. Likewise, Herod escaped with his entire family from Jerusalem and then left them at Masada for nearly sixteen months. Whether or not his Roman allies included a cohort of Spartans led by Q. Dellius, we cannot say, but elsewhere Dellius is mentioned by Josephus as helping Herod storm the walls of Jerusalem in Herod’s decisive battle against prince Antigonus.

For their close reading of an early draft of this novel I owe a debt of gratitude to Donald Jennermann, Frederick Williams, Harriet McNeal, Burdette Palmberg, Tim Murgatroyd, Ben Haymond, and my mother, Shirley Underwood.

As always, a sincere thanks to my agent, Jeffrey Simmons, and my editor, Ed Handyside.

The continued encouragement from my brother Doug and his wife Maria keeps me going in ways they cannot begin to imagine. Most of all I am indebted to my wife, Martha Ineichen-Smith, for her support, encouragement, and love.

Legend persists that, after the scourging of Christ, Pilate commanded that his victim be painted from life. Somewhere, the portrait survives, the only true image of the Messiah, granting everlasting life to those who possess it.

Wealthy young English widow, Kate Kenyon, and antique bookseller, Ethan Brand, get their thrills from armed robbery. Their latest target is a priceless ‘Byzantine’ icon. Until now, they’ve never had to shoot anyone. This time things will be different.

Retired CIA man, TK Malloy, is hired by a rich but ailing televangelist to courier his newly acquired painting from a Zurich bank to the local airport. Malloy anticipates trouble, but not the maelstrom of bullets and betrayal that threatens to pull him under.

Sir Julian Corbeau is an international criminal holed up in Switzerland to avoid US extradition. He is also the sadistic head of the modern Knights Templar. He had the painting and now he seeks bloody revenge on those who stole it.

As the contenders vie for possession and the body count rises, the secrets of the painting gradually unfold to reveal how an object depicting the Light of the World could exert so malignant an influence on all who possess it.

“
I got paper friction burns on my fingers and pressure sores elsewhere because I could barely move until I’d finished it. Things were so tense that at several points I had to remind myself to breathe.”

Dovegreyreader

“
A marvellously thrilling book… the distinction between villain and hero is constantly blurred… a most enthralling story.”

Paul Docherty, author of the Hugh Corbett mysteries

£7.99           978-1-905802-15-9

KUFSTEIN, AUSTRIA 1939

At the foot of a mountain lies the body of an SS officer, his neck broken, his face a picture of bliss and serenity. Known to history as Otto Rahn, Himmler’s personal Grail hunter, his quest for the legendary Blood Lance of the Cathars has set in motion a vicious cycle of violence that will last for seventy years.

THE SWISS ALPS, 1997

Lady Katherine Kenyon celebrates her honeymoon on the perilous slopes of the Eiger with her husband Lord Robert Kenyon, financier and influential member of the philanthropic Knights of the Holy Lance. Attacked by unknown assailants, Kate is left for dead, widowed and with a burning thirst for vengeance.

HAMBURG, GERMANY 2008

When a billionaire fraudster cuts loose from the US, former CIA agent TK Malloy is assigned to hunt him down. The trail leads to the mysterious Knights of the Holy Lance. With his friends, Kate and Ethan Brand, Malloy sets out to uncover its secrets. Malloy must find his man; Kate still seeks her former husband’s killer. Their first step is to kidnap a corrupt Hamburg lawyer from his home. Things don’t quite run to plan and then all hell breaks loose…

“
Seamlessly mixing history, legend and fiction, Smith’s writing is both intelligent and exhilarating. His characters are alive, and the twists and turns of the several plots will keep readers breathless.”

Historical Novels Review

£7.99           978-1-905802-29-6

“
I turned thirty-seven that summer, older than Dante when he toured Hell, but only by a couple of years…”

Life couldn’t be better for David Albo, an associate professor of English at a small mid-western university. He lives in an idyllic, out-of-town, plantation-style mansion with a beautiful and intelligent wife and an adoring teenage stepdaughter. As he returns to the university after a long and relaxing sabbatical, there’s a full professorship in the offing – and, what’s more, he’s managed to stay off the booze for two whole years.

But, once term begins, things deteriorate rapidly. The damning evidence that he has sexually harassed his students is just the beginning as Dave finds himself sucked into a vortex of conspiracy, betrayal, jealousy and murder. Unless he can discover quickly who is out to destroy him, all that he is and loves is about to be stripped away.

“…
an absolute gem of a surprise. This is good, solid writing, piled with suspense and tension.”
It’s a crime! (or a mystery…)

£7.99           978-1-905802-34-0

Ten years ago, sleepy Shiloh Springs was shaken as five teenagers were clubbed and shot to death…

But now Will Booker’s conviction for the crime has been overturned after allegations that his rights were violated on arrest.

Rick Trueblood, careworn private investigator working for the county prosecutor’s office, still grieves for a daughter murdered in a crime he has never been able to solve. The judge has allowed just sixty days to find enough evidence to retry the Booker case. But as Rick struggles to re-investigate a trail long gone cold he uncovers a rat’s nest of intrigue and duplicity far closer to home than he could have possibly imagined.

Out on bail, Booker plots the kidnap and murder of two adolescent girls while the local authorities follow procedures and file reports. Rick, on the other hand, has learned something about the way Booker thinks. In the desperate hours that follow, Rick must recover both his instinct for the hunt and a renewed passion for life.

A terrifying tale of search and rescue, madness and redemption.

£7.99           978-1-905802-53-1