Roma ad scribendi

"They have powerful gods," observes Caesar of Lucius Vorenus and Titus Pullo, and their ability to turn up at every single key event in the Roman civil wars. Indeed they do. Entities more powerful even than Capitoline Jove watch over the lives of our heroes. Powerful creatures known only as writers.

The existence of the writers is surely evident to anyone with eyes. Cynics may sneer and point out that in an infinite universe billions of years old then surely any combination of events can occur in an apparently causal manner. But, I ask you: Vorenus and Pullo are stranded on a deserted sandbank in the middle of the Mediterranean. Vorenus, a man who has previously shown no evidence of imagination or scientific insight whatsoever, spots how high a bloated corpse is floating in the water, has a sudden insight about Platonic ether, and in no time at all he and Pullo have lashed together a raft of flotsam and bodies that gets them all the way to Greece and (even more important) tosses them onto the beach right in front of Pompey Magnus. Who can disbelieve after that?

Like the Roman gods, the writers aren't perfect, and they sometimes spend so much attention on one area that they forget about another. There can be no other reason for the non-battle in which Pompey is finally defeated. "Send word to Rome," barks the Man. "The decisive battle takes place today." Cue stirring music and lots of manly strapping on of armour. Then ten seconds of two legionaries fighting in slow-mo, and Caesar's triumphant return to camp. What??

But, as if to make up, the writers did give us some unexpected hot girl-on-girl action back in Rome between Caesar's mistress (raddled trout) and the future wife of Mark Antony and grandmother of Claudius (young teen nymph). If we'd got to read about that in my Latin lessons then I wouldn't have given up the subject when I was 14.