Suicide of Nero
Nero, the once-mighty Emperor of Rome, takes his own life with the assistance of his secretary Epaphroditus, as the Senate declares him a public enemy and his allies abandon him.
Setting
A secluded garden courtyard outside the villa of Phaon, nestled among olive trees and crumbling stone walls. The area is partially shaded by a pergola draped with withered grapevines. A marble bench sits near a small fountain that has run dry.
Characters
The figures in this scene as an entity network — co-presence links everyone in the moment; speakers who trade lines are bound tighter. Turn the resolution dial to reveal depth the engine actually computed.
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Nero
primary
A man in his early thirties with a soft, rounded face that belies his age, his features now gaunt from days of flight. His curly auburn hair is disheveled, and his once-imperial bearing has collapsed into the slump of a hunted animal. His eyes, wide with panic, dart constantly as if expecting assassins.
Phaon
secondary
A middle-aged freedman of sturdy build, with sun-weathered olive skin and deep-set brown eyes that betray both fatigue and concern. His dark hair is streaked with gray, cropped short in the Roman style, and his hands bear the calluses of a man who once labored but now oversees.
Epaphroditus
secondary
A slender man in his early 40s, with sharp, angular features and a receding hairline. His olive skin is marked by faint lines of worry around his mouth and eyes, and his hands are ink-stained from years of scribal work. His dark eyes are weary yet alert, watchful of Nero's every move.
Slave Boy
background
A thin boy of about 12 years with sun-darkened skin and close-cropped black hair. His wide brown eyes are framed by long lashes, and his small frame shows signs of malnutrition. His hands are calloused from labor, and a faded bruise discolors one cheekbone.
Dialog
Nero
Thus falls Nero Caesar—no, wait—'As Hector fell before the walls of Troy, so falls the last true son of Rome!'
Phaon
Dominus, please—the horsemen may crest the ridge at any moment. The inner chamber has bread and oil...
Nero
How many fingers' breadth below the jaw? Show me again—no, don't look away like some squeamish virgin at the games!
Phaon
If it please Dominus...the angle must be upward, between the bones here...
Nero
Dis Pater take them all! Is this how they repay their divine emperor? Where are my poets? My lutes?
Phaon
The stable boy heard iron on the Ostian Way...
Nero
Then let them come! Let them see—no, wait—'What an artist dies with me!' Those were the words, weren't they?
Chat with Characters
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