A Novel Approach to Ancient History Epaphroditus is dead—slain quickly and quietly amidst the sweaty bustle of a Roman street. And the emperor’s unseen hand is surely to blame. So begins the historical novel Margery Tong has been imagining in her head since sixth grade, when she saw Ancient Rome on a family vacation and fell entranced. Her characters—aristocrats and merchants, emperors and their wives—seek power, social standing, and a deeper sense of purpose in life, struggling between right and wrong as they make their way.
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Tong, who will enter Harvard University in the fall, loaded up on advance coursework in statistics, biology, government and politics (her life ambition is to be a judge), and linear algebra during Senior Spring. But she allowed herself one indulgence, using the time to also, finally, start typing her novel. She completed the first 20 pages, sketching intricate biographies of all her main characters, and outlining “the bones” of her book, whose title is still to come. Research was essential for telling a realistic tale, so Tong, who was editor-in-chief of The Spectator, BB&N’s literary magazine, dove into ancient accounts of actual emperors, such as Hadrian and Domitian, and online university collections of ancient photos and facts. At the end of each week she’d discuss her findings with BB&N Latin teacher Bob Edbrooke, who helped her flush out historical details. “We’d ask questions like, ‘Where would merchants rent houses in Rome?’” Tong says. “Or even concepts like the days of the week. I can’t say, ‘In the beginning of September’ because September had a different name.” English teacher Beth McNamera, meanwhile, provided valuable feedback on character development and story arc. “Because I’ve been thinking about this for so long, I wonder, does this sound like the character I’ve been envisioning?” Tong says. “That’s been the most challenging part.” Although her tale takes place nearly 2,000 years ago, Tong’s main antagonists—Marcus Aurelius Felix, a power-obsessed nobleman, and Gaius Aemilius
Septimus, an empathetic merchant—could just as easily have existed now, she says. At least, that’s what classics such as Machiavelli’s The Prince, The Brothers Karamazov, and The Great Gatsby have taught her. “Time doesn’t really change people’s character that much,” she reasons. Tong credits her dad, Eddie, the family storyteller, with inspiring her. Reading aloud her opening scene, she pauses at just the right time for dramatic effect, her voice rising and falling as the words she knows almost by memory take hold. “The method, the motive, the melodrama, the hints, the signs, the meaning, the pattern, the weapon of choice, the hour, the executioner, the number of blows—the details were all there,” she reads. “There was no better fodder for conversations under the sighing fans and whispering shades of summer villas than the latest assassination of the Emperor’s favorite courtier.” So, how does her novel end? Tong just smiles. “You can get the book when it’s published,” she says. 41