by Cass Morris
Instead she stepped back as an aide brought his horse around. “I wish you well on your travels,” she said, sounding formal and stilted and hating it. She watched as he donned his helmet and then, just before mounting his horse, looked back at her once more.
“May your future treat you well, if not gently, lady,” he said. He stepped up on the block provided for him and swung himself up onto the back of his horse, a solid and no-nonsense looking gray beast, dappled with white spots. And then he was off, whistling to the dawdling tribunes to pick up their pace and follow him. Latona waited, watching as the commanders, legates, and tribunes took their places at the head of the legion. Then she pulled her mantle up over her hair, covering the sides of her face, and fled back, before the threatening sting of tears prickling at the back of her eyes could overwhelm her.
* * *
She did not head home immediately, but strode east to the Quirinal Hill. Mostly filled with temples and administrative buildings, it was quiet this early in the day. “Domina?” Merula ventured, when they were about halfway up the hill.
“Speak freely,” Latona said, her voice distant.
“I am only wondering if you found what you were looking for.” Merula watched as a progression of emotions flickered over Latona’s face.
“Yes. I rather think I did.” Latona looked sideways and caught Merula’s eyes. “And don’t pretend you don’t know what that was about.”
“I would never presume, Domina—”
“Oh, yes, you would. Shame, Merula, you know I don’t value you for your humility.” Merula snorted.
Soon they reached the summit. The Quirinal overlooked the Field of Mars, and from there they watched as the legion formed their ranks: row after row of men in clanking segmented armor, polished so brightly that the Campus Martius glimmered in the light of the rising sun. Here and there a standard poked higher than the mens’ heads—banners bearing numbers, animal skins flung high on spears, all the symbols blessed by Jupiter, meant to make the men take courage and fight without fear. From this distance, Latona could distinguish no individual man; the army became a single organism with thousands of limbs, twisting its way north.
Beyond them stood the triadic temples atop the Capitoline Hill, their massive triangular pediments pointing up towards the heavens. Jupiter Optimus Maximus was the largest, but the roof of Juno Maxima caught the morning light and gleamed like gold. ‘Yet she is not only in the temples . . .’ Women served and were served by Juno everywhere, in every stage of life. ‘So what would you have of me, lady?’
“Domina?” Merula asked. “You are having a thought on your face.”
Smiling at the expression, Latona nodded. “All my life, I have let other people have the shaping of it,” she said. “My parents, afraid of my power, trying to shelter me; Aemilia, trying to ensure I would never be a threat; my husband, trying to hide me or hem me in; Ocella . . .” She let that thought drift off.
After a moment, Merula asked, “And Sempronius Tarren? What would he have of you?”
The thought rang in Latona’s head. ‘“Destined for more . . .”’
“I don’t know, Merula,” she said, dropping her mantle a bit as the sun warmed her back. He was too clever, she suspected, to be truly altruistic in pushing her. But was his ulterior motive a benefit for himself or for the nation that he loved so passionately?
‘Does it matter?’ That way lay freedom, however rocky or meandering the path. Her eyes scanned the city, waking to its usual morning chaos—the city she loved no less than Sempronius did, for all its faults and foibles. ‘I love it and I can protect it, if I have the nerve to try.’ Months ago, the thought would have terrified her with its sheer absurdity, but now . . .
“I will do it, then,” Latona said, more to the open sky and whatever gods were listening than to Merula. “Let Aemilia or Herennius or my father make of it what they may, and be damned with their objections. I will do it. I will stretch my power and find out what the gods intend for me.” Her jaw set hard, though her hands were trembling. “And let the dice fly where they may.”
GLOSSARY
AB URBE CONDITA: literally, “from the founding of the city”. How the Romans/Aventans measure years, in time since what we consider 753 BCE, the legendary founding of the city.
AEDILE: a mid-level magistrate responsible for public buildings, the public games, and the supply of grain to the city. Elected by the Tribal Assembly. Men generally served this office between their quaestorship and praetorship, though it was not strictly necessary to be elected as praetor.
CAMPUS MARTIUS: The Field of Mars, a large open space used for military training and for elections.
CENSOR: a magistrate responsible for maintaining the census and electoral rolls, supervising public morality, and some aspects of government finances. A man had to have served as consul to be elected as censor. Elected by the Centuriate Assembly.
CENTURIATE ASSEMBLY: One of three voting assemblies designated by the Roman constitution, which gathered for legislative, electoral, and judicial purposes. Originally a military organization, but later expanded and ranked by wealth rather than military status. Only the Centuriate Assembly could declare war or elect the highest-ranking Roman magistrates: praetors, consuls, and censors.
COLLEGIA: assemblies with legal purpose and some authority which could function as guilds, religious organizations, or social clubs. Most common were the crossroads colleges, which were neighborhood associations formed around shrines placed at intersections.
CONSUL: The highest and most prestigious political office in the Roman Republic. The Centuriate Assembly elected two consuls to serve together for a one-year term. Consuls held executive power. They convened and presided over the Senate, negotiated with foreign states, and served as commanders-in-chief of the legions.
CURIA: the Senate House.
CURSUS HONORUM: literally, the course of offices; the sequential order of public offices held by politicians in the Roman Republic.
DICTATOR: a magistrate entrusted by the Senate with full power and authority to act unilaterally. A temporary office intended to be held for no more than six months.
DOMINUS/DOMINA: literally, “master/mistress”, but also translates as the equivalent of “Lord/Lady” when used in conjunction with a name.
DOMUS: house. In the city, generally referred to a free-standing building occupied by a single family.
EQUESTRIAN: one of the property classes of ancient Rome, ranking below the Senators but above the rest.
FIVE CLASSES: property classes including all those who held land but did not have enough wealth to qualify as Equestrians or Senators.
FORUM: a large open-air market, often surrounded by a mixture of temples and shops. The largest forum in Rome/Aven, generally referred to as the Forum, was the center of political, mercantile, and spiritual life.
HEAD COUNT: the property-less class, with no land and little wealth.
INSULA: apartment. Blocks of insulae could be five to seven stories, with the largest and most luxurious apartments on the bottom floor and the smallest and most miserable at the top.
LEGES TABULAE MAGICAE: a section of Aventan law governing the behavior of mages, particularly with regard to interactions with non-magical citizens.
LEX CANTATIA AUGIAE: an Aventan law preventing the ascension of magically-gifted citizens to the ranks of praetor, consul, or censor.
LICTOR: a civil servant who acted as a bodyguard to high-ranking public officials.
MACELLUM: a market, smaller and with fewer permanent structures than a forum or emporium.
MOS MAIORUM: the “proper way of things.” An informal code based on precedent and custom, elevated to dogmatic status by the Optimates.
OPTIMATES: one of the two most prominent political factions in Aven, dedicated to conservatism, relative isolationism, and the preservation of power among the elite
.
PATRONS AND CLIENTS: the basic social unit of ancient Rome was the patronage system, by which the patron, a man of higher social status and clout, served as protector, sponsor, and benefactor of the client, who in turn provided support and assistance to his patron.
POPULARISTS: one of the two most prominent political factions in Aven, favoring expansion of civic rights and economic opportunity.
PRAETOR: a magistrate ranking just below a consul. Praetors had municipal and judicial duties, but might also serve as commanders of legions or as local governors. Their specific duties fluctuated greatly at different points in Rome’s history.
QUAESTOR: the first rank of the cursus honorum, requisite for entry to the Senate, responsible for the state treasury and audits.
QUINTILIS: the month we know as July.
SENATE: the Assembly consisting of the most experienced politicians. The Senate dictated foreign and military policy and directed domestic policy, but could not actually pass laws.
SENATORS: both the highest-ranking and wealthiest social class and those men who served in the Senate.
SEXTILIS: the month we know as August.
TRIBAL ASSEMBLY: the largest of the three Assemblies, as it consisted of all Roman citizens, divided into their “tribes,” which largely referred to their family’s region of origin. This Assembly was most often responsible for the passage of laws.
TRIBUNE: a title with several meanings. A tribune of the plebs acted as a check on the Senate and the Assemblies, able to exercise veto power over the actions of consuls and other magistrates. A military tribune commanded portions of the Roman army, subordinate to praetors and consuls; these were usually men in their early twenties, getting military experience before beginning the cursus honorum. Other mid-ranking officers were also styled tribune, generally those who were members of a commander’s staff.
VILLA: a large home outside of a city. This might be a villa rustica, a country estate, or a villa maritima, a seaside home.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
This novel has been the love and labor of many years, and it could not have happened without the support, guidance, and friendship of so many people. I would like to extend my heartfelt thanks to:
Foremost, my parents, Mary and Bruce, and my sister, Cait. Never has there been a day when I had cause to doubt their support or their love. I have been brave enough to walk this path only because they have always had my back.
The friends who have supported me, loved me, encouraged me: “What are the odds the gods would put us all in one spot?”—or, at least, in a sequence of spots over the course of a lifetime, where we could all crash into each other? However it happened, I am blessed to know you.
The teachers and mentors I have been fortunate enough to encounter along the road. Some of you taught me to write; some of you showed me what was worth writing; some of you inspired me more that I can credit. Some of you did all three, and so to Carter, Ralph, and Sarah, I must add “thanks, thanks, and ever thanks”.
The members of so many writing communities who have been sounding boards and partners in commiseration: the 17 Scribes, Authors 18, Debs, Fuse Club, and of course all my fellow Sirens. What grand fortune, to have fellowship with so many wonderful minds.
My Patreon supporters, for being the first to enter the world of Aven, and most particularly the honored Consuls, Marcell Williams and my excellent parents.
John Lavinus, my darling grand vizier, thaumaturgical consult, and closest confidante. Without you, dear one, I shudder to think where I might be.
And finally, my brilliant agent, Connor Goldsmith, and the pair of editors who saw this project to completion, Sarah Guan and Betsy Wollheim, with the whole amazing team at DAW Books. Thank you for helping me to shape these dreams into a story worth the telling.
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