Shining A Light On: Alison Morton's Silvia Apulia ... Imperatrix of Roma Nova

A series where my guests are female writers 

talking about their female characters

(and yes, I'll be doing the chaps next!)

Today: 

Alison Morton's

Silvia Apulia 

Imperatrix of Roma Nova

A knock at the door. The duty Praetorian in her beige and black uniform put her head round the door.

‘Countess Mitela and granddaughter to see you, domina,’ the young guard said.

I rose to greet them. I was in my private sitting room in the Golden Palace, my home and my territory, but I confessed I was a little nervous. The gods knew why. The first through the door was Aurelia Mitela, elegant and assured as usual and wearing a dark green suit. Her strong jawline and piercing blue eyes were topped by waves of coiffured grey and white hair. Not only was Aurelia the head of the Twelve Families of Roma Nova, a senator and imperial councillor but she was also my cousin, mentor and close friend. It was Aurelia who’d guided and sustained me from childhood, through the Great Rebellion and the years of reconstruction to become the imperatrix of Roma Nova that I was today.

I smiled at her and she returned it with equal warmth, sending and receiving an unspoken message of shared memories, joys and sorrows, but most of all of deep affection.

Half a step behind Aurelia was the newcomer. Tall like Aurelia, the same slender build and blue eyes, but with red-gold hair in waves around her fresh face. So this was the granddaughter, Carina, Conradus’s new love. She looked like Aurelia, or rather as Aurelia must have looked in her youth, but she hesitated, nervous at being here.

‘Aurelia, Carina, welcome. Please come and make yourselves comfortable,’ I began and gestured them to the sofa opposite mine. ‘How are you settling in, Carina?’

‘Very well, thank you, uh, imperatrix. I’m gradually getting used to everything.’

‘And have you been out to Aurelia’s farm at Castra Lucilla? It’s very pretty there, isn’t it?’

Her Latin was simple when she answered, but with hardly a trace of accent despite her foreign upbringing. She glanced round at the stone-walled room: pale blue furnishings with dark blue and oak couches. She stopped at the family photographs on a side table.

‘This is a beautiful room,’ she said. ‘I love the way the photos are grouped under the light.’

‘Come and have a closer look, if you like,’ I replied, keen to set her at her ease. ‘They’re mostly of my children. You’ll meet them soon I expect.’ I lifted one frame showing a baby looking surprised, a laughing pre-schooler and a girl, about seven or eight, sullen. ‘This is Stella,’ I said, pointing to the oldest girl, ‘and these are Darius and Hallie. And, of course, their father.’

Carina gasped, blenched and gripped the edge of the blue velvet sofa. Aurelia shot a look of astonishment at Carina but recovered quickly.

‘Well, Silvia,’ Aurelia said and stood. ‘We mustn’t take up any more of your time. I know you have back-to-back meetings this afternoon.’

 Aurelia would know as she was my chief councillor. We kissed cheeks and murmured pleasantries as they left. But how strange Carina’s reaction had been. Surely Aurelia or even Conradus would have told her…

***

Losing Andrea, my life’s love, to cancer all those years ago, I couldn’t bear the idea of another permanent relationship. But we hadn’t had any children, a double tragedy. Aurelia hadn’t needed to remind me of my duty as the imperatrix of Roma Nova, nor the council to even mention it. I knew I had to have a direct heir; the Apulia bloodline from mother to daughter has been unbroken since Galla Apulia in the late fourth century. My childhood friend, Conradus Tellus, a young Praetorian officer who’d shared the horror of the Great Rebellion with me as a child, had agreed to become my partner.

Conradus was an honourable man and tender lover. He’d become a devoted and affectionate father to our three children. But I would never love him as I had Andrea. A tear rolled down my cheek and I fingered the ancient diamond ring with its dull diamonds that Andrea had given me to celebrate our union. I’d been nineteen. Now in my forties, I had to pull myself together.

 Although Conradus would always remain a faithful friend and, of course, be important in the children’s lives, it was almost a relief when he came to see me a month ago about Carina. He’d come to this very room and helped himself to a large glass of whisky. He’d drunk half of it before he spoke.

‘Silvia, I know we parted formally a month ago, but I felt I had to come and see you before the rumour mill started.’ He looked round the room. ‘It’s so strange coming here as a guest.’

‘You know you’ll never be that. You are the children’s father, part of their family.’

‘I know, but, you see, I’ve met someone.’

‘Great gods! That was quick.’ I couldn’t help myself.

He flushed, pink running up his neck and face to his hazel eyes. He was a remarkably good-looking man with his blond hair and soldier’s fit figure, but his greatest asset was his undoubted charm.  At this precise moment, that had vanished. He took another sip of his drink.

‘It’s Carina, Aurelia’s granddaughter. Mars knows if she feels the same, but I would give the earth for her and go to Tartarus and back if she asked me.’

‘You’re very poetic, my dear,’ and I smiled at him. ‘I’m glad you’ve come to tell me, Conradus, and I’m truly happy for you.’ I glanced away for a moment, lighting on Andrea’s photograph. ‘We both knew our arrangement had come to an end. It could be nothing else. But thank you.’ I kissed him on the cheek and gently led him to the door. He nodded and turned and walked down the old stone corridor out to the public atrium.

***

Now I’d met Carina only that afternoon. I only hoped Conradus wouldn’t be disappointed. He was a few years younger than me and had emerged a damaged and brutalised child at the end of the Great Rebellion. I’d come back from forced exile in New Austria where I’d lived in relative poverty and had to grow up very fast and with the constant threat of kidnap and assassination. 

Andrea had rescued me from loneliness and exhaustion when I had to lead the reconstruction of a damaged people and  ruined country. I’d been terrified I’d stepped through the door of the Senate to meet the weary and sceptical members, all of whom were at least twenty years older than me.

But Carina was a mystery to me. Raised in the Eastern United States, would she ever adapt to Roma Nova and its unique ways? She seemed unformed, but perhaps she would discover an inner strength and outward resolution like all the Mitela women. Who knew what would happen in the future?

Read INCEPTIO to find out!

Ebook:  https://books2read.com/INCEPTIO  (all retailers)

Paperback: https://alison-morton.com/books-2/inceptio/

Why read INCEPTIO?

“Terrific. Brilliantly plotted original story, grippingly told and cleverly combining the historical with the futuristic. It’s a real edge-of-the-seat read, genuinely hard to put down.”  Sue Cook, writer and broadcaster

Tell us more…
"It’s about blood, survival and money"

New Yorker Karen Brown is running for her life. She makes a snap decision to flee to Roma Nova – her dead mother’s homeland, and last remnant of the Roman Empire in the 21st century. But can Karen tough it out in such an alien culture? And with a crazy killer determined to terminate her for a very personal reason?  

Stifled by the protective cocoon of her Roma Novan family, deceived by her new lover, she propels herself into a dangerous mission. But then the killer sets a trap – she must sacrifice herself for another – and she sees no escape.

A thriller laced with romance and coming of age, this is Roman fiction brought into the 21st century through the lens of alternative history and driven by a female protagonist with heart and courage. 

"Eve Dallas meets Lindsey Davis’s Roman detective Falco meets The Hunger Games." 

And who is the author?

Alison Morton writes the award-winning Roma Nova series featuring modern Praetorian heroines – "intelligent adventure thrillers with heart." She puts this down to her deep love of Roman history, six years’ military service, a masters' in history and an over-vivid imagination. She blogs, reads, cultivates a Roman herb garden and drinks wine in France with her husband.

All six full-length Roma Nova novels have been awarded the BRAG Medallion. SUCCESSIO, AURELIA and INSURRECTIO were selected as Historical Novel Society’s Indie Editor’s Choices.  AURELIA was a finalist in the 2016 HNS Indie Award. SUCCESSIO was selected as an Editor’s Choice in The Bookseller. Novellas CARINA and NEXUS and a collection of short stories – ROMA NOVA EXTRA – complete the series so far.

Social media links

Connect with Alison on her Roma Nova site: https://alison-morton.com

Facebook author page: https://www.facebook.com/AlisonMortonAuthor

Twitter: https://twitter.com/alison_morton @alison_morton

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/alisonmortonauthor/

Goodreads:  https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/5783095.Alison_Morton
Alison’s Amazon page: http://Author.to/AlisonMortonAmazon

Full Guest List

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Shining Light On Our Ladies: B. G. Denvil and Rosie

A series where my guests are female writers 

talking about their female characters

(and yes, I'll be doing the chaps next!)

Today: 

Meet Barbara Gaskell Denvil 

and

ROSIE

May I introduce you to Rosie? I’ll even let you into her secret, since she’ll never know and would forgive me anyway. Because she’s a witch. A very nice one too.

Born in the late medieval, she grew up at The Rookery, a spreading cottage on Kettle Lane not far from the Wiltshire village of Little Piddleton. Beneath the thatched roof live the bats, sleeping during the day but ready to swoop out and hunt when the stars come up. There are owls too, but it’s the crows that live here all year, and keep the witches amused.

The Rookery is an old people’s home, but the people, all being witches or wizards, do not need much looking after.  Some are, perhaps, getting a little daft in their old age, but most also have some fine magic abilities. Getting together for meals is the ideal time for squabbles and arguments, though sometimes a few of them trot off to the village to drink at the local tavern, and here arguments need to be kept quiet, for they can’t let the villagers know that they aren’t entirely human.

Having been brought up by a domineering mother and a mostly absent father, Rosie accepts being the scullery maid, cleaner, water collector, dish washer and general bed-maker. Her magic isn’t strong, and she’s used to obeying orders. Yet she has always had a dream – a dream of more – and of finding a better place in the world.

But this is ‘Kettle Lane’, not Cinderella, and Rosie needs to uncover a whole heap of secrets before the magic starts working for her too.

There’s not a lot of history here, since witches and wizards usually lead an unconventional life at the best of times, but it is the medieval age, so water comes from the well, dinner is cooked over the fire, light comes from the candles, and there’s no bus to town. You walk – or, being witches – you fly, as long as no one is watching.

There are many limitations in medieval times but being a witch or a wizard brings some definite advantages, and Rosie simply wishes she might discover a few more of these and have enough time to grow stronger.

Peg is one of the older residents of The Rookery, and she’s apt to disappear when she gets her spells in a muddle, and there’s Whistle who likes Rosie and occasionally invites her into his rooms for a cup of wine or a story of times past.

With the great old city of London at some considerable distance, none of the residents at this home for the elderly have much interest in kings, queens, wars, or lordly scandal. They live quiet lives, they chat to the crows, they bundle into the kitchens and experiment with mixing spells over the fire and mumbling the words they’ve made up themselves.

Rosie has her own small room in the big cottage, but spends little time in it, for she’s usually serving dinner or supper, cleaning it up, or sweeping the stairs. Not that many of the wizards use those stairs, since they simply fly up to their rooms instead. But Rosie cannot fly. Her magic is too weak. Yet she dreams of flying, of looking down on the village rooftops, of feeling the wind in her hair, of escaping the rain by flying above the clouds, and of joining the huge flocks of birds flying off for winter, or flying back in for spring.

With such a large number living in one place, Rosie has many friends but few other than Whistle and Peg take too much notice of the cleaning girl. Mandrake is a flirt, and she would like Montague to flirt but he doesn’t seem to know she exists. Uta and Ermintrude are sweet, but too busy to do more than thank her when she brings them dinner. But Ermintrude has discovered chocolate, even though that most certainly does not yet exist in medieval England, and sometimes gives a delicious heap of it to Rosie. The first two women in the world to enjoy chocolate!

Rosie’s mother also has a weak magical force, yet somehow, she manages to produce some remarkable results, mostly unpleasant, and Rosie would like to know why. She’d like to know a lot of things, and gradually, as events start to slip and slide from the very wilds of a many coloured yonder, things suddenly start to make sense.

‘Kettle Lane’ is the first book in Barbara Gaskell Denvil’s new Cosy Mystery series, The Rookery. Written under the name of B G Denvil. There is also a short introduction ‘One Small Step’ if you would prefer to give it a test run first.

Full Guest List

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