Dramatis Personae
In Aven and Stabiae
Aulus Vitellius, a Popularist Senator
Aula Vitellia, his oldest daughter, a widow
Vitellia Secunda, called Latona, his second daughter, a mage of Spirit and Fire
Vitellia Tertia, called Alhena, his third daughter, a mage of Time
Numerius Herennius, Latona’s husband
Lucia, Aula’s daughter
Helva, a freedwoman, mage of Time, and Aula’s personal attendant
Merula, a Phrygian slave, Latona’s personal attendant
Mus, a Cantabrian slave, Alhena’s personal attendant
Vibia Sempronia, a mage of Fracture, sister to Sempronius Tarren
Taius Mella, her husband
Galerius Orator, consul of Aven
Marcia Tullia, his wife, a mage of Air
Aufidius Strato, Galerius’s co-consul
Marcus Autronius, a Popularist Senator and a mage of Earth
Gnaeus Autronius, his father
Ama Rubellia, High Priestess of Venus, friend to Latona
Quintus Terentius, a Popularist Senator
Quinta Terentia, his daughter, a Vestal Virgin and a mage of Light
Terentilla, called Tilla, her sister, a mage of Earth
Maia Domitia, of a Popularist family, friend to Aula and Latona
Vatinius Obir, client to Sempronius Tarren, head of the Esquiline Collegium
Ebredus, a member of the Esquiline Collegium
Eneas, a freedman sailor
Moira, a priestess at the Temple of Proserpina in Stabiae
Arrius Buteo, an Optimate Senator
Decius Gratianus, an Optimate Senator
Memmia, his wife
Gratiana, his sister
Glaucanis, wife to Lucretius Rabirus
Licinius Cornicen, an Optimate Senator
Pinarius Scaeva, a Priest of Janus and mage of Fracture
Salonius Decur and Durmius Argus, members of the Augian Commission
Aemilia Fullia, High Priestess of Juno
In Iberia
Vibius Sempronius Tarren, Praetor of Cantabria, a Popularist Senator and a mage of Shadow and Water
Calpurnius and Onidius, generals commanding legions
Autronius Felix, a military tribune, brother to Marcus Autronius
Corvinus, a freedman, mage of Water, and Sempronius’s steward
Eustix, a mage of Air
Gaius Vitellius, a military tribune, son to Aulus Vitellius and brother to Aula, Latona, and Alhena
Titus Mennenius, a military tribune
Calix, a centurion
Bartasco, chieftain of the Arevaci, allied to Aven
Hanath, his wife, a Numidian warrior
Ekialde, chieftain of the Lusetani
Neitin, his wife
Reilin, Ditalce, and Irrin, her sisters
Bailar, a magic-man, Ekialde’s uncle
Otiger, a magic-man, Neitin’s uncle
Sakarbik, a magic-woman of the Cossetans
Lucretius Rabirus, Praetor of Baelonia, an Optimate Senator
Cominius Pavo, a military tribune
Fimbrianus, former Praetor of Baelonia
“Longa mora est, quantum noxae sit ubique repertum, enumerare: minor fuit ipsa infamia vero. Maenala transieram latebris horrenda ferarum et cum Cyllene gelidi pineta Lycaei: Arcadis hinc sedes et inhospita tecta tyranni ingredior, traherent cum sera crepuscula noctem.”
“It would take too long to tell what wickedness I found everywhere, for rumors were less than truth. I had crossed Maenala, those mountains bristling with wild beasts’ lairs, steep Cyllene, and the pinewoods of icy Lycaeus. Then, as the last shadows gave way to night, I entered the inhospitable house of the Arcadian king.”
—Ovid, Metamorphoses, Book I
Prologue
690 ab urbe condita
Februarius
Central Iberia
In the deep of winter, hundreds of miles from her own village, from the broad flat river and gently sloping hills of her home, Neitin of the Lusetani clung to the arms of the birthing stool, trying to bring forth life in cold and desperation. When the pangs faded, Neitin hung her head, sobbing helplessly, her sweat-soaked chestnut curls hanging like curtains on either side of her face.
“Good, good!” The midwife rubbed between her shoulders. “Not far to go, I think.”
Neitin wanted to protest that she couldn’t possibly do this, not a moment longer, that if this child didn’t get out of her right now she would walk into the dark shadows of the underworld gladly, but she held her tongue. Another woman might make those protestations. Neitin was the wife of the erregerra, the Lusetani war-king, and she could not admit to such weakness. Choking her sobs back into her throat, she scraped her feet against the deerskins that covered the ground inside her tent, trying to get them solidly underneath her. “I want to walk.”
The midwife helped her to stand properly, nodding. “That will be good for you. Walk until the next pains hit.”
One hand rubbing at the back of her neck, Neitin paced the length of the tent, from her bed to the flaming brazier, stoked hot to chase out the hard winter chill. Small comfort, to catch her breath, when she knew the agony would return.
Before it could strike again, however, the thick woolen tent door jerked open. Neitin looked up sharply; everyone she wished to see was already inside the tent, with the exception of her husband Ekialde, who would not be allowed in until after his child was born. When she saw the dark-headed man who had entered, her lips pulled back from her teeth in an instinctive snarl.
Bailar, uncle to her husband and leader of their magic-men, sidled in, letting the tent flap snap in the wind behind him. Reilin, first of Neitin’s younger sisters, rushed to hold it closed, but as she skirted around Bailar, she bowed her head in respect.
Neitin had no intention of showing such deference. “This is no place for you. Why have you come?”
Bailar’s shoulders hung low, giving him a demure appearance that ill-suited his true nature. “I knew your husband had sent for a woman from a nearby village,” Bailar scarcely gave the midwife a glance, “but I feared the assistance might be . . . insufficient.”
The midwife gave no indication that she took umbrage, but Neitin took plenty on her behalf. “This honored lady has been dedicated to divine Nabia’s heart and magic for thirty years,” she said. “I assure you, she has things well in hand.”