JULIA PRIMA
By Alison Morton
By Alison Morton
“You should have trusted me. You should have given me a choice.”
AD 370, Roman frontier province of Noricum. Neither wholly married nor wholly divorced, Julia Bacausa is trapped in the power struggle between the Christian church and her pagan ruler father.
Tribune Lucius Apulius’s career is blighted by his determination to stay faithful to the Roman gods in a Christian empire. Stripped of his command in Britannia, he’s demoted to the backwater of Noricum – and encounters Julia.
Unwittingly, he takes her for a whore. When confronted by who she is, he is overcome with remorse and fear. Despite this disaster, Julia and Lucius are drawn to one another by an irresistible attraction.
But their intensifying bond is broken when Lucius is banished to Rome. Distraught, Julia gambles everything to join him. But a vengeful presence from the past overshadows her perilous journey. Following her heart’s desire brings danger she could never have envisaged…
✧ Excerpt ✧
A week later, Father and I received an invitation from Lucius Apulius to be his guests at his unit’s games. I wasn’t at all sure we should go. When Lucius found out the truth about how I was only half divorced – and some busybody would delight in telling him all the details – he might distance himself. He wouldn’t care about the Christian annulment, but without it, even if we married purely under Roman law, I could imagine the damage we would inflict on Father’s position.
To Hades with them all. I wrote back accepting Lucius’s invitation.
The old amphitheatre up on the hill had closed over fifty years ago for gladiatorial games. Constantine had been persuaded that the altars and reliefs dedicated to Nemesis and the sacred nature of the games were too pagan. More importantly, Rome had stopped payment for its upkeep and refurbishment. Father sent a mason there to make essential repairs now and again. Nevertheless, weeds grew at the base of the balteus, the balustrade running round the edge.
The entrance to porta libitinensis, the death door where the dead animals, criminals and gladiators had been dispatched, was now blocked up at the end. I’d walked round there once and ventured a few steps inside the arch, shivering in the chill of the old stone and brickwork moist and green with mould. Several somethings had flapped wings slowly and loudly and the noise bounced from one wall to the next. I was convinced Libitina, the goddess of death, corpses and funerals was still present. I’d hurried out back into the sunshine.
Today, Lucius Apulius greeted us and accompanied us to seats at the other end, the porta sanavivaria through which gladiators and animals used to enter ready for battle. If they were lucky enough to survive the content, they’d exited through the same doorway. At least these days I wasn’t relegated to the back as my ancestresses had been. Whatever the changes going on now compared to the golden days of Rome hundreds of years ago, there were sometimes advantages to living in modern times.
Lucius’s slave wore a sullen expression and stood to one side with an armful of additional cushions as we settled.
‘Take no notice of Ascus – he’s always this cheerful.’ But he beckoned to the slave who then dropped his load into the stone seats. Lucius instructed him to find himself a perch at the back, then took my hand and guided me to my seat. His grip was sure, but not intimate, but I still felt flustered. Then I glanced along the curve of the front row and spotted my ex-husband with his uncle.
‘Please don’t be concerned,’ Lucius said. ‘Opsius felt as senior officer he was obliged to invite Bishop Eligius and, of course, the nephew, but I made sure we’d be sitting apart from them as far away as we could.’
‘I just ignore him when I can,’ my father said gruffly. ‘Best way. I’m surprised he accepted, though.’
‘So was Opsius, sir. But as you can see, there’s a fair crowd here.’ He swung his arm round to indicate the hundreds of spectators.
‘Well, I suppose the politician in Eligius wouldn’t miss a chance to show that he’s omnipresent like their god. We don’t get many free public events these days, young man, so people are taking advantage of it. So are the pie hawkers.’ He raised an eyebrow at the men walking up and down the steps at the ends of the rows and sporting trays of oily pastries and shouting out the virtues of their delicacies. ‘In truth, we haven’t seen troops here in any numbers for decades, so it’s a novelty.’ He snorted. ‘No doubt there’ll be a few Alamanni spies taking notice of any tactics.’
‘I’ve told my men to look out for any suspicious characters, sir.’
‘The Alamanni don’t look that different from us these days, Lucius,’ Father replied. ‘We underestimate them at our peril.’
Apulius shifted in his seat as if uncomfortable at that thought and turned to talk to me.
‘If you look carefully, you can still see Nemesis’s sanctuary at the eastern apex,’ he said, pointing to the crumbling altar and faded reliefs. ‘Closed now, of course.’
‘The old gods are important to you, aren’t they, Lucius?’ I searched his face.
‘I couldn’t be a Roman without them.’
‘But what does it mean to be Roman now?’ I gestured at the men warming up with practice fights below in the sand, at the audience in a mixture of cloaks and ornate robes in the front rows, then at those sitting further back on the curved benches, a good proportion of them tribespeople in native dress and with long hair.
Lucius shrugged.
‘We’re living in times of transition,’ he said. ‘Even Roman troops wear breeches and consist of mixed native levies including a sprinkling of Goths.’ He gave a wry smile. ‘But the Noricans in my unit are tough and loyal-hearted.’ He glanced up at the hills beyond the amphitheatre. ‘Maybe it’s the pure air that makes them so strong and all the clambering up and down mountains,’ he said chuckling, then became solemn. ‘It’s a good country, one where any man would be content to settle. I certainly would.’ He gave me such a warm look that I had to turn away. At that moment, I was certain that he was serious about wanting to stay and live with me here as my husband. I wished with all my heart and soul it could be so. But it was impossible. I blinked back a tear.
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Alison Morton
Alison Morton writes award-winning thrillers featuring tough but compassionate heroines. Her nine-book Roma Nova series is set in an imaginary European country where a remnant of the ancient Roman Empire has survived into the 21st century and is ruled by women who face conspiracy, revolution and heartache but with a sharp line in dialogue.
She blends her fascination for Ancient Rome with six years’ military service and a life of reading crime, historical and thriller fiction. On the way, she collected a BA in modern languages and an MA in history.
Alison now lives in Poitou in France, the home of Mélisende, the heroine of her latest two contemporary thrillers, Double Identity and Double Pursuit. Oh, and she’s writing the next Roma Nova story.
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