Domna Part Three: The Centaur's Gamble: Domna (A Serialized Novel of Osteria), #3

By Tammie Painter

In a world mired in chaos, one wrong word could mean death, but one promise could mean greatness.

 

After barely surviving his previous appointment, Sirius claims being forgotten may be the safest place in the violent turbulence of Osterian politics. But Sofia's ambitions remain steadfast and she refuses to accept the gods have destined her to waste away in obscurity.

 

Just as Sirius settles into the peace of a rural life, an old friend offers him the chance to inherit the title of Solon if he's willing to fight for it. Will Sirius take the chance, or will he opt to stay safe? More importantly, will Sofia let him have a choice in the matter?

 

Set in a world full of political turmoil and violent ambition, Domna is a six-part serialized novel that tells the tale of Sofia Domna, a woman whose destiny is abruptly changed when she reprimands the wrong man. 

 

As Sofia's life moves through the trials of a forced marriage, motherhood, and yearning temptation, she learns that destiny isn't given; it's made by cunning, endurance, and, at times, bloodshed.

 

If you like the political intrigue, adventure, and love triangles of historical fiction by Philippa Gregory and Bernard Cornwell, and the mythological world-building of fantasy fiction by Madeline Miller and Simon Scarrow, you'll love Domna.

Pick up your copy of Domna, Part Three: The Centaur's Gamble today to continue this page-turning story of loyalty, courage, and passion.

Domna is a six-part serialized novel. The titles include:

• Part One: The Sun God's Daughter
• Part Two: The Solon's Son
• Part Three: The Centaur's Gamble
• Part Four: The Regent's Edict
• Part Five: The Forgotten Heir
• Part Six: The Solon's Wife

• Language: English
• Publisher: Tammie Painter
• Release date: May 28, 2019
• ISBN: 9781386173649

Tammie Painter

Short Version:  I turn wickedly strong tea into historical fantasy fiction in which the gods, heroes, and myths of Ancient Greece come to life as you've never seen them before. When I'm not creating worlds or killing off characters, I wrangle honeybees to add a little adventure into my non-writing life.  Long Version:  Tammie Painter grew up in the creative world of Portland, Oregon, and she continues to call the City of Roses home. Although she spent years working as a chemist in a behavioral neuroscience research lab, she could never quite tame her passion for writing. Tammie has a knack for delving into and bringing life to history and mythology in her novels. Her fascination for myths, history, and how they interweave inspired the Osteria Chronicles series.  The current titles in the six-book series include *The Trials of Hercules *The Voyage *The Maze *The Bonds of Osteria (coming soon) When she isn't (but probably should be) writing, Tammie can be found digging in her garden, planning her next travel adventure, creating art, or persuading her hive of backyard bees to share some of their honey with her. Find out more about Tammie on her website at TammiePainter.com

Book preview

DOMNA

PART THREE:

THE CENTAUR’S GAMBLE

A SERIALIZED NOVEL OF OSTERIA

BY

TAMMIE PAINTER

CHAPTER ONE

The Farmer

WE KEPT OUR heads low as Sirius served out those final months of his year-long proconsulship in Colchis. Not only was it a lonely winter, but a harsh one as well and I began to realize how Colchis Castle could drive people to madness. Our chambers within the fortress were never warm and I worried that we might not escape this awful place without losing half our fingers and toes to frostbite. Although we had separate sleeping chambers, I gladly shared Sirius’s bed for the perpetual warmth that radiated from his body.

A few weeks before we were to leave, news from Papinias arrived informing me that Alerio’s book was finally complete and that I would receive a copy as soon as I settled into my next home. His letters were so cool and professional, and my nights with Sirius so slow and comforting, I could almost forget what happened the last time Papi and I were together. Almost. For I still lay awake some nights wondering whether I had made enough effort to resist him.

When a break in the winter storms allowed the new consul to arrive, we took advantage of the calm weather and fled Colchis without a backwards glance. I hoped to never see this forbidding region again. Despite my eagerness to hop on a boat that would whisk us away, Macrinus didn’t share my enthusiasm over another water journey. Unfortunately, it was our only choice. With its rogue herd of centaurs that would kill humans on sight, the Colchian Forest – the only land route out of Colchis – was too dangerous to traverse.

Grumbling about being willing to take his chances against the centaurs, Macrinus was coaxed aboard the waiting ship with the news that we wouldn’t be going over the Graveyard, the deadly crossing from the Western Sea to the Col River. I didn’t like our reason for it, but I breathed a thanks to the gods that, since we were in no hurry and since Sirius had no new assignment to report to, we had extra time for our travels and could disembark in northern Astoria instead of risking our lives by crossing over that treacherous bit of sea.

After resting a night in Astoria, we hired horses and rode east following the banks of the Col with our belongings bouncing along behind us in carts pulled by ponies and donkeys. This route would take us to a bridge over the narrowest stretch of the Col River. From this point we would ride toward Portaceae City where the Col met up with the Illamos River, which we could follow south to Sirius’s farm. I yearned to stop in Portaceae, but since he was unsure what mood the capital might be in, Sirius didn’t want to risk entering the grand city.

I thought of my brief stop here when I traveled from Bendria to Vancuse to meet Sirius for our wedding. Now, as then, I hated being denied a chance to explore the streets, the buildings, the libraries, but this time my disappointment was made worse since Macrinus would be leaving my side to remain in the capital. With springtime being the season of inheritance claims, he would have an abundance of legal duties to attend to. Plus, he longed to be with his wife, Mera.

We agreed – reluctantly agreed on my part – that Macrinus couldn't be expected to linger around a farm after already putting his career on hold for a year by going with us to Colchis. With Plautinius also now residing in Portaceae and showing no intention of working on Sirius’s farm with us, I assured Macrinus I didn’t need a guard. A hollow spot was left in me when we said our goodbyes and I felt another one of those vain stabs of jealousy when I saw his pretty wife greet him with a chaste kiss at the city gates.

As we skirted the city walls to join up with the Osterian Road, I lamented my fall from my dreams of being the high priestess of Apollo, who would have held the power of people's very souls, to a wife who had dared to believe in her husband’s prospects, but who was now condemned to toil on his forgotten farm. It had taken less than two years with this man to turn me into nothing. I refused to stay as such. I may have to dig the land we were riding towards, but I would also dig us out of obscurity.

*  *  *

We settled into life on the farm. Once again I was unpacking my belongings, wondering what life held next for me, if anything. When I came across the figurine, I set her on a shelf in the room that would be Sirius’s office. Like her, I felt stashed away with no real use.

Spring had only just begun when we arrived, but even my untrained eye could tell this land with its dark, loamy soil held a rich fertility, and Sirius and I both took this as a good sign. The tenants had maintained the estate well and, while only pea greens and over-wintered root vegetables were being harvested now, they informed us the farm grew grapes for eating and for winemaking; hazelnuts for their meat and oil; three fields that alternated between fallow, grain, and summer vegetables; and an orchard bursting with blooms that would later develop into apples, pears, and apricots. We also had sheep who would give us milk and wool. With my usual hunger for knowledge and zeal for efficiency, within only a few weeks after arrival I had learned a great deal about managing my new land.

Our property also came complete with dozens of guards – vigiles who had served their terms, but who were too young for retirement. They patrolled the perimeter of the farm and the nearby woodlands for thieves and for satyrs. These strange part-human-part-goat creatures weren’t violent, but they did drink heavily and would trample over crops, break limbs of fruit trees, and tear up vines as part of their drunken entertainment.

The boys for their part hardly took notice of all the changes. Although Lucius seemed lost at first without Macrinus, he was soon giggling as he tottered after the sheep, grimacing the first time a donkey licked his face, and attempting to see how many peas he could fit into little Geta's mouth. Geta reveled in his older brother's attention and squealed with delight at Lucius’s experiments. Except when Sirius entered the room. Then Geta would screech in agony as if Lucius was tormenting him. Sirius, always protective of Geta, would scold Lucius who, as he always had, shrank from his father’s scorn.

Despite my wishing Macrinus was here to be a father figure to Lucius, and my pleading with Sirius to be fairer to the boys, I was thankful for my husband’s companionship during this time. Saltia sent word she would love to see me slogging through fields with an apron full of produce, but Cassius's legion had been moved to the border of Demos, the main grain-producing region in Osteria, to repel the incessant Arean attacks.

There were plenty of women who lived near the farm, but these were primarily wives or daughters of our tenants. Despite my efforts to chat and engage them in gossip, they were traditional people who believed that, as servines, they shouldn’t mingle with patrines such as me and should speak only to equines. It took Sirius scolding them and calling them backward thinkers to get them to bring questions to me rather than him about household and land matters. But this wasn’t friendship. With me they remained curt and annoyingly deferential. If they only knew how low I had fallen.

And, while I did receive a parcel containing Alerio’s beautiful and thorough book on the medic’s arts, letters from Papi ceased after the tome’s arrival.

Thankfully some of my loneliness was kept at bay by Macrinus who wrote at least weekly to check in on us and tell us of his cases. Each message included a small sketch in the lower corner: a building, a lawyer striding into court, a wildflower emerging from a crack in the pavement, and other such random scenes from Portaceae. From his words, all appeared to be going well both within his career and within Portacean politics. I’d just begun to think maybe Candus had truly settled into his solonian responsibilities after years of playing the fool, but only a day after I gave voice to this thought while planting corn with Sirius, Macrinus wrote to complain he itched to leave Portaceae.

It appeared that Candus had been sneaking away from the Solonian Palace and fighting in and gambling on impromptu gladiatorial games in the worst parts of the city. None of this had been done while sober, and he’d lost nearly half the treasury in risky bets and drunken bouts. A baffled fiscal procurator had discovered the discrepancy in the budgets, asked a group of