Domna Part Six: The Solon's Wife: Domna (A Serialized Novel of Osteria), #6

By Tammie Painter

A life of love or a life of power? A promise to the gods or following your heart's desire? The choice must be made.

 

The Solon is ill. If he dies, Sofia will be forced not only to fight for her son's right to rule, but will also face making good on a promise she made to the gods long ago. A promise she no longer wishes to fulfill.

 

As fate catapults her from joy to sorrow, from hope to despair, and from certainty to doubt, Sofia finds herself trapped between her two strongest desires.

In this final part of the Domna serial, the struggle for power grows to its deadliest proportions yet and the choices Sofia must make will tear her world apart.

 

Set in a world of full of political turmoil and violent ambition, Domna is a six-part serialized novel that tells the tale of Sofia Domna. 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.

 

Don't miss the powerful ending of this captivating story of promises, loss, and survival. Grab your copy of Domna, Part Six: The Solon's Wife today.

 

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: Jun 19, 2019
• ISBN: 9781386866008

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

CHAPTER ONE

A Solon's Strength

WHILE SERVANTS CARRIED Sirius up to his rooms, Keerton called for the Vitorian medic. I watched Sirius, limp as a discarded piece of rope, being shifted from the plank onto the bed. I wrung my hands, wishing Papinias was here. Wishing we were at the Solonian Palace where Papinias could be sent for one moment and arrive the next. He wouldn't hesitate to act. He would know what to do. He could save Sirius before–

It hit me like a war horse kicking me in the gut. I had no witnesses to what Sirius had said to me. If he died now, his final intention for the succession would be lost to the steam of the bath. Once the Vitorian medic arrived and I told him what had happened, I ran to Macrinus's rooms. I barged in without knocking, my hair still dripping and my body covered in only a sheer linen wrap I’d thrown on in the baths.

Write to Papinias. Tell him to come.

Domna, calm yourself, he said as he took hold of my upper arms to keep me still. I shrugged him off.

There's no time. Write to him. Send it by one of Crevin’s magic pigeons. I tried to explain as best I could, but I was certain my rush of words sounded no more intelligible than the Saliche language. Still, he seemed to register my meaning. After draping his cloak over my shoulders, he gathered up his writing supplies.

He may not get here in time.

You have to try. He needs to save Sirius.

Of course, Macrinus said stiffly. It's as good as already done.

I dashed back to the antechamber of Sirius's room. This was a unique setup in Vitorian homes where each bedchamber had an antechamber that served as a sitting room with two doorways: one leading to the hallway, and the other leading to the sleeping chamber. A medic stood over my husband's prone body. I jerked to a stop at the bedchamber’s door.

No, I gasped. The wizened medic turned and beckoned me in. I wanted to run the other way. I did not want to see my husband's dead body. Not now. Not after having gotten so close. I told my feet to move. To go to the man I’d been wed to for two decades, but I couldn’t. He had failed me. He had come so near to giving me everything I could have ever wanted only to fail at the last possible moment.

Tears of frustration tried to blind me, but I wiped them away and kept my eyes fixed on Sirius. And then I saw it, his chest steadily rising and falling in deep sleep. My feet came unglued and I rushed to the side of my husband’s bed, taking his hand in my own.

Is he better?

He’s alive, but not better, the medic said. He had a long nose and the hunched shoulders of age. In his blue-grey cloak, he reminded me of a heron. I’ve given him poppy juice. He'll sleep for the day and into the morrow. When he wakes, he'll be in pain and you can give him more.

What's happened to him?

I can't say. I think something has ruptured inside. He has blood inside that can't get out.

Bleed him, then. He has urgent matters to tend to.

Try to let him rest. I've bled him some, but what he needs is for someone to get in there to the source of the rupture and stop the bleeding. I– I haven’t the skill for that.

So, what are you saying?

This problem inside him, he said, his voice wavering with uncertainty. It may heal, scar over like a cut on the hand. If he makes it through until tomorrow, I'd say he's in the clear.

I wanted to strangle this medic for his cowardly, lackadaisical treatment. Papinias would know what to do. He wouldn’t be afraid to cut into Sirius and tie up this wound. He would dare to do what he could. He would understand the importance of keeping Sirius alive.

Thank you, I said, placing a drachar in his bony hand. You may go.

Macrinus and I stayed by Sirius's bed with parchment and ink, ready to take down his words when he woke. If he woke. Lucius stayed close, catching only short bouts of sleep in the antechamber. Geta never came.

*  *  *

Papinias finally arrived. The moment he stepped in the door I told him to go away, saying I only needed Macrinus. He told me I needed them both, but I insisted I only wanted Macrinus. Papi then produced a document that had no words written on it, but could speak on its own. In a loud voice it recited the promise I had made to Papinias a lifetime ago. I was obligated to marry him, it said tauntingly. I had no choice, it cackled. I tried to reach out toward Macrinus, wanting him to protect me from what was to come. But Papinias seized me and the document turned into a marriage cloth that wrapped around us, not just over my hand, but squeezing around my entire body, binding me so I couldn’t move.

Where am I? a weak voice asked, pulling me from the dream.

I opened my eyes and winced at the kink in my neck. I’d fallen asleep on Macrinus’s shoulder. His head had lolled back with the wall serving as his pillow. My eyes landed on the parchment on the side table. My shoulders slumped. The sheet was still bare of ink. The last I remembered, it had been dark out, but now the sky was pale with dawn, although thick cloud cover blocked most of the sunlight. It would rain today; I'd learned that much in my time on this island. It took me a moment to stir from thoughts of the weather to the realization that Sirius had spoken. He was awake.

Sirius, you're okay.

Just as I said this, just as I was leaning forward to kiss him, he doubled over, clutching his stomach, groaning in pain like a wounded animal that doesn't have enough energy to cry out. I removed the stopper from the bottle of poppy juice and gave Sirius a small spoonful. He lay back, but still whimpered.

More, I need more, he slurred like a drunkard.

Give it time to act. I wanted him comfortable, not in a stupor. Here, let’s take your mind off the pain. We can work on the document. Macrinus is here waiting to make himself useful for once.

I nudged Macrinus to wake him.

Document? Sirius mumbled.

To make Lucius sole heir.

No, I finished that. His head dropped back to the pillow, his lids drooping heavily over his glassy eyes.

No, Sirius, the new one. Here, I tried to put the quill in his hand, just sign this and I'll fill in the words. You remember, the words we talked about in the bath. I looked to Macrinus, but he shook his head as the quill dropped to the floor.

A signature alone won’t stand up to questioning, Macrinus said gently. Words from his mouth will work, though.

Sirius, I stroked my husband’s sweat-soaked hair. Tell me what you told me in the baths. I never wanted anything more than for him to move his lips, to find his voice, and speak the words I needed him to say. Macrinus would be witness and Lucius's future would be secure.

The boys need to get along, Sirius mumbled as his lids fell. A snuffling snore sounded from deep within his nose. I sank down to the floor, my head resting on the side of the bed.

It's over. I've lost. Geta will rule. He will take over. He will kill Lucius. The pain of defeat was enough to make me want to drain the bottle of poppy juice into my own mouth.

All may not be lost.

You will say you heard him declare Lucius's inheritance? I asked brightly.

No, Domna, not even for you will I perjure myself. I sagged again. But there is another hope. A bird came while you were asleep. Papinias is close. He was in Seattica. There's no reason he can't be here in a couple days at the most. If Sirius held on this long, two more days will be nothing. Papinias is the best medic I've seen.

I don't know if we have two days. A sudden image of the speaking document from my dream came to my mind. What choices would I have to make if Sirius died? I needed him to live, and not only for Lucius’s sake. I didn’t want to face the promise my husband’s death might force me to fulfill.

Sirius is strong. The medic says he's made it through the worst.

Let's hope we all have made it through the worst.

CHAPTER TWO

A Promise Fulfilled

THE RAIN CAME that afternoon and wouldn't leave. I never thought so much water could fall from the sky. By the next morning, the streets of Vitorio had turned to mud that clung to Vitorian limbs like a desperate lover. After ruining a pair of my warmest boots, I gave up going to the harbor to watch for Papinias’s boat. Instead, I made do with climbing to the highest rooms of our three-story house. In these disused spaces, the roof leaked and it was bitter cold, but I could see the main street leading up from the harbor. No one was out. No boats were coming in. No one was traveling.

There's word of floods washing out bridges, and roads turning to rivers. People and animals have been swept away in the torrent, Macrinus told me.

We're doomed. Papinias will never get here in time.

Sirius was weak but still lingered. I had placed the figurine on his bedside table hoping it would comfort him when he woke, but for three days he would wake in delirium-inducing pain only to be put back into a drooling slumber with poppy juice. I don't know what he thought now or if he thought at all. Had he forgotten our conversation in the bath chamber, or did he think the inheritance decree naming Lucius as sole heir was already signed and delivered? I had no clue. The only words he spoke were my name and two phrases: the boys must get along and can't split the realm. The rest of his words were less sensical than a drunkard's.

The clouds were so heavy they made the days as dark as perpetual twilight. During a brief lull in the squalls, Lucius encouraged Macrinus and me to get some fresh air while he kept vigil over his father. The rain may have stopped, but the moment we stepped outside into the sodden gardens, the wind lashed us so hard, we retreated back inside. No travelers would be crossing the Sea of Fucas in these conditions.

After hanging up our cloaks, I followed Macrinus back to Sirius's room. As we made our way there, Sirius's voice echoed down the corridor. He was calling for, begging for Lucius with a frightening squawk of desperation. Macrinus and I ran down the hall to the antechamber. Guards stood at the door and tried to block our path, but I pushed past them. In the antechamber, Lucius was being held back by three vigiles. Through the bedchamber door I could see Geta hovering over Sirius.

Name me heir, old man. Only me.

Sirius responded by thrashing in his bed and shouting for Lucius who struggled against the vigiles’ thick arms.

What’s the meaning of this? I asked. Let him go. Geta get out of there this instant. Look what you're doing to him.

Geta stepped to the side of the bed, but moved no further. Sirius convulsed, his body wrenching with such violent contortions I feared he might split in two. His hand jerked out with a spasm and flung the figurine he’d been clutching with such force it crashed into the wall and cracked apart. Sirius’s body then went still. His breathing came in rapid, shallow gasps.

Where's the medic? I shouted.

I sent him away, Geta said. That poppy potion has made him incoherent. He needs to make a choice. Me or Lucius? We can't both rule.

The pain makes him incoherent, not the medicine. And he did make a choice. It wasn't you.

Oh, and when did this happen? Geta spoke smugly, but his left eye twitched with worry.

Just before he fell ill. I brushed Sirius's forehead and drizzled poppy juice into his mouth one drop at a time to keep him from choking on it. Macrinus stood over me, ready to act if Geta tried to stop me.

That's so convenient. So very like you. Declare he's made a choice, then keep him drugged so he can't argue. I suppose your lawyer there is the witness?

I've witnessed nothing and have put my name to no document. Although at this point I would gladly risk perjuring myself to keep you out of the purple.

Geta stepped forward, his hand on his sword. Macrinus had his short sword drawn before Geta could take a second step.

Lucius. Sirius’s gurgling mew stopped both of them.

Father! Lucius cried from the antechamber. A sob bit into his voice.

Let him go, I commanded. I am still Solonia in this house. What threat is it for him to see his father?

Macrinus kept his sword aimed at Geta’s chest. The vigiles loosened their grip and Lucius ran to Sirius's bedside, kneeling down beside it as if in prayer. He took Sirius's hand, but Sirius did not respond to the touch.

Father?

My husband lay on his back, his mouth slack, his eyes open. But the eyes no longer saw the world. The mouth no longer took in air.

No, I whispered and my throat tightened. This couldn't be happening. Sirius, big strong Sirius, the bear of my world could not have died without changing his will. I felt terrible for the callous thought, but it was too sudden, everything had been too frenetic in these past moments for me to believe I'd lost my husband. I couldn’t miss him yet. His death seemed too unreal for me to produce tears of loss. The only thought my mind could grasp was that his passing now meant both Geta and Lucius were Solon.

You did this, I said to Geta. I should have been on my knees hailing him and Lucius as co-Solons, but I couldn't stand the thought of subjugating myself to my false son. You stressed him, took away his medicine. You did this. You are a traitor.

Before Macrinus could lower his sword to hold me back, I lunged forward and slapped Geta across the face. Geta, his sword still out, raised it to me. Lucius leapt up from the floor, stepping between us. Geta's eyes burned with rage.

It's traitorous to touch the Solon, he said.

Geta, shut up, Lucius said. You are not Solon. You are co-Solon. She’s upset. You can't condemn grief.

I don't want to rule with you, Geta said with a sneer.

And I want nothing to do with you, but perhaps you should have considered that before you started yelling and cursing at a man who was already weak with illness. This is what we are stuck with and now we must work together. Our first act will be caring for our father's body. Can you at least agree to that?

Geta gave a curt snort.

Good. Macrinus, please take my mother to get her some wine and food. I know she's eaten little these past days. She can serve her vigil over her husband once she’s calmed down.

Macrinus, realizing the boy he had known since a baby was now his leader, dropped to one knee and bowed his head.

As my Solon wishes. Lucius touched Macrinus’s head in formal acknowledgement. Macrinus pushed himself up, glanced to Geta and, with condescension dripping from his voice, said, And hail to you. Not waiting for Geta to respond, he turned his back on this second, unworthy Solon and held his arm out for me to take. When you’re ready, Domna.

I looked to Sirius. There had been so much between us. Almost love but not quite. Enough of a connection to make the marital bed satisfying, but rarely passionate. There had been so much I wanted from him that he couldn't give me. I regretted that most of our marriage had been spent with me resenting him for that inability and I regretted how many years he spent being suspicious of me. Still, I