The Stolen Throne: A Novel of the Roman Empire

By Adam Alexander Haviaras

At the peak of Rome's might, a dragon is born among eagles, an heir to a line both blessed and cursed by the Gods for ages.

What happened to Lucius Metellus Anguis in the wilds of Dumnonia?

The Gods have finally granted Lucius and his family what appears to be a peaceful life in a new home surrounded by friends. The memories of pain and war are finally beginning to diminish.

But when Einion, Lucius’ friend and ally, sets out to reclaim his homeland from the man who murdered his family, Lucius knows he must help. Their quest takes them on a deadly journey beyond the reach of Rome, deep into Dumnonia, a mysterious and troubled land that has been ravaged by its false king.

As Lucius and his friends journey across the ancient moors, they rally support from unexpected allies. A plan is devised and the attack is set for the night of Samhain. They must all fight or die for the stolen throne of Dumnonia.

However, all is not as it seems. Lucius’ enemies emerge from the shadows, determined to isolate and slay the Dragon of Rome once and for all. 

Does Einion finally reclaim his father’s stolen throne? What happens to Lucius upon the quest that changes him forever?

Step into a world beyond the veil as Lucius faces a deadly enemy and learns a truth that shakes the foundations of the world he knows and believes in.

 

The Stolen Throne is the fifth book in Adam Alexander Haviaras’ #1 bestselling Eagles and Dragons historical fantasy series. Fans of Marion Zimmer Bradley, David Gemmell, Mary Renault, and Bernard Cornwell will love this ground-breaking series that combines accurate historical detail with ancient religion and elements of fantasy.

Step into the world of the Roman Empire today!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Eagles and Dragons Publishing
• Release date: Oct 22, 2019
• ISBN: 9781988309293

Book preview

Praise for the Eagles and Dragons series…

Historic Novel Society:

…Haviaras handles it all with smooth skill. The world of third-century Rome…is colourfully vivid here, and Haviaras manages to invest even his secondary and tertiary characters with believable, three-dimensional humanity.

Amazon Readers:

Graphic, uncompromising and honest… A novel of heroic men and the truth of the uncompromising horror of close combat total war…

Raw and unswerving in war and peace… New author to me but ranks along side Ben Kane and Simon Scarrow. The attention to detail and all the gory details are inspiring and the author doesn't invite you into the book he drags you by the nasal hairs into the world of Roman life sweat, tears, blood, guts and sheer heroism. Well worth a night’s reading because once started it’s hard to put down.

Historical fiction at its best! … if you like your historical fiction to be an education as well as a fun read, this is the book for you!

Loved this book! I'm an avid fan of Ancient Rome and this story is, perhaps, one of the best I've ever read.

An outstanding and compelling novel!

I would add this author to some of the great historical writers such as Conn Iggulden, Simon Scarrow and David Gemmell. The characters were described in such a way that it was easy to picture them as if they were real and have lived in the past, the book flowed with an ease that any reader, novice to advanced can enjoy and become fully immersed…

One in a series of tales which would rank them alongside Bernard Cornwell, Simon Scarrow, Robert Ludlum, James Boschert and others of their ilk. The story and character development and the pacing of the exciting military actions frankly are superb and edge of your seat! The historical environment and settings have been well researched to make the story lines so very believable!! I can hardly wait for what I hope will be many sequels! If you enjoy Roman historical fiction, you do not want to miss this series!

Goodreads:

… a very entertaining read; Haviaras has both a fluid writing style, and a good eye for historical detail, and explores in far more detail the faith of the average Roman than do most authors.

Kobo:

I can't remember the last time that a book stirred so many emotions! I laughed, cried and cheered my way through this book and can't wait to meet again this wonderful family of characters. Roll on to the next book!

The Stolen Throne

Eagles and Dragons

Book V

Adam Alexander Haviaras

The Stolen Throne and the Eagles and Dragons series

Copyright © 2019 by Adam Alexander Haviaras

Eagles and Dragons Publishing, Toronto, Ontario, Canada

All Rights Reserved.

The use of any part of this publication, with the exception of short excerpts for the purposes of book reviews, without the written consent of the author is an infringement of copyright law.

ISBN: 978-1-988309-29-3

E-Pub Edition

Cover designed by LLPix Designs

*Please note: To enhance the reader’s experience, there is a glossary of Latin words at the back of this book.

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For my mother, who taught me to believe…

Για τη μητέρα μου, που μου δίδαξε να έχω πίστη…

The Stolen Throne

A Novel of the Roman Empire

Adam Alexander Haviaras

Prologus

Howling wind and the dead raced among the naked, black trees of a distant forest. There was fear among those shades that lingered there on that moonless night. They cowered behind trunk and boulder, their liquid eyes watching for her, that goddess of death, the dread queen of night.

Dull brown leaves crackled, and the cawing of ravens followed, heralding her arrival. Bare feet, pale as death, trod the forest floor, trailed by a torn black cloak.

She had arrived, and the dead knew it, but so did the living, for unbeknownst to them, the nightmares they had that night were the seedlings of her passing, the fears they felt, the horrors they imagined. All of them were hers.

She walked toward a green firelight in a clearing, and there she found her hunter, sitting erect before the flames, sharpening a long, black sword that had seen more than its fair share of blood on the hunt.

You prepare for the Wild Hunt then? her voice was icy, but did not bother him, for he knew her and she him, and so it had been for ages.

Yes. Samhain approaches, and the hordes of the dead must ride through the world with havoc and fear.

And so it is, she said, staring at him so intensely that his head turned quickly to meet her gaze. You prey on the weak and vulnerable.

Yes. As always, the hunter said.

I have a prey for you that needs killing, she said.

Oh? he said, standing up, taller than her but radiating nowhere near the menace she had. He bowed to her. What prey?

A dragon.

I’ve slain dragons before, and tamed them.

Not such as this, she said, her eyes looking up to the sharp, dark clouds in the night sky above. I want him to suffer…I want him dead.

When?

In time.

Where? he asked.

I will let you know, she answered, her gaze insisting on silence.

The hunter felt a chill run the length of his strong body. As you command, Morrigan.

Yes.

In the treetops above, the silhouettes of a hundred ravens showed against the pale sky, as if already gathered for the gorging.

Get to Dumnonia, and wait. There will you hunt, she said, her eyes closed as if seeing something from afar. Go now!

The hunter bowed to her and moved backward from the green flames of his fire to find his shadow horse. He leapt up and looked down at the dark goddess.

I’ll await your messengers, he said, before raising a hunting horn to his mouth and blowing. The sound shook the trees about them and sent the ravens to flight, and a moment later the hunter was riding away through the darkness of the woods, followed by three monstrous, black hounds.

The Morrigan watched him leave and smiled to herself, glad of the darkness wrapped about her.

The time of death is near…

I

Debitum

‘The Debt’

October - A.D. 210

Summer was ended, and the cold, damp cling of autumn had spread over the expanses of southern Britannia as the month of October arrived. The one-time summer sky was now assaulted with sharp clouds which Boreas blew across the land. The rains had not started yet, but their windy herald had arrived to chill mornings and evenings in every home and villa estate.

The three horsemen had left the deep green embankments of the hillfort just after Apollo’s light had cracked the distant horizon. They had passed through the southwestern gatehouse and followed the winding path down and around to join the Roman road to Lindinis where they would continue on the Fosse Way to Isca.

They had a long journey ahead.

Lucius Metellus Anguis reined in his dapple grey stallion, Lunaris, and turned to take a last look at the place that had become his family’s home since his forced furlough from command.

His companions, Lucius’ princeps and a Sarmatian king, Dagon, and the loyal Briton, Einion, son of Cunnomore, stopped a little past Lucius and waited as he stared at the distant hill.

Lucius felt the pull of the fortress, his family safe within the high green embankments where gnarled oak trees sprouted from the earth and crows dove in the sky above. He had not wanted to leave Adara and the children, not then, after so many months of joy and summer sun, but his companion, his friend, was in need and Lucius owed him a debt.

Whenever that selfish part of Lucius told him he need not go, he remembered that night in Caledonia when Einion and his sister Briana had saved him from assassins’ blades in the middle of the fort of Bertha, in the heart of the Dragon’s Lair. He would not have seen his family again were it not for the twin brother and sister whom the Gods had sent to aid him.

When word had come to Einion of the desolation being wrought in his ancestral lands by his tyrant uncle, Lucius had known exactly what he had to do, though he did not relish the thought. He reminded himself that he was not the only one leaving behind a loved one, for Dagon, he knew, longed to remain with Briana who had agreed to stay behind to help watch Lucius’ family instead of helping her brother to take back their stolen kingdom.

Early that morning, before the light, Lucius had knelt in the temple of Apollo which he had built upon the hill with his own hands. In the light of the bronze brazier, incense smoke surrounding him, protecting him, he had prayed to Apollo, and to Venus and Epona to guard him on his journey into the southwestern reaches of Dumnonia. More so, he had asked them to protect Adara, Phoebus, and Calliope while he was away.

For some reason, he had been filled with dread of late. This surprised him. Especially as he had faced massive armies in the field, forces that likely made Caradoc of Dumnonia’s army look like green recruits.

His prayers finished, he took the sword his wife had given him from the altar, and made to hang it upon the wall, a piece of him for his family to gaze upon and be comforted.

You mustn’t leave it, Adara said behind him, cloaked and silent in the shadows by the temple door as she waited for him to finish.

But it will give you and the children comfort to know that I will be back to take it, he answered.

It will give us more comfort to know that you have it in your hand, Adara said, walking toward him. She reached up and touched his cheek, no tears upon her face this time, for she had cried too often at his leaving. If you have it, I will be more certain of your safe return. She picked up the sword and slid it into the scabbard at his back so that the golden, dragon-hilted blade jutted brightly behind his shoulders. Promise me you’ll return, she said, their arms about each other, her chin buried in the neckline of his thick black cloak.

They held each other firmly, ever-reluctant in their goodbyes.

I’ll be fine, my love, Lucius whispered. I owe this to Einion and Briana.

I know. And we’ll be safe with Briana, Barta and the others here. Just look after yourself. Come back to me, my dragon.

I will. Lucius looked at the doorway and the growing light outside. I should go. They’re waiting, and we have a long road.

Adara nodded. You kissed the children?

Yes. Make sure they practice their riding and sword skills. The Dragon’s children should be able to fight.

The whole of his family can, she said, putting her hand upon the black cuirass with the winged dragon upon his chest. Go now. And come back.

He kissed her, their eyes closed, and then a moment later, he was out the door, striding toward the southwest gate where Dagon held his horse for him.

Lucius Metellus Anguis took one last look at the fortress, even as clouds glided past the face of the rising sun. He adjusted his legs between the four saddle horns, felt the sword at his back, and turned to his companions.

You don’t have to come with me, you know, Einion said, tying back his long hair with a leather thong, and wrapping his cloak about himself as his white pony shifted nervously beneath him.

I know. But I want to, Lucius said. I told you I would help you get back your kingdom, and I meant it.

As I meant it when I said you didn’t have to, Einion replied.

Are we going to sit here and argue? Dagon said from atop his big black gelding, or are we going to get this journey underway?

Lucius smiled, knowing Dagon had not wanted to leave Briana’s bed. It helped that this was for her benefit as well, but Dagon was ever loyal to Lucius and knew the size of the debt that Lucius owed to Einion.

Lucius stared up at the high ramparts and saw the figure of his wife standing there, her cloak whipping about her as she watched them depart.

I’ll be back, my love… I’ll see you soon. With that last thought, that final look, he turned Lunaris to face down the road. The stallion jumped forward and the other two followed, their hooves clicking loudly as they headed for the smoke of Lindinis in the distance.

The journey went quickly the first day as they passed Lindinis and headed toward Isca. There had been a brief delay in the small, roadside town when some of the local ordo members and merchants had recognized Lucius from their dealings with him since he had arrived with his retinue to occupy the hillfort to the northeast of the town. Their pressure upon him to get the emperor to raise the town to the status of official ‘civitas’ was incessant to say the least.

He did not like some of the men of Lindinis, and he was eager to get away. However, he spent some time greeting them, so near was the place to the fortress that they could indeed make his life difficult.

Lucius was acutely aware that on this journey, he was not travelling under imperial protection or orders. No imperial pass sat tucked safely in the depths of his saddle bags, no imperial seal to guarantee his safe passage. To most, he was just another armed Roman out of uniform. The red cloak of command was back in their home, and he now wore the black cloak of an assassin for all intents and purposes. The dragon armour was well-hidden beneath his thick cloak as they rode, but there was no way he would have left without it.

Dagon likewise had left his heavy, full-body scale armour and opted for a brown leather cuirass and cloak. Einion, the man whose throne they were going to take back, wore his usual leather tunic and breeches, and a long, deep-green cloak. His father’s ancestral sword stood out from his hip, iron-grey and angry, awaiting the blood to come.

As they rode, Lucius and Dagon each glanced at the Briton, wondering what could be going through his head after so many years of vengeful thoughts.

They knew that Caradoc, Einion’s uncle, was a man of blood and savagery. They had heard the story of how he had slain Einion and Briana’s entire family, his own family. Even for men of war like Lucius and Dagon, the tale had been utterly gruesome.

II

Memoriae Sanguinis

‘Memories of Blood’

As the three horsemen broke free of Lindinis, they found themselves sharing the road with a greater number of merchants and drovers heading to the larger markets of Isca to the southwest. Many of the travellers stared at Lucius, Einion and Dagon as they passed, and so they rode at a quicker pace, able to break away and make better time.

They passed one night at a roadside tavern, and then continued on their way.

Lucius and Dagon tried not to interrupt Einion’s thoughts overmuch as they travelled, for he was determinedly silent.

What they did not know was that he had been nursing his anger, his thirst for vengeance ever since Etain, the priestess of Ynis Wytrin, had told him now was the time to reclaim his family’s lands.

Etain was, he knew, extremely powerful and aware of all that went on in Britannia, and her visions, her advice, were corroborated by scattered reports of a pestilence in the southwest, in Dumnonia.

Einion thought of the morning the priestess had called for him, to tell him the news.

Your kingdom is dying and soon it will be no more unless you overthrow your traitor uncle.

Her words had been plain, and terrible, but Einion had been grateful as he listened to Etain’s words.

But how? Einion asked.

You are friend to dragons now, she said, smiling at him. And the Gods are ready to test you. Are you ready?

He nodded.

When he had gone to think about it, to prepare himself, Briana had stayed behind to speak further with Etain, the Druid Weylyn, and the Christian priest,