We stocked up on some of Bellona’s snacks for the road, said our goodbyes, and continued on our way out of the city. The departure was a much more pleasant exit than hanging underneath a dung cart, though this time I felt nauseous for other reasons.
Tryum presented itself to us one last time and I tried to absorb it all, for who knew what state I’d find it in the next time. The East Road was rammed full of traders and travellers, the city still in the process of opening up after the siege. On one side a wood yard was opening its gates for the day while next to it a stonemason sat chiselling at his bench. Overhead a skein of geese swooped by, making quite a racket, while two oxen lumbered into view as a priest struggled to pull them along the busy road.
The steps of a temple belonging to Festonia were being washed clean of pink and red petals, the colourful flowers sailing for some distance down the road, and a couple of dogs came by to drink the blessed water. The shrine to one side was overflowing with wax from the candles. I could smell all sorts of spices from a cooking pot and, as we passed the taller, poorer buildings, dyed cloth was being stretched out to dry between them. In a way, it was heartening to see that so few lives had been disrupted by recent events. Kings and queens may fall, but cloth still needed to be dyed.
We exited Tryum and the countryside opened up, leaving my mind free of the wonderful distractions that the city offered.
There remained unanswered questions about what precisely happened, such is the way of this job, and these matters would give me plenty of agitation on the road. That I had unseated a king and, potentially, opened the continent to new tensions was unexpected and undesired. Had I made things worse or had the right thing been done? Lillus’ words provided some comfort.
There was also the ghost of the dead man looking for his wife – my perspective on the world had changed greatly. Somehow one needs to see such beings with one’s own eyes in order to believe – my mind had been forced open, and I lived in a world in which anything now seemed possible.
Many more questions concerned Titiana, admittedly – and whether or not she actually loved me. I had only the king’s word that she did not, and Titiana had not exactly been the most reliable of people herself. I did not know how the king had found her, nor how they conspired against me, but they were both intelligent, manipulative people, while I had been blind to it all.
Perhaps Leana was right, and I was too trusting.
Titiana must have felt something for me; those intimate moments between us could not have all been an act. At least one kiss came from her heart and was not part of some trade I was unaware of.
It seemed to me the more one picks at the fabric of our world, the less one really understands it. For many people it remains better for their conscience to know as few facts as possible, to shy away from the difficult questions – in fact, to place those questions in the hands of our gods. As much as I respect Polla’s will, and as much as I look to her from time to time for guidance, it strikes me as more than reasonable to try to find answers to these matters myself – even if the answers that reality provides are not always comforting.
My goddess, I’m sure, would approve of such an attitude.
Acknowledgements
Though the act of writing is one generally done in isolation, there have been many people who have helped me greatly with detailed feedback and criticism of early drafts. So a big thank you is owed to: Jared Shurin (particularly for his more abusive comments), Anne Perry, Eric Edwards, Ben O’Connell, Liviu Suciu, Kim Curran, John French and Marc Aplin. Thanks, also, to my agent, John Jarrold; and to the wonderful team at Tor UK who, for some reason, keep encouraging me to write books – and most especially my editor Julie Crisp, for making this a significantly better book.
Fantastical literature nearly always draws on historical sources, whether consciously or otherwise. Though Vispasia is a secondary world, many readers will observe that it’s clearly inspired by the classical cultures of the ancient world. I like to think Vispasia could sit somewhere just off the oldest maps as a hitherto unrecorded territory. So, I feel I should at least share with readers a selection of the incredible books that have helped me to understand cultures far older than our own. Some of those that have best brought such worlds to life include: Tom Holland’s Persian Fire; Edward Gibbon’s The History of the Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire; Suetonius’ The Twelve Caesars; Pliny’s Natural History; Procopius’ The Secret History; Livy’s The Early History of Rome; and Mary Beard’s Pompeii: The Life of a Roman Town. Drop me a line through my website markcnewton.com and I’m sure I can recommend more.