HEROICA:
Three women, three centuries, three reckonings
Roma Nova
By Alison Morton
Publication Date: May 14th, 2026
Publisher: Pulcheria Press
Pages: 162
Genre: Collection of alternative history short(ish) stories
Even the strongest state is vulnerable to its past.
2020, Roma Nova. Carina Mitela investigates a potential rebellion but discovers the long-buried secret that ignited the attempted uprising links directly to her own powerful family.
1683, Vienna. As Europe struggles against the Ottoman onslaught, Honoria Mitela leads her troops into the desperate battle to save besieged Vienna. The fate of Europe – and of Roma Nova itself – hangs in the balance.
1849, Central Italy. Statia Mitela’s impulsive act saves one life but jeopardises Roma Nova’s very existence and threatens her descendants with public disgrace, financial ruin and permanent exile.
-----------
Three stories of the women of the Mitela family, descendants of the founders of Roma Nova, bound by blood and courage.
Praise for HEROICA:
“All three stories in this collection deal with honour and the question of being true to oneself, especially if this entails running the risk of coming into conflict with the state and the status quo. All three central women are physically and morally brave, even rash. Their strength of spirit is never in doubt.”
~ Lorna Fergusson, Fictionfire
~ Lorna Fergusson, Fictionfire
“For anyone who has read and enjoyed the Roma Nova stories before, this collection of novellas is a must. And if you haven’t, then please start from the beginning with INCEPTIO – you’ll be hooked!”
~ Christina Courtenay, bestselling author of romantic time-travel fiction
~ Christina Courtenay, bestselling author of romantic time-travel fiction
Excerpt
Excerpt from The Idealist, the third story in the HEROICA collection
Present day, Roma Nova. Carina Mitela, head of the ancient Mitela family, is going through the effects of the family archivist who has just died.
At the bottom of the second box was a flat, rectangular parcel wrapped in old-fashioned brown paper and tied with string. I lifted it out and pulled on the string bow. Inside was a pale green book with a tooled leather spine and corners. In the middle of the front cover was a faded cream label with the date 1873 in copperplate writing.
‘What’s this, buried treasure?’ Conrad said, half laughing.
I opened it.
Today, I am forty-two years of age, that same age my mother, Statia Mitela, had reached when Mercury conducted her to the edge of the Styx to take Charon’s ferry. It is thus fitting that I recount my understanding of those events.
Leonia, Countess Mitela
And there were pages and pages of neat classical Latin, under headings of days and months, written in a careful and dry style. We sat in the atrium and took turns to read it out loud. Allegra came and settled next to me, leaning on my shoulder. Between the stilted words my imagination filled in the rest.
Outskirts of Rome, Italy, 2nd July 1849
‘Mercury be thanked,’ Statia rasped when she saw the ancient milestone ‘Roma VI’. And these would be six good Roman miles. She swallowed hard, which made her dry throat worse. Despite the broad-brimmed riding hats the four of them wore, the brutal heat of the early July sun beat down, exhausting them all. Statia reined in her mount under the shade of one of the occasional clumps of pines and patted his shoulder almost absent-mindedly. The poor horse, a hired animal, was as weary as she was. And as dusty from the road. If only the following generations had maintained the Via Valeria as it had been in the Ancients’ time, it would have been a smoother journey.
‘Domina?’ Her leading companion drew up beside her.
‘I need a drink, Ranius,’ she said and swivelled round in her saddle. The other two riders were only a few paces behind. ‘And so do the animals.’
‘The Anio below us would be best and we can rest by the bank,’ he replied.
They picked their way down to the river where Ranius supervised the two servants in watering the horses. After a few moments, he left them to it and sat by Statia on the wool rug she had pulled from her saddle pack.
‘Yes,’ she said as he stared at it. ‘I know. Well and good for the mountains we’ve come through from the Adriatic, but inappropriate for Rome in June. But even though we’re incognito, I don’t want to enter Rome with grass stains or mud on my breeches’ arse.’
Ranius laughed. The first time, Statia noted, since they’d left Roma Nova eleven days ago under the cover of darkness. She hadn’t known what a terrible sailor he was until they’d slipped out of Pula in Istria on the merchant ship. He’d kept a pale, grim, nearly green face until they’d landed safely at Aternum, or Pescara as the Italians called it now. A former Praetorian centurion, he was used to travelling fast through mountains on ramshackle cold trails. These days, he guarded her home, the Domus Mitelarum, but more than that, he gave her, informally, wise counsel almost as a father would. He’d tried to stop her mission, calling it demented, but had given in with a grunt when she said she would go with or without him. Now they were near Rome, Statia was starting to have her doubts. Perhaps she should have stayed on the farm at Castra Lucilla where she knew what she was doing.
No, she must go on, whatever the cost. She had promised and that was an end on it. She knew the consequences could be harsh, but she was sure the imperatrix would see the justice of it. Well, Statia hoped she would. Constantia Apulia’s disinclination to help the new Roman Republic created by the people of Rome themselves played on Statia’s mind. While the imperatrix and her council supported the overthrow of the bishop of Rome’s rule, they preferred to remain neutral until matters clarified. Now, unfortunately, they had.
Consulted in strictest confidence, Councillor Branca, the imperatrix’s chief advisor, had pursed her lips.
‘This self-imposed mission is beyond reckless, Statia. It cannot end well.’
‘I must save this man. He is Italy’s future. As Romans ourselves we should be supporting him.’
‘He’s a dangerous revolutionary intent on bringing in a republic.’
‘And the Gracchi, Scipio Africanus, Fabius and Cincinnatus weren’t true republicans in ancient times?’
Buy Links
Alison Morton
Alison Morton writes award-winning thrillers featuring tough but compassionate heroines. Her twelve-book Roma Nova series is set in an imaginary European country where a remnant of the Roman Empire has survived into the 21st century and is ruled by women who face conspiracy, revolution and heartache but use 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 lives in Poitou in France, the home of Mélisende, the heroine of her three contemporary thrillers, Double Identity, Double Pursuit and Double Stakes.
For the latest news, subscribe to her newsletter at https://www.alison-morton.com/newsletter/ and receive 'Welcome to Alison Morton’s Thriller Worlds' as a thank you gift.
Connect with Alison:
.jpg)
.png)
