Give Way to Night by Cass Morris

Author:Cass Morris [Morris, Cass]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780756412289
Google: JyjbDwAAQBAJ
Amazon: 0756412315
Publisher: DAW
Published: 2020-12-29T00:00:00+00:00

* * *

Marcia’s hostessing skills were all that Latona had anticipated. Latona found herself sharing a couch with a member of the Pontifical College and Rufilius Albinicus, the famed general past his campaigning years but nonetheless full of opinions about the Iberian venture. Across the room, Aulus had been placed next to Marcia herself, no doubt a recognition of his censorial office, while Aula was between an older senator and one of this year’s aediles—both men of moderate political inclinations, unlikely to provoke the sharp side of Aula’s tongue. Alhena was less conspicuously placed, sitting with Crispinilla and one of the younger Fabiae daughters at a lower table. Latona silently thanked Marcia for her kindness in making that concession to Alhena’s shyness.

Thanks to Marcia’s careful tending of the seating chart, the meal itself passed with only pleasantries. ‘The advantage to so many Popularists being out of town—and the number of Optimates who followed them—is that it leaves enough moderates left to serve as a buffer,’ Latona thought as the tables were cleared away. Some of the assembly might depart now that the meal was finished, but Marcia had arranged musical entertainment and opened plenty of amphorae of wine for those who wished to stay and mingle. A glance at her husband let Latona know that they wouldn’t be going home anytime soon: Herennius was with her father, both deep in conversation with several of the men who owned immense latifundia in Umbria, those giant farms which were, in theory, subject to regulation by the censors. Aulus was no doubt giving them a piece of his mind based on his observations around Crater Bay, but Latona wondered whose side her husband would come down on. Economic interests tended to surmount ethical quandaries in his mind.

Aula darted up to her side, a goblet of wine in each hand. She passed one to Latona, taking a deep swig from the other. “Caecilia says her husband is going to stand for consul this year.”

“Quintus Terentius? Truly?”

“So she says, and I expect she’d know better than anyone.”

The Terentiae were an ancient family, with roots going back to the days of the kings, but many of the Optimates viewed them as unacceptably odd. They were well-traveled and had a habit of making marriages outside the usual bounds of Aventan society; Terentius’s mother had some connection to the Palmyrean royal family, and other generations had married nobles from Athaecum and even Numidia. Terentius himself had chosen an Aventan bride, had two sons dutifully preparing themselves for the cursus honorum, and one of his daughters was a Vestal Virgin, as unimpeachably Aventan as you could get. The other, though, was Latona’s friend Terentilla, an Earth mage who had been allowed to take after her patroness, the goddess Diana, and run rather wild. Open-minded and, in the eyes of many, far too permissive, the Terentiae were of the Popularist faction, but Terentius had never before evinced much ladder-scaling ambition.

“Well, good,” Latona said. “I was wondering who would step up for the Popularists.

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