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.
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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 Revolution?, the first story in the HEROICA collection
Set in 2020 in the European country of Roma Nova, the last part of the Roman Empire that has survived from the late 4th century into the 21st.. Carina Mitela is undercover as an innocent seeming market researcher in Brancadorum, a sleepy, rural town in the east. Apparently, somebody is stirring people up for a revolution.
I rented a small office at the local enterprise centre in Brancadorum. At about four and a half metres square, it boasted a desk, some shelving, a lockable cupboard and a corner couch where I could crash if necessary. The window gave onto the parking lot, then other light industrial workshop buildings. Beyond them rose the slopes growing grapes for the famous Brancadorum champagne. I knew the French didn’t like us calling it that and the labels stated vinum bullescens – sparkling wine – but we all knew what we meant.
After I’d pulled down the blind against the spring sunshine shining right onto the desk, I set up my laptop and tested the Wi-Fi. Next, I tried Fornax’s cell phone, but received no reply – not even a recorded voice message – so I’d need to take a trip out to his farm and knock on his door. Hopefully, the poor guy wasn’t sick. Conrad said he had a couple of helpers on the farm so they would have supported him if he were ill.
Meanwhile, I originated the questionnaire. Being on paper it would seem old-fashioned, but current research held that people didn’t like being accosted in the street by a stranger brandishing an el-pad. Paper and pen were supposed to be more friendly. As I picked up the printed sheets at the central service desk, I asked the assistant if he could recommend a nearby hotel.
‘The Vitis Aurea. It’s a bit bland. Local groups and businesses use it for meetings and networking. You’ll find it just down the end of this road. The bar does get busy, though.’
‘That’s great. I can get some further opinions for my market research in a relaxed atmosphere.’
He grinned at me.
‘Do you mean they’ll say more than they should if they’ve had a few?’
‘All’s fair in market research.’ I winked at him and he laughed with a warm expression in his eyes. I glanced at his name badge. ‘Well, thank you, Palucus. I’ll let you get on with your work.’
Deciding I’d flirted enough, I drove to the Vitis Aurea and once I’d checked in, I discovered it was perfectly comfortable. A good bed, strong flow of hot water in the shower and, joy of joys, a coffee machine. So much for Palucus’s assessment. No sign of the golden vine of its name, but I’d operated in far worse places.
As it was only four in the afternoon, I took a walk into the centre of Brancadorum to ‘sniff the air’ as the political analysts called it. The town was an old settlement from the earliest days of Roma Nova. Legend had it that the original owner of the land, Brancus, from one of the Twelve Families who founded Roma Nova, was such a corrupt operator that the imperatrix of the time took the land away from him and gave it to his daughter to run. Maybe that was just a legend, but an interesting one. Even so, the eastern settlement had taken a form of his family’s name. The gods knew how he’d persuaded them to do that.
Only a few of the original buildings still existed, but the theatre was one of them, carved into the hillside and giving a wonderful view across to the mountains on the other side of the valley. Still, the town had retained its original layout and had been enhanced over the centuries. In the forum, I wandered along the Saepta Apulia colonnade, checking out the shops. A few posters curling at the edges or completely tattered clung to the windows of one that had obviously shut a while ago. Then I saw it.
A stylised cartoon of a man in a short-sleeved shirt and khaki trousers, no tie, brandishing a traditional broom in two hands and standing against the background of a line drawing depicting a run-down Roma Nova city with crumbling buildings. He was sweeping away cartoon figures of the imperatrix, a fat capitalist grasping a moneybag and a senator in a traditional toga.
Citizens Forward!
Saturday is our day of action
Our day of destroying those who oppress us
Our day of recovering our dignity
Our day of freedom!
Underneath were the date, time and venue.
Mercury save us, this was plain sedition. I squinted at the bottom of the poster to see who the printer was. Nothing. Well, that was illegal to start with. Then it hit me. Today was Friday. This meeting, rally, whatever, would be tomorrow.
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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.
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