It's the end of the fourth century, and the Romans are leaving Britannia. Philippa is fourteen and an orphan, living at Mount Temple, high on a bluff overlooking the River Trisantonis. The old scholarly priest Father Florian has been kind to her. But when he has to retire, Philippa realizes she is no longer safe there. She convinces Justinian, an Army recruiter, to enlist her.
Philippa undergoes the rigors of basic training at the Ares Mons training camp, after which she is assigned to the all-but-forgotten outpost of Vindavia Nova. There Pippa becomes aide to the camp's colorful and charismatic general, Cassius Ambrosius, and she befriends his enigmatic intelligence agent Brian Magnus. Philippa learns about duty and sacrifice during her time with them. She also sees and hears some things that seem impossible. She wonders if she will ever discover the truth, and also, if she will ever achieve her dream of traveling west to the Tin Kingdom of Dumnonia, and the shining castle over the sea. Excerpt, Chapter 13, The Realm of the Gods (The soldiers meet the Celts)
The Celts were unlike anything she had ever witnessed. She had never seen such ornamentation. Gold and silver knot-work, intricate enamels, jeweled buckles. And bold fashions! Fur and feathers and shells, long checkered trousers, chopped-up hairdos, tattoos, body paint and piercings. She was delighted. Things had seemed rather routine lately. This was an interesting change.
The Celts stood in a cluster, quietly watching as the little formation approached them. They stopped. Philippa stood waiting beside the General. He was about to speak, but before he could, a man approached from the crowd. He was tall, and made even taller by a high top-knot of hair. He had long brightly colored feathers in his beaded headband. His face was covered with spiral tattoos, and his ears were pierced with metal discs. He had a saffron colored tunic, and wore a breastplate that at first appeared to be made out of human bones, but upon closer inspection turned out to be cleverly carved out of white driftwood. To their surprise he knelt before Philippa and said, "Tha mi a'Vela." The Romans all looked at the translator.
"What's he saying?" asked Philippa.
"He says, 'I am Vela'," said the priest. "He is the leader of this group."
Philippa said, "Salve, a'Vela. Fáilte." She put her hand out and encouraged him to rise. He did so reverently, saying. "Rega."
"Commander Vula thinks that she's your queen," said