Authors: Alison Morton
Tags: #alternate history, #fantasy, #historical, #military, #Rome, #SF
She turned back to me, with a carefully bright smile. ‘Well, that’s my problem. How dangerous is this?’
‘Have you met Nicola Tella?’
She shook her head.
‘Look, Silvia, will you trust me on this?’
‘You’ve only saved my life and my country twice, so I think I can cut you a little slack.’
I stared at her. How could she joke in this situation? I could never be so strong. No, it was gallows humour, a kind of protective irony.
I reminded her about Allegra’s trial and gave her a summary of Michael’s input. But when I repeated what Quintus had said, she shuddered.
‘But what’s Conradus doing about her? Surely he can see through her?’
‘Have you seen him recently?’
‘Not since after Allegra’s trial. He came to eat with us one evening. Oh, Juno, Stella knows all about the trial. Conradus was very open about his anger at this “Zenia”. Of course, he didn’t know who Zenia was at the time. He wasn’t too happy either that night at Stella giving up on the PGSF and he struggled to be understanding about it.’
‘Before she died, Aurelia thought he might be going through some sort of emotional crisis. Something reaching back into his own childhood that was triggered by guilt over Nicola.’ I threw my hands up in the air in exasperation. ‘Nicola was not deprived as she likes to claim. Sure, she didn’t have a wealthy background, but her mother had a good job teaching.’
‘How do you know that?’ Silvia asked.
‘I’m an intelligence officer, right?’ I grinned.
‘Okay, silly question.’ She smiled back.
I stretched and placed my hand on hers. ‘I tried once to tackle Conradus openly about Nicola and he shut me out. Maybe I was a little clumsy. When Nicola was caught at the border and arrested, it caused a huge breach between us. I thought he’d understand why I pressed charges. She tried to kill our daughter, for Juno’s sake! Any normal father would have been one hundred per cent behind Allegra and me.’
I stopped to swallow the bitter taste in my mouth.
‘For some reason he’s eaten up with guilt. Nicola’s playing it for all it’s worth. Now I’m sure she’s targeting Stella. This time, I’m going to use her own tricks against her. But I need to take it very carefully.’
‘We can put a stop to this easily. I’ll have Conradus relieved of duty, pending investigation.’
Sometimes I wondered where Silvia got these autocratic ideas. Then I remembered she was descended from both the Julii and the Flavians, both ruthless clans.
‘Um, you can’t – it’s a Senate-confirmed post and they re-confirmed after his accident. Unless he’s convicted of a major felony or gross dereliction, you’re stuck.’
She looked like she’d drunk a whole amphora of bitter
garum
. She shook my hand off, got up and went to savage a flower in the arrangement on the side table. The red petals fell in an untidy heap on the floor.
‘Yes, I know. I was being self-indulgent. Much easier a couple of hundred years ago.’ She shrugged. ‘So what do you suggest?’
‘I’m going to set up surveillance on her and get some solid proof we can use in the courtroom.’
‘Can you do that without Conradus knowing?’
‘I have to persuade him. It would be so much better if it was out in the open, but if I can’t, I have, er, private resources, outside the PGSF.’
She waited for me to explain, but I didn’t.
‘Could you bear to invite Nicola here,’ I continued, ‘and let me know what you think?’
‘You want me to be one of your operatives?’
Gods. I swallowed. That was exactly what I was asking. My face must have said it all as she laughed.
‘Don’t look so worried. Of course I will. Who doesn’t want to be James Bond?’
‘Yes, well, it’s not like that really.’
‘I know. I was only teasing.’
Her face became serious again. ‘You’ll watch over my Stella, won’t you?’
‘You know I will.’
XIII
I sat in the gloom that evening, nursing a small brandy. I’d taken to using Nonna’s special glass, an exquisite red Hungarian crystal tumbler, a gift from an admirer, she’d said. Apart from my grandfather, Euralbius, she’d rarely mentioned anybody else in that way. It was only when Sertorius opened and read her will in front of the witnesses and handed me a large sealed envelope with a pompous flourish that I’d discovered she’d been held in the grip of a ‘grand passion’ for nearly forty years.
They’d met in Berlin, when she was in her twenties, then later in Vienna when she was in exile during the rebellion. He came back to Roma Nova with her but couldn’t settle. He left, but they met from time to time and he always gave her a red rose to bring back. She’d kept and pressed every one. The colour photo tucked inside the letter showed a younger, black-haired version of the man with Calavia at the funeral – the man who had thrown the red rose on Aurelia’s pyre.
I needed to fix a time with Calavia for a serious talk about this. Or maybe I should just let it go. My own ‘grand passion’ wasn’t burning so bright at present.
I stared into the glass trying not to see her.
A cough interrupted me. Junia stood there, el-pad in hand.
‘Sorry, Junia, I was in the clouds. Sit with me, please. What is it?’
‘Saturnalia. I need to talk to you about it.’
Gods, no way could I think of partying. But I guessed I needed to – the household would expect it. We could avoid the public ritual on 17 December; that was mostly for the priests and enough family council members would go to represent us. But normally the house would be overrun with noise, people, stupid but fun dares, overeating, games, theatricals and stand-up of dubious taste, arguments, falling in lust, laughter and progressive drunkenness.
But gift-giving on Sigillaria, a few days, later usually balanced up any ruffled sensibilities. Conrad, Helena, Daniel and I usually took part in full. Last year, Daniel had climbed onto the roof and abseiled down through the bulls-eye, the
oculus
; wearing a garish tunic, conifer garland round his head, he’d sung his mind out to the booming music, jumped the last few metres to the ground and run up to Aurelia and presented her with a white rose. It sounded so stupid now, but the shouts, catcalls, laughter and applause had sealed the evening.
‘Countess?’
I produced a bright smile. ‘What’s the programme this year?’
‘Galienus and I called a staff meeting and we agreed it would be inappropriate to host the usual celebrations. Rather—’
‘But—’
‘Rather than the boisterous week here, we are proposing a shared meal on the 17th, family and household together in the atrium, everybody helping. We’d have the usual pork roast, and gifts afterwards. No
princeps
, no gambling, and no theatricals.’
‘Good grief, Junia, they’ll go on strike. At least let them have music and a card-playing book.’
‘We’ll allow something in the domestic hall, but I think you need peace more than anything.’ She looked down at her el-pad, her face set. After a moment or two, she looked up, made a moue, stood up and went.
How she managed to excise ninety per cent of Saturnalia, I’ll never know, but she did. It passed smoothly, pleasantly even, but it was dull. I know Daniel and Helena snuck downstairs one night for dancing and an evening show.
*
The next time I saw Silvia was at her private fifty-fifth birthday party. Grouped around her under the rose silk gazebo set up in the cavernous palace atrium, we looked on as sixteen-year-old Hallienia Apulia solemnly proposed the toast for her mother. Silvia leaned over to give Hallie a kiss of thanks on each cheek. A wide smile burst across Hallie’s lips. She’d received her emancipation and officially left childhood behind only six months before, but she was still kid enough to grin at her mother.
The ceremony finished, servers were quick to circulate with glasses of champagne amongst the hundred or so family and friends. Silvia was caught up immediately by a couple of senator cousins.
I stood at the side, sipping from my glass while Hallie and Allegra pored over the table of gifts that people had brought for Silvia. In the noise of people talking and laughing, I felt rather than saw Conrad approaching. He gave me a brief nod, not even attempting to give me a kiss, even on the cheek. He stood behind the girls gazing at them as if willing them into awareness of his presence, but they ignored us as only teenagers can. I coughed, Hallie looked up, a little guiltily. She stepped back, turned to Conrad, raised her brown eyes to his face and smiled.
‘Hello, Dad. Brilliant you’re here. Mama will be really pleased.’
‘Of course I’d be here, silly.’ He stroked her hair, pushing a stray brown lock back behind her ear, but he looked hurt that she’d doubted him.
‘Yes, of course,’ she replied, a little flustered. ‘Only I thought you might be busy with—’
‘Yes?’
‘Other things.’ She flushed red. ‘Oh, there’s Marcus Calavius. I must go and talk to him. Catch you later.’ And she skipped off towards a dark-haired young man around twenty, grinning across the room and waving at her.
‘Hmph. Calavius. Not sure about that,’ he said almost as an aside.
‘Good family, one of the Twelve, with a sound history,’ I said.
‘Not really good enough for her.’
‘Keep it cool, Dad,’ Allegra said in a bored voice, ‘it’s not as if she’s sleeping with him yet.’
I somehow kept my lips clamped as his eyes bulged and he swung around to glare at Allegra.
‘What in Hades is that supposed to mean?’
‘Like I said, she’s not slee—’
‘Yes, I heard you, Allegra. How long has this been going on?’
She shrugged. ‘A few months. Aunt Silvia’s got it, so don’t worry.’ She took a deliberate breath. ‘Well, Hallie said you haven’t been around at the palace, so you won’t have seen him.’
Allegra stole a glance up at her father and said nothing further. Good call – he looked murderous. She took off, looking for better company.
‘I suppose you knew,’ he accused.
‘No, I didn’t. I’ve been a little too occupied recently to keep up with teenage crushes. Like Allegra says, it’s Silvia’s affair.’
‘Silvia might have discussed it with me.’
‘Why? You weren’t there, I understand, so she’s dealing with it.’
He said nothing. I watched the other guests, laughing, drinking, eating canapés, greeting and gossiping, as if they were separated from us by an impenetrable wall of glass.
‘And where’s Stella?’ I asked. ‘She should have been here for her mother’s birthday.’
His furtive expression rang alarm bells.
‘Conrad, where is she?’
‘She’s… she’s got another appointment, I understand.’
‘You’re kidding me. More important than this?’
‘She has her own life now. I can’t tell her what to do.’
I couldn’t help myself. I really couldn’t.
‘No, you seem to be capable of only doing what you’re told these days.’
*
‘So what happened after he flounced off?’
Silvia and I were sitting by ourselves in her not very comfortable designer chairs on the glazed terrace overlooking the private garden. Subtle lights cast cream arcs over statues and the fountain jets threw living light into its circular pool. Only the distant sounds of teenage giggling and shouting invaded our private talk.
‘That was it – I didn’t see him after that.’
‘Well,’ she said, ‘I think there’s something going on under the surface but he just seems distracted, nothing more. Are you sure it’s that serious?’
‘I don’t know, Silvia, maybe I’ve got it all wrong and we’re just going through a bad patch. It started in London with that letter and has been getting worse ever since. But even if it’s personal, it shouldn’t be clouding his judgement on professional matters. Maybe he was more affected by his accident than we thought.’
She said nothing immediately, but her eyes narrowed slightly as if looking into the far distance. Outside, frost was starting to coat the rose bushes stretching away from us in two formal beds. Like Apollodorus, my old friend and enemy, Silvia loved her roses. Bobbing between individual plants, she could be found in the rose beds, secateurs in hand, followed by an anxious gardener too polite to say anything. Apollodorus had crossed in Charon’s ferry six years ago after a traitor’s death. I shut that door firmly.
Silvia pulled a quick tight smile, glanced up at the open door leading back to the atrium, stood up and closed it. Settled back in her chair, but still staring through the glass, she said, ‘I met Nicola Tella at the end of last week. You’re right. Completely right. She could be Caius’s twin.’
She pulled her gaze back from the far distance to my face.
‘You don’t forget somebody like Caius Tellus. The Tellae were one of the Twelve, some illustrious, some not, mostly solid service to the state. That last time I saw him before the rebellion, he was talking to my mother. I was Hallie’s age. It was some formal event. I remember my dress – it was new, green silk with gold shot through and a gold
stola
. He smiled down at me. I was frightened. He was overpowering in an uncomfortable way. He stroked my arm. I remember that vividly. I shivered and he smiled at me knowing exactly how revolted I was. He made my mother nervous – she was tongue-tied in talking to him. For Olympus’ sake, she was no amateur rhetorician. He was proposing an alliance between our families. I didn’t know whether it was her or me he had his sights on.’
She shuddered.
‘I found my mother crying one evening later that week. It was as she waited for the councillors to arrive during the night of the fire. She stopped when she saw me. I think she knew what was coming. She hugged me close and told me to hold true. That evening, Aurelia ordered the Praetorian Guard commander to take me away, to escape. Julian stayed and helped hold them off. They killed him. I remember being made to run through the street, car doors opening and shutting, the grim silence of the guards. We crawled through farmyards, back into cars and hiked up the Geminae and through the northern passes to cross the border.’
‘I never saw my mother again. I lived in Vienna for eighteen months, guarded twenty-four seven by PGSF who’d chosen exile over serving Caius.’
She gave a bitter little smile but there was no humour in her eyes.
‘They thought he’d try and snatch me. They wanted me to go to America for safety, but I refused. I knew I had to stay near. Volusenia the Younger, the senior Praetorian, was tough and strict – I was terrified of her. But she was unbelievably kind when she told me my mother was dead. The official story was that she’d committed suicide, but nobody believed it. Later, the forensics proved she’d been murdered. Aurelia and Volusenia kept me from going insane as I was forced to grow up so fast. I was only sixteen.’
She paused and swallowed.
‘I saw Caius on the television, parading round as First Consul. I felt so much hatred for him. It was like a tight lead lump in my heart. I vowed I’d get even. I wanted to kill him, but didn’t know how.’
‘When I came back to Roma Nova, everything was broken, people desperate and fearful. We had no food, the hospitals were empty, the power stations were off line, no fuel, looters were rampant. The old police service, the
vigiles
, was enforcing its own kind of law. But the Praetorians stayed loyal. They re-imposed order and the PGSF led by Aurelia hunted Caius Tellus down.’
She stood up and walked to the balustrade. She turned to face me, her figure outlined in the red and amber of the setting sun. Her voice was hard as she finished her story.
‘They brought him in to me. He stood there arrogant and indifferent. He couldn’t see that what he’d done was so wrong. Even at his trial, he managed to convince one of the judges he’d been treated unfairly. Cruel, manipulative bastard is a soft and tender description of Caius Tellus.’ She turned away, her head bowed. Rare tears running down her face glistened in the dying light.
‘He was a traitor, but more than that he killed my mother. He deserved his execution.’