Retalio

by Alison Morton

  The hut east of Graz nestled high in the trees on the edge of a drift of conifers. It needed open access on the side facing Roma Nova. We waited a few minutes to make sure there were no planes or helicopters in the sky. I didn’t think the New Austrians would take kindly to our covert presence here and we didn’t want to give it away by too many people being seen wandering around the site. Crews changed over at night for that reason alone. And the regular snowfall helped.

  I knocked on the door in a prearranged sequence, my guard detail flattened against the wall out of the line of sight of anybody opening it.

  ‘Consiliaria!’ The optio looked surprised.

  ‘Everything all right, Diana?’

  ‘Yes, ma’am, of course. We didn’t know you were coming, that’s all.’ Her face had a worried expression. ‘We’re a bit untidy.’

  ‘As long as you’re not holding an orgy, I won’t report it.’ I smiled at her. ‘But it would be nice to get out of this chilly wind.’

  The three of them were clad in dark green jackets and shirts, brown trousers and leather boots like the official mountain rescue teams, but without any insignia. One man wore headphones and leaned back, his face a picture of concentration, as he played with a pen between two fingers, his ankles crossed on the edge of the bench. Diana prodded him and glanced in my direction. He scowled back at her and pointed at his ear. He made a half-circle in the air with his left index finger, sat up and started making notes on a pad. Diana leaned towards what looked like a standard transceiver and flicked a tiny switch at the side. Within a nanosecond, Caius’s voice boomed out, a little distorted but unmistakable.

  ‘... and so we had to take action to save our great country from these rotten elements that were promoting internal decay. As you know, the old families structure strangleholding progress was abolished and a new system based on neighbourhood groups with a local leader has been guiding your everyday life. Some of you found it strange at first, but you discovered that if you obeyed your local leaders, and observed the curfew, all was well. Regrettably, a few isolated antisocial elements have caused us to extend the temporary emergency regulations. If we are to strengthen our new society, people must learn to obey, but opportunities are there in plenty for right-thinking patriots to rise in our new society.’

  Six of us were crowded together in this hut. Despite the fug, I shivered. Caius spoke in a friendly and reassuring tone, like a favourite uncle outlining treats available for good children. Then his voice tightened.

  ‘Traitors who have fled abroad have been proscribed and exiled. Their property has been taken into state guardianship for the benefit of all. Traitors at home are being tried in the new people’s courts and punished appropriately. To maintain order and stability, lawbreakers and subversives must be punished as an example.’

  I shivered as I remembered the ‘punishment’ his henchman Phobius had wanted to carry out on me.

  ‘Regrettably,’ Caius continued, ‘three females, supposedly leading some of our prominent families, showed their true colours and actively resisted, causing misery and death. The so-called Countesses Calavia, Aquilia and Volusenia have been tried and publicly executed. Calavia was implicated in the death of Severina Apulia, the last of the imperatrices.’

  Sour fumes rose up my throat. I clamped my mouth shut. I could still see that doughty woman holding the unconscious Severina’s hand in the wrecked council chamber, and shooing me away. I felt the tears run down my face.

  ‘On the positive side, men have taken their natural places leading councils, businesses, professions, trade, retail and industry. Women have, for the most part, returned to their proper feminine roles. Some are permitted to work in service or auxiliary jobs until they marry and have children, or if they are widowed. You will see no more women bearing arms, or giving men instructions – a repugnant state of affairs – but carrying babies and holding their children’s hands as Roman women should.’

  I felt so angry at this rubbish which sounded so reasonable. I was the emotional one scarcely controlling my feelings; he was the rational, sensible one.

  ‘Fathers have now taken back their authority at the head of households and our society is the path to coming back into natural balance. Some misguided people are attempting to block this. There is no place in the new Roma Nova for such people. We must unite to root them out. Citizens – you, your children and your household must be alert and watchful at all times. If you suspect anything or anyone, you must report it to a member of the Roman National Movement or the vigiles. This is now more important than ever if we are to complete our transformation. I will leave you now with three watchwords: patria, sacrificatio, vis!’

  We stood like statues in a public park as the harsh martial music blared out. I couldn’t trust myself to say anything. People exchanged glances, uncertainty in the eyes of frozen faces.

  ‘Well, fuck him!’ The operator wearing the headphones smacked his hand down on the bench making everything rattle. ‘That manipulative bastard needs taking out. And I want the pleasure of doing it.’

  ‘Not before me, soldier,’ I said. ‘I was in the queue before you were born.’

  They all swivelled their heads in my direction.

  ‘It’s a long and sour story but, believe me, it’s both deadly and very personal between us. And I won’t rest until it’s ended. Neither will he.’

  * * *

  One by one, I talked to Colonel Volusenia, Pia Calavia and the young Aquilia lieutenant in the privacy of the room I slept in. There was nowhere else. Volusenia came in first, taking one look at my face before I said anything. She stared into the old empty grate as I gave her the details of Caius’s speech and of her sister’s death.

  ‘I feared it,’ she rasped, ‘but it’s still hard. My sister was fifteen years older than me, more in the way of a mother, but I loved her better than anybody else in the world.’

  She dropped down onto the wooden chair and stared unfocused at the floor. ‘He’s an idiot, that man. He thinks he’ll terrify us into inaction but all he’s doing is pissing us off. No, that’s a stupid word.’ Her fists clenched. ‘At this precise moment, I want to rip his head off his shoulders.’ She breathed in quickly and heavily as if preparing to spring up, but after a few moments, her own shoulders drooped. When she looked up, her eyes were moist, but she’d reassumed that angry vulture look I remembered from the night of Marina’s rape.

  ‘I’ll prepare letters for my brothers. Will you let me send them to Quintus Tellus via the Swiss legation?’

  I’d been keeping that line of communication to Caius’s brother for emergency only, but how could I refuse her?

  Pia Calavia was dignified, but white-faced, when I told her about her grandmother’s fate.

  ‘I did my weeping when you showed me Quintus Tellus’s letter back in December. My grandmother knew exactly what she was doing when she stayed with Imperatrix Severina. She was dying, you know. A malignant cancer. She only had about six months left at best.’

  ‘Pia,’ I said, as gently as I could. ‘He had the three of them executed publicly. I’m so sorry.’

  She clamped her hand over her mouth and just made it to the bathroom opposite my room. I held her hair back as she knelt over the lavatory pan, throwing up the contents of her stomach.

  ‘How could he do that?’ she whispered. ‘He didn’t even give her the dignity of liberum mortis arbitrium. The barbarian.’

  None of the three had been allowed to commit suicide privately. Caius had treated them like the worst common criminals.

  Pia got to her feet and washed her hands and face. ‘I’ll stay with you, if you like, while you tell Aquilia. She’s only a kid, just out of training. Juno.’ Pia’s voice was a little shaky, but her eyes were hard.

  Twenty minutes later, Pia led Paula Aquilia away, sobbing her heart out. Countess Aquilia had been her grandmother’s sister, not close, but it was a huge shock for a young woman who had seen her world collapse and who hadn’t had time yet to develop copi
ng mechanisms for dealing with violent death.

  At the evening meeting, all three women sat stoically as I gave everybody else a summary of Caius’s broadcast. After the silence, like a collective caught breath, at least half the room were on their feet, fists shaking; all were shouting or wailing.

  I let them go on for a few minutes then put my hand up. Nobody took any notice.

  Volusenia leapt up, spun round and faced the rampant noise. ‘SILENCE!’ she barked. ‘Enough! Sit down.’

  A few murmured, but facing her ferocity, they settled down.

  ‘Thank you, Colonel,’ I said. ‘I know you’re all deeply shocked, but I would ask that you please show some sympathy for the families who have lost relatives in such a barbaric way. They need quiet calm and, of course, our support. In the meantime, we must learn to channel our indignation and anger into more positive action. The council is developing an outline of the preparatory work for a take-back plan.’

  This time, there were gasps. Now I had their complete attention.

  ‘The next thing to do is to change the way we organise ourselves. We’ll go back to the traditional families structure that’s been our strength down the years. I suggest you start now.’

  I smiled as a certain amount of chair scraping and people shuffling took place. In the end, many of us were single representatives of our families, but there were, surprisingly, some groups, one even of four.

  ‘Please select one person as representative who will collect and exchange information, instructions and tasks for the family. We are a small group, so with guard and monitoring work it may seem a little muddled, and those jobs must take priority at this stage. After today, I believe more people may find their way to us and we must be ready to receive them.’

  13

  I was called to the signals office the next evening. The duty operator was busy at a keyboard, but an optio rose from a small desk overflowing with paper as soon as I walked into the small room.

  ‘We have a call from Brown Industries for you, consiliaria.’ She gave me the handset of the secure telephone unit.

  ‘Aurelia, it’s William. I’ve been monitoring the broadcasts from Roma Nova. Grim. I won’t let Marina watch them. Especially at present.’

  I bristled at the thought of a man preventing a woman from doing something as simple as watching the news, however tragic it was.

  ‘Why? What do you mean?’ I heard the sharpness in my voice.

  ‘Relax, I’m not being the tyrannical husband. It’s that I don’t want to have her upset in any way just now. Let her explain.’

  I heard him call her as if she were in another room. After a minute or two, she came to the phone.

  ‘Mama, exciting news! I’m going to have a baby. I had a scan today. Everything’s perfect. She’ll be born in August.’ She sounded breathy, like a fifteen-year-old going out on her first date.

  ‘Darling, that’s wonderful. Sit down and tell me everything.’

  * * *

  After formally congratulating me and the Mitela family the next morning, the council of eight turned back to its business. They decided I should resume my function as foreign minister publicly. I acquiesced with a smile on my face, not really taking it in after the previous evening’s news from Marina. We had no territory, but I could see the sense of showing the world we were still in the game. Nevertheless, I felt faintly ridiculous, as if I was wearing borrowed clothes, when I boarded my first flight to a Roma Nova legation abroad.

  Nuncia Cornelia in Paris simply handed over her keys saying everything was at our disposal. She had told Caius in diplomatic but certain terms what he could do with himself. Cornelia’s young cousin, Claudia, had been my extremely efficient assistant at the foreign ministry, loyal to her bones and a prime example of the stiff-necked Cornelian pride. She was Marina’s age, but a world away in experience and, being honest, grit.

  ‘I’m so pleased you’ve contacted us, consiliaria, we’ve felt a little at sea,’ the older Cornelia continued.

  ‘I’m extremely grateful for your support, nuncia, but how will this impact on your family at home and those of your staff?’

  I explained about my encounter with Livilla Vara.

  ‘Vara does not fully appreciate the extremely serious situation, consiliaria. I think it would be wiser to seek your main support elsewhere. Yes, we all have families, but this monstrous power grab threatens not only our country and our way of life but our very existence. What do you want us to do?’

  I nearly fell on her neck with gratitude. Over dinner, we discussed the options.

  ‘I think the best thing would be to close the legation,’ I said. ‘Install security and bring your people to Vienna. We’re a load of rough soldiers, a few patricians and waifs and strays, plus my estate farming staff. We need some diplomats, but also some solid clerical backup. You’re fourteen, fifteen Roma Novans, plus guard detail?’

  ‘Yes, twenty-five altogether.’

  ‘If anybody wants to stay here because of family or personal commitments we’ll have to support them, of course.’

  ‘No, they’ll all come, consiliaria. They know their duty as Romans. I’ll send an advance party to Vienna tomorrow. The rest of us – apart from a few to close up – will follow shortly.’

  I paused. ‘Have you heard anything from Claudia?’

  The nuncia looked down at her plate.

  ‘No, don’t tell me she’s dead.’

  ‘She’s alive, recovering. They arrested her at the foreign ministry, dragging her off in the night. She had a bad time, but had the sense to bend her pride and play dumb. In the end, they sent her to one of their new work colonies. They herd them in there, make them dig foundations for huts, then work ten hours a day building them. That’s all I’ve heard, but it must be Tartarus. My brother Octavius got her out. He’s one of these Roman National Movement idiots, but he couldn’t leave her there. He said she’d lost a quarter of her body weight. She’s staying on his farm now, working there, keeping her head down. He’s a miserable piece, but he’ll make sure she’s safe and fed.’

  ‘Oh, gods.’ Claudia had been my loyal assistant. Was she the first of many who’d been broken?

  * * *

  London proved the same. The nuncio, a tall, lanky man bearing the completely appropriate name of Gracilis and wearing a Savile Row suit replied in his very cultured tones that I could be reassured of his complete support.

  ‘I suggest I remain in post, consiliaria, as we may need the longstanding extremely close relations we have with the British government.’ He studied my face. ‘I assume we will be recovering the situation in the near future?’

  ‘While I have breath in my body, Gracilis, I will be striving night and day to bring this about.’

  He smiled gravely. ‘But not at the expense of a few hours’ sleep, I trust?’

  * * *

  Two weeks later, Berlin. I decided to leave that legation open as well, given that it was the biggest in the region and located near the headquarters of the European Economic Area. My meeting with EEA officials was polite on my side and cautious on theirs, but I came away with the impression that they wouldn’t hinder us. The EEA president even asked me to drop in before I left.

  ‘A bad business, Aurelia,’ he said, frowning. ‘This is completely off the record but let me know if I can help with anything.’ He poured out a cup of coffee for me from the tray his assistant had brought in. ‘Tellus sent us an obnoxious young oaf called Felinus. Apparently his vast experience included holding a junior commerce portfolio in the previous government.’

  ‘I remember him from the last full imperial council meeting,’ I replied. ‘He’s one of Caius Tellus’s personal stooges.’

  ‘We listened to what he had to say, which was mostly bluster. I have the impression they consider they are conferring a significant honour upon the EEA by continuing to belong to it.’ He gave me a little smile.

  ‘Oh gods, you know that’s not Roma Nova’s true stance.’

 
‘Of course.’ He stretched out his hand with a small card. ‘My home telephone number. Just in case.’

  * * *

  Our Berlin legation nuncio, who’d been appointed over five years ago, was formal and businesslike. He’d simply shut down the communications lines to Roma Nova and refused to take an open telephone call from the so-called first consul’s office.

  ‘We’ll reduce to half running, consiliaria – we can manage with that. I’ll send the rest of the staff to help you in Vienna. Pity about Vara.’ And that was all he said about her.

  I hadn’t been to Washington yet, but I used a video link from the Berlin legation communications room to speak to our nuncia there. I was encouraged and heartened by our diplomats. They swam cleverly through the difficult waters of international diplomacy, often acting to the limits of flexibility but, Vara excepted, they had no trace of a doubt about where their loyalties lay. As we rode back from the Maria-Theresia-Hauptbahnhof to the safe house, I thought how I’d love to have seen Caius’s face as he received each legation’s reply to his approach.

  * * *

  We heard the noise first; shouting, cries, police whistles, dogs, van doors slamming. As our taxi driver turned the corner, a sea of people confronted us. There must have been between two and three hundred mobbing the front door of our building, pushing and shoving. The New Austrian gendarmerie, arms stretched out were trying to contain them, but there were only a dozen officers. Then I saw children, lost and shivering on the edge of the crowd, one mite in a tunic and quilted jacket, sucking her thumb, clutching a bewildered older child’s hand, and staring at the crowd. He looked blankly ahead, a walking stick in his hand – he was blind. What in Hades was going on?