I leapt out of the taxi onto the wet street, followed by Atrius and Zosia, my escorts, close to each side of me. I was about to push through when I heard a child’s voice.
‘Help us. Help us for the love of Juno.’
I froze for a couple of seconds. He’d spoken in street Latin. The blind boy.
I crouched down. ‘Who are you?’
‘Lucius, I’m Lucius.’ Then he burst into tears.
I pulled him to me and put my other arm around the little girl. Neither could have been more than seven or eight.
‘Where are your mother and father?’
‘Gone – they left us.’ He started sobbing again.
‘Right, Atrius, get me through this lot.’ I stood and grabbed a child’s hand in each of mine and followed Atrius’s large frame through the crowd. Then I realised the shouts were all in Latin. Who were they? Where had they come from? Angry, despairing faces crowded in on us. Zosia bent down and picked up the boy and I scooped the girl up. We’d lose them otherwise.
As we reached the door, a voice shouted, ‘They’re getting in. Now’s our chance!’ They surged forward, knocking over those nearest and pushing against one of the two New Austrian gendarmes guarding the door.
I saw faces at the window to the left of the door and waved my free hand madly. The door opened a few centimetres, then widened to let out a half-dozen PGSF guards with long staves. They raised them in front of their faces, criss-crossing them with their neighbours, and stepped forward as one to make a space for us. The crowd retreated a good metre. We slid in with the children. The PGSF guards stayed outside, standing braced and looking grim.
The noise cut immediately as somebody shut the door and slid the bolt. I let out a long breath.
‘Will somebody tell me what the Hades is going on?’
‘The first ones appeared this morning, about twenty of them, then it got to about fifty or so, and they started thumping on the door and the windows so we called the police.’ A woman of about forty whom I vaguely recognised answered me. She stepped forward and took the little girl from me.
‘Who are you?’
‘My name’s Grania, consilaria. I’m one of the Paris legation staff.’
Of course. I shook my head to clear it and waved at her to carry on.
‘By the time the gendarmes arrived, there must have been over a hundred shouting and chanting continuously. And the rest have appeared in the past half hour.’
‘Where’s Volusenia?’
‘The colonel’s gone with Consiliaria Quirinia to the New Austrian finance ministry for a meeting.’
I heard a movement behind me. Pia Calavia came down the stairs, tucking her shirt into her trouser waistband. She shrugged on her jacket and yawned. Her eyes were red with tiredness. She glanced out of the window by the entrance door and looked stymied.
‘We have to get to the bottom of this,’ I said. ‘Lieutenant, detail another half-dozen guards to the door inside, then go out there yourself and bring me a selection of those people – half a dozen, max. And check the status of the gendarmes. Bring them in if you think they’re in danger.’
A shot rang out. A roar, followed by a police whistle. Calavia ran for the door with her group, threw the bolt back and barrelled through the entrance. Others pushed the door shut behind them. I ran to the window. Calavia had her knee in the chest of a man lying in the gutter, her fingers circled the man’s wrist and she was smashing the back of his hand down on the cobbles. A heavy service revolver fell out of his bloody fingers and clattered on the stones. Another guard dropped to the ground, grabbed it and stowed it in his pocket. The two of them pulled the man up and thrust him through the door before he’d had time to grab his breath.
‘Medic,’ I shouted, as he stumbled in and looked wildly about. Another three figures followed, plus the two gendarmes. Calavia and her detail slid back in and the door was bolted once more. Breathing a little fast, Calavia nodded at her troops and they took up positions surrounding the newcomers.
I crossed my arms and looked at the bedraggled group. I saw now they were clad in thin, dull clothing, one with a jacket, the other a jersey, the older woman swathed in a shawl. The man Calavia had relieved of the revolver sat on a chair while his hand was being bandaged. His shoulders slumped but he looked up at me truculently, and angry as Jupiter. He looked like a countryman in his rough clothing, but his voice was straight out of the Septarium, the nearest thing Roma Nova city had to a slum.
‘We came here for help, not to be beaten up by your heavies.’
Calavia took half a step forward, but I waved her back.
‘And what exactly did you expect?’
‘We was told you’d give us money and somewhere to live. We got nowhere to go. We been sleeping in the park until these grey scarabs threw us out.’
‘And who told you this?’
He gave me a sly look. ‘I’m not saying nuffink more until I get some money.’
Atrius swooped down on him, grabbed him by the collar of his shirt, lifted him off the ground and shook him. ‘Answer the bloody question. You piss around anymore, sunshine, and you won’t have a mouth left to whinge out of.’
‘Relax, soldier,’ I ordered. Atrius loosened his grip and pushed the man back down onto his chair. ‘Now, let’s start again. What’s your name and where are you from?’
He sat sullen for a minute or so. ‘Burrus,’ he muttered. ‘From the city.’
'And why are you here, Burrus?’
‘Got chucked out.’
‘Why was that?’
‘Owed money to one of those nationalist bastards. He turned up one day, dragged me out of my bed and threw me on a lorry with some others. Then they drove us over the border, turfed us out and left us there with the address of this place. We tried to go back but they shot some of us, so we legged it. We slept in the park last night, then came here.’
‘All of you?’
'Yeah. Some of them are in a bad way, some only little kids like those two.’ He pointed to the wall where my two protégés were crouching on the floor.
‘Where did you get the revolver?’ I said.
‘Lifted it off one of those grey scarabs.’ He snorted and shrugged. ‘Easy.’
‘You’re obviously a man of talents, Burrus, but not ones we can use.’
‘You chucking me out?’
‘Not if you behave. Can you do that, I wonder?’ I searched his face for reaction but all I got back was an expression of hurt and surprise.
Before I could ask him anything else, there was heavy thump on the door so loud I thought it would cave in. Calavia glanced out of the window.
‘Police. A lot.’
Damn.
‘Better let them in before they break the door down,’ I said.
She opened the door cautiously and four grey-clad and black-jacketed gendarmes strode in, two carrying our luggage from the taxi. As if that wasn’t strange enough, it became almost surreal when I saw their commander. It was my cousin from Berlin, Joachim von und zu der Havel.
14
I was so surprised I couldn’t stop my arms falling to my sides. I gaped at him, unbelieving. I hoped I didn’t look half as stupefied as he did. His curly hair under his cap was more grey than blond and shorter, but the blue eyes were the same, although surrounded by many more wrinkles. And he could still produce a grim expression. He wore the police grey, but with a half-colonel’s pips on his shoulders. I took a step forward.
‘Achim? Joachim?’
He continued to stare at me, but said nothing. His colleagues glanced around as if assessing danger only to be met by cool stares from Calavia and her troops who shifted slightly, but definitely, in an encircling motion. The gendarmes rested their hands on their leather pistol holsters, Calavia’s detail clutched their staves and they all eyed each other up, waiting for the slightest movement from the other side. I gathered my wits together and drew myself up.
‘Grania.’ I waved my hand toward the two children, instinct
ively frightened by the tension. ‘Take the little ones to the kitchen and give them something warm to eat and drink. Actually, take the adults, too. Atrius, you go with them, to address any, er, security concerns.’ Atrius nodded and pulled Burrus off the chair and followed Grania and her charges.
‘Oberstleutnant,’ I addressed Joachim formally, ‘if you and your colleagues would follow me?’ I turned to Calavia. ‘Lieutenant, rotate your troops outside. Get somebody on the roof and take some photos. I want to know about any change as it happens.’
One of the police spoke into his radio as we walked through to the ballroom. There were half a dozen of the former Paris legation staff at one end working at some tables, with a row of filing cabinets separating them from the main area. We had no other place for them to use as a general office. There was a low level hum of VDU terminals, drawers opening and shutting, subdued conversations in measured tones. In another corner, two clerks were tapping at the cork-lined walls, pinning up a large-scale map and lists of tasks for this evening’s main meeting and shooting glances at us. I drew Joachim away to one end.
‘What the hell are you doing in Vienna?’ he began. No preliminaries.
‘And how are you, too, after a fifteen-year gap?’ I mustered as much sarcasm as I could.
‘That’s irrelevant.’ He waved his hand. ‘Are these scruffs outside your people?’
A wave of hot anger rolled through me.
‘How dare you call them scruffs? These refugees have been hounded out by a cruel and monstrous regime which murdered our ruler and has started executing dozens without trial. These citizens were driven over the border and dumped. When they tried to go back, they were fired on.’ I was tired. Tired of travelling, tired of being a petitioner, tired of scrabbling around in the confined world of this building. ‘You bloody New Austrians, sitting here in your comfortable, sanitised sugarcake town. You’ve been minus nil help.’ I heard my voice getting louder, but I couldn’t stop. ‘Don’t you bring your self-righteous attitude in here.’
I paused for breath and became conscious of silence. Every person had stopped moving and was staring at us. I waved at them to get back to their work.
‘Well, they have to go somewhere,’ Joachim said. ‘They can’t stay on the street. I’m not having three hundred refugees sleeping rough in this weather. God knows what would happen.’
‘Clutter up your tidy little town, would they?’
‘No, actually, I’m more worried about what would happen to them. You’ve got quite a lot of old people and children.’
‘Haven’t you got any empty barracks or some kind of holding facility? If you could house them for a few days, we can try and sort this out.’
‘No, nothing. I’ll contact the Red Cross tomorrow, but something has to be done now. These people must be off the streets by nightfall.’
‘But that’s in three hours. How the hell do you propose we do that?’
He shrugged.
‘We will take them in. They are our people.’
I spun round at the light voice. Silvia.
She raised an eyebrow. ‘Aurelia Mitela?’
I bowed. ‘Domina, may I present Oberstleutnant Freiherr Joachim von und zu der Havel?’ I looked at him. ‘Oh, excuse me, are you known by your matronymic, Huber?’
He ignored me and inclined his head to Silvia. ‘Oberstleutnant Huber of the Neuösterreichische Gendarmerie, gnädiges Fräulein.’
‘You address the Imperatrix Silvia,’ I said, crossly.
‘Excuse me, I understood she was—’ He stopped, gave Silvia a warm smile and bowed. ‘I apologise, Majestät. I have been misinformed.’
She didn’t return his smile. ‘Romans do not fail in their duty to their citizens.’ She looked down her nose at me. ‘These poor people must be admitted and fed. Arrange it with the housekeeping team. Now. And no more argument.’ She turned her back on me and beckoned Joachim to walk with her. I could only watch with open mouth, stunned by being treated so peremptorily.
‘Countess?’ A man’s light voice to my left. ‘If I may be of assistance? I’m Vibianus, from the consulate section, Paris legation.’ A tubby man with a smile on his round face. ‘Would you like me to organise the admission and documentation? I can liaise with the housekeeping team so that we are not overwhelmed.’
‘Yes, yes, that would be perfect. Thank you, Vibianus.’
He beckoned to two women assistants who placed a table, chairs, papers, card index by the ballroom entrance. One of them set off in direction of the front lobby and came back with a group of a dozen refugees who looked round warily. Then another group, mainly children, with two women. The other woman assistant sat by his side and started processing some of the people while the first one hurried off towards the kitchen. She brought back Burrus with Atrius in close escort and the three others. Within ten minutes, sandwiches, tea urns and water jugs appeared, carried in by the kitchen staff and set out on trestles.
I caught Joachim as he left. He was walking towards the entrance door. His men had left earlier.
‘A minute, if you please, Oberstleutnant,’ I called to his retreating back. He stopped, but didn’t turn. I caught up with him.
‘Are you going to spend the rest of your life being bad-tempered with me, Achim?’
‘It’s not a question of temper. I don’t have anything to say to you.’
‘And why is that?’
‘After the Berlin fiasco I decided to make a clean break. And that included everybody I’d known, including you. Especially you.’
‘Why?’
‘Do I really have to explain it?’ He sighed. ‘Every time I think of you or Roma Nova, I see Hasi and how you, and it, destroyed my life.’
‘Now, wait a minute, you can’t blame me for your partner’s criminal behaviour. Hasi was on the take from Caius Tellus. Please don’t lump me together with that unspeakable creature. He was responsible for my daughter’s rape and the attack and murder of people at my farm. I barely escaped with my life when he launched his coup. In no respect does he represent Roma Nova.’
I waved my hand in the direction of the queues of people registering at Vibianus’s table or devouring food at the hastily set up trestles.
‘Neither I nor these refugees have done anything to you.’ I stared at him until he broke his gaze. ‘Don’t blame us for other people’s criminal behaviour.’
I turned and stalked away, impatient with his petulance. I presumed he left as I didn’t see him after that.
Within the three hours the ballroom was full and the street empty. I noticed Burrus had shrugged off his guards and was busying himself organising his fellow refugees who seemed to accept his authority. Or maybe they were too tired to do anything else. Perhaps it had been bravado in front of authority that had made him defiant when he’d arrived.
After Silvia’s speech a few weeks ago, we’d began to amass supplies, making provision for refugees, but I hadn’t realised how efficiently it was being run. Blankets, inflatable mattresses and pillows were found and by ten that evening the refugees were bedded down; some in rooms and quiet corridors, some in the ballroom itself.
The scheduled evening meeting turned into just a council session. I didn’t say much but let Quirinia and Volusenia hammer out ideas of how to manage the new influx. For some reason, despite the fact that I’d sincerely wished for it, I was finding it hard to adjust to Silvia’s newly-developed self-assurance.
I joined Volusenia in the frosty garden as she smoked her last cigarette of the day after the council broke up.
‘You didn’t say much. Anything wrong?´ she said.
‘No, not really.’
‘That bad, eh?’ She threw a quick glance at me. ‘Calavia told me Silvia had been brusque with you. She getting too big for her boots?’
‘Probably me getting tetchy. I’ve hardly slept these past few days with all this to-ing and fro-ing.’
‘Ha! I don’t know how you came by a reputation as a good spook when you lie so badly. Si
lvia’s doing well, better than I ever thought, but she’s still a teenager. Don’t take it too hard. You’re a powerful woman, Aurelia, and you’re not used to being snubbed by young tykes, however august their descent.’
We walked on for a few minutes in silence.
‘Now I’ve got the legations on board and we've worked out a modus operandi with the EEA, I feel somewhat redundant.’
‘Bollocks! We need you to liaise with these New Austrians. I really have no patience with their genteel little ways. And Silvia needs you more than ever as her first councillor.’
I smiled at her, but said nothing more.
* * *
The next morning, I dragged myself out of bed to join Calavia on an early run. It was hard after days of rich food, meetings and travel, but it cleared my head. Nearly twenty of us jogged our way along the pavements, then to the green paths up to Empress Elisabeth’s stunning Hermesvilla, the hunting lodge her husband built out of love for her. It was beautiful, no doubt, but not quite as enticing as Roma Nova. I closed my eyes and thought of the view from the old castle of Roma Nova, overlooking the Golden Palace, the sinuous river, the roofs of the old town, the forum and Senate building dominating it.
I wiped away the moisture in my eyes. The breeze was fresh this morning. In a week’s time, the Lainzer Tiergarten would be open until winter and we’d be able to puff our way up to the top of the Weiner Blick from where you could see the whole city spread out below. Then I realised what I’d thought. I’d automatically assumed we’d still be here until winter.
* * *
After queuing behind three of the refugees, I eventually got to the shower. I shivered more in the lukewarm water than I had outside in the early morning chill. I nearly fell over two more women sitting on the floor in the corridor waiting for their turn. We had to do something about accommodation, and fast. The house was large – twenty bedrooms – but people were packed into every one as well as the corridor and lofts. The plumbing system alone couldn’t cope with three hundred and fifty people. I would bury my temper and contact Achim after I’d had some coffee. To my surprise he appeared later that afternoon.
Retalio Page 11