XXIII
Servlus and I kept close to the hedge as we crept down the tree-lined driveway of the farm. I couldn’t have spoken a word if I’d wanted. All I could do was swallow the sour taste that kept filling my mouth. I shrugged my rucksack, now heavy with supplies from the farm store, further up my back. Five metres before the gate, I flicked my hand downwards and we dropped to the ground. The pre-dawn gloom contrasted with the whiteness of the stars, but it was enough to see we were not alone.
‘Estate guard,’ I whispered into Servlus’s ear and pointed towards the figure by the stone pillar supporting the right gate. She was turning her head, panning in a circle as if looking for something. Had she heard us? We had to either neutralise her or admit our presence. Hades, this was ridiculous. Couldn’t I trust anybody? No, the less they knew, the safer they were. I reached into the inside pocket of my hunting jacket for my transceiver.
‘Calavia, Mitela,’ I whispered, my lips touching the mouthpiece. ‘All clear?’
‘Calavia. Affirmative.’
‘Small problem here. Guard on the front gate, but I do not, repeat, do not wish to harm her nor acknowledge our presence.’
Calavia’s laugh came back with some crackle. ‘I should hope not – it’s me.’
*
‘You might have let me know,’ I grumbled at Calavia once we had entered the woods a couple of hundred metres behind the farm. ‘What did you do with the real guard?’
‘She’s probably back on the gate now. I persuaded her to take my place.’
‘Persuaded?’
‘Turns out she’s a cousin of one of the optios in my troop. Well, one of the optios of my ex-troop. Gods, I hope he’s safe along with the others.’ She looked ahead and didn’t say anything for a few moments as we marched on. ‘Anyway,’ she continued, ‘I said I was on a mission and needed her to guard the crossroads for an hour.’ The dawn light was enough to show her quick grin.
‘Was her name Sentia, or possibly Albina?’
‘Sentia. How did you guess?’
‘She’s one of the ex-regulars who helped me take the farm back six weeks ago.’
‘She said to pass on her respects when I saw you next…’
Hades!
‘…and that she and Albina would do whatever was necessary to save your people.’
*
Just outside the town of Castra Lucilla on a slight rise was an abandoned stone house, now encroached by the woods we were walking through. According to estate records, it had once belonged to the Mitelae, but was gifted away in perpetuity in the eighteenth century. I knew that earlier Mitela stewards, and later business managers, had tried to trace the owners to buy it back, but without success. I’d only ever run by on the outside, too spooked by my cousins’ tales of the ghost who was supposed to wander there. In the early morning light, the peeling shutters and rampant ivy crawling up the wall and crumbling chimney stack reinforced its general air of dilapidation. This was our first safe house.
We pushed open the iron gate separating the wood from what would once have been a pretty garden. Skeletons of fruit trees interspersed with wild looking survivors. A slab path ran from the gate through the orchard and former vegetable beds, up three steps and through what looked like an open prairie with knee-length grass. Tramping through it would easily show up on an aerial photo, so we kept in a straight single file in the hope it would look like a continuation of the path. At the house, we sidled along the house walls until we reached the back kitchen door and at my nod, Servlus pushed it open.
A shower of dust fell on us as we entered. Something scampered away, raising more dust. Calavia switched on her low-light torch and a time warp scene appeared in the glow. A dresser with china on the top three rows and a full set of Samian bowls below was flanked by wooden cupboards and a long table with benches stood immediately opposite. The floor was covered in plain slabs. Servlus and Calavia dived straight for the door in the far corner. I heard heavy bootsteps as Servlus ascended the stairs. Calavia pushed doors open along the corridor as I charged through to the next room. A dark wood sideboard, upholstered sofa, two winged armchairs and an elegant bureau and chairs greeted me. Three glass and gilt shades shaped like overripe plums and coated with a dull bloom of dirt hung in a group from the decorated ceiling. What on earth was such elegance doing in what was essentially a large country cottage?
‘Clear upstairs,’ Servlus shouted down.
‘And downstairs,’ Calavia agreed. ‘But this is a strange house. Apart from being something out of a history book, both rooms on the west side of the house look as if they were abandoned in a hell of a hurry. There are plates and cutlery on the table with dried traces of food in the first. And a lot of vermin droppings.’
‘Well, fascinating as it is,’ I said, ‘we don’t have time to think about it. Let’s grab some rest and wait for Atrius and the others.’ Servlus took first watch. I unrolled my sleeping bag on the sofa and within minutes of climbing into it, I was out. What seemed like five minutes later, I felt a hand shaking my shoulder. Atrius. They’d made it. He thrust a hot drink at me. I blinked, shook my head, then took a sip of the delicious warmth. Balia and Styrax were talking in earnest whispers to Calavia.
‘Any problems?’ I asked Atrius.
‘Not really. Some officious little nobodies with nationalist armbands stopped us at the frontier demanding ID but our Helvetian papers were accepted. However, we learned something interesting – the domestic telephones are still working as normal, so I phoned my sister in the city.’
‘You did what?’ How could Atrius break security like that?
‘Don’t worry, ma’am, we have a secret code we’ve used since childhood – it’s something twins do.’
‘This isn’t a childhood game, Atrius.’
‘I know, that’s why we have to pull in every favour. My sister runs a small dry cleaning and dyeing business inside the city. She’s offered to put us up in the storeroom.’ He glanced away. ‘Unfortunately, Caius Tellus’s thugs are patrolling with the vigiles and the new rules are being applied ruthlessly. Three traders in her street have been hauled off for questioning. None has returned.’
Everyone stopped speaking and stared at him. We’d heard of such things in the Russian lands in the east, but for it to be happening in Roma Nova…
‘Six of us will be far too conspicuous,’ I said and struggled out of my sleeping bag. ‘Servlus, Balia and Styrax will stay here and set up exit routes. We could be eight altogether. Do not under any circumstances endanger yourself or compromise this building. But be ready to move at any time and expect us to be under hot pursuit.’
‘What happens if the nationalists come to Castra Lucilla and take over your estate?’ Styrax asked.
I swallowed hard.
‘Plan a fallback position in the woods.’ I almost mentioned the tunnel, then remembered Callixtus’s treachery. ‘There was an alternative, but it’s blown. One of the nationalists knows about it.’
‘How will we know you’ve been successful in the rescue?’
‘Lieutenant Calavia will give you a radio check schedule. If we miss two, then assume we’re down. Every day makes our mission harder. Whatever happens, if Calavia, Atrius and I are not back within four days, you must bail out.’
*
Keeping to the fields until we encountered the first houses at the edge of the city seven and a half hours later, we were able to make good progress. Calavia was kind enough to make a couple of stops so I could catch my breath. Everything appeared calm and normal; we could have been three walkers out on a pleasant evening country stroll. The soft autumn breeze, slightly humid, but warm and smelling of grass, earth and a hint of pine lulled and comforted us. Clusters of grapes reserved for late picking still hung from vines, maize leaves were just starting to wilt so the cobs were in perfect state for harvesting, possibly a week overdue. But nobody
was working in the fields. We hadn’t seen a soul in the past fifteen kilometres.
‘Can you push on into the city, ma’am?’ Calavia asked.
The sun was about to disappear and all I wanted to do was fall into the earth after it. I glanced at my watch. Seven thirty.
‘Can we make it to your sister’s tonight, Atrius?’
‘Normally, it’s about thirty minutes from here – she’s in the Via Nova – but we’re going to have to go through the backstreets and alleys. It’ll be tight, especially if we run into any checkpoints.’
‘Well,’ I replied, ‘we’d better get going.’
*
It was ridiculously easy, which was fortunate as we were bone tired. Systematic as Caius’s organisation was, he hadn’t achieved the critical mass yet needed to watch every street, house or insula block in the city. But if he managed to convince or terrorise his fellow Roma Novans, it would only be a question of time. My head was reeling with tiredness, but I was still so angry.
Calavia took photos of any changes with a miniature camera wherever she could. If we got back to Vienna, it would be valuable intelligence. Atrius and I waited, flattened against the wall of a building near the forum, while she took a series of shots. Suddenly, she jerked back.
‘Merda!’ She gave a violent jerk of her hand. We shifted immediately and ran, twisting around different buildings until we were three blocks back.
‘What happened?’ I asked. My heart hammered as I tried to catch my breath. Even Atrius was breathing heavily.
‘I might have been spotted,’ she gasped.
‘Pluto! Let’s get out of here and bunk down at Atrius’s sister’s without any more detours.’
We wound round the streets in a disparate pattern, avoiding the CCTV where possible. Luckily for us the new public feed plan hadn’t been implemented, so it was still only installed in the main shopping streets and the Macellum market area. After winding through backstreets, eyes watching everything, we dived into a poorly lit alley. Atrius pressed on a bell push by an unmarked service door. A siren from a vigilis car pierced the silence. We jumped like cats behind bins.
Gods.
The door opened a few centimetres.
‘Paula!’ Atrius hissed. ‘Open the bloody door.’
‘Junius, thank Hygeia. Get in, quickly.’
We tumbled in and Atrius’s sister slammed and locked the door behind us. Brother and sister hugged briefly. She was nearly as tall as him. He released her and nodded. ‘Paula, this is—’
‘Don’t tell me any names, Junius. I can’t tell what I don’t know.’ She stared at me, blue eyes blazing. ‘But I know who she is.’ Her face twisted in anger. ‘How in Hades did you lot let this happen? What sort of government were you? Do you know what sort of shit you’ve left us in?’
‘Enough, Paula,’ her brother said. ‘Nobody doubts the gravity of the situation.’
‘Grave? Is that how you see it, Junius Atrius? It’s damned disastrous! You haven’t heard the latest, have you?’
‘No, we’ve been trying to stay alive, if that’s not seen as a frivolous occupation.’
‘Ha! My twelve years of slaving away to build up this business is going down the well. Women have been ordered to sign their assets over to their nearest male relative and retire from commercial and public life. We have thirty days to comply or everything will be confiscated.’ She slumped down on a stool and burst into tears.
XXIV
Despite her harsh words, Paula Atria gave us food and shelter, but she wouldn’t talk directly to me. She threw blankets and pillows down on the floor, turned her shoulder and left the storeroom. Twenty minutes later, she returned with a tray of soup and meat-filled rolls which she thumped down on the top of an old laundry machine. Atrius shrugged and gave me an apologetic look. We bunked down on the vinyl floor between tubs of chemicals and open boxes of plastic clothes covers.
The following morning, I intended to go to the ex-armourer’s safe house in the Vicus Fabricensium at the end of the palace tunnel that Silvia and Volusenia had escaped down. The road to the armourer’s house outside the city wall narrowed under an archway – a perfect bottleneck for the nationalists to check both pedestrian and vehicle traffic. Of course, there were other, less formal ways through the wall, but as the phones were working, it would be safer to make the first contact from within the shelter of Paula Atria’s laundry.
‘Yes?’ A gruff female voice answered after ten rings.
‘Marcia? That you?’ I whined.
‘No Marcia here. You’ve got the wrong number.’
‘Sorry, love.’
*
‘Plico’s armourer is still there. Or somebody who sounds just like she should sound.’
‘We don’t know that, Major,’ Calavia chimed in.
‘No, but it’s highly likely. So now we have to go and see what she has to say for herself.’
‘It could be a trap, of course.’
‘Perhaps, but I would think Caius has enough to do at the moment without drilling down to the level of retired supply soldiers.’
‘To be sure, Atrius or I will go and check,’ Calavia said.
‘I haven’t quite lost the ability to act covertly, Lieutenant.’ I frowned at her.
‘No, I don’t doubt your skills and abilities, ma’am, but you are far too big a prize to be picked up on such a simple errand.’
‘I’ll go,’ Atrius said, ‘I’m probably less conspicuous.’
Calavia and I stared at the nearly two-metre tall, sturdily built man with black hair and blazing blue eyes. Hardly my idea of inconspicuous.
‘If what Paula says is true,’ he said, ‘Tellus has already started implementing his old Roman policy. In that case, as a man, I’ll probably pass through more easily.’ His logic was impeccable, but uncomfortable; I hated splitting our tiny group.
As the back door closed behind Atrius, Calavia and I started gathering our things together. Fiddling with bags and blankets when I should be out there trying to find Silvia was frustrating. Calavia fidgeted around aimlessly. Waiting was always the worst part. I couldn’t get rid of a nagging feeling that something was very wrong. Had Caius got Silvia or not?
The door opened to reveal Paula Atria. She kept her grasp on the door handle, but jerked her head at us. ‘There’s something on the news you should see.’
We followed her up a flight of open metal steps, inhaling by default the sharp chemical smell from the thrumming machines below. The rows of plastic-covered clothes on racks filled the front half of the premises which led directly to the shop. I caught a brief glimpse of the street beyond.
‘Quickly,’ came Paula’s voice. ‘I don’t want any of the shop staff to see you.’
She fished out a key on a chain round her neck and unlocked a door marked ‘Private’. Inside were a desk, chairs, filing cabinets and a sofa in front of a small television set from which came a commentator’s voice.
‘…and we are waiting with tremendous excitement for Caius Tellus whose chief of staff has hinted the first consul will be making a special announcement.’
I crossed my arms and looked down at the sculptured face of the reporter with his hairspray-fixed hair. Just fourteen days ago, he’d been grilling me about our relations with the European Economic Area; now he was smarming all over Caius. The press room in the Golden Palace looked exactly the same, but the whole press corps was male. Gone were the bright, shoulder-padded jackets and the big hair of the senior women correspondents. Instead, a tight-suited heavy with a nationalists’ armband and a big name tag with ‘press officer’ printed on it hovered at the front and watched the reporters. I felt as if I’d stepped into an alternative reality.
Caius strutted onto the podium and, at a signal from the ‘press officer’, all the reporters stood up like children in school. No press pack had done that since the beg
inning of the 1960s.
‘Please sit,’ he said and gave them one of his saccharine smiles. ‘Thank you for coming along today, gentlemen. I wish to make a brief statement about the Apulians, the former ruling family. With the demise of Severina Apulia, their rule has ended and their assets have returned to the state treasury. Unfortunately, the son was caught in the crossfire. We shall honour his funeral later this week. We have some news of the daughter and will update you as the situation becomes clearer.’ He looked directly into the camera. ‘Naturally, we wish to protect such a young and vulnerable female child from terrorists in exile who wish to stir up rebellion and threaten our hard-won stability and from misguided citizens who may have been persuaded to hide her out of a false sense of duty. I call upon all patriotic citizens to help us find her. Please advise your local National Movement coordinator or the vigiles in your area if you see her. All reports will be treated seriously and a significant reward offered. Thank you.’ He smiled, nodded, then strode off the podium and out of the room.
Thank the gods. He didn’t have Silvia, but as her photo filled the screen, I realised with horror he’d just recruited the national media and the whole population to search for her.
*
Atrius wasn’t back by lunchtime; the armourer’s house was twenty minutes away at the maximum. Of course, he’d have to be careful, but it was now nearly three hours. Calavia and I had absolutely nothing to do; we dozed in turn, but I jumped every time I heard a noise. It was probably just the laundry machinery clanking and thumping.
‘I think we ought to move tonight,’ I said.
Calavia glanced at the door. ‘Why do you think that?’ she whispered.
‘I don’t know, but we can’t endanger Atrius’s sister any longer. She’s too tense. If one of these thugs presses her, she’ll squeak.’ It wouldn’t be any fault of hers. She was a normal person under abnormal pressure.
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