INSURRECTIO

by Alison Morton

  ‘Certainly not. You’re far too valuable a political asset. And you do have a certain amusement value.’ He smirked at me. ‘Perhaps I’ll keep you as jester, my own tame doomsayer. You’d look quite fetching in scarlet.’

  I couldn’t speak. The humiliation of what he suggested – how dare he?

  He laughed. ‘You should see your face, Aurelia. You always were quick to rise.’ Then his mouth straightened into a crisp line. ‘This is not a game. The old ways are finished, as is everybody associated with them. There is no more deplorable female rule. We need several clear months to recover the correct balance in this country and to turn it into a proper Roman one. After that, our neighbours had better pay attention.’

  Gods, was he about to start a local war?

  ‘The last thing I need is a dangerous maverick, who might have some residual influence, plotting behind my back.’

  ‘Then terminate me.’

  ‘Determined as you are to seek death, it will be far better for Roma Nova if you don’t. I want a strong Roma Nova and you tell me you love our country. You might be just a woman, but you could help. Think about working together.’

  ‘I’d rather end my days in Truscium than lift one of my little fingers to help you.’

  ‘Always so dramatic. Phobius would throw you in there without hesitating after he’d had you and given his men a turn. Would you prefer that?’

  Just for a second, something in his eyes united us as patricians, revolted at the thought of Phobius touching either of us.

  ‘Quite,’ he said.

  ‘What will happen to my people?’

  ‘I might, of course, have them all thrown into prison or deported. Perhaps I’ll send all your first and second cousins to one of my new work camps. At least they’d be making a contribution. Their future depends on their behaviour. But most of all on yours, Aurelia.’

  What the hell did that mean?

  ‘For the moment, an acting head of the Mitelus family will be appointed in the next week,’ he continued. ‘The family recorders of all Twelve Families have been requested to submit the name of the senior male member. They’ll run the Families organisation as a charitable and social body only.’ He sighed. ‘I really don’t know why I’m telling you all this. You have no further role in the public life of this country.’

  ‘And my comrades-in-arms?’

  ‘Calavia will be tried for treason and sentenced accordingly. Your trooper we, er, interrogated, likewise. When he recovers, that is. The penalty for treason is execution.’

  ‘No, please. They only followed orders. My orders.’

  ‘Are you begging for their lives, Aurelia?’ His eyes glinted. ‘If you’re trying to bargain with me, then I require something in return.’

  I swallowed hard. Soreness and pain from my bruised throat almost made me choke again. I was dead meat but if I could bargain for Calavia and Atrius’s lives, they could come back and carry on the search for Silvia. That was the prime objective of the mission. I would have to take my chances. But every cell in my mind and body revolted at the thought of even pretending to work with him.

  ‘Let them go, put them over the New Austrian border, and I’ll think about what you’re proposing.’

  ‘Do you take me for a simpleton?’ He laughed. I flinched at the hard tone. ‘You’ll have to do better than that. If that’s a demonstration of your negotiating skills, no wonder the last government crumbled.’

  I hesitated.

  ‘If you want your family to survive, and your friends, I need your total compliance. Now.’

  In my head, I cursed him, I cursed myself and I cursed Severina and the Fates. I buried my dignity and went down on my knees.

  ‘If you guarantee the Mitelae safety, and release Calavia and Atrius across the border, free to go—’ I said, the taste of ash in my mouth and lead in my heart, ‘—then I will do what you ask.’

  XXVIII

  He pressed a buzzer on his deskset and spoke into it. I bowed my head, not to him; after an exhausting day yesterday and three hours’ sleep, I was so tired I could have collapsed in a heap. My mission had ended in failure with two comrades under death sentence. Now I had made my first act of collaboration. I did it knowingly and only to ensure the other two were released, but I felt unclean. No, I was disgusted with myself. All I wanted to do now was to hide in a corner under a blanket and close my eyes.

  ‘Get up, woman,’ Caius said. ‘You look ridiculous.’

  I struggled to my feet. I didn’t care what I looked like, but it was pointless antagonising him. Had my surrender been worth it? Would Caius keep his word and leave my family and household alone as well as releasing Calavia and Atrius?

  The door opened and a boy, no, a young man, hesitated just in the shadow by the doorway.

  ‘You may be wondering how we knew you were here and what you were playing at.’ He beckoned the young man forward. ‘I’m sure you remember Turturus whom you met in Vienna.’

  Juno, the cadet who sulked because I wouldn’t take him with us on the rescue mission. This was getting worse and worse. The surge of anger running through me pulled me out of my stasis.

  ‘Turturus was fed up with being told what to do by a woman, by having his masculinity stamped on, so he came here seeking a better way. He’s been on active duty and done well on this first counter-surveillance operation.’

  ‘He was a child. I wouldn’t bring him on this mission because of that. I see now he’s a treacherous little bastard.’ I directed every volt of all my pent-up anger and frustration at Turturus. ‘How could you do this? You’re directly responsible for a loyal guard who befriended you being subjected to hours of pain and humiliation. And you put another one under sentence of death. Macte!’

  The boy flinched.

  ‘Be silent, Aurelia,’ Caius said.

  ‘No, I won’t.’

  ‘Remember what you promised two minutes ago and the consequences of disobeying me.’

  I sucked in my lips and looked at Turturus, willing him into a heap of ash. But I had to be patient. Calavia and Atrius must be safe before I did anything.

  Caius flicked his fingers in dismissal at the boy, who almost ran out of the atrium. After a moment’s pause, Caius turned to me.

  ‘Now, you will be housed here in the palace. You will be fitted with a steel wristband to show your reduced status. You will also wear an electronic tag which will track you and alarm if you leave the palace building. If it beeps and flashes orange, it means I require your immediate presence. I stress the word “immediate”. Only by concentrating will you prevent your friends’ execution. It will also teach you some humility.’

  Gods, I didn’t think I could hate him any more, but at that moment a shaft of pure red light invaded my mind that I wanted to aim at his face and destroy him.

  He turned away, pressed a button on his desktop set again and two troopers entered. Regulars, not palace Praetorians. Where were the Praetorians?

  ‘Take this woman to the guardroom, tag her, level 1 security, plus a steel wristband, then instruct the housekeeper to allocate her a room in the domestic quarters. Oh, and find her some decent women’s clothing and burn those trousers.’

  *

  The leading trooper hesitated by the service stairs and looked at his companion, who shrugged. They didn’t know the layout. It was tempting to mislead them, but I thought of Calavia and Atrius.

  ‘If you’re looking for the guardroom, it’s down the first flight, turn left and second right,’ I said in a deadpan voice. ‘At least it was when I last commanded the palace guard.’

  ‘Quiet. Nobody asked you.’

  He grabbed my upper arm and pushed me towards the stairs.

  In a small act of defiance, I pulled away, scampered down the stairs and sprinted along the corridors, arriving at the guardroom door several seconds before my escort. As th
ey came running after me, I stared at them as I would at incompetent recruits. The first one’s face clouded and his mouth tightened.

  ‘Leave it, she’s just winding you up,’ the second one said and pushed me through the door. Three temporary workbenches with tools had been set up in the open area. Shouts, crying, people and the clatter of metal filled the space. A burly man, with a bushy moustache and mean eyes was sitting behind the nearest table with a clerk writing notes beside him and a younger man fiddling with what looked like metal loops. Several other women and two teenage boys stood to one side. One of the women was comforting the younger boy, who was shivering and weeping. The man consulted a clipboard with a list.

  ‘Next!’

  The woman and boy went forward.

  ‘One at a time. Back in line, woman.’

  She retreated, casting the terrified boy an anxious look.

  My first escort stepped forward. ‘Priority, direct from the first consul.’ He pushed me forward. The man looked up, waved the boy back. I was conscious of people looking in my direction. One nudged her neighbour. Perhaps it was my dirty clothes, the handcuffs, my swollen face.

  ‘Name?’

  ‘Aurelia Mitela’, I said in my clearest voice.

  Faces jerked round, work stopped and the room fell silent. Even the moustachioed man gaped at me. I looked round the room slowly. One or two bobbed or half bowed and I heard the word ‘Domina’ whispered. My two military escorts stepped back. One looked shocked. He hadn’t realised exactly who I’d been. No, who I still was, I told myself.

  ‘Let’s get on, then,’ the first escort said, breaking the tension.

  ‘Are you sure?’ the burly man said.

  ‘Are you questioning the first consul’s orders?’

  ‘No, no, of course not.’ He jerked his head at the clerk to write my name down. The clerk was still staring at me. The burly man nudged the clerk who scribbled wildly. The younger technician stood and brought a chair round and gestured me to sit. My second escort leaned over me and unlocked the handcuffs. I rubbed my wrists and flexed my shoulders.

  ‘If you would give me your right wrist, dom— I mean—’

  ‘Please, don’t worry. Do what you need to,’ and I stretched my right arm out. The metal mesh band with the tracker tag pinched as the technician locked it on my wrist, mostly because his fingers were trembling. He glanced up, blushed then looked down. Then the burly man selected an open steel bracelet around two centimetres wide from a plastic tray. What was that for? Was it some kind of category? I drew my arm back; I wasn’t going to be slotted into Caius’s system. The burly man looked horrified, glanced at the watching guards with such fear, then at me. His eyes pleaded. Slowly, I lay my forearm back on the table. He fitted the steel ring round my wrist, not looking at me. He slid a cloth pad underneath, pinched the two ends together and sealed it with a high impulse electronic tool. The heat was intense but didn’t burn me. The join left a ripple on the shiny surface of the bracelet and a red mark on my wrist.

  ‘Forgive,’ the burly man whispered, glancing to see if my guards had heard.

  I nodded. Of course I did. None of this was these people’s fault. It was Caius’s brutal orders that forced them to do this work. I stood and raised my wrist so everybody could see.

  I looked round the room and smiled at these anxious people.

  ‘Very pretty,’ I said wriggling my wrist, ‘and I haven’t even had to pay for it.’

  A few smiles, one or two chuckles, then a few shouts of Ave Mitela and Macte! I bowed to them, turned and left, my two guards trudging in my wake. I might have been forced to wear this band, but at least I had shared a few moments of solidarity with people in the same plight.

  I recognised the housekeeper, Drusilla, of course. Under the guards’ scrutiny, she allocated me a room in the domestic hall, but they didn’t know it was the under-housekeeper’s, so a lot more spacious than a standard room and with that blessing, a small bathroom, attached. I wouldn’t need to go to the communal palace bathhouse. Their duty done, the two men left and we watched them disappear up the stairs. I stretched my hand out and staggered against the wall.

  ‘Domina, when did you last eat? Or even drink?’

  Drusilla brought me milk and a bread roll plastered with butter and honey and a bowl of fruit, nuts and olives. She eased me down onto the bed and took off my boots and socks while I devoured everything. I stretched out, closed my eyes and sank into the void.

  *

  I woke to a loud buzzing. As I half opened my eyes, a flashing orange light violated them. Gods! Bloody Caius. Stuff him. No, for my comrades and family’s sakes, I had to comply. I swallowed the bitter taste in my mouth. I dragged myself up and found myself without a stitch on. At the side of the bed were my underclothes and two tunics – one light green and long sleeved, the other dark red and shorter. I scrambled into them, grabbed the belt and slid my feet into the sandals by the bed. Although I often wore traditional dress in the country, this was comic opera style in the city. I pulled my hair back and tied it with one of the ribbons on the dressing table. I wiped my face with a corner of the towel; the blood from my split lip had dried, but half my face was purple from Phobius’s beating.

  My watch had gone. I had no idea what time it was, except that it was light, probably mid afternoon from the sunlight shining through the half-basement window.

  I trudged up the service stairs to the atrium. My legs seemed full of sawdust instead of muscle and a soft pulsing in my head threatened to become a full-blown headache. At the atrium entrance, I ignored the nationalist guard and grasped the handle of one of the double doors. I took a deep breath and counted to five. Please Diana, let me keep my temper.

  Caius was studying his watch. He raised an eyebrow theatrically.

  ‘Ten minutes. Not immediately, as required.’

  Should I reply? No, it would only provoke him. I looked steadily at him, trying to convey how much I despised him. After a few seconds, he looked up.

  ‘Very well, I will overlook it this one time. I am holding a small reception tomorrow evening for leading men to inform them how things will be in the future and invite them to participate. You will assist in serving drinks.’

  He watched me, a smile hovering on his lips. He was daring me to react. I wasn’t in the mood to play his game, so I stood there unmoving and silent.

  ‘Do you understand?’

  I nodded.

  ‘You will address me as First Consul at all times.’

  I’d see him in Tartarus first.

  ‘Report to the senior steward at six tomorrow evening. And have a bath and wash your hair. I dislike servants who smell as if they’ve been traipsing around fields full of shit.’

  As I stumbled back downstairs, I wiped tears away. He was determined to humiliate me on every level. I’d had no time to bathe and he knew it. I went to the kitchen to make a drink. Honey and lemon were always soothing.

  ‘What do you want?’

  A brown-haired man in chef’s whites blocked my way to the sink. The other kitchen staff looked round.

  ‘A drink. I’ll make it and get out of your way in a couple of minutes.’

  ‘We’re busy preparing dinner. Clear off.’

  Somebody gasped.

  ‘Just a glass of water, then?’

  ‘Out.’ He pushed me away then looked at the other kitchen staff. ‘And what are you lot looking at? Get back to your work.’

  *

  In the bath, comforted by the warm water, I worked through scenes in my mind where I had Caius at my mercy, begging and grovelling. I relived that terrifying day thirteen years ago when he’d held Marina as hostage in my own house. I’d fought and defeated him then. Any residual guilt about kicking him when he was injured and defenceless vanished down the plughole with the waste water as I clambered out of the bath. I had to let my anger coo
l – he fed on my reactions – and work out a way of surviving and then claw my way back.

  Caius and I had so much negative history. Not the small things like spitting on my favourite cake when I was a small child or holding my head down the kitchen sewer when I was eight or even when he attempted to rape me at sixteen. He’d disgusted me when he’d thrown up noisily at my emancipation ceremony, an important moment in any young Roma Novan’s life. The trouble was he had charm and laughed off all these things as horseplay or jokes. But his eyes had betrayed the calculation behind each act. I couldn’t deny the pleasure that went along with duty when we caught him and had him sent to the Prussians to be locked up for murder.

  It wasn’t mere hate; he wanted to dominate, to crush me. Somehow I represented something he resented deeply, perhaps something he secretly longed for. For now, he had his way, and I would comply to save my people’s lives, but as I fell into my bed, I vowed it would end the instant they were safe.

  XXIX

  I swallowed a yawn. I’d been up since five that morning, first fetching Caius coffee and rolls, then he sent me to empty his bin, take drafts to the typists on the floor below. More coffee. In between, he ordered me to stand by the wall while he worked in silence for hours. A messenger came through the double doors on the hour to deliver and take work, but Caius worked at files or read in solitary state in the three-storey high atrium. Once he answered the telephone call with one word. ‘Yes’. It was so boring I almost dozed off. He knew I would hate it; I had been active and busy all my life.

  Two armed guards in mismatched dark clothes and red Roman National Movement armbands stood by the doors as if they were Praetorians, but fidgeting now and again, something that Severina’s guards would never have done. One of them raised his hand to his mouth to cover a yawn. Caius’s head snapped up. He stared at the young man for a few seconds. The guard flushed, then looked straight ahead like an automaton. Caius wrote a note, placed it to one side and handed it to the next messenger. Within five minutes, Phobius appeared, struck the young guard in the face and dragged him away. Another automaton took his place and the only thing that he moved were his eyes. Caius went on working as if oblivious to the whole episode.