INSURRECTIO

by Alison Morton

‘I will not. It’s a kitchen matter. Call one of your stewards, or do it yourself.’

  Then the sound of a slap and Drusilla’s cry of shock.

  ‘Do as I tell you, woman.’

  I strode through to the kitchen.

  ‘What in Hades are you doing?’ I said to the cook. ‘How dare you assault the housekeeper? You will be fined and lose pay for this. First, apologise to her.’

  ‘Who are you to tell— Oh.’ He flushed and looked down at the floor.

  I crossed my arms. ‘I’m waiting.’

  He mumbled an apology to Drusilla.

  ‘Now you can clear up that disgusting mess and disinfect the floor. Yourself.’

  I eased Drusilla onto a chair and fetched her ice and a towel, then watched the cook until he had finished. I took Drusilla back into her office.

  ‘He should leave you alone now.’ I shrugged. ‘At least I’ve done something positive with my borrowed authority.’

  ‘Thank you, domina. He is an atrocious man. Like many of these people.’ She gave me half a smile. ‘And I have something for you.’ She stood and went over to a small cupboard. Behind a stack of files was a pair of boots. Mine.

  ‘My daughter wore the selfsame pattern.’ Drusilla looked into the distance. ‘She was killed in that border post massacre a month ago.’ She gave a huge sob and hugged the boots to her.

  ‘I’m so sorry, Drusilla, so sorry. A very loyal colleague who lost his life on the night of the fires led the enquiry, but they couldn’t find an obvious cause or any clue to the attackers’ identity.’

  ‘Yes, but we know who was behind it, don’t we?’

  ‘We can’t prove it in a court of law, if there still are such things, but yes, more than a strong suspicion.’

  ‘I will help you in any possible way, but you must promise to get these bastards.’

  ‘I will, Drusilla, for your daughter, mine and all the other daughters, and sons.’

  *

  Caius invited me to eat in the dining room at midday with his cronies; the idea made me feel sick and I pleaded a headache. He seemed to accept it which, after his previous controlling behaviour, unnerved me. One of the kitchen assistants brought my lunch to my room with a message that Drusilla would like to consult me about domestic matters if I was well enough. When she struggled in with armfuls of formal clothing an hour later, I was intrigued. She threw the lot down on my bed.

  ‘I’m so pleased I never became a dresser. These weigh a ton.’ She shook her arms. ‘The first consul said you should have your choice for the reception and ordered me to bring you some of Imperatrix Severina’s clothes.’

  I turned them over one by one; the white tunic with a broad stripe for Senate ceremonies, the dark purple silk stola she had worn as a guest to the last Families’ formal gathering, the shot gold palla to complement it. I fingered a fine dark red wool stola with gold embroidery. She’d worn it at the formal Saturnalia party for the foreign press corps last year. Oh, Severina, you were weak much of the time, but you didn’t deserve to die so young and have an interloper wear your clothes. Then I noticed some dark, less fine clothes at the bottom of the pile. My walking trousers, shirt, socks and waterproof field jacket.

  ‘Drusilla, thank you.’ I hugged her, much to her surprise, and mine. I stuffed them in the shoe drawer at the back of the wardrobe, then beckoned her into the bathroom and shut the door.

  I flushed the lavatory and while it filled, whispered, ‘I swept the room, but there may still be bugs. I don’t know when I’ll try to go, but it’ll be soon.’ I fished in my waist pouch and gave Drusilla my letter to Marina. ‘If you can post this, I’d be very grateful. But please don’t take any silly risks. Thinking about it, take it to Quintus Tellus. He might get it out via one of the foreign legations.’ I was planning to escape, but so much could go wrong. At least I would have told Marina how much I loved her. Drusilla looked at the envelope and nodded.

  I ran both basin taps and made a lot of splashing noise washing my hands.

  ‘I’ll leave a water carrier in my cupboard and refill it every day,’ she whispered back. ‘Take what you need from the kitchen. Here, this is the cool cupboard combination for the next week.’

  *

  I lay in bed that night, waiting. I was afraid, but not sure exactly what I was afraid of. If I fought him, he’d hand me over to Phobius. If I complied, I would be betraying myself at every level. When the luminous hands of the clock showed past one in the morning and Caius hadn’t appeared, I trembled with relief.

  The next morning, I managed to get hold of the Acta Diurna, the official gazette. I hadn’t seen any printed news since the day before the night of the fires nearly three weeks ago. The columns were set out in the same way and with the same headings, but instead of Senate meetings, government committees, news of trials and enquiries and the personal notices, it was bursting with Caius’s speeches, edicts ‘from the office of the first consul’, sycophantic distorted accounts of the night of the fires, libellous and totally fabricated stories about the ‘enemies of the state’, and more importantly, notice of an increased reward for the sighting of Silvia Apulia, whom the first consul wished to protect from ‘criminal elements’.

  Last night, it reported, Caius had attended a rally in his honour. The photo of him, arm raised, saluting the torchlight procession of thousands of nats made me want to be sick. Then in the forthcoming events column, I was horrified to see my name beside Caius’s. The diplomatic reception tomorrow evening. That was why Drusilla had brought me Severina’s clothes. Anybody who read that would draw only one conclusion.

  Pouring a few drinks as a servant in front of ex-colleagues wasn’t anywhere near as significant as standing by Caius’s side in luxurious clothes as his so-called companion. I would be completely damned not only in the eyes of everybody who knew me, but the world would think that as a patrician and former foreign minister, I was underwriting Caius’s brutal regime.

  I had betrayed my country enough.

  I had to go tonight.

  *

  I went down to see Drusilla, as if to discuss a household matter, and gave her a message for Quintus. Whether it would reach him was debatable.

  *

  The minute the sun went down, I changed into my walking clothes. As I buttoned up the shirt and zipped the trousers, I felt more natural than I had for days. Dusk crept in agonisingly slowly; it would be another twenty minutes before the dying sunlight was dim enough to mask me, but not so dark that the exterior lighting would pinpoint me. I tested the window again; it slid open noiselessly. I’d lubricated it with some olive oil I’d stolen from the kitchen. I had no bag, but I’d stuffed my pockets with first aid kit, a notebook, torch, a penknife I’d filched from a study and some food I’d taken from the kitchen along with Drusilla’s water bottle. Pathetic, but it was the best I could do. My gloves were, miraculously, still in the lower pocket and my thermal hat in the opposite one. At least my hands and ears wouldn’t freeze off when I crossed the mountains.

  A knock at the door.

  A pang of fear ran through me. I swallowed hard. Surely nobody knew what I was about to do?

  Again.

  ‘Yes?’ I tried to keep my voice even.

  ‘A package from the first consul.’

  Merda.

  ‘I’m in the bathroom. Please leave it on the table.’

  I grabbed my boots and scuttled into the bathroom where I ran the taps and tore off my outer jacket, trousers and shirt. Humming a little tune, I locked the door shut, but held on to the handle. My room door clicked open, a rustle as something was deposited on a surface, presumably the table, then I heard the door open and close and the latch click. I counted a good minute. It was the oldest trick in the book – pretend to leave, and wait for your quarry to emerge. I unlocked the bathroom door and poked my head around it.

  ‘Hello?�
�

  No answer. I waited another minute, then turned off the taps and came into the room, wearing the dressing gown from the back of the bathroom door. There was a small box on the table. Inside was one of Severina’s small tiaras, with a note, Wear this tomorrow evening. I picked up the gold piece. It was small, quite old, set with cabochon rubies and sapphires. How dared he? It belonged to Silvia by rights, certainly not me. Well, I’d take it for her. I scooped it out of the box, folded it along the two hinges and stuffed it in the inside zipped map pocket of my jacket.

  Back in the bathroom, I scrambled into my clothes and boots. I lifted the edge of the curtain just enough to see down to the courtyard. The sun had fled below the horizon, leaving red and orange streaks. I slid the sash window up. Five minutes to get to the ground before the floodlights came on.

  On the outside sill, I pulled the window closed behind me. The ledge to the top of the portico was about twenty centimetres wide, plenty of width for me to shuffle along, if I was careful. But I hadn’t climbed the face of a building for years, so I went a few centimetres at a time. Agonisingly slowly. I sweated at every step.

  Half a metre from the portico, the floodlights burst into vibrant orange life. If anybody looked up, they’d see my figure outlined against the pale stone. If I moved, it would catch a guard’s eye. If I didn’t, I’d be prey caught in cross hairs and picked off instantly. Very slowly, I crouched down, stretched out my hand, grabbed the edge of the parapet and rolled over the top.

  Lying there, the sweat poured off me. It wasn’t the effort on a cool night; it was fear. I took several deep breaths to slow my heart down again. Gods, I was too old for this. After a couple of minutes, I pulled myself together and shuffled across the portico roof, using my elbows to propel me until I reached the far side. I slid my hand over the back edge and found the top of the vertical recess. A quick silent prayer of thanks to Mercury, then I turned over onto my stomach and slithered over the edge of the recess feet first. My right foot found the highest foothold. Then my left foot the next. I was on the ground within moments, my back pressed against the wall, my heart thudding against my ribs with fear, relief and this time, excitement.

  I was out.

  My fallback plan was to dodge through the car park at the side of the palace using the cars as cover then a dash for the side gate that led to the wooded slope down to the city park. After that, I would take it as I found it. Perhaps the gate Calavia and I had used to get through the old city wall would still be unlocked. If not, there were other ways. Then it was the eighty-kilometre hike to the mountains. I would have to lie low in the daytime and steal food, then march at night. Cars would have no petrol now, but maybe I could steal a horse from some stables or one of the farms. But whatever I did, I’d have to run the first few hours until the damn tag was out of range. And keep moving. If they used portable base units they’d find me as soon as I came within range. But any risk was better than the existence I had at the moment.

  I peeped round the corner of the recess. Nobody. Then I heard a car approaching. I snapped back. It stopped at the portico. I heard a challenge from the nats guards, only metres away from me, but separated by thick sandstone. I couldn’t hear the words or distinguish the voices. The car passed through and drove round my side of the portico. The engine cut, then I heard footsteps going in the direction of the back entrance. Some functionary or other, or one of those nats bastards.

  After a couple of minutes to let the guards relax, I eased my way out of the protective recess and prepared to launch myself towards the parked cars. I had ten metres to cross in the open. The next second I was thrust back against the wall. A hand clamped across my mouth.

  ‘Quiet!’ a voice hissed.

  My heart hammering, I brought my hand up to attack my assailant.

  ‘Stop, Aurelia. It’s me.’

  Quintus.

  ‘Jupiter’s balls! What the hell?’

  ‘Listen.’ I could hear his breaths coming in short gasps. Had he been running or was it fear? ‘I’ve brought my car to get you out.’

  ‘You did get my message? How—’

  ‘I’ll explain more later. Wait here. I’ll draw up and get out as if to check something in the boot. You jump in the back, in the seat well, and cover yourself in the blanket. Got it?’

  I nodded. He sidled off towards the back entrance. A minute later, I spotted him walking with a file briefcase towards his car. He threw it in the boot, got in and started his car. He stopped with the car’s rear door exactly by the back of the portico. He got out, opened the rear door, bent inside as if looking for something, left the door open, then opened up the boot lid. He looked for all the world like a man who was sure he had something, but couldn’t remember where he’d left it. I crept forward, then jumped in, stretched out behind the front seats and pulled the dark plaid blanket over me. The boot lid slammed down, the back door thumped home and we were moving.

  Quintus slowed down at the palace gates.

  ‘Evening, sir,’ a voice came, presumably from the guard.

  I didn’t hear a reply from Quintus, just the sound of the engine accelerating. I tried to keep track of where we were as Quintus drove through the town, but I was so elated by escaping that I lost my concentration for a few moments.

  ‘Just going through the city gate,’ Quintus said as if he was talking about the games results. We stopped. I held my breath. Then the bloody tag on my wristband flashed red and buzzed. I thrust my hand down the front of my jacket, praying the engine noise would drown it. Quintus coughed loudly.

  ‘Going far, sir?’

  ‘Just to an old friend’s for the evening.’

  ‘Don’t forget the curfew’s at nine.’

  ‘So my brother keeps reminding me,’ Quintus replied, sharply.

  ‘Yes, of course, sir. Have a safe trip.’

  Quintus didn’t reply. A barrier squeaked, and the car moved forward.

  I let my breath out in a sob.

  ‘Steady, Aurelia. Stay where you are.’

  ‘The tag’s alarmed.’

  ‘Damn, I never thought to bring anything to cut those things off.’

  ‘You won’t. They’re forged steel, heat sealed.’ I snorted. ‘Don’t think I haven’t tried.’

  ‘Hold on, then,’ he said, ‘I’m going to go a little faster.’

  I was bumped up and down and thrown around corners as if I were a sack of cabbages on the way to market as Quintus drove like a maniac. Thirty minutes later, the red light had petered out.

  ‘Right, I’ve driven west on the Aquae Caesaris road. That should confuse the issue. Now we have to get across to the road north. You know yourself how narrow these lanes are and how windy they get as we get near the foothills. I suggest you hitch yourself up onto the back seat and try to rest.’

  ‘Quintus, how did you know I would be just by the portico?’

  ‘The palace housekeeper phoned my steward with a strange message about a girl called Cloelia who could meet her lover tonight after all. My steward thought she was raving and remarked that it must be getting very difficult at the palace if the housekeeper was losing it that much. I knew instantly it was you and exactly where you’d be from that stupid game we played as children.’

  I allowed myself a little smile. When I’d given Drusilla that message to convey to Quintus, I’d prayed it would get through. I’d never expected him to turn up with a car.

  XXXIV

  I woke with a jolt. The vehicle had stopped.

  ‘What?’ I rubbed my stiff neck. Quintus’s car wasn’t very big and I’d been lying awkwardly. I blinked and sat up. The only light came from the dashboard backlights. Quintus had turned the headlights off.

  ‘We’re nearly at Driscia. I’m sorry, but I’m going to have to drop you off here if I’m going to get back to the city before the curfew.’

  Driscia. The last real s
ettlement before the mountain passes.

  ‘Quintus, that’s marvellous. I’m so grateful.’ I grabbed his hand and pressed it hard.

  ‘Steady.’ But I could see the smile, even in the dim light. He handed me a walking stick and rucksack with a sleeping bag rolled up and strapped on at the base. ‘There’s a survival pack inside and more water. It’s going to be an uncomfortable journey, but you should make it.’ He turned and looked me full in the face. ‘You must get across the border, Aurelia, and rally the opposition. You have all the contacts and possibly the resources. And you must not let yourself be taken again. I’ll do my best here and as long as Caius doesn’t sling me in prison, I should be able to help. Go with Juno.’ He leant over and kissed my cheek.

  *

  On the track skirting Driscia in the chill of the night, I comforted myself with the thought that in eight hours I would be over the frontier. And that was allowing for climbing up through the mountains and taking rest periods. I had freed myself from Caius, at least physically. As I marched along a field boundary on the north side of the town, I understood what the expression ‘with a song in my heart’ meant.

  I walked on for nearly three hours; only the occasional wild animal calls, owls hooting and my boots on the track broke the silence of the night. My breath plumed, but that was the only sign of my presence as I climbed steadily in this beautiful alpine upland. I paused for a five-minute break. Frost had formed on the meadows and the moonlight transformed them into silver carpets. Soon, I would be scrambling through the pine trees up through the scree line, then higher into the mountains and the pure sharp air towards freedom.

  Then the bloody tag buzzed. A feeble sound, more like a creak than a hard buzz. The red light glimmered and faltered. I tried bashing the unit against a rock, the sound echoing mercilessly, but all I did was rip the skin on my wrist. Pluto take it and hurl it to the depth of Tartarus. I couldn’t fail now. I leapt up and ran along the track and aimed for the woods. Only distance was my friend. Crouching behind an old stone wall, I stopped for a few breaths. The tag glimmered again, then burst into bright red like some devil’s eye and emitted a harsh tone.