The ancient hedge interspersed with trees along the top of the far bank gave the tenant and us privacy, but now I saw them as a possible place to conceal the menace against me. I’d talk to Milo in the morning about some additional security. Damn Caius for making me turn my home into a fortress.
I was tired, exhausted by the anxiety of not knowing where he was. If only he’d make his move and get on with it. I shivered in the chill November wind and looked back at the house which suddenly seemed a long way away. A hot bath and a warm drink before bed would settle me.
As I turned to jog back, I registered a slight movement from the corner of my eye. A body slammed into me and I fell to the ground. I rolled and sprang up, crouching. My arms and legs tingled, my heart pounded, ready for action.
XXX
‘Always the comic warrior, Aurelia. Such an exhibitionist.’
Caius.
Of course.
‘Better than a murderer.’
‘An exaggeration.’
In the falling light I saw his eyes gleaming, the rising moon reflected in them. In one movement, I leapt from crouch to full length, the fingers of my right hand curved for a throat grip, and found a gun barrel in my face. A double-action service revolver. I froze. My head would explode and scatter into formless cells at this range. And his finger was ready on the trigger. He blew on my face as if I was an irritating insect. I flexed the fingers of my left hand and tensed my legs.
‘I wouldn’t, if I were you,’ he said. ‘Really, I wouldn’t.’
He was right. The instant I moved against him, he’d fire. At three centimetres, he’d hardly miss. I dropped my right hand slowly. I was still so close to him that I could feel his body heat rising from his open shirt neck as well as his warm breath on my face. I swallowed hard.
‘What do you want, Caius?’
‘You know, irritating as you are, Aurelia, I never took you for a simpleton.’ His voice hadn’t lost any of its inbuilt mockery. He stared at me intently. ‘You, of course.’
Keeping the revolver against my forehead, he pulled the hem of my tracksuit top up, exposing my skin to the cold air. He shoved his hand underneath. I shivered as his hand found my breast and pinched the nipple through the soft material of my brassiere.
I pulled back, loathing instinctively taking over, but not far or fast enough. He smashed the revolver butt down on my temple. I staggered backwards several steps out of the range of his fists, my head spinning. I shook it to clear my vision. Too many seconds wasted. He brought his revolver up and I saw death in the barrel.
‘Goodbye, Aurelia.’
No.
I leapt towards him, swinging my arm upwards and smashing the underside of his wrist with my fist. The gun arced through the air. A thud as it landed several metres away.
‘You bitch, I’ll have you,’ Caius shouted as he shook his bruised wrist.
Run. I had to run.
I could hardly see for my thumping head. I cleared the first tree, and zigzagged towards the next one. A dribble of blood in my eye. Gods, I was slow. I needed to take deep breaths to feed my body oxygen, but gasped instead. Oh, Mercury, give me your legs now, I prayed.
Two shots rang out, instants apart. Hades, he’d found his gun. A stab on my left upper arm like a hot poker slowly drawn across the flesh. I stumbled and skidded on to the icy ground. Must get up and keep running or the next one would kill me. Breathe. I grasped the wound with my other hand and forced myself on. The house lights became bigger and brighter. The garden wall – only another two hundred metres. I might make it.
An iron grab on my legs and they were yanked back. He brought me down on my face so hard I passed out for an instant. As I came round, he was kicking me, one blow after another. Everywhere.
I was too winded to do anything but grunt at each kick. Gaining more breath, I rolled from side to side, trying to escape his feet. Then I saw what was in his hand. Juno, that bloody gun. He brought it round and aimed at me. I grabbed his ankle as it came to stamp down on my face, jerked my head away as I wrenched his foot to the side as hard as I could. He screamed and fell back. A clatter of metal on stone.
Panting, my throat dry and throbbing with the effort of breathing the freezing air, I struggled to my knees. The pain in my arm nearly made me faint. I swayed, but as I got to my feet, agony flowed through my middle. My head roared. I collapsed, and went out.
*
A hand on my head. Sore. The smell of antiseptic. A beep. I opened my eyes to a very bright light, then shut them again. I was in a hospital. Again. I swallowed. My throat prickled. I tried to raise my right hand, but another hand grasped it and placed it back on the bed. The other one was trapped. I wriggled my shoulders and pain shot through them. I cried out and felt wetness on my cheeks. Then I took a deep breath and pain exploded through my body.
‘Gently, gently. Try not to move,’ a woman’s voice said. ‘Take shallow breaths as slowly as you can.’
A moist cloth on my face. A straw with a drink. Bliss.
‘You’ve been badly beaten, and shot in the upper arm. You have a couple of broken ribs, but you’re safe now here in the Central Valetudinarium.’
I looked around slowly, warily, but it was a standard white-walled hospital room with a wide window, the blind half closed not completely shutting out the pink and lemon dawn. A drip line ran from my hand upwards. I was lying half propped up. The nurse, also all white apart from her black hair and brown eyes, held my hand and looked at me. Her face was solemn as if the world weighed on her. She chewed her lips then took a deep breath.
‘I’m very sorry, but you’ve lost the baby,’ she said.
I stared at the white ceiling not hearing what she said next, only the noise of her voice. A hum grew into a buzz which pierced my head. Somebody was screaming, then sobbing. My gut clenched and a huge spasm in my chest sent waves of pain through me. Then I realised I was the one screaming.
*
The doctor glanced down at her clipboard, looked over her silver-framed glasses, then sat down by my bed. I saw her, but couldn’t focus. My head was full of fog. I blinked at the bright light. It must be afternoon – the sun was halfway to the horizon. Juno, I ached. My body felt like a lump of cold, set concrete. Then I remembered.
‘You’ve been sedated for most of the day,’ she said. ‘You’ll be with us for a week while we check there are no internal complications. You’re doing well physically and we’ll start electrotherapy tomorrow morning to stimulate bone repair and reduce the bruising.’ She paused. ‘You’ll probably feel very upset about losing the baby. Not just your hormones playing silly devils, but loss and anger.’ She laid her hand on mine. ‘It’s a dreadful business. Give yourself time to grieve.’
I knew she meant well, but I wanted her to go away and let me die in peace. I closed my eyes and sobbed myself to sleep. When I woke next, it was dark, but I smelled something, somebody. I flinched. Last time it was dark Caius was beating me up. Paper rustled. Somebody was sitting by my bed.
‘Steady. It’s all right, it’s me.’
Plico.
‘What are you doing here?’ I croaked.
‘I came to see if you were faking it.’ He leant over with a beaker of water which he held carefully as I drank. ‘Apparently not. The doctors tell me you’ll live.’
‘Plico, I lost… I lost my baby.’
‘I know. You must feel like shit about that.’ He patted my hand, but didn’t look at me. He laid his file on my bed, patted his pockets, pulled out a packet of cigarettes, then stuffed it back.
‘Do you want me to try and find your Hungarian friend? I presume he was the father. I’ll get that Praetorian captain in Vienna, Licinia, to start a search for him.’
‘No!’
‘Surely you want to tell him?’
‘I said no.’
I’d excised Miklós out of my life before I’d taken up the post in Vienna. I stared at Plico, daring him to contradict me. But I bit my lip at the memory of Miklós nodding
at me in the Berlin courtroom. And that red rose at the airport. I gasped as a jab of pain shot through my chest. Maybe the strapping around my ribs was too tight. Would I ever get out of the mess my life had become?
Plico cleared his throat.
‘I could kick myself we didn’t think of the far perimeter of your place.’
‘Kick is not a word I want to hear.’
‘No, sorry.’ He glanced at me. ‘We found the revolver at the foot of the wall, about ten metres away from you, but we haven’t caught the bastard. Sorry, again.’
‘Look for a man with a limp. I certainly twisted his ankle, if not broke it.’
A female nurse came in, checked my line, frowned at Plico, and pointedly gave him back his papers and smoothed the top cover where the contaminating file had been.
‘Your steward’s a good man,’ Plico said, talking to the window. ‘I take back what I said before. You were out for the count. He insisted on riding with you in the ambulance. He was the one who raised the alarm after he heard the gunshots.’
‘Thank him for me, will you?’
‘I think he’ll want to come and see you himself.’
‘I don’t want to see anybody, Plico. I’m too tired.’
‘Tough. The man saved your skin. Do him the courtesy of a few minutes.’
‘Leave me alone,’ I croaked.
‘No, you’ll go maudlin. Seeing others will help you out of this.’
‘You don’t understand.’
‘Yes, I do.’ He coughed and looked away. ‘My sister miscarried twice. Believe me, I’ve seen what happens. And I know you. You’ll look back later and be so embarrassed at yourself.’
‘Do whatever you want. I don’t care.’ I shivered and pulled the sheet up to my chin.
‘Milo will be here tomorrow morning,’ he ploughed on. ‘I’ll make sure the guards let him through.’
‘Guards?’
‘The vigiles have stepped up patrols. There’s a patrol car back and front of the hospital and we’ve checked out the personnel coming near you. When a nurse or doctor isn’t in your room, a Praetorian will be. All the time. Oh, and the imperatrix will be visiting tomorrow.’
I groaned.
‘Count yourself lucky. It was touch and go fending her off for today.’ He glanced at the wall clock. ‘I have to go. Somebody has to keep the country running.’ He stood, bent over and patted my uninjured arm. ‘Try not to irritate the nurses too much.’
The evening nurse spooned some soup into me and persuaded me to eat a sandwich, but my stomach protested at the effort of receiving food. He checked all my vital signs, gave me a syrupy drink and a couple of coloured tablets and settled my pillows. He turned down the main lights and settled down with his book slanted towards the light from a shaded desk lamp.
I watched him for a while from under half-closed eyes. He was probably only a few years younger than me but he seemed barely out of his teens, his mother’s treasure with that smooth skin and curling brown hair. When he was a young child, she would have run her fingers through it, then hugged his soft body to her chest. She would have watched his first steps and heard his first words. She would have nursed him when he was born and held him close, a living part of her flesh.
I turned my face away and wept.
**
‘No.’ My stomach and head had woken up spinning and I was not going to move out of my bed.
‘You’ll feel it’s worth the effort. Try a few steps.’ The young nurse had taken the drip line out a minute ago. Fumes from the antiseptic swab made my nose tickle. He was smiling at me and holding his hand out.
‘Not today,’ I snapped. ‘Now, please go away and leave me to rest.’ My left arm was trussed up, my ribs tight with the strapping and my insides wobbled like jelly. If the gods ripped open Tartarus, and Pluto was gunning for me personally, I wouldn’t have had the energy to move. The nurse looked at me steadily for a few moments, then left the room.
Ten minutes later, the door was pushed open, a beige-and-black-uniformed figure scanned the room, then gave way to a crowd; the hospital director, the doctor with the silver glasses and clipboard, the young nurse and Justina.
Gods.
Justina bent down and kissed my cheek, then stood back and scrutinised me. She nodded to the nurse as he placed a chair beside the bed for her. She laid her palm on my forehead, then her fingers on the base of my throat and glanced at her watch. Once a doctor, always a doctor.
‘You’re a little warm, but nothing to worry about.’ She held her hand out and the doctor hurriedly proffered the clipboard.
‘Hm,’ she read aloud, ‘deep graze to upper arm from gunshot, no humeral fracture, no damage to nerves or arteries, two fractured ribs, multiple contusions, loss of conception. Antibiotics, electric therapy, painkillers and physiotherapy prescribed. Nowhere does it mention bed rest.’
I squirmed and a sore pain jabbed my arm. I looked at the other faces which remained totally passive, but I could guess what they thought of me. Justina looked at me from half-closed eyes.
‘Well, I expect you’ve done enough for now. You’re obviously feeling too weak.’
‘Imperatrix, it’s only thirty-six hours since…’ I couldn’t say it. ‘I need to catch my breath.’ I braced myself for her reply. She’d tell me to make an effort and not be so pathetic. I wasn’t the first person who’d lost a baby, been beaten half to death or shot, she’d say.
‘I can see you’re not really up to it, Aurelia. Don’t push yourself.’
I couldn’t believe I’d heard her correctly. Where was the ‘pull yourself together’ speech?
‘I’ll send Severina to visit you. She’ll be able to bring you up to date on all the latest gossip without taxing you.’
Oh, Juno, no.
She stood and the white coats took a pace back. ‘I’m sorry to see you so diminished and I’m sure Felicia would have felt the same. Obviously, Marina will stay with us for now. She certainly doesn’t need to see you in this poor state. Goodbye, my dear.’ Her voice was light, almost bland. Not a hint of her usual decisive tone. What was going on?
Then I twigged. She thought I’d given up.
XXXI
Bloody Justina. It was only when I’d struggled out of bed and used the lavatory by myself unaided to prove to them all I wasn’t a complete loss, that I realised how she’d finessed me. Waving the Praetorian away, I stood in the middle of the room, balancing myself by gripping the end of the bed, sweat running down my face. I was so angry, I couldn’t move. When I’d calmed down, I realised she was right. I’d lost my direction, my grip.
Not any longer.
When Milo came to visit me that afternoon, I was sitting up in a chair.
‘Domina.’ He stopped when he saw the Praetorian. I nodded at her to leave, but she hesitated.
‘This is my steward, the man who recovered me after the attack,’ I said. ‘I think we can take it he’s safe.’ She left, but I could see her the other side of the glass observation panel in the door, watching us.
‘Please sit, Milo. I can’t hold my head cranked up looking at you.’
He bowed and pulled up a chair, but kept a respectful distance away. He would never unbend that much.
‘Before you say anything else, I want to thank you,’ I began. ‘I’ll never be able to repay you for my life. If you ever need or want anything, you know I’ll grant it, don’t you?’
‘I did my duty.’
‘No, Milo, you didn’t. You exceeded it. Thank you.’
‘I wish to offer my formal condolences for the loss of your child, domina. Your mother would have mourned with you as the whole household does now.’
‘That’s very kind. Please thank everybody. Will you arrange a date for the pontifex to conduct the proper ceremonies?’
The idea of receiving the tiny urn made me scream inside my head. I would have to face it, but not yet. Plico had said his sister went through this hell twice. How had she coped?
The sun shed horizon
tal pale yellow light of a winter afternoon and it struck Milo’s face. In amongst the harsh features, I thought I saw a relaxation of his face muscles as he nodded.
‘I don’t suppose you saw anything, did you?’ I said.
‘The vigiles have been through all that with me, and then Secretary Plico.’
‘Yes, but you haven’t answered my question.’
‘No, I didn’t,’ he added, ‘but as I told them, I heard the sound of a boat engine, so I suppose he escaped that way.’
I took a deep breath, which was intensely painful. ‘He must have hired or stolen that from somewhere. I wonder—’
‘You must not worry, domina. Leave it to the vigiles.’
‘They couldn’t trace a boat theft if it was taken from a mooring under their noses.’
*
I left hospital five days later with the doctor tutting at me, and escorted by a Praetorian. Milo had brought me warm clothes, my Loden coat and fur hat, but it was snowing with a vengeance outside. I shivered as I left the over-warm hospital and crossed the short distance to the car. A slicing wind caught my neck and I pulled the folds of my scarf up to my ears.
Numerus greeted me at my own house as if he were the new porter.
‘Nothing to report, I’m afraid, Major. One walk-by that interested us for a few minutes, in walking boots and a felt hat. Some Swiss or Austrian tourist, I suspect. He didn’t come back the same way.’
‘I hope he was wearing more than a hat and boots in this weather.’
‘Ha! Usual walking outfit, complete with cape.’ He glanced at me. ‘He was short and he wasn’t limping.’
I lay on the sofa for the rest of the day, only interrupted by a home visit from the physiotherapist. She checked I was doing the infernal deep breathing exercises which hurt like Hades. At least the strapping had been taken off before I left the Central Valetudinarium. The jagged groove in my arm caused by Caius’s bullet had scabbed and itched as if a whole hive of bees had stung it, but it wasn’t infected. The therapist brought me a different cocktail of pills from the doctor which helped with pain and swelling. It would be past Saturnalia before I healed physically, but my mind was clear now; glasklar, as my cousin Achim would have said.
AURELIA (Roma Nova Book 4) Page 24