Successio

by Alison Morton

  And what was all this personal time in work hours? Then the worst thought struck me with the force of a marble wall. My head felt weightless, then the room started turning. I stopped, grabbed on to my desk.

  No.

  Impossible.

  He’d never shown any interest in anybody else since the day we’d met. Incredible, considering how he’d screwed around before then. I was a hundred per cent sure he would have said something.

  Roma Novans weren’t squeamish about relationships; they wouldn’t have survived the centuries without a pragmatic approach. Unlike that first break fifteen years ago when I’d thrown him out, Conrad and I would try to have a civilised conversation and work out the practicalities. It sounded so cold-blooded to Westerners, but it cut out a lot of hysterics.

  *

  I was waiting, not directly opposite the PGSF barracks as CCTV scanned the whole area in front of the building. I’d been crouched down by my Ducati in a narrow pedestrian alley for nearly half an hour. Assaulted by the worst autumn storm this year, I huddled up against the wall. The damned rain dribbled down my leathers and over my boots in miniature drunken rivulets. The roof overhang three floors up gave no shelter.

  In my foul mood, I nearly missed him.

  Right on 14.00, he came out of the service gate. I glimpsed a silver pool car and the driver’s dark blond head. I scrambled on to my bike, hit the gas pedal and curved out of the alley in pursuit. The driving rain smashed against my body but I didn’t care; it would help hide me. I followed his vehicle’s taillights at the furthest distance I dared, only once having to make an evasive manoeuvre.

  Ten minutes later, he stopped outside our own front gate. For the gods’ sake! I watched as he passed the entry scan and disappeared through the tall gateway.

  What was he doing home at such a time of the day and why was it so secretive? I knew I hadn’t triggered the house CCTV from where I was, but I couldn’t risk getting any nearer if I wanted to stay unobserved. I waited.

  Twenty-five minutes later, he drove out again, heading south-west. He parked on the street in the macellum quarter, once the central market, now expanded to include a large shopping centre and streets of individual outlets. He didn’t get out of the vehicle immediately. I was too far away to see exactly what he was doing. I searched in my inside pocket and cursed when I found I didn’t have my scope.

  As he opened the door, I saw him thrust something in his pocket. Probably his cell. He opened the trunk and took out a messenger bag. While he was feeding the meter with coins, I stripped off my leathers and stuffed them with the helmet into the lockbox on the back of my bike. Only just in time, before he’d set off down the street. Pulling my sweater hood up over my head, I loped after him, keeping a good distance and occasionally fiddling with my fake music player headphones.

  When he glanced up at the street name, I stopped and pretended to gaze into a display window full of new generation communicators. In the reflection, I saw him go through a door three metres up on the other side of the road. I picked up a brochure, wrinkled with damp, from the literature stand by the shop entrance. Why hadn’t they taken it in when the storm started? It was raining less intensely now, still steady enough to soak through my jeans and sweatshirt.

  After five minutes, I lurched across the road, running for the wall for shelter. When I reached the door Conrad had vanished through, I dropped down, re-tied my sneaker and, as I stood up, read the brass plate.

  I jogged down the street some way, then doubled back to my bike, pulled my leathers on and headed back to the PGSF building. In the garages, I parked up and hung my leathers up to dry. Even after I was back into my uniform, I was still puzzling it out. A lawyer. I guessed he wanted to try spring Nicola. But neither Allegra nor I was backing off on that one. I really hoped he wasn’t consulting her about divorce. But Claudia Vara, of all possible lawyers?

  *

  I got home to find Marcella waiting for me, grim-faced.

  ‘She’s not—’

  ‘No, but she insists on seeing you as soon as you get in.’

  ‘Why in Hades didn’t you call me? I would have come immediately. You know that.’ I glared at her.

  ‘She wouldn’t let me.’

  ‘Gods! Next time, Marcella, you call me.’

  Why the hell was I saying, ‘next time’?

  I took the stairs two at a time. The nurse was sitting at the bedside, reading a magazine. He started up, a slightly guilty expression. However dedicated, time must have dragged for him. My grandmother looked so peaceful. Even the oxygen mask she now wore didn’t hide her wrecked face.

  ‘She’s had a good afternoon. Your husband visited for a while, then she slept,’ he whispered. ‘She woke a little while ago, wanting to see you, but said she would wait. She ordered me not to call you.’

  Oh, Nonna. Impossible to the end.

  I bent over and kissed her forehead. I sat on the chair next to her and held her hand against my cheek.

  ‘Carina?’

  ‘Here, Nonna,’

  ‘Call Allegra. And the recorder.’

  I looked at the nurse and he went out.

  ‘Carina. You have to stop this girl,’ she gasped. ‘She’s Caius. All over again.’

  No. Not Caius Tellus the traitor who had wrecked Roma Nova. How could Nicola be like that monster?

  ‘Don’t agitate yourself, Nonna, please.’

  ‘No, listen.’ Her eyes glinted, hardened, surrounded by bloodshot and discoloured whites. ‘Promise me. Or she’ll destroy you all.’

  ‘It’s all right, Nonna. We’ve got her. She’s in prison, awaiting trial for what she did to Allegra. Please don’t worry.’

  ‘You don’t understand. Ask Quintus.’ She sighed and shut her eyes. I froze. I thought she’d gone. But I saw her shoulders move and she took a few breaths.

  I turned around at the noise of the door opening. Dalina and Allegra, followed by Marcella and the doctor, who came forward, took Nonna’s pulse. He looked at me and shook his head. I signalled Allegra forward. She kissed Aurelia’s cheek and her hand, then placed it in mine.

  ‘Carina. My ring,’ Aurelia whispered. ‘Take it.’

  I hesitated, glanced at Dalina, who nodded. I drew the heavy gold ring off Nonna’s right hand, untying the ribbon that had kept it fastened to her shrinking finger. Not knowing what else to do with it, I slipped it on the middle finger of my right hand.

  I sat down in my chair, scarcely believing what was happening, what I’d done. I leant forward, gently took Nonna’s hand and held it until it went limp.

  ‘Take her breath, Countess,’ prompted Dalina. I stood up, bent over and kissed Aurelia’s lips. I reached out and closed her eyes. Cold drenched through me. I shivered.

  ‘Nonna,’ I whispered. ‘Nonna! Come back.’ She couldn’t hear me, of course.

  ‘Aurelia Mitela,’ piped up Allegra. ‘Vale.’

  Gods! I’d forgotten what I was supposed to do.

  ‘Aurelia Mitela, vale,’ we repeated twice more. The shouts behind me nearly deafened me. The room was full of people I hadn’t noticed arriving.

  I sat frozen. I barely registered the rhythmic patter outside of rain falling steadily. Grey outside and grey in my heart.

  X

  I didn’t have a clue how long I sat there. A touch on the shoulder; it was Allegra with a hot cup of tea. She stood there while I drank it.

  *

  I woke suddenly, a cold draught sliced across my feet. My neck ached and my back was stiff. My watch said four in the morning. I glanced at the bed. Aurelia was resting peacefully, but her hand in mine was like a block of ice. Then I remembered. Oh, gods.

  *

  A hard cramp in my stomach woke me up. I was in my own bed. How had I gotten here? My head thumped and my eyes were sore and desiccated. Half eleven! I struggled to the bathroom, showered and dressed quickly. As I reached for the bedroom door handle, my head swam and my stomach retched. I ran back to the bathroom and threw up. I leaned over
the john, spitting out liquid, draining my core.

  A gentle hand wiped my face, handed me a glass of water to rinse my mouth.

  ‘Marcella?’

  ‘Gently, take it gently.’

  ‘I have to—’

  ‘No, you have to do nothing. I’ve called the Senior Legate’s office. You are on a month’s leave.’

  Had she spoken to Conrad or just Rusonia? I couldn’t summon the effort to care one way or the other.

  ‘I’ve called the council for this evening at six. The undertakers are preparing your grandmother’s body. Countess Allegra and Helena are looking after the children.’ Her face relaxed a little. Gods, she must be mourning herself; she’d been with Nonna for at least twenty years. Yet she’d done all this stuff. I hung my head with shame.

  ‘Come and have a sandwich. Dalina Mitela is waiting for you. She’ll take you through what has to happen next.’

  I moved on automatic but felt as if I was watching somebody else being me. I shivered as I closed the door on my apartment. Everything around me looked as clean and serene as usual; no noise, no bustling, no chaos except in my head. I felt like a victim ripped out from a war zone and set down in the middle of Pleasantville.

  At first glance, everything looked normal in the atrium. Then I saw that the huge planters full of luxurious ferns and fronds had been moved from the centre over to the alcove opposite the large plate glass side doors. Beams of light fell from the bulls’-eye in centre of the roof of the great hall no longer onto the plants, but now onto a raised platform with a figure lying on it.

  My grandmother was laid out, dressed in a white palla and purple stola. She rested surrounded by flowers and greenery on a deep-pile blue velvet cloth draped over the platform. I smelled myrtle and cypress. Myrtle for Mitela. From the walled garden. A single tear escaped and ran down my face. Was I going to fall down and weep? But I was numb, motionless. I had nothing to give.

  The open flames on tall black stands at the four corners flickered, the only artificial light as the electrical lighting had been switched off. I felt Dalina press a metal disc into my hand, a gold solidus which I placed in Aurelia’s mouth to pay Charon the ferryman to take her safely into the next world. I’d never laugh at one of her wicked jokes again, flinch from the bracing tone of her voice, watch her negotiating through the shark waters of corporate life or in the Senate. Nor would I find comfort in her arms when she consoled me.

  I stepped back to join Dalina and we stood quietly. I couldn’t watch Nonna enough. Illogical, but I thought she was sleeping and would wake up, asking what we all thought we were doing, standing around like dummies. Cousins, colleagues, friends and one enemy drifted in during the afternoon to pay their respects or perhaps to see if the supposedly indestructible Aurelia Mitela really was dead.

  A good half hour had passed since the last visitor when I felt a tingle in my shoulder, caught an impression out of the corner of my eye of a beige-clothed figure entering the atrium from the opposite corner. My gut clenched. Was it Conrad? Had he come back? I swivelled around to get a better look in the gloom and took half a step forward. Not blond hair, not his cat-like walk. I shouldn’t have been so disappointed, but it was Daniel. Another figure behind him, in dark pants and jacket. They walked in step, their solemn faces coming into focus as they approached the bier.

  ‘Carina,’ was all Daniel said. His eyes shone with emotion. Ignoring all and any protocol, he seized my hands, bent over and kissed my forehead. I grasped his hands firmly in return.

  ‘Daniel—’

  ‘I know.’

  I gave his companion a thin smile. ‘Michael.’ I waved my hand vaguely. ‘This is not quite what you expected to see during your visit with us.’

  ‘Carina, I’m so sorry. I hope you will accept my deepest condolences.’

  ‘Thank you. You’re very kind.’

  ‘And if you need help with that other matter or anything else, you know I’ll do anything I can.’

  ‘You’re going now?’

  ‘Yes, I thought it best. You don’t want any tourists at a time like this.’

  ‘Have a good flight, then,’ I said dully.

  He dropped his bag, placed his hand on my shoulders, bent down and kissed my cheek.

  I laid my hand on his forearm. ‘Thank you,’ I said and sniffed. I gathered my wits and smiled at him. ‘Thank you for all the help with catching that girl. We’d never have gotten her without you.’

  He shrugged. ‘We have to stick together, you know. My pleasure. I hope it all works out.’

  He and Daniel turned to go and we found Conrad behind us.

  Juno! Where had he come from? And so quietly?

  Contempt and anger fought it out on his face.

  ‘Yes, thanks to the over-efficient captain,’ he said, his tone stripped of all warmth, ‘my daughter is now stuck in a foreign prison, friendless and helpless. Good work, Captain.’

  Michael fought to contain himself; his common sense won out.

  ‘Conrad,’ snapped Daniel, ‘leave it. Not the place or time.’ He nodded towards Aurelia lying on the bier. ‘Back off.’

  ‘Or what, Daniel?’

  Oh, gods. Luckily we spoke in English and no outsiders were present, only Dalina who tried desperately not to look curious.

  ‘Don’t be so childish, man,’ Daniel said. ‘You’re upsetting Carina and making an arse of yourself. Go away and calm down.’

  He turned to me. ‘We have to go or Michael will miss his plane.’ He gave me a fleeting smile, turned his back on Conrad, and left with Michael.

  I grabbed Conrad’s arm. ‘Get over here,’ I hissed at him, pulling him to the side, away from the bier, ‘and shut up. I’ve had just about enough of you acting dumb.’

  ‘Dumb? What a quaint expression,’ he smirked.

  I almost smacked it off his face.

  ‘Just what in Hades do you think you’re playing at? Or has that little tart so bewitched you?’ I felt tears of rage and frustration pooling in my eyes. ‘Yes, she’s genetically your daughter, but what about the other daughter she tried to get killed? If I remember, you were going to break every bone in her body.’

  ‘She’s misguided, that’s all.’ His face was sullen.

  ‘Misguided? She’s a murderer. Can’t you see that?’

  ‘She’s got nobody. I’ve been to see her. She’s in a bad way, miserable and depressed.’

  What was he talking about? Cocky and aggressive weren’t strong enough words to describe her when I’d seen the DJ custodes questioning her two days ago.

  ‘Look, Conrad, try taking a step back and thinking this through. She’s trying to manipulate you right where you’re most vulnerable. Don’t fall for it. We’ve got to think of Allegra, our daughter.’

  ‘Huh. My fourth daughter’s got her powerful and tough mother to protect and coddle her. My first one is abandoned and alone.’

  How could he be so illogical? I glowered at him.

  He glared back.

  I put my hand out and placed it on his forearm. ‘Conrad, don’t.’

  He shook it off as if swatting an insect and stomped off.

  What in Hades was happening to him?

  *

  Seven days later, as dusk was falling, we prepared to burn Nonna. As I slid the white stola over my black palla and tied the white cloth belt that morning, I still could not weep. Nor when they collected the bier and loaded it on to the carriage. As we drove past the forum, I knew I was lucky nobody expected a lengthy public oration, the laudatio, these days. Allegra, in identical dress, her hair loose like mine, smiled and squeezed my hand.

  At the family mausoleum, several kilometres out of town, I watched the bearers lift the heavy bier. Nonna was light enough, Juno knew, but still the eight of them struggled. I recognised most; three senators, Aurelia’s corporate henchman, Martius Bullo, Crispus Mitelus and his brother, one dark-haired younger man, a cousin whose name I couldn’t recall but recognised, and Daniel.

  Silvia j
oined Allegra and me while we were forming up for the procession and as we were about to set off, I saw Conrad, in funeral black, tap the young cousin on the shoulder and take his place at the back opposite Daniel. The look they exchanged was nuclear. After that they ignored each other. I didn’t know whether to be happy or annoyed. The old Conrad had loved and respected Aurelia. Was he doing it for her or to support me?

  Gil carried a palm and basket, Tonia the traditional slim spade. I’d protested they were too young, but Helena had intervened.

  ‘They desperately want to be involved, Carina. Give them something to do, they’ll feel part of the ceremony. It’ll be more frightening for them if they think they’ve been left out. Better Mitelae than strangers, in any case.’

  And Allegra had backed her.

  I’d drawn the line at mask-carrying and noisy professionals – too much pantomime. I gathered it had pretty much died out anyway. The soothing music from the band at the front was much better. Hundreds turned out, not just Mitelae, but many of the other Twelve Families, two-thirds, I guessed, of the Senate plus the general ranks of the great and the good. I felt so disconnected; I couldn’t register anybody beyond two metres. It was like being on some film set. At the walled burning ground, I stopped, my stomach in my throat. I could smell the pyres from the past, the wood, the perfumes, the aromatic branches and herbs. And the burning flesh. Allegra looked up at me, concerned, but Silvia grabbed my arm and murmured, ‘Keep going.’

  I turned to her, but she was facing forward, expressionless.

  I got a grip, stood in front of the bier while people flowed in on each side and found a place. The music stopped, silence took over. I felt a thousand eyes on me, curious, tolerant, but expectant. I stepped up to the microphone and delivered the speech Dalina had helped me prepare for this private audience; gracious, celebratory and short.

  I followed the rehearsal to the letter; torch in hand, lead in my heart, I walked around the pyre three times with Allegra and Silvia following, and came back to the start. I put the torch to the pyre and turned away as the kerosene-assisted flames erupted. I stepped back, not merely to avoid the rising heat, but in emotional retreat. My grandmother was gone; we wouldn’t be burning her else.