Retalio

by Alison Morton

  ‘Show me,’ I ordered him.

  Three sleek tubes, complete with padded shoulder bracket, sights and trigger handles and four crates, three closed, of slim rockets lay on the bed of the lorry. I clapped the optio on the shoulder and smiled at him.

  ‘Excellent work.’

  I tasked Junia to liaise with the convoy centurion about placement and to designate firing teams.

  I went back and stood with braced legs and arms crossed in front of the nats.

  ‘Let’s keep this simple. It’s over. You either cooperate with us or you’ll have a very uncomfortable ride back to a holding area. We are at war. As you fired on imperial troops of the legal government of Roma Nova, we may under law execute you here and now.’

  I let that sink in.

  ‘Your choice.’

  The one with the bleeding nose spat on the ground where it froze. The optio smacked him in the face which made the nat cough violently. I raised my hand in the optio’s direction.

  ‘Enough. Some pigs prefer to remain in the trough, optio.’ I glanced at Junia who gave the tiniest nod in reply. ‘Lieutenant, take him away. You and the optio know what to do.’

  The young soldier pulled the nat roughly and the three of them disappeared further up the convoy. We waited a minute. The gunshot cracked loud across the empty fields, followed by a grunt and the sound of a body falling.

  The other two nats looked at each other, terror filling their faces.

  ‘We didn’t mean nuffink. It was him, Statius. He made us do it.’

  ‘Do what?’

  ‘Get them bazookas out.’

  Not an accurate description, but I wasn’t going to engage in military semantics.

  ‘What are you, political activists, doing with specialist military hardware?’

  ‘It’s… secret. Top secret, we was told.’

  ‘Well, you can tell me your little secrets. They’ll be quite safe.’

  They exchanged glances.

  ‘If you’re not going to share, then we’ll deal with you summarily.’ I made a performance of looking at my watch. ‘Lieutenant,’ I called.

  Junia strode round from the hidden side of the truck, in the middle of replacing her service pistol in her holster.

  ‘Another one, ma’am?’ she said.

  ‘Both of them. We don’t have time for this.’

  The older of the nats fell to his knees, sobbing.

  ‘Don’t shoot me. Please. I’ve got kids. And a wife. If we tell, they’ll kill them. You’re women, you understand.’

  Poor sod, he was completely stuck. The younger one chewed his lip so hard, it burst the skin and blood welled out. Whatever it was, it was important. And I had the growing feeling it was worth pushing for.

  ‘We’re Praetorians first, at a time of war,’ I said crisply. They both flinched. ‘There is no soft option. You have ten seconds or you will join your comrade.’

  ‘No comrade of ours,’ the younger one said and looked up. ‘He’s a complete bastard. He’s my brother-in-law and knocked my sister about. Now he’s gone, I’ll tell you what you want to know.’

  ‘A wise decision. I’m listening.’

  ‘We was sent orders. Some rebels was trying to make a fuss so they told us to blow them… you… off the road.’

  ‘And why were you doing it?’

  ‘Cos… cos the military ain’t coming.’

  38

  We sent the two nats back under guard to the holding area under Atrius’s command where he had established a secure area for prisoners. As they climbed up into the back of the truck they looked surprised when a trussed up figure was thrown in after them; Statius, the one who’d spat on the ground and that Junia and the optio had hauled off. Now he wore a large purple bruise on his face, but otherwise he was living and breathing. Did they really think we would have shot him?

  Volusenia’s voice crackled over the HF encrypted radio, but I could hear the pleasure in it when I reported what the nats had said.

  ‘So the magister has found his balls. Good. I’ve just given the signal to the resistance units inside the city. Calavia has confirmed receipt. No need to tell you to proceed carefully, though. Execute Phase IV, Aurora.’

  Despite a long drink of strong coffee somebody handed me, I yawned. I fished a couple of energy pills out of my pocket and gulped them down. But they wouldn’t be the only things keeping me going today. Volusenia’s plan was working well. As we brought the main force in from the west and sent two centuries of troops to the north of the city, units from Castra Lucilla in the south and Brancadorum in the east would advance; together we’d draw the loop round the city tighter and tighter until we’d caught all the rats in the bag.

  Light glimmered on the eastern horizon as we approached the outer edge of the city; our objective was an industrial park. A pair of bolt cutters on the chain slung between the gates and we were in a factory loading area. Calavia’s resistance group had done their reconnaissance very well. It was perfect. The peeling paint on the walls and weeds growing round the edges witnessed it was months since anything had loaded goods for dispatch. As quietly as possible, we parked all vehicles and formed up in centuries under the loading bay canopies. We were nearly at old cohort strength, four hundred and eighty, plus officers.

  With Junia and the centurions standing to the side of the short wheelbase that I was using as my staff car, I clambered onto the seat and stood looking round at our troops, our task force. Although they all wore purple armbands with gold eagles, some were kitted out in old uniforms, some plain green trousers and jackets, some in black, dark blue and brown all jumbled up. Praetorians were mixed into each group along with women ex-vigiles and military. Some of our fighters were young, fired by patriotism and adventure, others, older, were more cynical, but all were prepared to risk their lives. As they stood easy, their fingers around the tops of the barrels of rifles resting on the concrete, I could sense the contained tension. I must not fail them.

  ‘Free Imperial Forces of Roma Nova,’ I began. ‘Today, we go to liberate our country. We are entering Roma Nova city to free our own people from a tyranny they have endured for nearly a year and a half. Our argument is not with our friends and families, our colleagues and neighbours who have lived under such extreme conditions that it may have marred their judgement.

  ‘Our argument is with a usurper and his henchmen, his destructive and grasping council of terror. I expect you to shake their world into pieces. Be ferocious in fighting, wipe them out if that is what they choose, but allow them to surrender if they choose otherwise.

  ‘Civil war is uncivil. Thus, it must be quick and sharp if we are to stitch our country back together. We have survived over fifteen hundred years. My aim today is to ensure we survive for the next fifteen hundred.’

  I saw a few smiles at that, but only a few, as it started to dawn on them that we were now plunging ourselves voluntarily into an unremittingly harsh situation.

  ‘My intention is for every single one of you to be alive at the end of today, but some standing here and those preparing themselves in other imperial units or in resistance groups in the city may not be. We will treat their bodies with dignity and send them back to their families.

  ‘Caius Tellus and his so-called nationalists should be in no doubt that we are their personal Furies. We will pursue them to their destruction, if necessary. But a word of caution – I want Caius Tellus alive to stand before a court of the Roma Novan people and be judged.

  ‘Most of you have served in the military, at least fulfilled your national service. For some of you that may be a dimmer memory than for others. Many of you have received training in Vienna. Remember it, and obey your commanders even in the most harrowing moments. They will bring you through.

  ‘But above all remember this: it is a big step to take another human life. You may not have a moment to think about it if your opponent is aiming a weapon at your head, intent on killing you. Your training and instinct for survival will kick in. But if
someone surrenders to you then be firm, but gracious. We are not barbarians. The ones who are determined to fight on, well, we will not disappoint them.’

  I took a breath and looked around. Bright eyes and serious, some grim, faces looked back.

  ‘Roma Novans are fierce fighters; this is our history,’ I said. ‘Today with Mars’ blessing we will add to that history. Bona fortuna and may the gods be with you.’

  They stood in silence for a few moments, some glancing at comrades, others keeping their gaze towards the front as if not thinking of anything in particular – a sort of detachment. All we could hear were birds chirruping as they went about their early morning routine, completely uncaring about us or any other human. The centurions and optiones recovered first and gathered up their units. They left quietly, marching off in silence towards the city; only my own small detail, and Junia’s, were left.

  She spent the next ten minutes checking coordinates with the drivers and establishing radio checks, and advised our people to rest or relax for the next fifty minutes. I was so lucky to have such a practical soldier as my executive officer.

  We had to give the task force an hour to march in and secure the first targets, so after receiving radio confirmation that the units to the north, east and south sides of the city had set off for their objectives, I closed my eyes and dozed.

  When my watch alarm went off I shook myself out of my torpor and signalled to my driver to get us underway. Our three-vehicle convoy, followed by an infantry unit, moved through the first suburbs. It was early and the chill in the air bit, but nobody was in the street. Not a sign of local curia vans cleaning the street or collecting rubbish. No early shift workers or delivery vans or even the odd light leak at the edges of shutters. Street lights were all out, several with broken lamps. We veered round potholes as we proceeded between houses and were passed through a checkpoint one of our task force had set up. As the morning light grew, single houses gave way to multiple-storey insulae lining the streets as we approached the western end of the Via Nova.

  Then I heard the sharp rhythmic noise on the tarmac. It echoed through the silence. More joined it. I signalled the driver to stop and we bailed out. Our detail took up defensive positions, our second vehicle crew manning the machine gun. The two scouts crept forward of the woman on point. I snatched my pistol from its holster and took a deep breath. One half of my brain had identified the noise immediately but the other half dismissed it.

  Then the tall figure appeared, rifle slung diagonally across his back. He swayed with his horse’s movement which seemed slow, but gained on us fast. The horse’s breath plumed in the cold air. I thrust my pistol back into its holster and my temper back down into my core.

  ‘Stand down,’ I called to the troops. I raised my hands, put the backs together and parted them in a jerk. The scouts and point woman flattened themselves against building walls on each side of the street. Half a dozen more mounted troops followed, but halted a little way back.

  ‘Where in Pluto’s name have you been?’ I blasted at their leader.

  He grinned, swung one leg over the horse’s back and slid to the ground in one fluid movement. He strode towards me and before I could react, he grabbed me and kissed me thoroughly. I struggled but his hard grip round my waist didn’t relax. I had to admit I didn’t really want to be released. He stroked my cheek and made shushing noises. After a few moments I pulled myself out the world of Miklós and Aurelia and came back to the cold deserted street in the middle of a civil war. I glared at the smirks on my troops’ faces. Junia called them all to order and they slipped back into neutral military mode. I pulled Miklós to one side.

  ‘Why the hell haven’t you done radio checks?’

  ‘We’ve been too busy for that.’

  ‘What have you been up to?’

  ‘This and that.’ He waved his hand at nothing and glanced away.

  ‘Miklós…’

  ‘Well, after we’d taken Aquae Caesaris and Castra Lucilla, what was there to do? I sent the Castra Lucilla group to Brancadorum and came here with mine. We thought we’d have a little fun.’

  ‘Fun? Describe “fun”.’

  ‘We scared the vigiles back into their stations yesterday.’ His dark eyes gleamed. ‘They ran like squealing pigs. We slept at a farm outside the city last night. The horses are rested and we are all ready for today.’ He grinned again. 'What would you like us to do?’

  A deafening explosion stopped my answer. We threw ourselves on the ground. A heart-rending scream as one of the group of horses collapsed and the rider with it.

  ‘Get the fuck out of here,’ I screeched at him. ‘And switch your bloody radio on.’ He leapt up on his horse and waved his arm vigorously at the other riders. I heard rather than saw the other riders gallop off, thundering down the tarmac.

  ‘Move, move now!’ I shouted and clambered into the short wheelbase.

  We raced on for fifty metres, then dived down a side street to regroup.

  Another blast to the street where we’d been. Damn, their aim was far more accurate than the amateurs we’d met before.

  ‘Get a fix on that and relay it to the nearest two groups of the task force,’ I said to the centurion in the third short wheelbase. ‘Order them to go and deal with it. Mars’ balls, we have to keep damage to the city to a minimum.’

  The radio crackled. ‘Message for Aquila Zero from Inferna One.’

  I stretched my hand out. ‘Go ahead.’

  ‘Welcome to the city, Aquila One.’ Calavia. She was still alive. Thank Diana. ‘Care to join me for a drink at my grandmother’s?’

  Gods, she really did have a gallows sense of humour.

  ‘Any traffic on the way?’ I asked equally casually.

  ‘A few mosquitoes, but we’ve squashed a good number.’

  ‘There in thirty. Out.’

  ‘Junia, get me reports from the units, and send a scout vehicle out down the Via Apulia.’

  * * *

  We made our way gingerly down the Via Apulia, passing through roadblocks our task force had set up. The reports were encouraging. Some resistance from nats’ district and street offices and the occasional vigiles station; three were still resisting, besieged by our troops, but it was a matter of time. I could still hear ordnance exploding and gunshots, but only intermittently. We stopped just short of the forum and cut the engines: the silence, the deserted streets, dust and filth everywhere. Then a scurrying movement. Two rifles trained and cocked on the source within instants. This was supposed to be a clear route according to Calavia. A child of about six or seven clambered out from under a tarpaulin in a half-demolished insulae block, her rounded eyes pleading. She stretched out a skinny hand.

  ‘Eat.’

  The area was deserted, but we looked around first and guards slipped into position round our vehicles so we had a three-sixty view. It wouldn’t be the first time a begging child had been used as bait.

  I leaned towards the girl. ‘Where’s your mama?’

  ‘Gone.’

  I signalled an optio forward. He fished out an energy bar. The girl grabbed it, tore the wrapper off and ate it in three bites. She held her hand out again.

  ‘Eat.’

  The optio gave her a drink of water in the steel cup that topped his flask. She gulped the water down, glanced at him, then the cup. Too late, he went to grab her, but she’d fled back into the insulae block, the optio’s cup in her hand.

  ‘The little tart!’ He went to go after her.

  ‘Leave it. She probably needs the cup more than you do.’

  Nothing else happened on our journey except somebody took a pot shot at us when we turned off the Via Apulia. Junia took a detail with her and rousted out a teenager with a shotgun.

  ‘For Jupiter’s sake,’ I said to the sulky boy when they dragged him out of the apartment block. ‘Don’t you have anything more sensible to do? And where in Hades did you get that shotgun?’ I thought Caius had confiscated all firearms.

  The b
oy said nothing, and looked down at the ground. He couldn’t have been older than thirteen, fourteen at most.

  ‘Answer me,’ I said.

  ‘Gun was my dad’s,’ he mumbled.

  ‘Go home and lock your door. Stay inside with your family and don’t come out until you hear a public announcement. And no more heroics.’

  He looked up and flinched. His eyes reflected pure fright. ‘Ain’t you going to kill me?’ His voice was shrill.

  ‘Of course not. We’re not barbarians.’

  ‘They said—’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘If ever the women came back they’d kill all the boys under sixteen.’

  Then he gulped and snot ran out of his nose along with tears down his cheeks.

  Junia gasped and one of the two soldiers holding the boy looked so horrified, she covered her mouth with her hand. I stared at him as if I hadn’t heard correctly. But I knew I had. Bloody Caius.

  ‘What’s your name, child?’ I asked.

  ‘J–Justus.’ He sniffed and wiped his nose with the back of his hand.

  ‘Well, Justus, that was a lie, like all of Caius Tellus’s lies. He and his nationalists tell lies all the time. We’ve come to save Roma Novans like you. All and every one of you.’ And I pulled him to me and let him sob his heart out.

  39

  ‘So where are we, Captain?’

  I sat on a slashed and half-burnt leather armchair opposite Pia Calavia in the wreckage of Domus Calaviarum’s atrium. Broken statues, furniture and columns had been moved to the sides, part-torn hangings and curtains were supplemented with plain cloth or blankets to keep light and inquisitive gazes out. Books had been thrown all over the floor and were covered in a year’s dust.

  Trestle tables with women and men handling paper, talking into radios and telephone handsets created a steady background buzz.