Retalio

by Alison Morton

  Calavia ran her fingers through her hair and consulted a scruffy notebook.

  ‘We have the TV and radio stations but are maintaining a permanent guard there. Those nat bastards were broadcasting propaganda right up to the moment we burst into the studios. We brought in the former director of Roma Nova TV as soon as it was safe and she’s organising a programme of music and keep calm messages. They’re showing films out of the archives on a loop. I’d like you to go up there as soon as you are able, ma’am, and do a broadcast. Any chance of the young imperatrix doing the same?’

  ‘You tell me, Pia. Is it safe for her?’

  ‘The troops from the four columns of the task force have occupied the city itself. All the objectives on the list you gave to the resistance groups have been acquired.’

  ‘This is wonderful, Pia.’

  ‘To be honest, I think we were pushing against a three-quarter open door. People had had enough. Food is short, jobs have evaporated, services are nearly non-existent. People are talking openly about the brutality. My groups have been recruiting exponentially. In fact, it’s difficult keeping tabs on them all and stopping them going off early. And your leafleting and broadcasts have been cutting through the crap.’

  ‘Are there any central services left? What about the hospital?’

  ‘Very few, but the Central Valetudinarium is just about functioning. A couple of my people work there, one as a doctor, another former surgeon as a nurse. She says they’re having to put people in the corridors.’

  ‘What about casualties? Surely they’re getting attention?’

  ‘We’ve had some, and yes, we’ve sent them there with guards to ensure they’re treated as a priority. Thank Mars and all the gods, the military didn’t turn out, though. I’ve sent a driver and escort over to find the magister militum and bring him here.’

  ‘Good move,’ I said. ‘Since he chose not to turn out his troops against us, we should bring him in to thank him and get him to help us maintain order, even if temporarily.’

  ‘I’d rather use my own people if we can until we’ve vetted his troops.’ Her voice was flat, but I caught a note of wariness. Perhaps she was remembering how the regulars had captured us when she and I were trying to escape from Roma Nova a year and a half ago.

  ‘Your call. But I’ll talk to him when he gets here.’ I waved my hand to take in the atrium. ‘Are you using this house as your HQ?’

  ‘Until we get Tellus out of the Golden Palace.’

  ‘He’s still there?’

  ‘His political troops are taking too many of our people out, so we’ve drawn back to a safe margin.’ She looked across the atrium at the clerks and then to the door where two guards stood. She lowered her head and leaned towards me. ‘I don’t know if Caius Tellus knows about the tunnels or their exit points but I’m playing it safe. I’ve stationed some of my people at the premises where they come out from the palace. All I’ve told the troops is that they’re rendezvous points for the nats’ fall-back.’

  ‘Well done. I’ll get Junia Sestina to reinforce them with some of her troops.’ I glanced at my watch. ‘It’s half one now. I’ll go and do the broadcast shortly. You don’t have any food here, do you?’

  She laughed.

  ‘One of my own group is a baker. I just gave her the keycode to my grandmother’s storeroom, showed her the kitchen and left her to it. What would you like?’

  While I was eating chunky soup made of Juno knew what, with bread that could win a competition, a signal came through; Silvia, Volusenia and a civilian administration convoy were on their way with a heavy escort.

  I left Junia at Domus Calaviarum as local military commander while Pia Calavia and I plus two Praetorians set off for the TV station. The streets were full of pieces of brick and stone, shattered glass, stinking rubbish and, the gods save us, at least half a dozen human bodies.

  ‘We need to mobilise the refuse collectors, to clear all this and the vigiles to take these poor sods away. We can’t leave people sprawled on the street. Have you found their prefect yet?’

  ‘He’s in the XI Regio station, refusing to let us in or to come out.’

  ‘Hm. Let’s see if he’s so brave saying that to Volusenia.’

  * * *

  At the TV station, I recorded a reassuring speech, outlining what had happened and asking people to stay inside their houses for the next twenty-four hours for their own safety. Further information would also be broadcast over the radio. I hoped I didn’t stumble too much; I was so tired. When we returned to her house, Calavia pushed me upstairs to a large room with a welcoming bed, removed my boots and closed the curtains. I was asleep within seconds.

  * * *

  I jerked my eyes open. My head shook with the noise of the blast. I sat up in a cloud of dust and noise, thrust my feet into my boots and grabbed my pistol. Shouting from downstairs. I tore down the graceful, now battered, central stairwell into the former drawing room.

  ‘What in Hades was that?’

  Pia whirled round, her face covered in dust.

  ‘Those bloody nats are firing ordnance indiscriminately. They know they’re done and just want to take the whole place down with them.’ She turned and called to the centurion now coordinating her staff table. ‘Report. Now.’

  ‘Right, Calavia,’ I snapped. ‘We’re not taking the siege option. We have to go in. I’m calling in all task force members with recent infantry experience plus Praetorians to meet here in sixty minutes. Please relay that to all units, stat.’

  We were over two hundred by the time we set off. Junia would lead the main assault group which would slog it up the hill to the Golden Palace. Two other groups would attack from the side. Three parties of twenty, one led by me, were going down the tunnels. Stuff the secrecy now.

  Calavia clasped my forearm.

  ‘You’ve chosen the most dangerous way, Aurelia Mitela. Bona fortuna.’

  * * *

  I nodded to the guards standing in front of the old armourer’s house in the suburb beyond the city walls. Calavia and I had escaped this way when we were trying to find Silvia and Volusenia the year before last. They had disappeared on the night of the fires when Caius had made his power grab.

  The old armourer was still there, though with more grey hair and less body weight. Her muscular arms were diminished; she was now using them to pour drinks for the guards and irregulars lounging about in her sitting room.

  ‘You!’ Her eyes flared in recognition. ‘I mean, domina. They said you was dead, the first consul s’posed to have shot you himself.’

  ‘As you see, Armourer, I’m very much alive. Now we need to use the er, facilities.’ I counted the guards here, mostly Calavia’s group and a couple of mine. ‘Four of you stay here. Keep the radio ready to relay a message back to Captain Calavia. The rest of you, come with me.’

  Twenty-five of us followed the armourer down to her basement. Squashed in between her household detritus it was difficult to see everybody.

  ‘We’re going to the palace by this subterranean tunnel which does not officially exist,’ I said. ‘The ancients built them for emergencies. This is one of those emergencies. Two other groups are attempting the same. Expect the worst when we arrive. But if we can get into the palace and take it, we can catch the usurper and stop the bombardment of our city. Questions?’

  Heads turned, glances were exchanged and a few muttered comments, but nobody raised a voice. I detailed two guards to stay in the basement within shouting distance of the house upstairs. We fixed red filters on our torches. Dim, but safer than white light. I nodded to the armourer and she put the key in the lock with a trembling hand and turned it.

  We barrelled through the door three abreast in classic ram formation. No response. Back in a column of two abreast we walked steadily for about thirty metres, then came to a wider area with old cupboards, table and fold-up chairs. The harbour area. I flicked my fingers towards the long alcoves at the sides shielded by curtains. They were designed for sleepi
ng or perhaps, in these times, hiding an armed guard. Curtains pushed aside with a rifle barrel, while another one aimed inside the alcove. All were empty.

  Perhaps Caius didn’t know about the tunnels after all. Nevertheless, we doused even our filtered torches, paused to let our eyes adjust. I took a deep breath, sent a prayer up to Mercury and touched my neighbour to advance at my side.

  Taking short but steady steps, we advanced about another ten metres. I heard a soft click. I thrust my arm out to stop the soldier to my left side.

  ‘Down!’ I whispered. A light blinded us. Shots rang out. We flattened ourselves against the walls. I blinked, my eyes watering with pain. Grunts and profanities from behind us. They’d taken hits. We crouched, then scrambled back to the harbour area, dragging and pushing our casualties with us. Wild shots followed us, ringing and echoing through the tunnel, deafening us.

  ‘Wounded back to the gate now,’ I shouted. ‘Remainder, regroup against the walls.’

  I counted three minutes.

  Silence.

  ‘Advance with extreme caution,’ I whispered.

  Then came the rattle of a machine gun.

  Gods, we’d be sliced into pieces of meat.

  ‘Retreat. Now! Max speed.’ We fled as if the Furies were after us. Two took rounds in their arms, one in her leg. She fell but her comrades pulled her along and we got everybody back the other side of the tunnel gate.

  ‘Lock that bloody door and jam everything and anything against it.’ Pushing my way through the bodies gasping for their breath and ignoring my hammering heart, I tore up the basement steps.

  ‘Flash message Inferna Zero from Aquila Zero. Cancel tunnel operation. Extreme risk of termination.’

  After arranging for the wounded to be taken to the Central Valetudinarium with a guard, I detailed two sections, around thirty troops, to guard the tunnel gate round the clock. It was very possible nationalists would use this route to flee. I told the optio in charge that she was to call for immediate reinforcements the minute there was any attempt to break through the tunnel door, or before if she felt it appropriate. And no more lounging around drinking cups of tea in the armourer’s front room.

  I drove back with the remaining half dozen, swearing long and hard under my breath. Dodging another damned rocket and veering round new shell holes in the road, I’d rolled up a fine ball of temper by the time we arrived back at Domus Cavaliarum. The guards let us through the gate and no sooner had the short wheelbase scrunched to a halt on the gravel, I was out and strode through the vestibule. I heard shouting the other side of the double doors leading into the atrium. I grabbed the handle of one of the doors and heaved it open.

  My words were ready to shoot out, but I was stopped on the threshold by the sight of a very young woman with her arms wrapped round a boy sobbing his soul out. She stroked his blond head, and murmured words in a low voice. Two vulnerable children standing in the middle of dust, debris and war. The young woman turned, her face showing surprise and fear. She clutched the boy more firmly to her and stared at me.

  ‘Imperatrix,’ I said and bowed to her. She didn’t react. ‘Are you well?’ She didn’t answer. Everybody else was still. I could feel the tension running through the room. Why was Silvia holding little Conradus Tellus so fiercely? Where had he come from? And where was Quintus? Silvia glanced right. I followed her look and stepped forward. Quintus was standing between two men who gripped his arms. His suit jacket hung open, creased and torn, the silk tie that usually boasted an impeccable knot over a white shirt was binding his wrists. A purple bruise was developing just below his cheekbone. I glared at the men either side of him. They were vigiles. Their maroon uniforms were dusty but unmistakable. Behind them and Quintus stood two of our guards, their rifles trained on the group of three. I looked left to see Volusenia and Calavia, and a tall blonde woman dressed as an irregular but with a purple and gold armband facing them with an angry expression on her face and a rifle pointing at Silvia.

  ‘What in Pluto’s name is going on here?’ I said. ‘Why is Quintus Tellus under guard?’

  40

  The blonde woman spun round.

  ‘Are you in charge here?’ she snapped at me.

  ‘My name is Aurelia Mitela. I am the Imperatrix Silvia’s chief minister, head of the Twelve Families and location military commander. And you are?’ But a memory was stirring. A cave at the back of the castle. She was the fidget from Claudia Cornelia’s group.

  ‘Oh,’ she said. ‘I know you.’ The blaze in her eyes subsided as she looked at me. ‘Caelia, former optio, XX Victis legion. I was trying to explain, ma’am, but nobody was listening.’

  Volusenia snorted. Calavia rolled her eyes and went to speak. I held my fingers up. Calavia shrugged, crossed her arms and made a big show of seeming to listen.

  ‘I’ll listen,’ I said. ‘But first you must give me your rifle.’

  She hesitated.

  ‘No harm will come to you, but you must hand it over. Roma Novans do not threaten children.’

  After a few seconds she relaxed and, her eyes still fixed on Silvia and Conradus, stretched out her hand towards me with the weapon. I leaned forward, took it and handed it to a guard by the door.

  ‘Continue,’ I said, trying not to show my relief.

  ‘I was bringing a message here from Claudia Cornelia, but I took a wrong turning and found these three and the kid by a car.’ She jabbed her finger in the direction of Quintus and the two vigiles. ‘The scarabs said they’d stopped the car – they’d got him bent back against it – and he was resisting arrest. One of them kept looking at the bags on the back seat. I thought they were looting. I unslung my rifle and told them to stop. The kid was crying and tugging on the man’s jacket, so one of them slapped the poor little bugger, really hard. I cocked my rifle. Then they told me the man’s name. I wanted to shoot him then and there, but they wouldn’t let me.’

  She whirled round towards Quintus.

  ‘That bastard and his brother are responsible for shooting my dad and raping me and my sister,’ she cried out. ‘I’m going to rip his guts out.’

  She lunged at Quintus. She raised her hand then swung her fist down in an arc to strike him, but I got there first. She pushed against my restraining grip with all her force. I just managed to hold her by clutching her wrist hard, my fingernails sinking into her skin. I pushed back with all my strength.

  ‘Stand down, Caelia,’ I said, our faces centimetres from each other’s. I gasped as I caught my breath. ‘If there are accusations to bring, they’ll be in a proper court, not in some vigilante summary execution.’

  Gods, she was strong.

  An instant later, the pressure ceased. Calavia heaved Caelia back, despite the woman’s angry strength.

  I nodded to Calavia and she beckoned a couple of guards forward to take hold of Caelia. I took a deep breath, swallowed and turned to the two vigiles.

  They exchanged a glance and looked uneasy.

  ‘Right, you two,’ I said in a cold voice. ‘You can untie Deputy Praetor Tellus and let him sit down. Then you can tell me exactly what you were doing.’

  ‘We was only trying to help. We stopped his car to tell him it was too dangerous to be out and about. He was rude and told us to piss off.’

  I raised an eyebrow. The urbane Quintus would never use such language, even in the most stressful circumstances.

  ‘Then?’

  ‘Well, we felt it our duty to reprimand him and, er, encouraged him to get out of his car.’ The vigilis looked down at the floor. ‘We searched him and found his ID card. Naturally, in the circumstances, we confiscated his stuff and thought we’d better hand him over to somebody. Thought there might be a reward.’

  ‘And why didn’t you take him to the first consul up in the palace?’ I kept my tone as honey-smooth as I could. ‘Surely he would have been happy to reward you for recovering his brother?’

  ‘What? When he’s as good as had it? You must be joking. We thought there might
be a reward from your lot,’ he repeated. ‘We managed to convince that girl pointing her gun at us that we should bring him here. Oh, and it wasn’t us that gave him that shiner.’

  ‘Captain Calavia,’ I said, without taking my eyes off the two vigiles. ‘Have these two miserable pieces taken away and locked up somewhere for assault, attempting to kidnap a citizen and a minor, and looting.’

  As they were led away protesting, Volusenia stepped forward to greet me, clasping forearms. I was so pleased to see her.

  ‘Thank Mars!’ she said. ‘I heard the report of the shooting in your tunnel as we arrived a few minutes ago. Calavia tells me the other two details were on the point of opening their tunnel gates when your message came through.’ She searched my face. ‘Catch your breath and we’ll try and find some other way of prising that bastard out without destroying the palace.’

  ‘Agreed, but give me a few minutes.’ I turned to Silvia and touched her hand. ‘Are you okay, darling?’

  ‘They were lying. The vigiles were lying.’ She looked up at me. ‘How is that possible?’

  Where should I begin?

  ‘Unfortunately, not everybody can stand the stresses of pressure. They give in and accept it,’ I said. ‘Some want to save their skin, others take advantage of people’s misfortune. I have a horrible feeling we may discover more of it. The adult world isn’t always a pleasant place, darling.’

  ‘I know that – I’m not stupid,’ she snapped back. ‘But if we can’t trust the guardians of the law, who can we trust?’

  ‘I had many concerns about the vigiles before Caius’s rebellion. One of the things we must prioritise when this is over is a total reform of the police service, even a new name, perhaps. But that’s for later.’ Silvia remained shocked and stood frozen, her arms still protecting Conradus. I knelt down, wiped the boy’s tears away with my handkerchief and gave him what I hoped was a reassuring smile. ‘I have to speak to Uncle Quintus now. Would you like to go to the kitchen and find some milk and biscuits?’ He looked doubtful and clutched Silvia’s hand hard. I looked up at her. ‘Would you mind going with him, darling? He trusts you.’