Eventually, Richard gave up and left Roma Nova to return to New Austria. When I dropped him off at the interrail station, he still seemed dazed, unable to speak beyond ‘yes’ and ‘no’. He wouldn’t or couldn’t give me a forwarding address. A week after his departure, I flew to Vienna on official business and added some private time to my trip to try to find him.
I swept into the VIP arrivals lounge at Wien-Maria-Theresia Airport, my gold-eagle-monogrammed briefcase in hand and foreign ministry assistant in tow but stopped in my tracks when I saw the tall, slim figure of Miklós waving at me from the other side of the roped barrier. He’d gone to a horse fair in Bavaria and wasn’t due back yet. How had he known I’d be on this flight? The purple-suited Praetorian who met us looked Miklós up and down, her eyes measuring him up for any possible threat to me. He returned her stare second for second. I’d given up trying to explain to him how they felt it their duty to protect me at all times.
I was caught up in official dinners and meetings until the Thursday, but reassuring the protection detail that Miklós was sufficient escort, I started my search for Richard Berger early that morning. I had to find him; he’d been in such distress.
Despite our traipsing from housing offices to hostels, searching bars, dragging through public records and pressuring the local police, we found no trace of Richard. Even Miklós’s connections in the informal trading networks, which I shut my mind to, couldn’t locate him. Before I left, I bent the rules and instructed the Vienna legation to carry on looking for Richard. Livilla Vara, the nuncia I’d appointed two years ago, sniffed and said that as he wasn’t a Roma Novan citizen, she wasn’t obliged to. I let my temper out and suggested she consider her position now and in her future professional career. She sniffed again, but grudgingly agreed.
A year later, it was one of Miklós’s contacts who discovered Richard had been found in a doss house in Graz and had died an alcoholic.
*
Now, a year after Richard’s death, Constantia herself followed him into the shades. The medical certificate stated the cause was pneumonia, but I suspected the main cause of her death was living with Caius and the heartache of being deceived by a brief infatuation and losing her true love.
Listening to Caius give the laudatio to the crowd in the forum for her funeral, I was nearly sick. He dressed it up, vowing to honour the deep love and esteem he would hold for his beloved wife until the day he died – the hypocrite. Severina seemed genuinely moved at Caius’s performance as we sat together on the rostra in the front row behind him and the lectern.
‘Poor man. So tragic,’ she said, dabbing a fine lawn square at her eyes. ‘And not even a child left to console him.’
‘For goodness’ sake, Severina, he’s faking it,’ I whispered in a stagey voice hoping Caius would hear. His broad shoulders tensed. Good. I would have hated there to have been any misunderstanding.
‘How can you be so harsh?’ Severina whispered back, her eyes round and horrified.
‘Because I know him. Believe me, he’s taking the opportunity to work the crowd.’
‘Nonsense!’ She turned her shoulder to me.
I was several metres away from Caius and sitting with other Twelve Families’ heads; the Praetorians surrounded us, Severina’s husband, Fabianus, was behind me and the imperatrix next to me, but I still felt threatened being so near to Caius. I shivered and pulled the fold of my woollen palla into my neck. Not just at Severina’s inability to see past the surface of everything; the fresh spring breeze was blowing straight across the vast open space. Thank Juno, there was no child from the marriage. I wouldn’t trust Caius within a hundred metres of one. As for Constantia’s little boy, Conradus, although he looked tall and strong for a six year old, how safe would he be now with Caius? I’d never been certain Caius hadn’t touched Marina during that time I was away when my mother was alive. Severina had queried Marina’s absence today as my heir, but I’d invented a bad head cold for her, allowing her to stay safe at home.
I glanced over at Quintus Tellus. On his right, old Countess Tella looked blankly in front of her; on his left, Conradus clung on to Quintus for dear life. The child’s blond head was bowed, and his shoulders spasmed as he sobbed. Quintus had his arm round the boy, but was watching Caius with an intensity I’d never seen before. I knew the brothers didn’t get on, but I’d never seen such a hard look on Quintus’s face.
Several hours later at the burning ground, the priest sprinkled water and wine to douse the last embers of Constantia’s pyre. Caius turned to the trembling Conradus, still clinging on to Quintus’s hand.
‘Come, boy. Home,’ Caius beckoned imperiously. The child shrank against Quintus.
‘Caius, leave him with me for at least a few days,’ Quintus said. ‘Can’t you see he’s beside himself?’
‘All the better to be in his home.’
‘There is nobody there to care for him. Great-Aunt Domitia is an invalid who can’t even look after herself.’
Caius raised an eyebrow. ‘My house is full of caring women.’
Quintus flushed with anger. ‘Your whores, you mean.’
‘Language, brother, and in front of the child. I couldn’t possibly think of consigning the boy to you if you use such words.’ His eyes both mocked and challenged his brother.
Quintus curled his hands into fists, tensed his arms and drew his right arm up. I thought he was going to smash the sneer off Caius’s face, but he became aware of people watching. Severina put her hand on Quintus’s forearm.
‘Now, Quintus, let’s not quarrel, especially today. I’m sure Caius will look after the dear little boy.’ She almost simpered at Caius, who smiled at her and tilted his head in a minimal bow.
‘Domina, I—’
‘Now hush, Quintus, let them go home.’
I stepped forward. ‘I’ll take Conradus into my household until his care is clarified. I’ll call a meeting of the Twelve Families Council and we can settle the whole matter there.’
‘There really is no need, my dear Aurelia,’ Caius said. He studied my face for a few moments, making me feel uncomfortable by the intensity in his strange greeny-brown eyes. Whatever the Germanic prison psychologist had said, I saw no softening. His lips formed into a wide smile. What was coming next? ‘Constantia named me as the child’s guardian. He will come with me.’
Quintus took a step towards Caius, but before he could say anything, a slight, brown-haired figure stepped in between them.
Silvia took Conradus’s other hand and looked squarely at Caius. ‘I’m inviting Conradus to stay at the palace with Mama and me. He knows us and I can look after him until the Twelve Families have met.’
‘Good gracious, Silvia, come back here this instant.’ Severina reached out, grasped Silvia’s arm then pushed her towards Fabianus. ‘Don’t interfere in adult business.’
‘Imperatrix, your daughter may have the solution.’ I glanced at Silvia. Her face was tight and her eyes glistened, but she stood confident for a fifteen-year-old and looked steadily at her mother’s face. Fabianus rested his hands on his daughter’s shoulders as if protecting her from the adult squabbling.
‘Don’t be silly, Aurelia,’ Severina said, ‘she’s just a pert child interfering in something she knows nothing about.’
‘No, she’s nearly of age and she’s—’
‘I’ve had enough of this nonsense,’ Caius snapped. ‘Keep your nose out, Aurelia. I have the right and there’s nothing you or anybody else can do about it.’ Caius gave Severina the most minimal bow I had seen that day and wrenched Conradus away from Quintus. The child struggled in Caius’s grip, but the bastard yanked him to his side, causing the boy to yelp in pain and throw a desperate look at Quintus. Caius turned in the direction of the gate of the burning ground, tugging the boy behind him. Conradus glanced back, his hand imprisoned and tears shining on his face.
‘You ca
n’t defy the Twelve Families code,’ I called after him but he strode on. I hitched up the excess material of my formal stola in my left hand and went to run after them, but Severina gripped my other arm. Her fingers were surprisingly strong.
‘No, Aurelia. Stay where you are.’ Severina beckoned with her other hand. A hard-faced centurion and another Praetorian stepped forward, blocking my path to the car park.
‘But, domina,’ I said, ‘you can’t let that, that piece of—’
‘Leave him alone. He’s entitled.’
‘We don’t know that. We only have his word. That’s not worth the breath he took to say it. But it’s clear – the child’s care is openly disputed and that’s a matter for the Twelve Families.’
She glared at me. ‘You’re just prejudiced. Do as I tell you, for once.’
‘Domina, I’m duty-bound to protect Conradus. You must know that. He’s a child of the Families and that’s our responsibility.’
In the car park, Caius had reached his car and wrenched open the back door and pushed the child in. I prised Severina’s fingers off my arm and hitched up my stola ready to go after Caius, but before I could take the first step, she nodded and the two Praetorians seized my arms.
‘Get your hands off me, you oafs,’ I shouted in their faces. ‘How dare you lay your hands on the head of the Twelve Families!’ They released me as if they were touching a scorching pillar of flame.
Quintus and I ran towards the car park, but we were too late. Quintus swore softly and obscenely. I let out words of anger and frustration that would have made a centurion blush as we watched Caius drive away, the grit skittering up from his car tyres.
*
Back at the palace, Quintus and I followed Severina in silence across the smooth marble floor of the magnificent colonnaded atrium. Despite the low temperature, my anger hadn’t cooled one degree. At the back, down some steps, we passed into a narrower, much older stone hallway with several doors off. Severina nodded to the Praetorian standing at the oak door set back in an archway at the far end and led us into her private drawing room.
She ordered the guard who had accompanied us to remain outside with the other guard, but within call. Ridiculous really, as the stone walls were a metre thick and the massive oak door hundreds of years old; they wouldn’t hear a thing from outside. Inside, Severina paused by the sofa and fiddled with the fabric covering the top, but didn’t invite us to sit. Fabianus, Quintus and I waited.
‘Your behaviour at the funeral was inexcusable, Aurelia.’ Her voice was brittle and she glanced at me. Fabianus stepped forward but she waved him away. I didn’t say anything; there was no point and I was too angry. ‘Well?’ she continued. ‘Have you nothing to say, cousin?’ She glared at me.
I took a deep breath to steady my nerves and recruit my patience.
‘Imperatrix, I was merely offering the protection of my household to a small child in distress, the subject of a family dispute. I will convene the Families Council to settle the matter.’
‘You tried to interfere with the pro tem Tella heir and a child from that house over whom he has full jurisdiction.’
Jupiter save us. I exchanged a glance with Quintus, who kept a neutral face like the good civil servant he was.
‘If we are citing legalities,’ I said, ‘then you may well remember that as head of the Twelve Families, not only am I perfectly entitled to intervene where there is a conflict, it is my duty.’ I tried, I sincerely tried, to keep the sarcasm out of my voice. ‘Or perhaps you are not familiar with one of the most basic of our founding laws?’
Quintus gasped. I kept my eyes on Severina’s face. She flinched, strode towards me and raised her hand.
‘I wouldn’t, Severina,’ I said. ‘Really, I wouldn’t.’ I stood my ground, unmoving, and stared at her. My heart beat faster. She was so unpredictable, she might do it. I braced myself for the blow.
Her skin reddened. The next instant, her lower lip trembled. She dropped her hand. Fabianus moved to her side, darted an angry glance at me. Severina’s face crumpled. She burst into tears and allowed Fabianus to draw her down onto the sofa. He put his arm round her and hugged her to him.
I stayed where I was. For once, I wasn’t going to give in to her emotional blackmail. She used this learned helplessness to muddle through awkward situations, getting others to solve problems and sort out messes for her. If only she’d been more diligent, learned at least the rudiments of governing from shadowing her mother. If only she could see beyond the surface of things. If only she had a gram of political common sense. Normally, I’d go to her, comfort her, apologise and say I’d take care of everything. Well, she’d crossed the line in the sand. No more.
Quintus glanced at me, but I shook my head. And waited.
Severina finished sniffling, wiped her nose and looked up at me. ‘Well, why don’t you say something, Aurelia?’
‘For myself, I have nothing to say, but as Mitela whose family has supported Apulia across the centuries and led the Twelve Families in your cause, I have a great deal to say. You know there is no question of the Families wavering in their loyalty. They swore their allegiance to the first Apulius at the river crossing with hands and oaths. Despite war, conquest and death, nothing has changed that. The Families have willingly served to the limit of their abilities, often facing ruin and death to preserve Apulia, and ultimately Roma Nova. But you Apulians, in this case you, have to fulfil your side by respecting and accepting our counsel. You have the right to rule, Severina, but the obligation to listen. You do not have first right to adjudicate in Families disputes. It is you who acted unlawfully in preventing me from intervening at Constantia’s funeral.’
‘You…you cannot speak to me like that!’
‘I am merely telling you the truth.’
‘You quote grand principles, but this is just part of your grudge against Caius.’ She looked like a sulky adolescent caught with her fingers in the honeypot instead of a ruler commanding a tough people. Her mother would have given her a first-class dressing-down for being such a simpleton.
‘My “grudge”, as you call it, with Caius is a personal matter, but we are discussing something much more important – the relationship between ruler and counsellors, something that very few rulers have failed to realise is essential to the survival of Roma Nova. Without the Families to guide and advise, the ruler could become a tyrant. Without a leader who rises above factions and individual interests, and commands their loyalty, the Families would be ungovernable. You have threatened to destroy that fine balance. Without it, Roma Nova will self-destruct.’
Only the fire crackling interrupted the stone-dead silence that followed.
‘What are you going to do?’ Severina said in a tremulous voice after a few minutes.
‘I shall request Caius to come to the Families Council and discuss his situation with the heads of the Twelve Families. We will call witnesses as appropriate.’ I looked down at her. ‘In the meantime, the Families will withdraw from the imperial council and all government functions to consider this development. I will, of course, resign my own ministerial position, effective immediately.’
*
‘You don’t think you were rather harsh on her?’ Quintus asked as we walked across the palace atrium to the vestibule. A servant placed my formal cloak around my shoulders and I smiled my thanks. When she was out of earshot, I glanced around the vast cavern. Rebuilt in the 1500s in the style of that time, the atrium had plenty of alcoves and recessed seating where others could loiter and listen.
‘Look, Severina’s had a free ride on our backs for years. She can’t hold a thought for more than a minute and when she does, she becomes pig-headed about it. Justina was always worried about her daughter’s lack of interest in learning to govern which was why she appointed me in perpetuum. Juno, Severina’s a mature woman in her forties, but she acts like an airheaded teenager.’ I rubbed
my forehead. ‘I try my damnedest to keep my personal feelings out of anything to do with Caius, but it seeps in. I’m sorry, Quintus, you know it’s nothing to do with you or the other Tellae.’
‘Gods, I’m behind you all the way on this, Aurelia. I’m very concerned about Constantia’s son.’ He looked up at the painted ceiling, then back at me. ‘If Caius has hurt Conradus, I’ll beat the shit out of him so hard he won’t forget it for the rest of his life. In the meantime, let’s get this Families meeting organised and force the bastard to release Conradus.’
IV
I snatched a few hours’ sleep and got up at six to draft a personal note to each family head explaining the background to the suspension of support. As I lifted the nth cup of tea to my lips, I realised I didn’t want it. My hand trembled as I placed it back on the saucer. The words on the last letter – to Quirinia – were almost exactly the same as the previous ten had been, but I added, I’m sorry, my friend, to take this measure, and trust you will forgive me if it means you lose your post. It wasn’t an easy decision, believe me. Quirinia was the deputy quaestor responsible for the entire government budget and would very likely become the finance minister when the current one retired. Or she would have. Was I destroying everybody’s career?
My business manager sat on the far side of the desk in my study as I signed and sealed the paperwork to organise the extraordinary Families Council for two days’ time. Normally poker-faced, his expression looked tight this morning as he waited. As I was signing the last one, Milo, my steward, interrupted to say Secretary Plico was on the line and wished to speak to me urgently. I lifted the extension handset.
‘I hear you’ve flounced off and called a strike.’
‘Hardly.’ I glanced up at my business manager. ‘Can you give me a minute, Plico?’
‘Sure, all the time in the world to stave off a constitutional crisis.’
‘Just hold on.’ I laid the handset down on the table.
I wax-sealed the last convocation order. My manager nodded, gathered up the eleven orders, bowed and left. I blew out the flame, laid the wax stick on the little tray and picked up the handset.
INSURRECTIO Page 3
