AURELIA (Roma Nova Book 4)

by Alison Morton

  Gods, what had Miklós done to make the chauffeur talk? The man wasn’t doing this out of the goodness of his heart.

  ‘That gypsy, he found me yesterday at Elsa’s bar, in the Mitte. He strolled in as if he owned the place. He got a beer, sat down at my table and said he knew exactly who I was. He was that sort you couldn’t help talking to. Somehow, I told him the lot. It was a real relief. He suggested if I wrote down my side of the story, then I’d be free from my nightmares. Sounded like a load of mumbo jumbo, but after I’d done it, I slept for twelve hours straight last night.’

  ‘Where and how did you write your statement?’ the judge asked.

  ‘When we reached the house with the Roma Novans, they put me in the dining room and left me to it. One of them brought me something to eat and I gave them what I’d written. They didn’t say much, but they were okay.’

  When he finished speaking, nobody moved, nobody spoke for a second or two. The chief judge stared at the chauffeur as if he was an exotic creature from the planet Mars.

  ‘Very well, thank you for coming forward. Herr Staatsanwalt, any questions?’

  ‘We need corroboration from this gypsy and I want to question the Roma Novans about their methods,’ said Kästner. His tight features showed he was unhappy at being balked of his prey.

  ‘The gypsy has disappeared, but the Roma Nova detail commander is here at your disposal,’ Galba said, a smug tone in her voice.

  In perfect step behind the court clerk, Fabia strode in; neat, precise and straight-backed and wearing her dark purple off-duty suit with silver crowned eagle badge on her lapel. Nobody could mistake her for anything but military. People stared as she made her way to the rostrum where she bowed to the judge, who looked surprised. She took her oath, calmly, folded her hands in her lap and waited.

  ‘Please state your name and occupation.’

  ‘Marcia Fabia, centurion, commanding the Aquila security detail, at the Berlin Roma Nova legation.’

  Centurion. Her promotion had come through.

  ‘You were really in charge of the men who took the statement from Herr Grosschenk’s chauffeur?’ Kästner sneered at her.

  ‘Yes.’ Her gaze was steady, but the muscles around her eyes tightened.

  ‘What pressure did you put on this poor man to make him sign this statement? Did you beat him up, fill him full of drugs? You Roma Novans are not known for your gentle ways.’ He panned around the court, smiling as if sharing understanding with the public audience.

  ‘The man you have called a gypsy,’ Fabia replied in a cold voice, ‘phoned the legation and asked for me. We arranged to meet at the apartment of one of the legation local employees. The gypsy handed the chauffeur into our care and left without giving any contact details. We gave the chauffeur writing materials and a cup of coffee and sandwiches, and left him alone to write. After an hour, he had finished and I asked him to sign his statement. One of my detail typed it up for the court. The chauffeur slept in one of the bedrooms last night and then we all came here today.’

  ‘I think you terrified him, promising unspeakable consequences if he didn’t cooperate. Your colleague here had no hesitation in carrying out such brutal acts.’ He pointed his papers at me. The bastard.

  ‘Objection!’ Galba threw at him.

  ‘Sustained. Keep your questions neutral, Herr Staatsanwalt,’ the judge said.

  ‘You may think what you wish, Advocate,’ Fabia answered, once the murmuring from the public had died down, ‘but that does not change the truth which is as I have told you.’

  ‘Why didn’t you hand the witness over to the police?’

  ‘There would not have been time for him to be processed for this morning’s hearing, and…’ she hesitated. The first time I’d ever heard her do that. She looked straight ahead at neither the judge nor prosecutor.

  ‘And what?’

  ‘The lack of judgement by Officer Huber and the prejudicial behaviour of Officer Scholz did not give us sufficient confidence in your police force to do that.’

  ‘So you kidnapped this man? That is a serious charge punishable by a ten-year prison sentence.’ He turned to the judge. ‘I would like it entered on the record that this witness has admitted she conspired with others to abduct and falsely imprison a free citizen of Berlin.’

  ‘Objection!’ Galba sprang up again.

  ‘Sustained.’ The judge directed his gaze to Fabia. ‘Please give your answer.’

  ‘Sir, the chauffeur arrived at the door of the apartment without our agency. We invited him in, gave him food and drink and provided him with a bed for the night. All this in a completely safe environment for him. His door was not locked and he could have left, if he had wanted. We did not detain the chauffeur; he stayed with us willingly.’

  ‘You would do anything to save your colleague, no, your superior,’ Kästner pursued. ‘Has she promised you money or promotion? Come, my dear, you can be honest with the court.’

  Fabia tensed. She took a breath and swallowed it. When she looked at the prosecutor, I was surprised to find he didn’t disintegrate into a heap of ash.

  ‘Firstly, Advocate, I am not your dear. Secondly, I must ask you to give me the respect of my rank. Thirdly, I am dismayed and saddened by your complete ignorance of Roma Novan values and ethics. Fourthly, my answer to your question is no.’

  I had to cover my mouth with my hand to hide my smile. The prosecutor’s face turned red and his eyes flared. He shook his papers in Fabia’s direction, but said nothing more. The judge frowned at Kästner then glanced at his watch.

  ‘If you have no more questions, and Frau Rechtsanwältin Galba has none, I will proceed to my direction. Otherwise we are wasting public time and money.’

  Galba shook her head and looked prim. Kästner jerked his head sideways once and slumped down in his chair.

  ‘With this new testimony, it is obvious there is insufficient evidence to proceed to full trial on the indictment against Aurelia Mitela,’ the judge said. ‘This case is dismissed and, subject to administrative details, the accused is at liberty to go.’

  Galba turned and hugged me with a triumphant smile on her lips. A lock of hair had escaped from her immaculate coiffure and tickled my face.

  She released me and I dropped back into my seat. I brought my hands up to the sides of my face, bowed my head and let out a deep sob.

  PART III: PURSUIT

  XXI

  Fabia stepped forward, blocking the guards when they approached to take me back to the prison to sign final paperwork and collect my belongings. They exchanged a glance; one even took a step towards her, but her cold stare stopped them.

  ‘You may send papers to the legation,’ came Galba’s clipped voice. ‘One of our representatives will collect the countess’s possessions. Please clear the way.’

  In the corridor, two others from Fabia’s detail fell in behind Galba and me as we crossed the hall to the back door.

  ‘There’s a mob of news people outside. We came in the back this morning to avoid them.’

  ‘As you wish.’ I was too exhausted to do anything but be led to the waiting car. I wanted to get out of this place as easily and as fast as possible, away from the oppression of too many people. More than anything, I wanted to go somewhere civilised where I could shed my clothes and scrub off the prison smell.

  At the legation, the vehicle swung into the service entrance gate thus avoiding most of the news pack. The nuncia herself greeted me. It was only the third time I’d met her.

  ‘Welcome back, Aurelia Mitela,’ she gushed and took my arm. Hm, that seemed a little too friendly. But she made me sit down in one of the armchairs in her private sitting room and gave me a generous helping of brandy.

  ‘I expect it should be champagne, but you look as if you need a stiff drink.’ Her eyes studied my face as if looking for something. ‘No doubt you want to speak to your family at home. Let the comms room know when you’re ready, no need to book it. They’re sending an air force transport
for you in three days’ time. In the meantime, I suggest you try to rest as much as possible.’

  *

  Marina stared out of the vid screen, her eyes large and her shoulders curved inward.

  ‘Are you coming home now, Mama?’

  ‘Yes, darling, I’ll be home by the weekend. I’ve missed you so much. I want to hear all about what you’ve been doing.’ A pair of ears, followed by a face and black nose appeared from the bottom edge of the screen. ‘Oh, what did you call him?’

  ‘This is Issa. She’s a girl.’ She frowned at me while stroking the puppy’s head. ‘Don’t you remember? I told you in my letter.’

  The tickle of tears falling down my face, although light as a feather, made me feel such a failure. I couldn’t even remember something so important to Marina.

  ‘I think Mama is feeling tired now, Marina.’ A hand touched Marina’s shoulder, then Justina’s face appeared in the screen by my daughter’s. ‘She’ll be much happier when she’s had a rest. Say goodbye now.’

  Marina blew me a kiss and I watched her retreat from the screen as she disappeared from the room.

  ‘You look peaky, Aurelia,’ Justina said.

  ‘I am well enough, thank you, Imperatrix,’ I said.

  ‘Ha! Still annoyed with me about that instruction to your lawyer? She’s a good girl, Plico says, and seems to have brought this off well. His worry was that you’d lose your temper and order her to do something stupid.’

  I was too fed up to argue, but I felt a shaft of anger. That was the trouble with working for your mother’s friends; they always thought of you as six years old.

  ‘Galba is clever, thorough and tough,’ I said. ‘She should go far. I recommend her for promotion. That is, if my opinion is worth counting.’

  ‘Gods, Aurelia, don’t do that self-pitying routine on me. You’re as tough as Hades and a clever clogs as well. Go and get some sleep and talk to me when you’re less grumpy.’

  *

  I was never more pleased to be sitting in a plain canvas seat in the fuselage of an air force transport. Despite the noise and the vibration, I dozed for part of the way, only waking with the engine noise changing as we climbed to go over the mountains separating Bavaria and New Austria from Roma Nova. I was so tired – drained – that I thought I’d sleep for a week when I got home. Shock and stress could account for part of it. I only hoped I hadn’t picked up a virus in prison.

  Caius had been formally charged with Grosschenk’s murder the day following my release. Galba had submitted my full statement to the Public Prosecutor’s Office. She reckoned the trial would take place in the next week or so and be over within a few days. Unlike Roma Nova, the Prussians had given up the death penalty, but Caius would probably get fifteen to twenty years.

  When we landed in the military part of Portus Airport, an anonymous dark blue saloon drew up by the steps. Foreign Ministry – not a doubt. An equally anonymous driver jumped out and opened the rear door for me. She handed me a radio handset tuned to a secure channel.

  ‘So glad you found time in your schedule to join us.’ Plico’s disembodied voice was warm despite his sarcastic words.

  ‘Don’t start, Plico,’ I retorted. ‘My schedule no longer exists. I’m going home.’

  ‘No, it’s the palace first. The imperatrix wants to make sure you’re in one piece.’ His eyes gleamed. ‘And, of course, your daughter’s there.’

  I knew he was playing on my emotions, but I ached to see Marina. I had so nearly been separated from her childhood forever. I pulled myself together.

  ‘Thank you for bringing me back. I really appreciate it. I don’t think I could have gone through Tempelhof again.’ I looked out of the smoked glass window. ‘I’ve lost any desire to see Berlin ever again.’

  All I heard for the next few seconds was background radio noise. Had I lost contact?

  ‘Well,’ he said, eventually, ‘write up your report, including the prison, then we’ll talk about your next assignment.’

  ‘I’m not going anywhere.’

  ‘No, not immediately, of course. You’ve earned a couple of weeks’ leave.’

  ‘Two weeks? You’re joking!’

  What in Hades was he on about? I knew the regulations. I had about two months’ respite. He could whistle for it. I was going to the farm at Castra Lucilla with Marina for a few weeks to catch the soft early autumn weather before it turned.

  ‘You’re still on strength,’ he snapped, ‘and you’ll get your back pay.’

  For Juno’s sake, I wasn’t doing it for the peanuts the government paid.

  ‘Besides,’ he continued, ‘I want to talk to you about something when you come into the office. Out.’

  *

  I clutched Marina’s slender frame to me and stroked her face with my free hand. Soft as rose petals, her skin shone, her flesh a little plumper than when I’d left her. Pale freckles dotted her nose and forearms. But her smile was pure sunshine.

  ‘How she stays alive on what she eats is a mystery to me, but the nursery staff say she’s healthy. She certainly runs around enough.’ Justina was attempting to be bracing and old school, but I heard the warmth in her tone.

  ‘Nonna Justina,’ Marina smiled up at the older woman. ‘May I bring my puppy in here? Please? Just this once?’

  We were in Justina’s drawing room, all Aubusson carpets and rich purple curtains. ‘Well, just this once. If she disgraces herself, then she’s banned.’ But she smiled as Marina skipped off. I blinked back a tear. If only my mother had lived, she would have had the pleasure of seeing this glorious child bloom.

  ‘Marina is flourishing here, Aurelia. And she is so sweet with Julian. Stay here with her while you recover.’

  ‘I’m thinking of taking her to the farm with me. The Castra Lucillan air will do us both good.’

  She looked away, so I couldn’t read her expression. Unusually, she looked as if she didn’t know what to say next.

  ‘Very well, take your two weeks there, but Plico wants you back in the city by a week next Monday. I’ll send the nursery maid that Marina’s fond of along to do the donkey work.’

  *

  As we drove south, I attempted to work out what Plico and Justina had meant. As one of her imperial secretaries, he was in her total confidence, but neither had let any hint out. To be honest, I was too tired to care.

  Justina had insisted on us taking one of her new Range Rovers, complete with a driver. Apart from Aemilia, the nursery maid, eighteen years old and excited about seeing the countryside, Justina had also sent along a factotum who looked suspiciously military in his bearing and self-sufficiency. Did she think I was so vulnerable? Or maybe it was friendship for my late mother or even a twinge of guilt. Or was I being guarded?

  After five days, I’d caught up on my sleep and knew exactly which part of the puppy’s tummy to tickle. Marina and I played chase, swam, and walked in the woods. The dull ache in my heart for Miklós eased, but had not disappeared. He could have written, even sent a postcard. He knew I would have come home. Maybe there was something waiting for me at Domus Mitelarum in the city. I burned at the idea he’d seen me only as a passing fancy. I pressed my fist to my lips. Was that all it had meant for him and he didn’t want any further contact? Gods, I sounded as if I were an adolescent struggling to recover from her first crush.

  I left the details of my personal time with Miklós out of the report for Plico and sent it back to the city by one of the farmhands. As I watched the truck set off north, I closed the whole damned nightmare out of my mind. I needed to have a calm, boring life now behind a desk. Better, I’d press Plico, or rather Justina, for my release from state service.

  The sixth afternoon, Marina and I got thoroughly messy making honey cakes. The steward wasn’t best pleased with the devastation in the old-fashioned kitchen, but Marina and I flopped on the sofa together in front of the open fire and devoured the results. Lazily content and too full of cake to get up, I half closed my eyes and stroked her
soft hair. She folded her honey-sticky little paw inside my hand.

  Then I heard a buzz outside. It became strident, urgent. Gently disengaging myself from Marina, I crossed over to the window and looked out. No. They couldn’t. It was only Friday. But dropping out of the sky and with a purple and gold livery was a bloody air force helicopter. It thumped above the old barn at ear-splitting level, then landed in the pasture to the side, causing all the cows to scatter as if they were demons released from Tartarus.

  *

  ‘I was going to leave talking to you about your attitude to Caius Tellus until you came back next Monday, but something’s happened.’ Plico’s face was hard, the lines sloping away each side of his nose rigid; no trace of his usual cynical but relaxed expression remained. ‘He’s escaped.’

  A cold stab hit me squarely in my gut.

  No.

  ‘How in Hades’ name could that have happened?’ I croaked. ‘Tell me. Now.’

  ‘He’s been a model prisoner, but complaining about stomach pains. A classic. The prison medic gave him the usual antacids, but nothing seemed to stop it. He was taken to the hospital for tests in a police car and under armed escort, but they never arrived.’ He looked up at me. ‘Your friend Scholz found the abandoned police car, two uniforms bundled in the back and an unconscious prison guard with his hand hacked off to release the handcuff.’

  I turned away, grabbed his waste-paper bin barely in time to be violently sick into it. I trembled as I wiped my mouth with the tissues he offered and gratefully accepted the glass of water. What the hell was the matter with me? It was gruesome, but nowhere near what he’d done to Grosschenk. All the good of my days at the farm fled.

  ‘Here, take a slug of this.’ Plico thrust his spirit flask at me. I drew back, but he put the neck of the flask to my lips. The brandy woke me up and drowned the sour taste in my mouth.

  ‘Surely Caius should have been convicted by now,’ I said. ‘Safely locked up in a maximum security prison.’