AURELIA (Roma Nova Book 4)

by Alison Morton

  ‘It’s all right. She’s safe,’ he said, before I could get the first word out. I flopped back in the chair and closed my eyes to shut out the spinning world. My heart was thudding at twice its usual rate, but I released my breath and became aware of Plico’s harsh tones.

  ‘Mitela! Pull yourself together. The child is safe. Listen to me.’

  I stared at him, my eyes nearly crossing. I took a deep breath to feed some oxygen to my brain, but my heart still pumped on.

  ‘Tell me,’ I croaked.

  ‘The nursery maid had taken the two children—’

  ‘Two?’ My hand touched my stomach.

  ‘The imperatrix’s grandson, Julian, of course.’ Plico frowned at me. ‘He and Marina are inseparable. There was a children’s fair with games, something vaguely connected with last fruits festival, or some nonsense. Anyway, the children went with the maid, Aemilia, and two Praetorians.’ He snorted. ‘Busy and noisy down there, surely, but not exactly a dangerous situation. The organiser smarmed around them for a bit, gave both children an ice cream then left them to get on with it. They were under guard all the time, but the sensation seekers wanted to see them, have their photo taken with them and so on, but the Praetorians kept most of them away.

  ‘The maid was concentrating on holding the children’s hands, but apparently Julian threw up with all the excitement. The girl turned away to clean him up and we think that’s when the note writer took that bloody photo. The Praetorians were on Marina within instants. The optio is mortified they didn’t catch the person who took the photo, but they prioritised getting the children away. A witness at the fair has given a description of an older man limping away, but not enough for a positive ID.’

  ‘It’s Caius, obviously, in disguise.’

  ‘We don’t know that. You’re so fixated on him you think he’s behind everything.’

  ‘Don’t be so damned stupid. Of course it’s him. Who in Hades else hates me so much to write a threat like that?’

  ‘You tell me. I expect there’s a list we could put together.’

  I scowled at him. ‘Caius is a manipulative bastard. He tried to use Marina before to get to me when my mother was alive. Something about a families’ alliance. I told him to get lost.’

  ‘So he’s the spurned lover?’

  ‘Don’t talk rubbish.’

  ‘Well, he seems to be taking it to the personal level.’

  ‘He aches for power, Plico. Whether he does it by alliance, or by removing people in his way or plain grabbing it, that’s what he craves.’

  *

  I fretted as I waited for the call for the gate. How long did it take to get a plane ready? Licinia had driven me out to Wien-Maria-Theresia and stood with me now, her eyes glancing round continuously. As the gate number flipped up on the display board, she nodded to the optio to follow us. The latter would be travelling back to Roma Nova with me. I’d protested, but Plico had overruled me.

  I fidgeted as I waited at the gate itself, too unsettled to take much notice of anything. My gaze flittered around, but not in the calm, professional way Licinia’s did. I spotted a child, a boy about nine or ten, dark haired, darker skin than even most Roma Novans. He walked along the other side of the woven ropes strung to separate us from people not flying. He searched faces, then his eyes widened when he saw me. He broke into a trot, heading for me. Licinia ducked under the rope and intercepted him, grabbing hold of his arm. He struggled, but she held him in her grip.

  ‘Nee, Die Dame. Der Dame muß ich dies geben,’ he insisted, his voice rising. He thrust out a flower with his other hand, a red rose. Tied round its stem with a thin velvet ribbon was a card. ‘Weidmannsheil. M.’

  Juno.

  My stomach fluttered and I dropped my hand to my middle, but grasped the rose with the other. I snapped my head up and searched round the departure hall. Was Miklós watching me? At this precise moment? The boy’s sudden movement caught my eye, then the sound of his grunting as he struggled to get away from Licinia’s grasp.

  ‘Relax, Licinia. Let the boy speak.’ I knelt down beside him. Wet patches shone below his eyes and he sniffed. ‘Who gave you this flower to give to me?’ I said, in Germanic.

  ‘A cousin.’ That could be any relation in Miklós’s world.

  ‘Tell me what he looks like.’

  ‘Big, and he wears dusty boots.’

  ‘And what is his hair like?’

  ‘Black and funny, like he hadn’t combed it.’

  ‘Well done, you’ve described him well. Thank you.’ I found my purse in my handbag and gave him a new twenty mark note. ‘Look after this and spend it carefully.’ I nodded at Licinia to release the boy. He ran as if the devil was after him, but as he reached the door he turned round and gave me a cheeky wave.

  A two-tone chime interrupted us. We were boarding.

  ‘Goodbye, Licinia. Thank you for all your help.’ I held my hand out, but she pulled my arm into a military clasp, forearm to forearm.

  ‘Come back soon, Major. Tell me to mind my own business, but what did the message on the card mean?’

  I looked at her steadily. ‘It’s a country expression meaning “good hunting”.’

  On the way to the gate, I stopped by a bin. I fiddled with the rose, almost crushing the bud, and caused a few petals to drop. I couldn’t understand my feelings for Miklós. I’d tried to dismiss him from my mind; I knew I would never manage to erase him from my heart. He was watching over me, yet didn’t contact me direct. Perhaps he thought it was too dangerous. But the Austrians weren’t seeking him and he was afraid of nothing. Gods, I didn’t know what to think. I dropped the rose in the bin.

  *

  Back in Roma Nova the usual dark limousine met me at Portus Airport then barrelled its way through the falling snow up the hill to the palace. The driver slowed down once inside the palace gates, but even though he jumped out to open my door as soon as he’d stopped, I was already halfway out.

  Luckily, the vestibule guard recognised me and opened the door barrier as I ran up the steps. The click-clack from my shoes echoed across the marble floor of the silent atrium. At the far side, a steward bowed and opened the door into the family quarters and I hurried up the stairs to the nursery. At the top, I ran into two Praetorians, armed. I gasped. Although carrying side-arms in the rest of the palace, the guards in the children’s area never carried firearms, only a concealed knife or a short nightstick attached to the back of their belts. They blocked the corridor, coolly assessing me, but not giving a centimetre of ground.

  ‘Let me pass. I am Marina’s mother.’

  ‘If you say, lady,’ the female guard said. ‘But I don’t know you. And there are no further visits scheduled today. Please wait.’ She raised the handheld radio to her mouth and asked for ID information. Well, I didn’t know her, or the man. I thought I knew almost every guard; there were only around five hundred in the entire force. Another bitter reminder that now I’d been out a few years, I supposed there would be faces I wouldn’t recognise. I folded my arms, frowned at them both, tapping my fingers of my right hand on my left arm. The corridor light was dim. I glanced at my watch. The children would be in bed, but I had to see Marina. While she waited, the female guard watched me, glancing at my hands, my face and the space behind. The man stood stock-still, overpoweringly tall.

  A wave of tiredness rolled through me and I longed for a chair. I glanced around, half turning, and the man shifted as if to cut me off.

  ‘For Juno’s sake, I’m looking for somewhere to sit down,’ I snapped at him. ‘Where’s the little sofa that used to be opposite the day room?’ I waved at the door five metres down the corridor behind him. ‘And the two chairs?’

  ‘They’ve been moved to provide a better sight line,’ the man said. The woman glared at him, but was distracted by her radio cackling into life. A voice pierced the distorted sound made by the radio.

  ‘Guard commander. Go ahead.’

  The guard stared at the radio in disbelie
f. I’d give money that she hadn’t expected the commander herself to reply to her query on the internal radio circuit.

  ‘Am I wasting my time or is anybody there?’ The voice crackled out again.

  ‘No, no, sorry, ma’am,’ the guard stuttered. ‘I didn’t expect you.’

  ‘Report!’ the disembodied voice barked.

  Glancing once more at me, the guard described me and that she needed to identify me.

  ‘Get off the line, you donkey, and give your radio to Countess Mitela. And look sharp.’

  The young guard thrust the handset into my hand as if it was a live tarantula. I pressed the rocker button for transmit.

  ‘Who is this and why am I being prevented from seeing my daughter?’

  ‘Lieutenant Volusenia, Countess. We’re on double alert at the palace.’ Her voice sounded a little breathy. I heard footsteps running up the stairs behind me. A medium figure in beige and black uniform, curling brown hair pulled back at the neck and a frown on a face with pronounced features strode on to the landing. The two guards snapped to attention and looked directly at the opposite wall, neither daring to look at this cross woman.

  ‘Volusenia, I presume?’ When she nodded, I snapped, ‘I’ve been travelling most of the day, I’m expecting, and I need to sit down and have some food. Now will you please let me in to see my daughter?’ Being truthful, I was exhausted and wanted my bed. Despite the fiasco in the park, I knew Marina would be safe behind such a security barrier – they’d be ten times more vigilant – but I was irritated at being stopped in this way. I’d had free run of the palace since I was a child.

  ‘Please come with me,’ Volusenia said. The two guards pressed themselves against the walls to let us through. Once out of earshot, she apologised. ‘They’re good soldiers, but a little over-eager.’ She glanced at me. ‘Not a bad way to be in these circumstances.’

  ‘Is it then so bad?’

  ‘The imperatrix has commanded a round-the-clock guard on the children. She thought it best for both to be guarded at the same level so that Marina didn’t take fright at being picked out for extra attention. The imperatrix has asked that you be taken to her as soon as you arrive, but I’m sure we can divert to the nursery first.’

  We stopped and she entered a code on a keypad I hadn’t seen there before. I pushed the door open gently. Volusenia followed me in and I winced as the lock clicked shut with a loud clunk. I crept through the day room and to the interior landing leading to the children’s bedrooms. I gently turned the silver chased doorknob of Marina’s room and slipped in. Her wan face on the pillow was relaxed, her lips slightly open and a baby snore, more a loud breath, escaped her nose.

  ‘She’s got a cold, so they’ve given her a weak sedative to help her sleep,’ Volusenia whispered.

  I leant over her and kissed her warm forehead, my heart filled with love for my fragile child. How was she going to fight a simple virus, let alone the threat of a brutal bastard wanting to destroy her to get to me?

  XXVII

  ‘There’s no question of you returning to Vienna,’ Justina growled. ‘Plico reckons Caius Tellus has hopped back to the German Federation or even over the border to Russia. The Reds are welcome to him. With any luck, their paranoia will automatically lead them to throw him in one of their delightful gulags.’ She sipped a brandy and gazed at the flames leaping in the stone fireplace. ‘As for you, Aurelia, if Plico can’t find you something suitable, you can keep Severina company. She may possibly learn something from you.’

  Juno save me. I’d rather scrub floors at the Foreign Ministry than spend my days listening to her daughter wittering on about shopping and celebrities. I nursed my warm honey drink and waited.

  ‘You’ll let Plico’s people and the vigiles investigate this, won’t you, Aurelia?’ She gave me a sharp look. ‘I think you’re taking this too personally. You’re not to get involved. Do you understand?’

  ‘I understand what you are saying, Imperatrix.’ I tried to keep my voice neutral, but I resented the way she thought I was being obsessive. From my childhood and all through my adult life, Caius had been there, sniping and mocking me. Even at my emancipation ceremony at sixteen, he’d thrown up, causing a disgusting interruption during one of the most solemn moments of my life. He’d laughed it off, joking with his cronies afterwards. He sneered at me as he’d said the words of apology, but his eyes were gleaming with malice and pleasure at spoiling my special day.

  Ignoring all the other opportunities he’d taken or made to try and humiliate me or twist opinions against me, he’d tried to manipulate Grosschenk into killing me and then have me convicted for murder in Berlin.

  Yes, it was personal.

  I swallowed hard. ‘I have complete faith in the vigiles, of course,’ I lied, smoothing my hand over my skirt and looking down as I did it. Since my mother’s so-called accident I’d lost what faith I had previously had in them. When I looked up again, I smiled at her. ‘Since I’m back, I thought I’d visit a few of the other families, out of courtesy, if for nothing else.’ I couldn’t remember when the last families’ council had been convened; in the meantime, it would make political sense to renew links. The gods knew I hadn’t seen many of the other Twelve Families since my mother’s funeral. And I’d include old Countess Tella on my list, whatever Justina said.

  ‘Very commendable,’ Justina said and stood. I placed my cup on the side table and rose, knowing I was dismissed.

  ‘But you don’t need to bother with Domitia Tella. I had the old dear in here last week, trying to find out if she’d heard from her great-nephew. She waved aside my question about Caius in a few seconds flat. Then she went on for the next twenty-nine minutes about crooked accountants and servants’ pilfering. Apparently, a quarter of the Tella family treasure account seems to have disappeared. She’s not the woman she was in her fiery days, but she’s sufficiently compos mentis to check her accounts.’

  Hades. The treasure account was meant to be left untouched, grown and passed on to succeeding generations. It didn’t take a genius to work out who had taken it.

  *

  I was up at half past five the following morning, anxious to see Marina as soon as she woke. Somebody had unpacked my suitcase and hung my clothes in the wardrobe, the gods knew when. Justina’s staff were rarely seen, and ran the palace almost by stealth.

  In the corridor outside the day room, I nodded to the two new guards on duty and went in. A startled face greeted me – Aemilia, the nursery maid who had cared for Marina since my daughter had first lived at the palace. Her eyes widened. She dropped the cutlery she’d been laying on the table and grasped the base of her neck with her right hand. She opened her mouth, but any words she wanted to say died in her mouth.

  ‘Calm yourself,’ I said. She didn’t move. ‘Here, sit down.’ I took her arm and gently pushed her down on the child-level bench at the side. I searched around and found a jug of water. I waited until she’d drunk half a glass.

  ‘Lady, I… I can only apologise. I meant no neglect, Julian was ill, he—’

  ‘Shush,’ I said and took her hand. ‘Don’t upset yourself. I don’t blame you.’ I pressed her fingers and smiled at her. There was no point being angry. She’d been duped by a master. She looked up at me with red-rimmed tired eyes, searched my face and burst into tears. Poor child. She was only eighteen herself. She would never, ever let anything like that happen again. I only hoped it didn’t make her nervous of every other human on the planet. I handed her my handkerchief. She sniffed and gave me a watery smile back.

  ‘Very well, Aemilia, let’s set this table before the children wake up and you can tell me all about it.’

  I didn’t have to prompt her. She poured it all out, then went back over and over every minute detail. Ten seconds of horror had been spinning around her head for over twenty-four hours. She fidgeted about, moving bowls and plates a few millimetres here and there, swapping the position of mugs and spoons. She paused for a second and said, ‘One funny thi
ng about him… it’s just struck me. I mean, he looked like anybody’s granddad, but his eyes, they weren’t wrinkly. My dad’s only forty-eight and he’s got funny little lines coming down from the edges of his eyes. This man had greeny-brown eyes but no wrinkles.’ She looked at me. ‘That’s not very helpful, is it?’

  ‘Yes, it is, it’s very good,’ I patted her shoulder. Out in the corridor I commandeered a secure radio from one of the guards. After some crackling and patching through, Plico’s voice grumped at me.

  ‘I know it’s early, Plico, but listen. Can you send somebody over with a retouched photo showing how Caius might look as an older man, say mid-sixties, but don’t alter the area around his eyes.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘I think the maid’s positively identified him.’

  I slid back into the day room to check Aemilia. Shoulders hunched, she was sitting at the children’s table, staring at the floor. I poured myself a glass of juice and waited a few moments to let her recover. As I was about to say a comforting word to her, the door from the inner corridor opened and a little girl entered.

  ‘Milia? Nobody’s come to wake me up. Where are you?’

  She sniffed a wet sniff, rubbed her eye socket with her tiny hand, then dropped it and stared at me.

  ‘Mama?’

  I managed to set my glass safely on the table before running across the room and folding Marina into my arms before she could take breath for another word.

  *

  Whatever Justina’s steward’s staff procedures were, I would insist Aemilia be retained as Marina’s attendant. Marina trusted the girl and was affectionate towards her, something I realised with a lump in my throat as I watched the two of them during the morning. I was shut out of their universe as they sang learning songs, worked on letters and coloured in drawings. I read Marina a story with her sitting on my knee, but she ran to Aemilia afterwards. I remembered my own nurse with great affection and running to her crying when my strict English tutor had punished me. Her arms had always been a comfort and refuge.