AURELIA (Roma Nova Book 4)

by Alison Morton

  ‘You’re in good health, Countess, but your blood pressure is elevated significantly above the normal level. I must prescribe complete rest for at least two weeks. If the placenta doesn’t get enough blood, your baby will receive less oxygen and fewer nutrients. This can mean slow growth, low birth weight or premature birth which, of course, can lead to breathing problems for the baby.’

  She had no idea how complicated my life was at present, nor the stress of it. Two weeks off was completely out of the question. I was about to say as much, but stopped, realising she would report back to Justina.

  ‘Is there any medication you recommend?’ I asked, and smiled like a good little patient. She scribbled a prescription which I filed in my handbag.

  Back in my car, I rested my forehead on the steering wheel and took a deep breath. Then I swore; at the snotty obstetrician, Justina, Plico, bloody Caius. All of them interfered with my life. All of them thought they could control me. I had my duty to my family, and to Roma Nova – that I took as read – but I was nobody’s poodle. The only person I wanted to intervene in my life had slid out of my reach. Oh, Miklós.

  I placed my palm over my middle. I wanted this baby. I couldn’t endanger it, but abandoning the hunt for Caius was impossible.

  *

  ‘So you see, Plico, I’ve been told to rest quietly which is why I’m phoning you from home. I’m sure you can survive without me for a few weeks.’

  ‘I could do with your desk space. We don’t have anywhere to base the new data entry clerks. They’re as pale and silent as a crowd of mushrooms and sit there feeding information into this new mainframe system we bought last month.’

  ‘That’s the future. You’ll be tapping away at a keyboard one day.’

  ‘The gods forbid! That’s what we have typists for. What in Hades would we do with all the spare young men who sit in the typing pool? Anyway, don’t change the subject. Tell me exactly what the doctor said.’

  After I’d finished, he said, ‘You’re taking it very coolly. I thought you’d be flouncing around spitting nails.’

  ‘Well, I have to admit, I do get tired, and I want to make sure this baby has the best possible future.’

  One without Caius.

  As I replaced the handset after Plico’s gruff instruction to take care of myself, I went through my conversation with him. While I had skirted round some of the questions, I hadn’t told an actual untruth.

  *

  Mercuria raised an eyebrow at my appearance in combat trousers and shirt, then looked at me for a few seconds without saying a word.

  ‘Are you absolutely sure, ma’am?’

  ‘A hundred per cent. I can’t practise with a firearm – the noise and shockwaves could damage the baby, but some physical exercise would merely enhance my fitness. And I need to test my reactions at a professional level.’

  She led me from her office downstairs to the gym and through to the small arena. The smells of wood polish, stale sweat and leather hit me. Twin neon strip lights along each side of a square frame above shone down on the sand circle. Along one side, protective leather body armour hung on pegs. I selected a medium and shrugged it on. I zipped the side and fastened the shoulder buckles. Mercuria’s must have been a cadet size; she looked about twelve in it.

  I picked up a wooden shield for each of us, the small circular ones. She twisted the combination lock on the grey steel cabinet and swung the door open. Inside were racks of short swords, fifty-centimetre blades modelled on the so-called Pompeii gladius pattern. While some late Roman armies used the longer spatha towards the end of the Western Empire, we’d kept the shorter gladius. Now only the military or licensed gyms used them for training. But they were unrivalled for learning the sheer physicality of close-quarter combat. If you were careless and let your opponent cut you, then more fool you. This evening, I knew I was going to be that fool.

  We circled, she trying a few experimental jabs, me trying to keep my feet moving as fast as hers. Despite the fitness training I was doing each morning, I didn’t have the stamina by this time of the day. But I took some deep breaths for oxygen, pulled the training shield up to my chest, brought the sword up to high line and launched myself at her. She looked surprised, but dodged down at my first thrust; the tip of my sword speared the empty air above her shoulder. She went to attack from a forty-five-degree angle, but I swung down hard. My arm jarred as I met her shield, but I quickly regrouped to parry her next thrust aimed at my neck. I struck it down and barely avoided her return aimed at my midriff. I drew back.

  ‘No!’ I shouted in her face. ‘Oh, gods, that was pathetic.’ I dropped the gladius and held my hand up. ‘Sorry, Mercuria. I can’t do this.’

  She shook her head. ‘Thank Mars for that. To be honest, I didn’t feel comfortable at fighting a pregnant woman, however skilled she may be.’

  ‘Skilled? Ha! More like one of Hannibal’s bloody elephants.’

  ‘No,’ she said, her eyes studying my face. ‘You may be a little slower than before, but the skill and strength are still there. Why don’t you leave it until the baby is born? I’d be glad to take a few turns with you then.’

  By then it would be too late. Either Caius would be dead or I would.

  Mercuria agreed to some wooden sword practice the next few afternoons, but no more bladed weapons.

  I arrived home exhausted, but more confident, each day. As I lay in bed four evenings later, I fought sleep while I assessed my readiness. Morning lie-ins, exercise, vitamins and my self-imposed ban on coffee as well as alcohol were getting my body ready, but was my mind there?

  XXIX

  Milo, the steward, sat the other side of my desk the following morning, no less stiff in attitude than at our confrontation the previous week. He was meticulous going through the domestic programme for the next fortnight, almost to the point of boredom. Perhaps it was because working out how to track Caius down was occupying most of my waking moments that I found water leaks, torn linen and adolescent servant upsets irrelevant at present. But I pushed my resentment back. It would be not only undignified to show impatience but wrong. Whatever his or her personality, the steward was key in the familia, the household, and I’d do well to pay attention.

  ‘… and the new security cameras on the exterior walls are performing very well.’

  I blinked. Had I really heard the austere Milo praise something?

  ‘Have you seen anything of interest? Some of the younger servants canoodling?’ I chuckled.

  ‘No, domina. I do not allow such exhibitionism.’

  ‘No, of course not,’ I replied quickly.

  ‘If you are at all interested,’ he said in a voice reproving and sarcastic at the same time, ‘there were two occurrences yesterday which I find disturbing.’

  Probably somebody dropping a piece of paper on the pavement, knowing Milo.

  ‘In what way?’ I asked dutifully.

  ‘Perhaps you would accompany me to the porter’s lodge and I’ll show you the films?’

  To the side of the tall gates a stone kiosk with three large windows was built against the high wall surrounding the outside of the whole property. The little building’s two walls set at ninety degrees to each other met at a corner which had been shaved off to form a diagonal where the largest window was set. As we approached, the porter jumped off his chair inside and stood at the window looking nervous.

  ‘Porter,’ Milo said, ‘we need to see the tape from yesterday. Please prepare the screen.’

  Hampered by his trembling hands, the old man searched a wooden rack at the side of the screen and found the cartridge. He tried to insert it into the player slot but it wouldn’t go in.

  ‘Take the current one out, you old fool,’ Milo shouted at him. I laid my hand on Milo’s arm and shook my head. He shrugged, but said nothing. I smiled in thanks at the porter when he’d managed to start the video replay. He stepped back into the corner, putting the furthest distance he could between himself and Milo.

  ‘
There are two machines for each of the two cameras with a control box,’ Milo began. ‘One is on time lapse, so it records a frame every four minutes. But if either of the cameras detects any movement in the area it’s covering, it triggers the second recorder in hi-res mode.’

  ‘What’s that?’

  ‘You will appreciate, domina, that twenty-four-hour surveillance would be impossible to run all the time. They’d be changing the tapes every six hours.’ His voice carried that semi-exasperation of an expert explaining to a pupil. ‘The higher quality machine only starts if there’s any movement and keeps recording until the movement stops.’ He waved at the bank of machinery. ‘The feeds from both cameras and the recorders are all controlled centrally and the hi-res recordings are time-stamped.’

  ‘That’s all very good, Milo, but what does all this wonderful new technology show us?’

  He pressed a button from the bank of machinery. ‘This.’ The black and white picture was sharp and showed a man, walking energetically, arms swinging naturally, nothing out of the ordinary. He wore a coat, hat, scarf and gloves against the cold. I estimated him to be in his thirties from his build and gait.

  Pedestrians weren’t as common as in other parts of the town. Domus Mitelarum was in the outskirts; the houses were spaced out and most people drove here. The original Mitelae had built their first stone house and run their original farm from the countryside when it had been a mile or two outside the original colonia walls in the fifth century. But the city had expanded over the centuries and the house, rebuilt several times, was now within the city proper.

  ‘Pity we can’t see his face,’ I remarked.

  ‘Ah, but we can.’ He pressed another switch and a new film started with the date and time stamp a few minutes later. The same man walking at the same pace approached from the opposite direction. His face was clear. He even looked up at the camera and tipped his hat at it.

  The bastard.

  Back in the house, I grabbed the handset from the telephone on the vestibule side table and dialled Plico’s personal number. For the first time in two weeks I felt queasy, not the morning sickness of two months ago, but an oily, lumpy feeling in my gut. I wanted to go after Caius, but was unnerved by how easily he was stalking me in my own house. When Plico came on the line, I explained what had happened.

  ‘What time was this?’ he growled.

  ‘15.35 and 16.05 yesterday, according to the time and date stamps,’ I said, glancing at Milo, who nodded. ‘My steward can give you the exact technical details if you need them.’

  ‘Why in Hades didn’t he report this earlier?’

  ‘I don’t know why my steward didn’t mention it to me before,’ I said, fixing my eyes on Milo, who looked away.

  ‘I’ll get a twenty-four-hour vigiles guard on your place as of now and I’ll see if the imperatrix will agree to Praetorians as well. Stay put inside the house.’

  ‘We have security here. My steward is ex-military and so are a number of my household. And with the new CCTV—’

  ‘No amount of fancy electronics will protect you once Caius gets inside.’ He coughed. ‘Your steward is now, what, fifty-six, fifty-seven? And those two ex-infantrywomen are the same age.’

  ‘And tell me exactly how you know that?’ Even I was startled by the ice in my voice.

  ‘I… er, had them checked.’

  ‘You did what? How dare you!’ I slammed the handset down. Milo raised an eyebrow. I stalked back into the atrium, jerking my head for Milo to follow me. Who in Hades did Plico think he was, ferreting around in my private household affairs? I crossed my arms and took a very deep breath.

  ‘Well, Milo, why didn’t you tell me about this before?’

  He looked away, then brought his gaze back to me. ‘I wasn’t completely sure it was Tellus. And I gained the impression, now I see the wrong impression, that you were too busy with your investigation, your medical appointments and meeting your former colleagues to be interested.’ He coughed. ‘I apologise.’

  ‘We’ll discuss this further, have no doubt. If we can’t work together as adults without rubbing each other up the wrong way, then—’

  The phone cut across the rest of what I was going to say and Milo went to answer it. I stared out at the new roses I’d had planted a month ago in the inner courtyard; bare and forlorn, little wax-tipped sticks that a child could have pushed in the ground.

  Milo appeared, face impassive.

  ‘Secretary Plico for you.’

  ‘Tell him to get lost.’

  ‘He says he’ll send Senior Centurion Numerus round to talk sense into you if you don’t come to the phone.’

  ‘Numerus is back?’

  ‘Apparently so.’

  I took my time approaching the vestibule table and picking up the handset. I fiddled with the telephone cord with my other hand.

  ‘Plico. I apologise for my rudeness, but you had no right. None whatsoever.’

  ‘Yes, I know, but—’

  ‘However, I realise you were doing it for my protection.’

  ‘The gods be praised, your brain is working again.’

  ‘If you ever pull another trick like that—’

  ‘I know, I’ll be thrown into Tartarus, never to re-emerge. Now can we get back to the matter in hand, please?’

  *

  A PGSF short wheelbase appeared at the front gate an hour later and once in the courtyard with the gates shut behind it, Numerus stepped out and pulled a kitbag and briefcase out of the back.

  ‘Secretary Plico has instructed me to work from here to coordinate the operation. Three more of my team will arrive this evening so that we can maintain a proper watch and try to catch the bastard. The psychologist says Caius is fixated on you, so it’s extremely likely he’ll come back here.’

  ‘You’re very welcome, Numerus. We have plenty of room. The porter’s quite old and a little deaf. He’s finding it a bit much especially with Milo breathing down his neck. The old chap’s worked for the Mitelae since he was fourteen and his mother before him. If your people are going to be in the lodge watching the screens, then I’ll send him to the farm out at Castra Lucilla.’

  I wasn’t unhappy to send the porter back with the farm truck that had made the weekly run with meat, fruit and vegetables. Milo was pleased the farm manager had included two large hams and a tub of honey, remarking that we had all these additional hungry mouths to fill. Sometimes, Milo out-grumped himself.

  Numerus went through his observation strategy; there’d be two guards on, two off at all times. One guard per shift would be watching the screen in the former porter’s lodge and the other in the courtyard ready to run out of the gate if anybody suspicious turned up.

  ‘I don’t want to post a guard outside and put Caius Tellus off from making his move,’ Numerus said. ‘And I’ve told the vigiles to keep their drive-by to twice a day only. They have to be seen to have increased their presence in some way. Caius isn’t stupid – he’d expect some reaction from his smart-arse little walk-by.’

  ‘I bet the vigiles love being told what to do by the Praetorians,’ I said.

  ‘Well, Secretary Plico’s cleared it with their prefect, apparently.’ Numerus looked sceptical.

  ‘Quite,’ I replied, and grinned at him.

  ‘Secretary Plico gave me this for you.’ Numerus handed me an envelope. Inside were photocopies of six pages of Festa’s Vienna phone bill. And all six pages were double-sided. Juno! Neat annotations and an analysis were attached. Plico had added a scribbled note of his own. ‘Some of them are press, some are silver/metal trade or bankers. Get your silver friend to comment, please.’

  *

  ‘I’m deeply sorry to ask you this, Prisca, but I would deem it an enormous personal favour if you have a few minutes. I can send photocopies round within the hour.’

  ‘Gods, Aurelia, stop pussyfooting around.’ Monticola’s crisp tone reassured me I wasn’t trespassing on our friendship. ‘I told you I’d help in any way. Besides, if some
thing’s going on that affects the silver market, I need to know. I appreciate being consulted.’

  ‘Well, Plico ordered me to ask you and I was about to tell him where to put his request when I thought about it. If there’s a link in the timing of those phone calls and the anomalous trades, it might be enough evidence to nail those responsible.’

  *

  Justina’s steward sent a car for me later the next morning so I could spend part of the day with Marina. I would not be permitted to travel unescorted and unguarded until Caius was caught.

  After three days of being a prisoner in my own house, I rebelled.

  ‘Look, Numerus, he’s after me. Let me go and be the bait. I can wear a tracker and a wire. We’re never going to catch him unless we go on the offensive.’

  ‘Not a chance, Secretary Plico would have my balls in a sling and fire them over the city wall.’

  ‘Then how long do we wait?’

  ‘As long as it takes.’

  Bundled up in my tracksuit, I went for a run around the park that stretched out behind Domus Mitelus to disperse my frustration. It was nearly five, so I’d be quick. Dusk would fall suddenly and the air would freeze shortly afterwards.

  A pretty garden with walkways gave way to lawns which sloped gradually down to the stream. Tall cedars and oaks provided welcome shade in summer over part of the parkland; the result of my great-grandmother’s time in England as a diplomat. She must have been impressed by the stately homes over there and fallen in love with the Capability Brown style.

  Now the trees were stark black against the grey November sky. The sickle moon rising gave little light. The land we owned beyond the river was still farmed, but by a tenant these days. She had access to the water for her cattle, via a gate, but the fields would be deserted now, her animals in barns for the winter.

  On our side, about five metres before the river, a deep sloping trench faced with a stone wall about three metres high, apparently called a ha-ha by the English, stopped the cattle wandering into our parkland if they crossed the river. But it wouldn’t stop even an unfit human being.