Successio

by Alison Morton

  Technically, Conrad had violated the code by not disclosing voluntarily about Nicola, but how stupid would it have been for me to discipline him for that?

  ‘You underestimate yourself, Carina. You’re sufficiently terrifying by yourself.’

  I smiled at him. He smiled back.

  ‘I thought we’d have a little chat, just between ourselves,’ I said. ‘Not only do I not want to make it official, I want your advice.’

  ‘Oh?’

  ‘C’mon, Uncle Quintus, don’t be difficult. I really do need your help.’

  His eyes scrutinised my face for some moments. He waved his hand, inviting me to speak. I knew he’d manoeuvre me to be first up to bat.

  ‘I don’t know what Conradus has discussed with you and I don’t suppose you’ll tell me.’ I glanced at him. The expression on his face was impassive. He waited for me to continue. ‘I’m concerned he didn’t confide in me when we were in London,’ I said. ‘I only found out by accident.’

  He grimaced. ‘Conradus put it in rather stronger terms. “Sneaky” and “underhand” were somewhere in the conversation.’

  ‘Whatever. What did he expect from another spook?’

  We sat in silence for a few moments. I heard faint sounds of crockery being set on surfaces from his dining room. Of course, like many older people he ate early.

  ‘Quintus, I only want to help. I’m worried he’ll internalise it and get depressed like after the accident.’

  A little over six months ago, Conrad and I had been out on a rare shopping expedition in the old quarter of the city. Fed up and impatient to get home, we’d headed for a short cut through a narrow alley behind the shops. Just before it opened on to the Via Nova, we’d heard shouting and crying. In front of a recessed timber-framed building we found a stocky, middle-aged man smacking a kid of around six or seven. The kid cowered in the old beam-framed doorway, pinioned by the man’s hand against the timber door. The man’s other hand travelled back and forth across the boy’s face and side of his head, palm and back of hand hitting the child with increasing ferocity. It wasn’t a casual slap or two, it was systemised beating.

  With an almost feral cry of ‘Nooo!’ Conrad hurled himself on the man and smashed him to the ground. Then he knelt down by the kid to comfort him, but the boy pulled away, terrified. I caught and held the kid, murmured reassurance and wiped his dirty, bloody face already starting to bloom with bruising. Conrad called the custodes and the medics but kept his eyes fixed on the boy. Neither of us was watching the guy Conrad had felled. Sloppy in retrospect, I guessed. Next minute, the man was on his feet and punched Conrad hard in the small of his back and ran toward the Via Nova. Conrad grunted, caught his breath and sprinted after him.

  Next thing I heard was a screech of brakes followed by the dull thump of something bouncing off a vehicle to the ground, then metal crunching metal. The beater was dead under the vehicle’s wheels. Conrad was blue-lighted to the Central Valetudinarium. Apart from the broken leg and multiple bruising, the most serious injury was to the side of his head. The MRI and CT scans cleared him of permanent damage, but he became frustrated and depressed at how slowly he’d recovered. He seemed cheered when I told him the kid had been fostered with a decent family in the city.

  Conrad was cleared physically fit, although not for active operations as his reflexes had been dulled. He’d never be able to go out in the field again, something I still wasn’t sure he’d accepted. The Senate had reconfirmed him in his command post, but I still worried about the overall effect on him. I’d stopped mentioning it as he hated being reminded that he could no longer be the super-perfect special forces officer.

  ‘I wouldn’t worry about it,’ Quintus’s voice brought me back to the present. ‘He’ll sort it out.’ He gave me one of his politician’s smiles. ‘Now, what are you doing for your birthday? Anything special?’

  I was stunned by Quintus’s lack of cooperation. No, it was a thin slice off wilful obstruction. What the hell was going on? Had he lost it?

  No, it was their damned bond. Quintus had rescued Conrad from a disastrous early childhood; Conrad’s step-father, Caius Tellus, had launched a coup and imposed a repressive regime afterwards that lasted barely twelve months. In the aftermath, with the family ruined politically and their property confiscated by the state, Quintus was lucky to have survived, exiled to the east as a lowly country magistrate. He’d fought his way back, gaining a compassionate patron, some say lover, who’d brought him into the circles of power.

  He’d sent his tough little nephew into the legions, where Conrad had thrived, enduring the strenuous training and the contempt for his name. Invited to join the PGSF as a young officer, he’d worked tirelessly to reach the top. It probably hadn’t hurt him any that his wily uncle had risen to be the imperatrix’s Chancellor for the last fifteen years. Quintus was retired now and although he still had personal influence, the power didn’t flow from him in the same way.

  But he still acted like a politician. I couldn’t coax a further word out of him. As I left Domus Tellarum, I almost forgot to smile at the steward as she murmured a farewell.

  I drove into the town centre and called Lucius, more properly Lucius Punellus. He’d been the PGSF Adjutant for many years and knew everything about everybody. More importantly, he’d been Conrad’s best friend and comrade-in-arms since they were recruits.

  Would I get the same stonewalling from him? Had Conrad gotten to him first?

  Lucius had retired last year and lived with his long-time companion, Paulina Carca in a tasteful, but fairly modest, apartment block halfway along the Via Nova. His spiteful ex-wife had divorced him without a solidus over the minimum legal settlement. Paulina only had a teacher’s pension plus a run-down little farm her aunt had left her. But they were refurbishing it little by little and looked happy together.

  ‘Lucius? Carina. Can I drop by for a few minutes?’ Pause. ‘Outside your street door.’ I’d parked up in the courtyard already. I looked up and saw his figure standing at the window, but he was too far away for me to distinguish anything else. I heard the entry lock buzz and slipped in.

  ‘Always pleased to see you, Carina,’ He bent down to kiss my cheek as he ushered me across their threshold. ‘What trouble are you in this time?’

  Paulina Carca coming into the hallway saved me from giving an impolite reply. She shook hands, smiling nervously. She’d accepted me as one of Lucius’s colleagues, but he told me she’d never forgotten that night nearly seven years ago when I’d burst into her apartment with a bunch of heavies. A desperate time when we were fighting off an attempted coup. I was deep undercover and wasn’t particularly happy about it, but we’d had to get to Lucius quickly. We hadn’t trashed the place in any way, but she was still resentful. One of those I’d never win over, I guessed.

  He gave her a reassuring smile and gently steered her back into their sitting room. Lucius took me into his tiny study, firmly shutting the door.

  ‘Okay, what’s this about?’

  Lucius had run the admin side of the PGSF with ruthless efficiency and could snake his way though any bureaucratic maze. He settled behind his desk, his eyes staring unblinking at my face, his tall upper body leaning forward. He was concentrating every gram of his mental energy on me. I’d forgotten how formidable he could be. I took a deep breath and started.

  ‘Totally off the record, okay?’

  He said nothing, but I saw his shoulders tense. Was I too late?

  ‘Has Conradus been in touch about a little problem that’s come his way?’

  ‘What sort of problem?’

  ‘Um, a family problem.’

  ‘Isn’t that your domain?’

  ‘Yes, it should be. I’m perfectly happy to deal with it, officially, if I have to. But he’s closed me out.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Yes, really. Don’t look so smug, Lucius. That’s my job, to protect my family.’

  I told him about the contents of the letter and Andrew Bru
dgland’s initial findings.

  ‘I don’t know, Carina. Perhaps he wants to do this one himself.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Don’t quote me, but he’s a proud man and perhaps underneath he’s terrified of hurting you again. He thought he’d lost you all those years ago when he didn’t tell you about his previous children.’ He got up and closed the drapes. He picked up a paper clip from his desk and teased it out straight before looking me direct in the eye. ‘He doesn’t want a repeat.’

  ‘But by hiding this business with this girl, he’s doing it again.’

  He snorted. ‘Whoever said he’d be logical?’

  ‘C’mon, Lucius, he’s one of the coolest, most decisive people I know.’

  ‘Yes, but remember his upbringing.’

  ‘Meaning?’

  ‘I’m no head doctor, but when people feel a threat to something they hold dear, that’s vital to them, they often lose it and act very strangely. They’re in survival mode. Sometimes, they even strike out at the people nearest to them.’

  ‘Has he been in contact with you?’

  ‘No, he hasn’t.’ He grinned. ‘He probably knew I’d tell him not to be such an arse and let your family council sort it out for him.’

  I chuckled. ‘You’re such a sensitive soul, Lucius.’

  ‘I’m not going to tell you your job. I expect you’ve got some wild plan to sort it out. But you know I’ll help, don’t you?’

  ‘Yes.’ I laid my hand on the back of his and smiled up at him. ‘Thanks.’

  ‘Perhaps I’ll call him anyway to see if he wants to go to the gym or for a drink.’

  I struggled not to shout at him for such an elementary blunder. Conrad would know immediately I’d been at Lucius. It was different from talking to Uncle Quintus; Conrad would expect that. But Lucius and Paulina were so often at their farm that it would be reasonable to assume I hadn’t been able to see him.

  ‘Would you mind leaving it, Lucius? Just for a while.’

  ‘Why? Oh, of course. It would be too much of a coincidence, wouldn’t it? Mars, I’m starting to get old.’

  ‘Go back to playing at farmers, Lucius. I’ll try not to disturb you.’

  ‘Cheeky little tart – we don’t play, we’re serious. We want to move out there permanently, so it’s got to work.’

  I couldn’t see Lucius digging around amongst rows of salad or doing unspeakable things with cows, but he seemed to want it.

  *

  The next afternoon, Flavius and I waited. And waited. Where the Hades was Branca? Flavius started tapping on his el-pad, unusual for him to show impatience. But I didn’t think he had much time for the head of training. Nor, I admitted, did I. Lieutenant Colonel Tertia Branca was a pain in the fundament. One of the last of the old guard to come through, she still thought her rank entitled her to behave as she thought fit. After years of being contained in logistics, she’d been promoted to take the wonderful Julia Sella’s place in training when Sella retired. Bad move. Luckily her staff managed to keep the department functioning at some level, but it was becoming more difficult as each week passed.

  ‘If she doesn’t turn up in the next five minutes, I’m off. Sorry, Bruna, but I’ve got better things to do than hang around for some slacker to get over her hangover.’

  ‘Not very respectful, Senior Centurion,’ I mock-admonished him.

  ‘Sorry, ma’am, I’m sure.’

  But Flavius was right.

  I tried her personal commset again. It was switched off.

  ‘Okay, let’s carry on and send her the report afterwards.’ Not that it would do much, but I’d blind copy it to her executive officer and something might get done. Gods, it was hard sometimes, dealing with idiots. I turned to my screen to begin, when a loud knock on the door interrupted me. The door burst open.

  ‘I’m very sorry, ma’am, I only just found out this meeting was scheduled. I hope I’m not too late.’ Lieutenant Lucilla Mitela, clutching her folder, chest heaving, gulped down some air; she must have run all the way.

  ‘Come in, Lucy, sit down and get your breath back.’

  Lucy smiled nervously at Flavius; he returned a grave, but not angry look. ‘Where’s Colonel Branca?’ he said.

  ‘She’s… she’s indisposed, Senior Centurion, so I thought I’d better come and take notes in her place.’

  Flav rolled his eyes and muttered, ‘For fuck’s sake!’ not quite under his breath.

  ‘Well, let’s get on with it,’ I said. ‘You’ll have to convey our decisions back to her, Lucy. We don’t have time to waste on another meeting. If she doesn’t like what we agreed, tell her to take it up with the legate.’

  *

  Somehow, Conrad and I seemed to miss each other at home. Was it just a case of split work shifts or deliberate evasion? Either way, I didn’t have the opportunity to raise the question of Nicola again with him. I had a Senate committee meeting this afternoon and spent lunchtime going through the paperwork. I hated being on the bureaucratic end of the security oversight group. I sometimes had to grill my own colleagues – a near impossible situation. I knew how tough their job was without having to justify every solidus of their budget or every tiny action. But I had no choice; that was my job. One of my other jobs, I should say.

  Giving up on reading the papers, I went through the main part of the house up to my grandmother’s rooms as I did at least once a day. Marcella, her assistant, now grey herself, led me through to the bedroom. Nobody had used the D word yet, but Aurelia Mitela, my grandmother, my beloved Nonna, was dying.

  She was propped up in bed, eyes half-closed. I looked down at her face, frail skin sagging over the shrunken flesh beneath. My hands balled automatically. I felt angry and powerless at the way the cancer was destroying her. She was only in her eighties; according to the records, our family usually reached the century. Gods, how unfair it was for such a clever and affectionate woman to be taken like this.

  ‘Hello, darling,’ she said. Her voice was surprisingly strong as was the sparkle in her eyes. ‘You look so tired, Carina. You should try to rest, you know.’

  What in Hades was I supposed to say to that? Nothing adequate presented itself, so I said nothing. I just held her skeleton’s hand.

  ‘I’m fine, Nonna, really,’ I lied after a few minutes. ‘I have to go to the security committee session this afternoon and the documents were giving me a headache.’

  ‘Really? That’s it?’ I felt her eyes delving under my facade. ‘I don’t think that’s everything, is it?’

  ‘No,’ I admitted, ‘but I have something I need to sort out in the family and I haven’t worked out what or how to do it. But I don’t want to bother you with it.’

  She snorted. More like a wheeze, but effective enough. ‘I’m not on my bier yet, Carina. So tell me, please.’ She never sounded more clipped as then. She was back in her role as head of a rich and powerful family with connections and influence all the way up to the top. She had more steel in her poor wasted hand than most had between their head and tail.

  When I’d finished, she gave me a steady look.

  ‘I know you felt you didn’t have much choice, but I don’t think you handled it very well, darling.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘It was a mistake to confront him as soon as you got back. I would have carried on my investigation behind the scenes for a little longer.’

  I was hurt by her analysis; I was considered a strategic specialist. Maybe I’d lost my edge during the past two years I’d commanded Operations. Or let my deep concern for Conrad interfere with logic. But no way was I going to start a major argument with her. I didn’t go for the old and dying.

  ‘Somebody cut your tongue out?’ Her eyes glittered almost maliciously. ‘Too scared to fight me?’

  ‘You’re impossible! Of course I can’t fight you, you’re—’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘You are so unfair, Nonna.’

  ‘Yes, I know, but you’re so vulnerable, Car
ina, it’s irresistible.’

  ‘Well, behave yourself, Nonna, and try to help me out here.’

  ‘Only if you stop being sentimental and pretending I’m not dying. You’re wasting both our time.’

  I choked on my next breath and felt my eyes tearing. She sent me an incinerating look. I drew myself up, swallowed and looked straight at her.

  ‘Better,’ she observed. ‘Now, try and rescue some brains cells from the sloppy mush in your head and listen to me. Conrad has reached some kind of crisis, perhaps something from his past and the letter from this girl has triggered it. Your grandfather, Euralbius, went through a similar phase, so I know what I’m talking about. They do get over it, so long as you keep your head.’

  I stroked her hand, blessing myself again for her wisdom and hard-headedness.

  ‘Try very hard not to oppose him directly. It’s like dealing with an adolescent, but a lot more serious. I’m not telling you to submit in any way. Be patient, but clever.’ She gave me a measured look. ‘You’re crafty enough to be able to work this out, Carina. I suppose you’ve gone soft worrying about me. Well, you can stop that, right now. You’re going to have to concentrate.’

  How did she do this? I know she was a bone-and-blood Roman, but such toughness and selflessness was beyond anything. If I could behave one tenth as well, I should be very proud.

  The next moment, she wilted, sinking into the cream lace-edged pillows. It was a small vanity of hers to have wide swathes of hand-made lace to frame her sleep. I would have bought her an ocean of it if it would have taken this evil disease away.

  V

  Checking my mails next morning, one sprang out at me – Conrad’s executive officer, Rusonia, asking me to call by his office ‘as soon as convenient’. Which meant now. I glanced at my watch. It was barely seven thirty. What was so urgent? He’d come home late last night, I’d been drifting off to sleep when I’d felt him slide into our bed, but he didn’t say a word. Nor did he touch me. When I woke around six, he’d gone, not even appearing at breakfast. Was Nonna right? Maybe I should have left it.