Savage City

by Sophia McDougall

  She had been gone barely a moment when someone knocked at the door. Noriko tensed, even though it was too quiet a tap to be a bored Praetorian, until a low voice outside said, ‘Let me in – it’s Amaryllis.’

  Amaryllis fled inside. ‘Ugh,’ she said, ‘I thought she’d never leave you alone. And the Praetorians are getting worse than ever.’ She had a folded sheet of paper in her hand, already opened.

  Noriko hurried with it to the window, tilting it towards what little light there was. It was not a letter, but a tourist map of the centre of Rome. An X was marked on a certain street on the far side of the Esquiline Hill. The address meant little to Noriko – it had been almost a year since she had been able to leave the palace. At the edge of the map there was a list of dates and times. Nothing else.

  ‘He would meet us there?’ whispered Tomoe.

  ‘Only at these times.’

  Cleomenes was giving them an hour, every evening for a week. Amaryllis pointed to one of the dates, only three days away. ‘The Emperor will be back that night – we should be gone before then.’

  Noriko and her ladies looked at each other. The idea of being gone without ever having to see Drusus again made Noriko almost dizzy.

  ‘We have not enough time,’ said Sakura faintly.

  Noriko remembered plunging out of a car into the street in Tusculum, how overwhelmed and lightheaded she had felt, just to be outside the usual barriers that had always stood between her and the world. None of them really knew how to live out there. She had never even been into a shop or a market to buy food.

  ‘No,’ she said to Amaryllis, ‘I think the night he returns is when we should do it.’

  The first step was to evade Trunnia. Noriko rarely drank alcohol, but that evening she asked for wine as soon as she decently could, and they all sat sipping it in silence, trying not to glance at one another. Then Noriko rose casually, still carrying her glass, and as she wandered past Trunnia – as if to pick up a book on the table – she fumbled her grip on the glass and emptied it down Trunnia’s front.

  Trunnia sprang up, dripping and outraged, and looked down at the large red splash on her dress.

  ‘Oh, no,’ said Noriko.

  ‘You did that on purpose!’ said Trunnia.

  Noriko shook her head, wide-eyed, as Tomoe tried to wipe at Trunnia with a handkerchief.

  ‘Get off me!’ Trunnia growled, jerking away from her. She stared at Noriko, her face rigid with indignation and suspicion, and Noriko gazed humbly back, wondering if Trunnia was actually going to hit her.

  Trunnia finally looked away and grabbed the handkerchief from Tomoe. She swept out, irritably dabbing at herself.

  Tomoe sighed with the temporary release of tension, and the three women all clasped hands for a moment. Noriko looked at herself in the mirror before hurrying out of the room. She no longer neglected her appearance, and she was dressed carefully, in sombre Roman clothes – it was a way to keep as much of her jewellery on her as was discreetly possible. Sakura and Tomoe were wearing much of the rest. She was prepared.

  Now she needed either of the guards who had attacked Sakura, for preference the one who had escorted her to Drusus’ table a few weeks before. She found him with three others in an anteroom on the first floor, between the private and administrative quarters of the palace.

  Noriko cleared her throat. Even before she spoke, a look – sharp and greedy, and entertained – flashed between the men as if there was something at once intrinsically ridiculous and titillating about her. Though she had expected it, she flushed and tensed, and the man she was looking for grinned at his colleague. He was young, round-headed, with a rather childlike, fleshy face and stubby features.

  ‘Can you tell me if it is true the Emperor is coming back tonight?’ she asked.

  One of them, a little older than the others, shrugged. ‘Sorry, darling.’

  ‘But if he is, will he want me to dine with him? I prefer to have some warning so I can prepare . . .’

  ‘Wait and see. Patience is character-building,’ said the same guard.

  Noriko walked over to the Praetorian she recognised. ‘I want you to come with me to look at something,’ she said.

  There was a pause, and a laughing catcall from one of them.

  ‘Just for a minute,’ Noriko said patiently. ‘I can see something strange from a window upstairs.’

  ‘You’d better go,’ said the other guard, ‘there’s something strange out there!’

  ‘She might get lost on her own,’ said another.

  The round-faced Praetorian smirked. ‘As a special favour,’ he said, and went with her.

  Noriko led him up towards her rooms but turned away before she reached them, into a quiet gallery. She had hoped, when it came to it, she would be able to think of something natural to say, but she was speechless with embarrassment and nervousness.

  ‘So,’ he said, at last, ‘what did you want to show me?’

  ‘Really, there is nothing,’ said Noriko. ‘It was . . . It was a joke.’

  ‘A joke?’

  ‘Yes. I get so bored.’ She cleared her throat again. ‘And lonely,’ she added. She took a breath and, rather feebly, lifted her hand to his face and let it trail down to his chest.

  The gesture – the entire stratagem – seemed immensely stilted and unconvincing to her now; she had barely even managed to smile. She was trying to work herself up to something more plausible, but there was no need, for the man chuckled a little and muttered, ‘I bet you do,’ and pulled her against him, pressed his mouth squashily against hers.

  Noriko managed to stroke his hair, but the hot, amused gasp he gave into her mouth, and his hands, immediately dragging at her clothes for any opening, made her think of the sounds he’d made as he and the other man had pulled up Sakura’s skirts; she remembered Drusus’ weight on her. She clenched her teeth shut against his large intruding tongue and writhed, but he either did not notice or took it for excitement, and swung her round to push her up against the wall. Noriko managed to pull her mouth free, and tried to keep it clear of his lips by pressing wincing kisses along his jaw.

  She had not expected it would be quite so easy, nor that it would go so swiftly beyond her control. His hand had worked its way inside her tunic, felt for and squeezed hard on her breast—

  Sakura stepped around the corner and took a picture with the camera Amaryllis had bought in Rome.

  Noriko broke free. ‘Now you are going to help us,’ she said.

  The Praetorian staggered a little and gaped at them. He grinned uncertainly.

  ‘The Emperor will come home this evening. We would like to go down to the Praetorian garage now and have you to drive us out of the Palace,’ continued Noriko, ‘otherwise we will tell him what you have done and show him this.’

  Amaryllis and Tomoe emerged from the landing into the gallery.

  ‘You bitches,’ the Praetorian said hoarsely. He hesitated for another moment, still a little dazed, then he made a lunge towards Sakura, who backed quickly away as Noriko and Tomoe closed in front of him.

  ‘That will make things even worse for you,’ said Sakura shrilly, from behind them.

  ‘She’s right,’ said Noriko, ‘surely we are not the only ones who know what you did to her. You thought no one would care – but I do. And what will people think if I begin screaming now and they find you fighting with us? Why should anyone disbelieve anything of you?’

  ‘You must know the Emperor wants her, don’t you?’ said Amaryllis idly. ‘He doesn’t like to share with other men.’

  The Praetorian panted, his face seemed swollen and red. ‘You’re never going to do it, you stupid bitches – you think anyone’s going to believe you weren’t leading me on? What’s he going to do to you if he sees that picture?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ said Noriko. ‘Perhaps terrible things – perhaps nothing. But whatever happens to me, it will not help you. You will be dead.’

  Amaryllis was leaning against a wall, her face a
s unfocused and serene as if in a gentle daydream. ‘Before my master was Emperor, one of his guards had me once. He wouldn’t listen to me,’ she said pleasantly, as if talking of something as unremarkable as what she’d had for lunch. ‘We were in Byzantium. My master had the others take him out into the street and shoot him.’

  The Praetorian’s mouth caught in an uneven snarl, his throat closing as he tried to say something.

  ‘Of course,’ said Amaryllis, ‘you will never be able to come back. You’ve ruined your life here.’

  Noriko pulled a comb from her hair. Kaneharu had given it to her before her wedding: two silver prongs supported a cluster of gold peonies with small rubies at their centres, from which tiny golden bells and pearls hung in looped chains. ‘We only need you to take us a very short distance, and then I will give you this.’

  ‘Don’t give him anything,’ said Amaryllis, disgusted.

  ‘I will give you this,’ repeated Noriko. It would hurt, to give away something so beautiful to such a man, but soon she would not need the comb to remind her of Kaneharu. ‘So you have a chance to get away and live. But stay here and try and fight us and you will have no hope at all.’

  The bright red had drained from the Praetorian’s face, leaving it almost grey. He sagged. His eyes turned blankly to the floor.

  ‘We are not waiting for you to think about it. We would like to leave now,’ said Noriko firmly.

  Noriko knew the Palace well; she and Amaryllis led the Praetorian through the quieter halls and stairways. There was a temptation to duck onto the servants’ stairs, but there could be no possible good reason for their being there. Tomoe and Sakura navigated a different course through the Palace, to keep the camera safely away from the Praetorian, and to avoid them all being caught in a single inexplicable group. Occasionally they passed bands of guards standing sentry outside some late meeting, or singing and laughing raucously at the end of a passage, and the Praetorian would stare desperately at them, as if pleading silently for help.

  ‘If we don’t meet the others,’ murmured Amaryllis to him, ‘you know what will happen.’

  The Praetorian kept up a chant of obscenities under his breath as they walked – ‘evil bitches, pack of vicious sluts, slitty-eyed whores’ – which Noriko patiently ignored, but as they stepped out into a courtyard, Amaryllis snapped suddenly, ‘I don’t like that,’ and he fell silent.

  The Praetorian garage was beneath the courtyard, and Noriko tensed as they approached the entrance, but though there were security cameras mounted on pillars around it, there were no guards here outside the Palace but within the heavily protected perimeter of the grounds.

  ‘But there could be someone down there, so you wait here,’ said Amaryllis to Noriko. She looped an arm proprietarily through the Praetorian’s and marched him off while Noriko lurked in the shadows of a cedar tree beside the driveway, twisting her hands, her teeth clenched tight with anxiety.

  The car emerged with Amaryllis inside it just as Sakura and Tomoe came running across the courtyard from the gardens.

  ‘We would like to go here, please,’ said Noriko, politely, as if to a chauffeur, ducking inside the car and pointing to the place on the map. The Praetorian uttered a wordless growl and jerked the car forward so suddenly the women were jolted back against the seats. They crouched low; in the back Sakura and Tomoe clung to each other.

  The car swerved: he was going too fast.

  ‘Careful, please,’ breathed Noriko from the floor beside him. ‘Remember your own life is in your hands.’

  Lights flooded the car as they approached the Septizonium. Noriko sank lower still as the car stopped; she could not see the guards on the gate, but the lights terrified her. We will never have another chance, she thought; Drusus will say we are traitors and put us in the arena like Una and Sulien. She watched the Praetorian hold his pass to the window, and saw his face was still puffy with fury.

  ‘Maa nante koto nanda,’ moaned Sakura in the back as they rolled through the gates and down into the city.

  Noriko trembled; her head pounded. She had to struggle to control her breath. For the first minute or two she was almost incapable of moving from her place on the floor, but as she felt the car turn and heard the hum of traffic around it she whispered, ‘Where are we?’ and cautiously lifted her head. She lifted the map and tried to study it by the cold blue glow of the streetlights. She recognised the Sacred Way, the entrance to the Via Labicana, but after that—? What if he meant to spite them by placing them on the wrong side of the city – and how would she even know the right place if he brought them there?

  He turned left where she thought he should have turned right and she said, ‘You are going the wrong way.’

  ‘It’s a fucking one-way system,’ said the Praetorian in disbelief.

  Noriko didn’t know whether to believe him, and now they were off the course she had expected, she could make no more sense of the map. She glanced anxiously into the back and saw her own expression mirrored on Tomoe and Sakura’s pale faces.

  But Amaryllis was sitting composedly between the seats, and that complacent smile was on her face again, as if this ride were nothing unusual.

  ‘Go faster,’ said Noriko. ‘You can, surely, in a Praetorian car.’

  Obediently the Praetorian began to carve through the traffic.

  Noriko steadied herself against the dashboard and shut her eyes.

  It took twenty minutes to get into the suburbs, and Noriko at last began to see correspondences between the streets outside and the map again: they were skirting a strip of rough parkland along a branch of the Tiber, and that looked right.

  Then the Praetorian turned onto a short, pot-holed road lined with bins, between jumbled tower blocks. ‘Here,’ he said sullenly, slamming on the brakes and stopping the car, ‘now get the fuck out and get the fuck away from me.’

  Nervously, Noriko surveyed the street. It was lined with bins and parked cars. There was no one about – no sign of Cleomenes. She had almost forgotten to worry whether he would be there to meet them.

  One of the cars had a door open. All its lights were off. Noriko waited, watching it, and no one stepped out. It was the only thing on the street that was even slightly out of place.

  The street itself – alien territory – frightened her almost as much as the possibility Cleomenes would not be in it. Noriko was shaking again, and her fingers were numb as she felt for the door handle.

  ‘Give me the thing,’ demanded the Praetorian.

  ‘When I have checked,’ said Noriko.

  ‘Bitch,’ replied the Praetorian, without expression.

  She pushed the door open and forced herself out. The dark air was surprisingly fresh, and scented – she could smell the green leaves by the riverside. A little unsteadily she hurried towards the car, and there was someone inside it after all. His hair was colourless in the dull blue light, but she could see the brightness of it. He turned.

  Noriko gasped, and beckoned towards the others – a vast, wild, sweeping movement. Sakura and Tomoe burst out of the car, with Amaryllis trailing more sedately behind.

  Noriko held up the comb and threw it back along the street, saw it gleam and bounce in the gutter. She saw the man scramble out of the car and drop to his knees, searching for it, and then she turned away and didn’t look back.

  Cleomenes looked at them as they packed into the seats, startled. ‘That was a Praetorian car—’

  ‘He won’t be telling anyone about this,’ said Noriko. ‘Thank you very much for helping us.’

  ‘It’s my job,’ he said heavily. ‘Or it was supposed to be.’

  Noriko sagged back in the seat, almost enjoying the remaining shudders of tension as they flowed out of her. She began, stammering a little, ‘Please, is it true—? Lady Noviana—?’

  ‘Una and Sulien? Yes, they’re alive,’ said Cleomenes, ‘and last I knew they were in Egypt with Varius and the rest. And I’m sending you to them. They might have some idea what to do with yo
u – I know I haven’t. Unless you’ve got something better in mind?’

  ‘No, said Noriko. The smile felt strange as it spread across her face; it had been so long. ‘Nothing better.’ And she looked at Sakura and Tomoe and as Cleomenes began to drive they flung their arms around each other and burst into stifled screams of delight and triumph.

  Amaryllis alone remained silent.

  ‘I knew he was up to something,’ said Cleomenes’ wife. ‘Either he was mixed up in something political or it had to be an affair.’ Cominia was short and plump, with soft, brown hair, large hazel eyes, a little snub nose. She laughed. ‘And here he is with four girls in a den of vice. Not many wives would be so understanding.’

  They were in an inn outside Centumcellae. No one had been around to see them as Cleomenes hurried them inside. ‘It’s got a certain reputation for privacy,’ he had said grimly. Noriko understood what he meant by ‘reputation’ when they reached the dark, tilt-floored, stale-smelling room with the browning roses on the thin walls. Sounds of exertion carried through from the room next door.

  ‘I shouldn’t have let you get involved,’ said Cleomenes. He glowered unhappily at a pornographic print on the wall. Noriko wondered if she would look excessively prudish if she took it down – everyone seemed to have been at least mildly scandalised by it, except for Amaryllis – and Alexander, Cleomenes’ solemn, red-headed two-year-old who was at present trying to excavate a hole he had found in the dirty carpet. Cleomenes scooped up his son and sat down dolefully on one of the beds with the boy on his knee. ‘I don’t like him being in a place like this.’

  ‘I think he’s too young to get any funny ideas,’ said Cominia, unrolling a pack of combs and scissors on the dusty dressing table. ‘Anyway, you couldn’t do this without some help.’ She surveyed Noriko and made a sympathetic hissing sound through her teeth. ‘I’m sorry, love – your Highness, it’s gorgeous hair, but it’s got to come off.’