XV. Italian Policies (1)
Mali Lukovac Island, Kingdom of Yugoslavia: October 24, 1929
Alice Huet
I went to look for Michel, somewhere in his garden. It was a strange place, halfway between a witch's field and the Garden of Eden. Flowers of all colors and shapes were piling up, growing everywhere with a sort of exuberance, of floral ecstasy, as if indulging in a great vegetable orgy. I passed thickets and colorful groves, skirted the vegetable patch, passed the herb garden, brushed aside a flowering vine that fell in my face, stepped over a few flowerbeds wedged between thick bushes, crossed the rose gardens, and finally I arrived in the edge of it garden, where long rows of fruit trees grew.
Michel was beside Louis, under an orange tree. White, slightly pinkish petals littered the ground. My son had teared off Camellias' petals.
"Don't tear the petals of the corollas, Louis," he asked him softly.
"But you can fix them," the boy replied. "
With a gesture Michel restored the flower, but showed him the long cracks where the old tears were.
" Is it a living being. If you damage it, it will never be the same. "
– Maman. »
He gave the flower to Louis, but leaving the wizard's hand, it instantly faded. Annoyed, my boy let go of the rod.
"Will she grow back in heaven?"
- Who told you about heaven?
- Mom. "
He ruffled his mop. "I am sure it will."
They saw me. Louis ran to give me a kiss, then disappeared between the thickets.
"They grow up fast," Michel whispered.
- Sometimes I have the impression that they are more your children than mine, I answered him.
"Don't talk nonsense," he said to me, slipping an arm over my shoulders. "Heaven, Alice?"
- It's nicer than talking to him about Hades. And shoud I remind you, that he is baptized ?
- I know, I'm his godfather.
- And, by the way, you are not very involved in teaching him the Catholic faith. "
Michel laughed. "You chose the wrong godfather. "
I gave up. We both grew up going to mass every Sunday, as everybody used to do then, but as adults, Michel had distanced himself. Yet, his name aside, he had taken on his mother's side. The resemblance was becoming more and more obvious. In addition to his features, his eyes, his overall appearance, his magical skills, or even his volcanic character, it was a certain optimism, a kind of gentleness that made him stood out, a rage for life. Over the years, the war memories had let go of him. And whereas most of his former comrades had just whithdrawn and shut down in their gloomy silence, the war had gradually slipped over him, letting the young man of our twenty years reappear, with his futility, his insolence, his faith in changes to come. I remembered Marie, exhausted after a long day in the factory, dancing to the sound of orchestras. While looking at Michel, patiently picking up my son for the umpteenth time on an spelling exercise, I also remembered her stubbornness, when she persuaded me that I had to keep trying to read, even though the words were mixing up on the page,
We had opened a cabaret in Sarajevo, to cover the Nome's expenses, as Michel quickly understood that he had to be as independent as possible from the First Nome. We entrusted its management to two friends, a Tzigan musician, Tchokola, and Yaacov, a former student, driven out of his Yeshiva, who had fled Odessa. I had placed an altar there at the back, in honor of Dionysus, who was in truth my favorite god. He was indeed our god too, that of strangers, and of art, of marginal loves, and of human freedom. He was also the only god that my Egyptian friends agreed to worship, no doubt because a prayer to Dionysus was synonymous with alcohol, dancing, music and cross-dressing.
Instead of heading straight back to the house, we took a detour out of the garden and down the path up the cliffs, around the island. Along the way, we resumed to our usual argument:
"But why won't you learn English! It's super easy when you already speak a lot of languages!
- English and I, we are genetically incompatible.
- Michel, what are you talking about? You know Latin, Greek, Egyptian, German, Italian, Serbo-Croatian, gods and even a little Russian. And Arabic too.
- Algerian dialect, not classical Arabic.
- What's the difference ? You're a language genius, it's in your family, now do something useful and learn English."
He thought about it for a moment.
"I'm going to finish learning Russian. And then start learning Spanish instead.
- Are you kidding me ?
- No, I'm just looking for a way to never have to speak English.
- Perhaps you, Egyptians, can all speak a thousand languages, because you all live a long time and you are bored. But you see, we demigods are dumber! We only speak one language: English.
- Just a part of the demigods: the one I don't want to interract with.
- Michel ...
- Don't worry, I'll find Aphrodite's child to do the translation for me. "
The path began to descend more steeply, and we found our way back to the front terrace, facing the sea. Esme was sunning there, with a wide-brimmed hat, deciphering an ancient parchment. Jeanne was sitting on a blanket, playing with pebbles. She waved to us. Voices reached us from inside. Boris was seated in an armchair at the corner of the unlit fireplace. Louis had brought us a basket of pears, and was listening to the old magician tell him a story in his language.
My son spoke French, Italian, Ancient Greek and Serbo-Croatian perfectly, with a much better accent than Michel would ever have. He seemed to have three or four mother tongues. I had begun to suspect that this gift for languages was a gift from his father. Finally a useful talent. Enough with kleptomania! Giacomo was teaching him Latin at the moment "to civilize him" and I tried to introduce him to the English tongue. He will need it later. Actually, he might work as a translator when he grows up. It would be more difficult for hos sister, I feared.
We found Klaus Lehmann in our kitchen, with Anita. I was seeing him more and more often those last few weeks. Whereas Michel had a cordial relations with Hannibal, the majority of his interactions with him consisted of shouting matches. "Dirty nationalist ", he had yelled at him once, when Klaus had defended the merits of Alsace and Lorraine's annexation. His visits would always leave him withdrawn and morose.
It took me months to get the story out of him. "We met during the war. The only two enemy magicians I encountered in the trenches were Lehmann and Friedwald. " I knew the story about Hannibal. In 1917, the two had made a Christmas truce, to bury their dead. Their troops then fraternized in the snow singing hymns. A few days later, Hannibal was sent with his men to the Eastern Front. Despite that, I didn't like Hannibal. He was the kind of man I could have coaxed when I spied on behalf of the French general staff. Was it good, was it bad? I didn't know. Klaus Lehmann, on the other hand, was the typical figure of the incorruptible soldier. A bad guy under a bad government, but also a man who would never deviate from his principles.
Klaus and Michel had studied together for several months in Beirut after the war. They had more or less buried the hatchet to be able to move forward. The German guy had then took part in the strikes at the Sixteenth Nome. I didn't understand exactly what he was doing here. I knew he had recently moved from Berlin to the Vienna Nome, and had sent us information from time to time about their intentions, but why? In what purpose ? I have to think about asking Giacomo, he can probably explain all that to me.
Anita was a member of Jean's gang, as Giacomo and I liked to call them, she was the liaison between them and us. She descended from some Roman god, but had never joined the Legion. She had been brought up by an old priest from Hammon-Baal. The Carthaginians were still present in Portugal. Often, Roman defectors who hadn't made it to America joined the Phoenicians, still based on the continent. This would fuel the old enmity between Carthage and Rome would. Anita should have become a priestess of Tanit there, but she fled her country after the military coup of 1926.
Jean's gang, more than a hundred men from various backgrounds, was still classified as an outlaw group, but it was no longer a priority for magicians. Their goal was indeed to fight against Olympus and the Romans, and the House of Life did not care a bit about them. What is more, they had moved in Germany and Czechoslovakia. The German Nome seemed to have an agreement with them. They would give us a hand sometimes, to chase roman gangs.
Giacomo completed the trio. The three of them were leaning over a map spread out on the massive oak table and discussing feverishly. Rome, as always. I wasn't talking about the city of course, but of its legions. They had landed one after another on our continent, gradually abandoning their camp on the United States' west coast.
The return of the Legions was the big news of the moment. After their defeat to the Greeks in the United States Civil War, they had to withdraw near San Francisco, and abandon the East Coast, thus seeing their lines with the old continent cut. The New Rome had then gone through a very difficult time. They developped some kind of myth around their origins, and some of the legionaries started to dream of a great return to their ancestral lands. A new praetor was appointed, a son of Jupiter. He promised to return Europe to the Romans. It was very simple: let the Greeks keep America, but Rome claimed for herself the territories of her old empire, where the monsters were more terrible, but the magic more powerful.
Not wishing to oppose the powerful Eighth Nome, they decided to gain a foothold in Gaul, the Fulminata legion's birthplace. Do you remember? I told you about it, all this took place during the Belle Epoque. In France though, the Celts dreamed of revenge, ever since Alesia's fall, and a war almost broke out. It didn't happen, but only because the Great War started then, and swept away everything in its path. Romans and Celts both joined the national armies, losing their unity. The rest of the Roman troops then moved back to the West Coast, and, thanks to Sforza's intervention, formed an alliance with the Hogan. But even without the Bellini's support, Jabari Kane snatched victory from them, allying himself with America's third family, the Rehataka. I haven't lost you yet? We are almost done, I assure you.
In 1922, Mussolini's black shirts marched on Rome, and the balance of powers in Italy shifted again. Now Mussolini's great project was, as he proudly asserted, the Roman empire's resurrection. And now, the real Roman legions were returning to their ancestral lands. They had necessarily been invited.
The di Angelos had something to do with all of this according to Giacomo. He knew them well. They were not magicians, but, like the Bellini, a large Venetian family, had settled in Italy at the heyday of the Doges' Republic. Claudio di Angelo was Ambassador to the United States, and was in good position to negotiate with New Rome the return of its legions. Giacomo had a strained history with this family: in 1915, he had killed in a duel Claudio's younger brother, Timeo, for an obscure story linked to a service that the latter would have rendered to Vincenzo Sforza (as often in the Sforza-Bellini stories, I would miss the details). He was then forced to join the Foreign Legion, to hide for a time outside the country.
To think that at one time I was just a little half-blood, completing quests on behalf of various gods. How terribly complicated everything has become!
Why was I always being sent to spy? Because I was good at it. Why was I so good at it? Because I was an artist, I played the kinda silly and perched young woman, and everything went well. Also men remained men, they would never admit having lost against a woman.
"Have you got anywhere? I asked.
"Slovenian magicians don't stand a chance," Klaus summed up. "The Italians will overcome them in three days I think, then Vienna will make an agreement with the Eighth. It shall then get back its original borders, minus the coastal zone. ".
At least it was clear.
"As soon as they can they will send you men. He addressed Michel. "Or rather, fund gangs. The region will be all fire and blood, and the Romans will land easily. "
At least he's frank. Wait, the legion? What episode did I miss?
" Sorry what ?
- We have every reason to think that the Eighth, rather than opposing the newcomers will seek to send them against other Nomes.
- Sforza, you dirty traitor, grumbled Giacomo.
- Voiello is not a Sforza, stressed Michel.
- In his heart, yes! Resumed the Italian. He attacks us of course.
- Is that certain? That the Romans will land? I checked.
- Not at all, said Klaus, it's still hypothetical.
"It's Rome, come on," Desjardins whispered. "They have other objectives than one of the poorest areas in Europe. Our turn will come later. Especially since Mussolini wants to send them to Ethiopia.
- You underestimate Sforza's harmful power!" The eternal argument.
"Either way, you'll have to make a choice about the Slovenes," Klaus reminded us, "they won't last much longer.
- You've been telling me for three years that they won't last, Michel said. "
Klaus blushed.
"Yes, but now they really don't have much longer."
Anita stifled a sneer. At the same moment, Esme entered the kitchen, Jeanne in her arms.
"Ally yourself with the Czechs and burn the Vienna Nome to the ground," she advised. "Problem solved. "
Giacomo nodded, looking enthusiastic. Lehmann rolled his eyes, exasperated.
"Of course the Bellini solution," he grumbled.
"We are not burning anyone's Nome, it is out of question !" Michel growled.
"Well, you are acting foolishly… Esme mumbled.
- We will be on our way soon" I announced.
All eyes turned to me.
"Is that a concert you have in Venice?" Anita asked. Rather, a mission, a delicate one.
"Yes. Giacomo is coming with me. He has something to do there.
- Demonstrate Sforza's involvement in this landing! the latter explained. Or should I say the invasion instead? "
Michel raised his eyebrows, unconvinced, but didn't insist.
"Well ladies and gentlemen, good luck with your Slovenian problems," said Giacomo with false gravity.
- You're ready ? I asked him. We were leaving in an hour.
"Almost." He grabbed Michel's arm, and they disappeared inside the bedroom.
Esme and I exchanged a look heavy with innuendo. I took the time to say goodbye to Louis and Jeanne. Ten minutes before the start, Giacomo reappeared, kissed the children, Esme, Michel, shook Subotić's hand, slipped a threat to Anita and Lehmann (his usual behavior), and finally we left the house.
As the boat drifted away, Michel followed us for a long time with his eyes, and I felt a little guilty in front of his piercing and not very credulous gaze. Giacomo was also uncomfortable. We were a little ashamed to keep things from him, but we had our reasons. As Giacomo explained to me, if we acted beside the law, in the eyes of Per Ankh, Michel was the law. It was better that way, for his own protection. Sometimes Giacomo treated him as if he was as fragile as his flowers. I told him that and he shrugged his shoulders. "Not just him. Human beings are fragile, in general. It is not a bad thing." I had froze suddenly. He'd he reminded me of Marie at that moment. If you only knew how fragile a man is. I looked behind me one last time, and our island was very fragile too, looking just like a small crumb thrown on the great ocean.
Esme Sabbia
My cousin and the singer left before dark. I remained on the terrace, openend a bottle of Macedonian wine. Night fell, the sea breeze finally brought us a little freshness. Miloš had joined us for dinner, he was making goulash in the house, I could smell its delicious scent. Over the past two years, I have spent more and more time here. I had never felt attached to a Nome in particular. The Fifteenth had sent me to Seville, with another magician. We watched over the Nome in turns, and so half the year I was free to go where I wanted. Dalmatia quickly became a sort of hidden paradise for me. And the children were endearing, that's right.
I had planned to stay another ten days. Thus, I could give them a hand, if things ever turned sour with the Slovenes. I would miss Alice, that was for sure. I had always preferred to be with men, ever since childhood. My father had no sons, only legitimate daughters, and to please him better, I had grown up as a tomboy. I was a combat magician, one of the most masculinized specialties of the House of Life. Things changed when I entered puberty. I finally accepted my femininity, took pleasure in dresing up, after realizing that it gave me power over others. I was a bastard, I grew up in the shadow of two families, and make no mistake about it, freedom there is worth some very high price. I was ready to reap crumbs of power wherever I would found them.
Alice though had changed my mind on a lot of things. She had burst into my life like a meteor, free, detached. It had taken me years to figure out, what she did not understand herself. Like all of Apollo's children, she had gotten something from her father: she was a healer. Not of bodies, but of souls. She had a particular way of looking at you, of making all your weaknesses, your cracks emerge in you. That's how she seduced people: by fixing them. That was what had changed about me over all these years; before Justine, I didn't understand how angry I was, before Alice, I didn't understand how much I needed to be consoled.
I was daydreaming, looking at the sea, when I caught sight of Lehmann, tense, also staring at the horizon. He had been on constant alert lately. I wasn't sure what to think of him. I was the one he got along with best, so I sometimes acted as a mediator. I didn't know why he was flooding us with information like that. There was some kind of secret agreement, it seemed, between Michel and him.
"What's bothering you?"
"Hannibal," he answered bluntly. He talks too much, especially to heads of government.
- He's just doing his job as Nome's leader, I tempered.
- You are like Desjardins, he smirked wearily, you are blind.
- The Communists? I questioned him. Does he see that party?
- Not only, but yes.
- In that case, you shouldn't worry, I think that Michel does not really have any illusions about Marxist ideology, he's seen it, he's hanging out with Russians.
- It's not just politics. When I left Berlin, he was interested… He was interested in ancient magic.
- A fairly common obsession among magicians, I noted, especially when they are as talented as Friedwald. Is it that bad?
- Yes. It's serious. I talked to Desjardins about it, especially since Friedwald… he asked him questions about his ancestry too, he's inquiring about Champollion's writings.
- Both.
- You're paranoid, I sighed. Don't worry, it's quite common here, we all end up like up. Then, between the Turks bribing people, and the Fifth trying every single year to invade our territory… "
He raised his eyebrows.
"You have quite settled down. It almost looks like you're part of the Nome.
- I guess I like it here. "
Seeing of his defeated face I added:
"Listen, drop it. You are in Vienna now, you can hardly spy on him. At worst if you're really worried, write a report for Iskandar, I'll ask Giacomo to pass it on.
- Already done. " Giacomo, here's another paranoid.
"But Iskandar did not order anything. He does not care.
- See, it's not that important then.
- Iskandar is wrong. "
He started to annoy me.
"Anyway, I concluded, Desjardins doesn't know anything about ancient magic, nor about its ancestors.
- Yes, he grumbled. The fool. When I try to talk to him about it, he kicks me out.
- You're annoying him. "
He turned his back on me and walked into the house. Well you're annoying me too. I took a sip from my glass, and returned to deciphering my parchment of sacred geometry while waiting for dinner.
In the morning, I was awakened by the childen's yell. I went down to the terrace for breakfast. Lehmann had already left at dawn with Miloš. Anita was watching Jeanne and Louis on the beach. Boris and Michel were talking in Serbian, looking preoccupied, in front of the coffee pot.
" What news ? I asked them.
Michel tossed me the newspaper. With a hand gesture I changed the language to understant it. At the top was spelled out in capital letters: "WALL STREET IN PANIC AS STOCKS CRASH" I sat down, poured myself some coffee and began to read.
"What is going to happen?
- I don't really know…
- An economic recession is always like that. "
Boris looked particularly amused.
"I always told them that you shouldn't put your capital on the stock market. People are morons.
- It's a little more complicated than that, noted Michel.
- They are ruined, I finally realized.
- Who ? Desjardins asked.
- Everyone, I exclaimed, well partially, they have lost all their legal capital.
"Ah, the families of the Americas," Boris scoffed. "Embark for the new world, you will make a fortune there they said ...
- Europe will go downstreams as well, it depends on the American economy, Michel reminded us. Moreover, we were already in trouble with the Russian debt's repudiation… "
A vague bad feeling stirred me.
" What do we do ?
- Nothing, said Michel.
- We are magicians, we do not work miracles, Boris reminded us. Now everyone is going to be unemployed. "
Of course he didn't care.
I put the newspaper down and shook the dark thoughts away. This autumn's end was so beautiful it looked just like summer. The children's laughter rose up to us mingled with seagulls' shrieks. A warm breeze rippled the leaves, while large dark grapes swayed under the trellis. It should harvest soon. It was difficult then to worry, because somewhere, on the other side of the world, some policemen had chased a riot of shareholders out of a building.