After the Fall (21 page)

Then, abruptly, a vision seized her and Randegund saw an image of Magnus and Gigi kneeling over a prostrate Honorius. Magnus held something vile in his hand, something dark and phallic, yet a symbol of the Old Ones who worshiped fertility — surely a sign. She knew then he had it in his power to kill the emperor, the epitome of all-evil, Rome incarnate, yet Magnus appeared to hesitate.

No, no!
With heart-stopping clarity, she realized this was the moment she had always foreseen, when Magnus could turn the world on its end, when he would become the destroyer of Rome and then live to regret what he had done, for in killing Honorius, he would also bring about his own destruction and that of …

New images surged into her thoughts: of Honorius crying out for his guards just before he died; then the bitch wife, Gigiperrin, dying horribly before Magnus’s eyes, her body hacked to pieces by the axes of the imperial guards, just after they rushed through the door; and finally Magnus’s fitting end: castration first, and then death by beheading.

With a last burst of strength, Randegund flung the ring into the air, intending to honor Nemesis by laying another curse on Magnus, to seal his fate and make sure he killed Honorius — but she found her mouth would not open, and she could not form the needed words.

“Ahhhh!” she managed to cry as the ring spun skyward and flamed, caught in the sun’s first rays. Then, with a final gasp, she tried to speak, but the only word that escaped was, “Onward.”

Birth. Love. Loss. Hatred. Revenge. Devastation. Randegund saw the long coil of her life twisting through time. And she knew Nemesis and Victoria and all the gods would vie with each other for thousands of years, time rolling ever onward. Yet once and a day, time would come ’round, like a viper striking its own tail, and the gods would rest for the briefest moment, before starting anew.

With her last breath, Randegund fell and her agony ceased: Nemesis had released her.

Stillness now, a last glimpse of pale pink sky, and then she was swallowed whole by a darkness like she never saw, the deepest, blackest night.

Sunset was fast approaching, the full moon rising in the east. From a hill overlooking a valley already bathed in shadows, Gigi scanned the lowlands, watching the Roman soldiers who held Magnus. She wished she had the strength in numbers to sweep down into their camp and rescue him. But that was only a fantasy. She knew, until they reached Ravenna, all she could do was follow them, watch, and wait.

Gigi blew on her hands to ward off the cold. Standing in a copse of trees, she pulled close the heavy wolf-skin cloak draped over her shoulders. She didn’t dare light a fire for warmth, as the soldiers had done, but the fur kept her warm enough.

The temperature had fallen drastically after she left the Visigoth camp, and snowdrifts were a foot deep by the end of the first day. Now, three days later, the wind had stopped howling, but the snow was two feet deep, and her horse had to move slowly, choosing his footing with care. At first, the frigid weather had worried her, but she soon realized the snow provided two huge benefits; it was far better than soaking rain, and it made a simple task out of tracking her husband and his abductors. She’d even begun to develop a sense of how fresh the tracks were, if she was getting too close, or perhaps lagging too far behind.

The Roman camp was a long way off, but she could smell the wood smoke and whatever sort of gruel they had boiling in their pot. Her stomach rumbled with hunger and she turned away, harshly reminding herself the dried meats and grains Athaulf had provided were nourishment enough.

Keeping an eye on the distant blaze, she made both a blind and a makeshift bed by cutting tender bows off nearby trees and propping the longer ones against a low-lying branch, piling the smaller ones on the ground beneath. When this was done, she brought her horse from its hiding spot on the far side of the hill, tying him beneath the shelter of tree limbs as well. Then she fixed her cold camp as best she could, grabbing a piece of mutton jerky from her pack before settling down.

Sitting with her back against a tree trunk, Gigi faced the Roman camp, its men and horses black shapes against the flames on this moonlit night. She chewed thoughtfully, watching over Magnus the only way she could, wondering if he sensed her thoughts, her devotion, hoping he did.

• • •

The horse snorted and shook his head, waking Gigi. It was past dawn, and the sky was overcast, the clouds sickly yellow, threatening. She stood and peered at the area where the Romans’ campfire had been, seeing only a dark spot on the snow. Moving carefully, stiff with cold, Gigi saddled her horse, mounted, and approached the site with caution.

The imprint of their stay was obvious from the churned-up, dirty slush and the cold remnants of last night’s fire. Gigi dismounted and shoved at the bits of charred wood with the toe of her boot, then knelt and stretched out her hands. Even the meager warmth still emanating from the very center was more heat than she’d enjoyed in days, and she took a moment to relish the sensation and consider her situation.

This was her fifth morning on the road. Athaulf warned it could take ten days or more to get to Ravenna. Her provisions were holding out for now, and she still had all of the silver coins he’d given her to purchase more along the way, but she knew she would have to find a farmhouse today and get fodder for the horse, and maybe some hot porridge for herself.

Rising, she scanned the ground, noticed a glint in the snow near the base of a tree, and went to investigate. Somebody had stepped off to pee — the snow told her that much — but the glint came from something else, something just to the side.

Gigi’s breath caught as she picked up Magnus’s locket, the one with her hair. She knew he’d left it for her to find. He knew she was coming for him. He knew he wasn’t alone.

She held the precious object to her breast, then kissed it and put it around her neck. He had faith in her, in her courage, in her love for him.

I’m coming! You’re not alone!

The words struck her deeply and she remembered what he’d said long ago, when she was a slave and he was watching over her, protecting her.
You’re not alone!

She was determined to honor those words as he’d honored them — by doing whatever it took to see him safe and free of Honorius’s relentless evil.

Gigi turned and ran back to her horse.

She wouldn’t let him down.

• • •

At dusk on the tenth day since setting out, Gigi finally arrived on the outskirts of Ravenna. The southern gate, the Porta Nuova, loomed above her, opening onto the main road through town, the Via di Roma. Peasants, merchants, horses, and livestock all pushed toward the gate, anxious to get inside Ravenna’s walls before dark. The crowd was bundled up against the cold, but the weather didn’t seem as bad here, not compared to the snowy countryside. The snow had either melted, or perhaps never fallen this far north; the skies were clear, the air crisp.

Keeping her head low and well inside her cloak, she moved past the guards at the gate, relieved no one paid her any attention. Guiding her horse into a section of town she’d never seen, she wondered exactly how she’d get inside the palace, angered by her lack of plans now that she was here. She’d lost Magnus’s trail the day before, but was sure he couldn’t have gotten to Ravenna more than a few hours ahead of her.
Where is he?
she wondered.
With Honorius? What is the bastard doing to him? Is he torturing him right now?

This last thought sickened her, making her tremble. She glanced around in self-conscious desperation and told herself to get it together, or someone might notice how freaked out she seemed.

Not too far off, she spotted a signpost with the name Alle Mura and made a quick decision to go into the narrow alleyway. The back lots of warehouses lined one side of the alley; a few had stables, where horses and carts were stored at night. For the moment, the place seemed quiet, empty of all but a stray cat or two. Along the opposite side, scraggly, leafless vines covered a broken brick wall, and Gigi stopped her horse for a moment to peer over the top, trying to see despite the deepening gloom. It looked like a body-shop yard, filled with spare wheels and wagon parts, and Gigi decided it might be just the place to hide until the streets emptied of the evening crowds. She found the gate and led her horse inside to wait amid the debris, sheltered by the dark.

After a half hour or so, Gigi heard — very faintly — the sounds of trumpets, followed by the beating of drums. From the palace? Did it have something to do with what was happening to Magnus?

The drumbeats continued, pounding, pounding. She leaned against the wall, listening in fear.

• • •

Another hour passed, or so Gigi estimated. The city seemed quieter, so she left her hiding spot and ventured down the dark alley, leading her horse deeper into the city. She walked several minutes until she reached a crossroad to a broad avenue, the Via di Roma, which was well lit by street lanterns.

The palace couldn’t be far away. Keeping to side streets, she moved parallel to the avenue, until she recognized a big church that overlooked the palace’s southern grounds. Growing excited, she led her horse down a road intersecting the main thoroughfare and suddenly saw stone walls with elaborately carved capstones.

Was this … ? Could it be … ?

Gigi looked up and down the Via di Roma, searching for soldiers or Honorius’s thugs, but only two common-looking people were in sight, and they had their backs to her, heading away.

She led her horse across the avenue to a side road well away from lanterns, following the walls until she reached an area were the stones were broken, a tumbledown area of overgrown vegetation, a long-forgotten place — her place! After tying off her horse, she climbed onto the saddle for a better look. It was the garden, her secret hideaway, her way in.

Sliding Magnus’s sword and dagger into her belt, she hitched herself onto the wall, then silently dropped over the other side. The garden looked desolate without the tangle of leaves, flowers, and scented herbs, but the weed-strewn path was easy to follow, and soon she found the old bench, the columns, and poor Venus, the statue trapped in a frozen pond, icicles hanging from her delicate arms and head.

Reaching the arched entry, Gigi pulled out her small blade and kept it in front of her as she crept, phantom-like, from shadow to shadow, moving through the grounds toward the palace, toward Magnus. As she neared the outer buildings, Gigi saw sentries everywhere, and wondered how she could avoid them. Slinking back and forth across the grounds, just out of sight, she watched for an opening, a way inside the wing where Honorius had his apartments.

Time dragged as she scanned the perimeter, looking for anything, growing more and more desperate with the delay. Finally, wandering farther than she had previously, her gaze fell on a familiar sight — the kitchen, her old prison — and the beginnings of a plan took root.

With dread, she slipped into the kitchen garden, her hands trembling as she let herself inside the unlocked door. The familiar smell of freshly baked bread brought back evil memories, and she fought her revulsion, focusing instead on her goal. The main room and sleeping quarters were quiet, the fire banked and waiting for slaves to begin stoking it well before dawn. There was some commotion in adjacent rooms, work being done, but Gigi had expected this. The palace kitchens never completely shut down.

Moving quickly, Gigi entered the large storage closet where clean servants’ garments were kept. She pulled off her cloak, heavy boots, and wool tunic and hid them on a back shelf, then dropped a coarse, burlap shift over her head. She tied on a belt, then started to tuck Magnus’s blades into it, but one slipped from her grasp and fell, clanging loudly on the tile floor.

Shit!
She gathered it up, then slung her flute and sword over her shoulder. She tossed on a bulky
palla
, hoping it wasn’t too unusual to wear for service on chilly winter nights.

Gigi started for the door, then heard footsteps on the other side. To her horror, they stopped. Holding her breath, she grabbed the hilt of a dagger and waited.

“Show yourself, or I’ll call for the guards,” a voice warned.

Gigi’s mouth dropped open. “Vana? Is that you?”

The door burst open. “Gigi? Why are you back? I thought you were gone forever.”

“Quiet!” Gigi pulled the girl in, shut the door, and fiercely hugged her. Vana had been her only friend while she was enslaved.

“I have missed you,” Vana whispered, hugging her back. “I was so glad when you escaped.”

Gigi stared into Vana’s eyes, her mind seizing on her last word. “Oh, my God, I have something for you.” She grabbed her Visigoth clothing and shoved it into Vana’s hands. “Change into these, and here,” she gave her the purse of coins, “take this, too.”

Then she stopped, focusing on Vana’s scarred forehead, the branding inflicted by Honorius years before. What could be done about it?

“Vana, hold still. You’re going to escape tonight. I’m going to fix your hair to hide what that bastard did to you, and you’re going to get out of here.” Gigi pulled out her dagger, grabbed a handful of hair above Vana’s brow, and cut her friend some bangs. When she was done, she stood back and assessed her efforts, then grinned and nodded. “Good enough. Besides, no one will recognize you all bundled up against the cold. Now hurry. You must leave right away. The Visigoths are at Hadrian’s Villa. You can get directions from villagers along the route — five days south at most. Galla Placidia is with them. Tell her I sent you. She will take you in.”

Gigi made a move to go, then glanced back at Vana. “Placidia’s husband is named Athaulf. Have him remove your slave collar and melt it down. He should make a knife from the metal, a dagger, and you can carry it to protect yourself.”

“I understand.” Vana gave Gigi a smile and a hug, fierce and strong.

Gigi smiled back. With a bit of luck, Vana would make it.