Aries Fire (32 page)

Two stories below in the quiet of the shoreline waited an eager Alexander.  The path was clear, yet his instinct caused him to pause in the shadows longer, his eyes darting to and fro. There, against the wall of the palace pillars stood a figure. It was a man. But this man took no notice of Alexander. Instead he looked upward toward the balcony where Seira stood and women’s voices murmured.

Alexander slowly crouched behind the roots of a magnolia tree staying in the safety of the shadows. He reached down and picked up a flower. Water lapping at the shore soothed his anxiety.

The unknown figure walked calmly toward the palace gates. He wore a soldier’s armament. Alexander recognized the purple robe and assumed this was a Roman soldier with sizeable authority.  He wondered if this man was interested in Seira or in the Empress.

Aetius approached the palace gates never knowing that a marooned ship’s captain knelt in the shadow of a magnolia tree.

What both men did not see was Attila, standing motionless on a third story balcony watching the two men who were drawn to his Rhetman.

“Seira, you must retire to your room. It is late,” the Empress suddenly said.

Seira hesitated wanting to look at the map further.

“Tell me more about the channel that leads to the vault,” Seira said ignoring the Empress.

Eudocia watched Seira rub her temples. She examined Seira.

“How long have you had your headache?” she asked.

Seira glanced up from the map.

“For a very long time,” she said. “Will you tell me more about the vault, Empress?”

 “The vault was built by Bishop Stephanus, in case of war,” said Eudocia.  “The Bishop was recently relocated across the ocean, to reside in Chrysopolis.  It was an abrupt transfer.  It seems likely that the church, or some of its more influential members, did this with more purpose than we realized. But then I discovered their secret,” she said then paused, “Gold, hidden in the vault. Merely by being observant, I discovered the vault’s uses by the Foederati.”

“You would make a excellent tactical Hun warrior,” Seira said complimenting the Empress.

“Father Scato steals the gold with his accomplice at the Imperial Mint and then places it in the vault,” Eudocia said.

“And when you need it for…”Seira paused.

“For preparing the necessary travel arrangements for anyone wishing freedom from slavery, I take it, yes.  So my husband is an unwary victim to fraud twice,” she said and shrugged.

“What if the Foederati find out that you’ve been stealing from them?” Seira asked.

“I’ve not yet contemplated that thought,” she said.  “Though they could not publicly accuse me of anything lest they convict themselves.”

“How does one enter the vault?” Asked Seira.

“Here,” said Paulinus.

He pointed to an entrance inside the vestibule of the church.

“Have you seen it?” Seira asked him.

“Mistress, I am Jewish.  I am not allowed to enter the church,” said Paulinus.

Seira suddenly felt embarrassed.  She knew that about the Jews.

Why have I forgotten so many things? She wondered.

Then he added, “In daylight that is,” he said.

Eudocia quietly and briefly placed her hand in his.  Her love showed fully now.

“It is passable through a moveable wall, behind the mosaic of Mary. The second entra…” Eudocia said and was interrupted.

“The other leads to another tunnel below the city gates, here,” said Seira. 

Seira stared at the map as the tunnel finally appeared clearly in her mind.

“Is it possible that Cyril or the Roman Deacon knows about this vault?” Asked Seira.

The Empress paused a moment before she spoke.

“I don’t know.  I am not yet privy to the list of all the Foederati members.  Alas, it is the only way out of the city unnoticed, unless you embark by sea.”

Seira was exhausted but fought sleep much the same way she and Attila did as they conferred late into the night.

“This route is the one you must take.  It is a game of chance we must all play, however,” Eudocia finally said.

Everyone was silent. Each mind calculated the necessary provisions for such an escape. Each calculated the consequences if discovered and caught.

Seira thought about Attila. If she took this road out of Constantinople, she might never see him again. A silent battle within her began and she ended it by pushing him out of her mind.

“Come, the hour nears midnight. I’ll hear no more talk. You need to rest. Your room is ready and quite comfortable. You’ll see. Paulinus will escort you,” Eudocia said.

The Empress put her arm around Seira’s shoulders and led her to the doorway.

Seira was thankful for her hostess. A memory of her mother’s salon emerged suddenly and caused her to laugh aloud. Turning to Paulinus and Eudocia, she said with a sleepy voice, “As Plato once said, ‘How can you prove whether at this moment we are sleeping and all our thoughts are a dream; or whether we are awake, and talking to one another in the waking state?’“

•  •  •

C
YRIL RETIRED TO
his room, took off his cloak, and dropped it onto his gold leaf feather bed, piled high with silk pillows. The cloak smelled of damp salt air.  Before filling the basin with water he held up the decorative pale green glass pitcher to examine it. Spiny metal inclusions glinted in the light of the oil lamp.  Smooth glossy surfaces interested him as much as the craftsmanship needed to shape such an item.

Water spattered as it tinkled into the bowl. Setting the pitcher down, he leaned over to meet the water.  Cyril splashed his face repeatedly and quickly.  Pallid fingers groped for a towel to wipe his eyes.

Cyril stood upright and wiped his face slowly, carefully blotting under his neck to collect moisture. Suddenly, a shadow in the glass pitcher caught his glance. Lowering the damp towel slowly, he slid his hand into his vestment pocket and clenched the hilt of a small knife. Watching the shadow move across the curve of the glass gave him the position of his intruder.

He turned swiftly.  The blade pitched hard at the shadow. Bleda knocked the knife aside with the back of his hand and it fell against the cold, marble flooring and spun to a stop.

“How dare you invade my rooms!”  said Cyril.

Quick glances searched for something else with which to protect himself. Oddly, he decided against using the pitcher.

Bleda held up his hand.

“We bargain.”

Cyril’s head jerked back slightly. He paused to judge Bleda’s words.

There were two alcoves in the hallway leading to Cyril’s rooms. One contained an oriental wooden, hand-carved bench with cushions of peach colored fabric. To the right of the bench was a small table with a smooth marble top on which a vase of wild flowers sat. The oil lamp in the hallway cast long, slow shadows on the wall causing the shadow of the flower heads to sway in a drowsy dance.

In the opposite alcove Attila watched and listened to the sound of the two men conspiring in the dark as he calculated Bleda’s motives. When he had heard enough, Attila disappeared leaving the oil lamp flickering wildly in his wake. 

Paulinus opened the door to Seira’s room and extended his arm, motioning for her to enter first.

As Seira entered she was overcome by the splendid arrangement of furnishings. The bed was plush and inviting. A silk chaise draped in the finest fabrics framed the balcony. Soft breezes blew in and Seira walked into a dream.

“Here is a tray of fruit, nuts, and beverage if you desire, Mistress Seira,” Paulinus showed her the table of food.

Seira nodded a look of wonder and gratitude.

“It has been a lifetime since I slept in a house and in a bed such as this,” Seira said to Paulinus.

She wanted to talk to him about Isaac but didn’t know what to say.

“There is a lock on the door. Please use it,” he said.  “I shall send a maidservant to your room early morning with some essential items,” he bowed and started to leave the room.

“Paulinus,” Seira began.

He turned.  Searching for adequate words she finally said, “I am deeply grateful.”

Paulinus nodded politely and left.

The Empress awaited Paulinus’ return.  She knew her husband was already asleep after preliminary negotiations with the Huns and members of the Roman papacy.  She had instructed her maidservant to give him a sleep aid; a potion he normally drank during highly charged talks.

The breeze felt chillier than usual.

A storm comes, she thought.

Eudocia walked over to the wall where Leo stood earlier that day and where Seira discovered her mother’s book. Keen eyes perused the shelves for any author who might set the Deacon’s composure on edge.

A muffled thud and the Empress whirled around to face the balcony window.  She slowly walked toward the balcony and leaned over to peer at the sea. Looking around she saw nothing unusual. The corner of her mouth turned upward thinking about the drugged Huns aboard their vessel.

Eudocia rubbed her arms to warm the chill from them. As she turned to reenter her library, she gasped and covered her mouth with her hand.

“Madame, my apologies for disturbing you at such a late hour. My name is Alexander.  I can assure you I mean you no harm.”

Alexander bowed graciously. 

“Would you perchance know the whereabouts of an irresistibly charming woman? Who happens to be dressed like a Hun bride?”

“Remarkable!” Eudocia exclaimed and put her hand over her heart. “Simply remarkable.”

Seira took her dress off and let it fall to the floor. Long, achy legs stepped from the garment and climbed onto the bed. Never in her prolonged years with the Huns did she allow herself the indulgences of wealth. But now, now she blessed them with what thoughts she had left.

Thick, soft blankets made of silk and satin slid beneath her fingertips. She pulled back the fabrics and slinked her way under them. Her body fell instantly, deeply, into a tranquil sleep.

No noises disturbed her.  No thoughts of Cyril or Attila set her into conflict. The sound of her rhythmic breathing was all she heard and she welcomed sleep like a child welcomes the arms of her mother.

Seira stayed in her safety for hours, unencumbered by life and its intricate web of details. Finally a place to call home even if for only a night.

In the corner of the room, near the flowing drapery, Attila stood in the shadow, watching her, protecting her, and waiting for whatever the night had to offer.

The deep blue night lingered, hung in a silent dark fabric. Billowy clouds blanketed the sky.  The scent of moisture pervaded the air. Attila stayed in the shadow, but sat upright on the divan. He allowed himself to sleep lightly, a habit he practiced during wartimes. A meditative trance for merely a few hours was as much as a full night’s sleep to another.

The chirrup of a nightingale let out a sweet resonance. Attila opened his eyes.  He saw the outlined shape of Seira’s body lying in bed. His breath deepened, a short exhalation puffed out through his nostrils.

The shape of her legs came to mind.  With eyes closed he traced the lines upward toward her hips, he followed the contour of her waist toward her breasts and further still toward her shoulders and neck. Simply the thought of her neck and he held his breath then let it out slowly.

Strong fingers gripped the arms of the chair in which he rested.

Aya, he thought and stretched the muscles on his neck.

His passion for Seira was barely containable. There was no rest.  Time was precious, so little of it left with her.  A brave heart raced with adrenaline the way it did before charging to battle. Attila’s presence invaded the room.

Seira stirred. She groaned quietly and lifted her right arm into the air. There it dangled as the left arm lifted to greet it. Fingers delicately stroked the inner part of her forearm. Her arms dropped and she rolled over to onto her right side. Her drowsy eyes let go of sleep to look out of the balcony window as the Nightingale continued its song.

Seira blinked a few times and felt contented. Although short, her sleep had been deep and replenishing. Without moving her body, she scanned the room from where she lay.

She froze when she came to a figure, sitting in the shadow of the dark. Her quietly beating heart exploded. Seira held her breath.

Oh, God.

“Rhetman,” he said in a low voice. “Fear nothing. I am here.”

Seira let go of the clutch she had on the bed sheet in complete relief.

“I thought you were…” she stopped.  “I really didn’t know what you were,” then added, “Or who.”

Seira sat up and pulled the blankets up over her stomach.  Attila rose and sat on the bed near her.

“Is everything all right?” she asked.

He nodded. Seira could feel his presence but couldn’t see him clearly. The darkness encompassed the room. She reached out and touched his arm.

“I’m glad you’re here.”

He held her touch.

They said nothing for a moment. Seira felt a fire spark within her. Willing to face whatever feelings lay hidden, she didn’t resist.  After her catharsis with Eudocia, Seira exuded a profound feminine awareness. 

“I am going to leave tonight at sunset,” she said.

She lifted a finger to caress the outline of his jaw.  Attila said nothing, knowing she would escape with Alexander. His breathing intensified.

“I’m afraid…” Seira began.  “I’m afraid I will hate you if I love you. I’m afraid I will regret you if I don’t.”

Attila took her fingers and kissed the back of her hand. Seira suddenly realized she was naked; breasts exposed.  She was about to pull up the blankets but knew it would be dishonest. She wanted him to see her. An excited heart beat a little faster. Impassioned eyes watched him kiss her hand. Seira was filled with an uneasy impatience.

Attila slid his hand up her arm and gently rested his palm on the nape of her neck. Pulling her closer with his strong grip he waited for her to pull back. He would have stopped had he felt her reticence.  Seira knew it, too. Their eyes locked. There was no resistance.

Warm lips met cool ones. They breathed each other’s heated breath.  Seira moved closer to him, he to her. Seira felt an unmistakable lust in her groin.