Love, Eternally (17 page)

• • •

Gigi watched Rufus as he watered the horses at the river, then hobbled them. Grabbing a saddlebag, he sat on the ground and tossed her a meal packet. It was the same thing day after day: for breakfast, a lump of cold porridge made from ground chestnut flour — soldiers’ food, Rufus had explained — and then, for lunch and dinner, packets of dried figs, dates, raisins, and nuts.

She’d thought these little meals were so cute at first, wrapped as they were in dried grape leaves, knotted with strands of raffia. They looked darling, like something from a trendy boutique, but there was never a sparkling bit of jewelry inside, just figs, dates, raisins, and nuts. She sighed. What she wouldn’t give for a huge, juicy cheeseburger, fries, and a chocolate shake!

For several minutes, Gigi munched in silence, watching Rufus wolf down his share. She studied his battle-scarred leather breastplate. A long repair patch across the chest was particularly intriguing.

“So, Rufus,” she said, wiping her mouth, “by the look of your armor, you’ve obviously spent a career fighting. Tell me about your service with Magnus. Did he fight the blue Picts, too?”

“No, I met him later.”

And … ?
Gigi watched Rufus fill the silence by taking a mouthful of wine.
Ooookay,
she thought
. Hmmm.

“Well, er, how long have you known him?”

More silence. Rufus narrowed his eyes, then to her surprise said, “It has been … nigh on ten years.”

“Really? That’s a long time.”

Rufus nodded and proudly pulled out what looked like a large dog tag. “I’d already put in my twenty-five years, and earned my citizenship, but when I had the opportunity to serve under him I stayed. I fought under his direct command for six years. He was my
legatus
. In my opinion, he was Rome’s finest commander.”

“Very impressive,” she said.

He sat up straighter. “Magnus taught me much, and saved my life more than once. So, despite my position, when he left the legion, I retired and went with him.”

Gigi felt grateful for this move to a more open, easy conversation. “I’ll bet you’ve also saved his life a time or two,” she ventured.

He glanced at her shrewdly. “A time or two perhaps.” He grinned. “You should see
his
armor.”

When Gigi laughed, he held out his right hand, showing her the thick silver ring on his middle finger. “Magnus gifted me this in thanks for just such a moment. I killed a man who nearly killed him. I wear it proudly.”

“Is that why he trusts you with this errand? With me?” Gigi smiled at him. “Or is he just mad at you right now, and this is the worst punishment he could think of?”

He chuckled. “I’ve known worse duty, to be sure. Though I prefer open battle to sneaking about, it was my good pleasure to help Magnus in this way. It was a great honor to be asked.”

Gigi thought he looked honored just to be talking about Magnus, and she didn’t doubt his sincerity.

Rufus frowned. “It is a disgrace, though, that others do not honor him as he deserves. In all the years he served Rome, Magnus’s only error was not taking his own life to avoid capture, but what choice did he have? He was numbed by a blow and couldn’t move. There is no shame in that.”

Gigi was confused. “He was numbed? When? What do you mean?”

“It was at the Battle of Pollentia. I was away, recovering from wounds I received in a previous skirmish. Had I been there, I would surely have eased his passage into the Afterlife, so I am thankful for the wound that kept us apart.”

“Oh, my God!”

Nodding, Rufus described the battle in greater detail, then finished with, “Despite his shame, Magnus was well treated by King Alaric. Though he be Rome’s enemy, the king is honorable and much more capable than Honorius. Now, because Magnus knows the Visigoths well, the emperor keeps him alive so he may parley with them.”

Gigi had many more questions, but Rufus stood and brushed bits of his meal off his clothes. “Of course, I also agreed to this duty because I’ve never seen Magnus so besotted with a woman, regardless of her butchery of the language.”

Surprised, Gigi stared at him, mouth agape.

He grinned, tossed her a lump of soap and turned away. “I’ll just take myself over to the trees, there, and give you time to bathe. Call me when you’re done.”

Gigi watched him leave. Mulling over everything he’d said, she made her way to the river’s edge and looked around. The grass along the bank was tall enough to hide her, so she parted it, moved in, dropped the soap by her feet, and peeled off her wig and clothes. She looked down at her mesh bag, strung around her waist. She couldn’t take a chance at losing her precious ring in the river, so she removed the bag and tucked it away in her gown.

She smiled as the mud oozed between her toes
. Magnus — besotted with me!
She’d known, of course, since that time in the kitchen garden, but to hear it said aloud by one of his friends, well, it made her day.

“Hoo hoo!” she laughed and dove in. She surfaced with a gasp, the water so cold she could hardly draw a breath. She swam back to shore, but one glance at her filthy clothes convinced her to wash as planned.

She grabbed the soap and sniffed it hesitantly, surprised to find it was perfumed with lavender. She waded back in, her skin nearly frozen, yet she hardly felt the cold anymore. She vigorously ran the soap over her hair and rubbed it in, then rinsed, hoping the luscious smelling stuff would do the job.

Humming, she scrubbed her face and ears, then moved on to the rest of her body, relishing the invigorating combination of cold and clean.
La Traviata
came to mind, and, since she didn’t know the words, loudly la-la-ed her way through the boisterous refrain.

“
Luifs Guth!
”

Gigi screamed as the foreign voice penetrated her contentment, then she dove. Heart racing, she popped her head out of the water midstream, just enough to see several horsemen watching her from the riverbank, some bearing wicked-looking curved swords, others holding long spears. Some of their clothing resembled typical Roman soldiering gear, but their beards, rough hide breeches, and helmets with metal nose guards filled her with foreboding.

Someone shouted gibberish, then another horseman yelled in Latin, “Come out of there, or I will come in after you.”

His leering grin told her she’d be better off swimming to the other side and running like hell.

“No, go away!” Gigi tried to sound angry and defiant instead of terrified. “Leave me alone. You have no right to bother me.”

To a man they laughed. Then, to her horror, the one who’d spoken Latin got off his horse, discarded his helmet, and plunged into the water.

“Get away!” Gigi screeched, kicking and swimming like mad.

She felt a hand grasp at her foot and she shrieked harder. But the hand found its grip and in seconds he had her in a headlock. He slung her over his shoulder and took her out of the river. Screaming, pounding, scratching, and kicking with all her strength, she tried to find vulnerable spots, open skin, eyes, anywhere she could do damage. Finally, her attacker howled in protest and flung her on the ground before clamping a hand across his torn cheek.

Gigi scrambled to her feet, ready to pounce again or run, not caring that the men surrounding them were almost at the point of tears, they were laughing so hard.

“Leave me alone — all of you — I want my clothes — ”

“Shut your fucking mouth!” Her assailant turned on her, glaring, blood pouring from his cheek, forearm, and just above an eyebrow. “You’ll get your clothing back when I’m done with you.”

Gigi wheeled about, ready to bolt, but the horsemen blocked her flight. Suddenly both her wrists were wrenched behind her, and she was shoved to the ground, unable to move.

“Bitch,” he growled in her ear as he fell across her back, shifting to get his wet clothes out of the way.

Gigi could see the other horsemen turning away, leaving her to be raped.

“Sergeric!” a voice boomed.

Gigi sensed her attacker’s hesitation and she struggled to free herself. The men exchanged heated words, then the commanding voice said in Latin, “Sister, you have my leave to throttle Sergeric if he does not desist.”

“
Gasts!
” Sergeric shoved her away and got up. “Why do you interfere, Athaulf? I’m within my rights, here.”

Trying to cover herself with her arms, Gigi moved into higher grass and watched the confrontation.

“You are wrong,” Athaulf replied. Drawing closer, he tossed her clothes to her, missing her wig, which lay trampled in the mud.

Gigi hurriedly pulled the robe over her head and clutched at the folds. To her relief, the little bag containing her ring was still inside.

“Did you not see her garments?” Athaulf continued. “She is a priestess of the old gods, and I will not allow her to be profaned.”

Sergeric paled when he saw her clothes, then worriedly glanced at her, before dropping to his knees and grabbing the hem of her dress. “Forgive me, Holy One. I did not know.”

Disgusted by his nearness, Gigi clenched her fist, then swung hard, hitting him squarely in the temple. “You bastard, I hope you die without seeing another dawn!” The man slunk away, and Gigi looked up to see a surprised smirk on the face of her liberator, Athaulf. “You find it amusing I was almost raped?”

“No, not I.” His smirk turned to a smile. “It was the curse you just put on him. I was thinking how unpriestesslike it was. Highly unusual. Effective, I’m sure, but unusual.”

“He deserves much worse,” Gigi said. “Where is Rufus? I have a guard, er, guide with me. He’s taking me to Vada Sabatia.”

“Vada Sabatia?” Athaulf asked. “These are dangerous lands. It is a wonder just two of you ventured the trip. Why? From where do you hail, priestess? More importantly, where are you really going, and why?”

“What business is it of yours?” Gigi asked, angrily. “Is this your land? We stopped for a meal. Is that a crime? Where is Rufus?”

“Your Rufus,” he said, “drew sword and attacked one of my men as we approached. It was an unprovoked attack, unwarranted, and he died for it.”

Stunned, Gigi shook her head, then started for the trees. “You’re lying! Rufus, where are you?”

Athaulf grabbed her arm as she passed, stopping her short. “He is gone. We shall bury him or burn him, whatever you think proper. And here, take this, if you want a token. I believe your friend would deem the courage you’ve shown worthy of the honor.”

He tossed her Rufus’s ring.

“Oh, no … no,” she murmured, staring at it through teary eyes.

“Come. We have gathered your horses and your belongings,” Athaulf said. “You ride with us, now. And you should keep your priestess robes close about you, if you wish to remain unmolested. Our people do not harm the Holy Ones of the Ancient Rites, and you will be safe enough, if they believe you to be one. Especially,” he added with a grin, “if you don’t prance about naked anymore.”

Gigi glared up at him, blinking back her tears. “Your people? To hell with your people! Apparently they have no problem murdering an innocent man — a good man! I don’t want anything to do with
your
people. I’ll get to the coast on my own.”

“You no longer have a choice in the matter. You belong to us now. You are the property of King Alaric and will keep your mouth shut unless bidden to speak.”

“Alaric? You’re the Visigoths?” Gigi said weakly, taking in his clothing, his beard, and long, braided hair — so un-Roman — and realized he was telling the truth.

“Indeed,” Athaulf said proudly, his hazel eyes glinting green in the afternoon sun. “We are the Visigoths.”

• • •

Althaulf and his men rode out in stony silence, taking Gigi with them. Lost and miserable, she was allowed to plod along on her mare, hands unbound, although she was aware that silent guards shadowed her every move. Days passed, and they left the hot lowlands, ascending into the hills, then onto a broad plain edged with deep forests. Beyond them the Alps commanded the distance, their peaks capped by glaciers streaked dirt-gray with the season.

Gigi tried to figure out where she was, but couldn’t. Before her time in Ravenna, in her former life, she’d only traveled to Italy on weekend jaunts to Rome, Florence, and Venice. She’d never been anywhere near the Alps. She lost track of the days, until at last they crested a hill and met some sentries, who saluted Athaulf and let them pass.

“Where are we?” she asked him. It was the first time she’d spoken to him, to any of them, since leaving the river.

Athaulf glanced her way, but did not answer. Before her, Gigi saw multitudes of men in a huge encampment, as well as women and entire families, along with livestock, household goods, every blessed thing they owned. A whole nation forced into exile and on the move.

As evening approached, Gigi was led to a clearing and a fire, where a man and woman sat, silently watching her. Behind them, another woman stood apart, beautiful, terrible, and ancient all at once, her hair silver-blond. She assessed Gigi with cold, glacial-blue eyes.
Scary eyes
. Athaulf dismounted and approached the man, bending on one knee before clasping his arm in greeting.

Gigi decided the seated man must be King Alaric — the one Magnus knew — and the blond woman next to him his queen. She watched as Athaulf rose and faced both women. He laughed at something the younger one said and kissed her cheek, then moved on to the older woman, placing a kiss on her brow.

Gigi wondered about the old lady. Was she really as frightening as she looked? And how should she approach them — with honey or vinegar? She wanted them to realize how furious she was about Rufus and about being kidnapped.

She dismounted and was made to stand on the other side of the fire from them, guards on each side of her. The seated man, she noted, seemed somewhat older than Athaulf, with a touch of gray in his reddish-brown hair. He wore the standard leather armor and breeches, but also a cloak luxuriously trimmed in gray fur.

The older woman spoke quietly with Athaulf and then left. Gigi felt a measure of relief at her departure. Athaulf was speaking with the others and pointed to Gigi. They all paused to consider her.