Return to Me (9 page)

“Tell us,” Magnus urged.

“There have been many who have threatened Emperor Honorius over the years: King Alaric, of course, but also others like the northern barbarian, Constantine III, who tried to claim the purple for himself, and then Constantine’s son, whose name escapes me. But Honorius is not the only one to have enemies and rivals. That brings me back to Jovinus, who attacked King Athaulf in revenge for General Sarus’s death, but also in a bid for power. However, Athaulf soundly defeated him. He sent his head on a pike to Honorius, and that is why the emperor, quaking in his boots, made peace with King Athaulf!

“But now,” he continued with relish, “General Constantius is the supreme commander of the western army, and, as such, many think he is the one who calls the shots, not Honorius. Last year, Constantius had Heraclian, the military commander of Africa and his rival, assassinated! And now, he has turned his attention to the Visigoths, and this is the reason Honorius no longer quakes in his boots, for General Constantius has vowed to give him Athaulf’s head before the year is done.”

Gigi stared at Magnus and said in English, “I can’t wrap my head around all of this, but it can’t be good.”

“We’ll find out more when we get to Spain,” Magnus promised, then turned to Lucius and said in Latin, “Thank you, cousin. You have been most helpful.”

The young man smiled, but gave no reply. The well of his information had apparently run dry.

Gigi gazed at the sea, watching the whitecaps, a glimmer of hope glowing in her heart. Tomorrow they would be with Placidia and Athaulf. She couldn’t waste her time thinking about politics. Only one thing was paramount, only one; their remaining knapsack held the medicine that would save the baby. And then, she would play her flute in celebration.

Tomorrow. Gigi let herself smile.

Barcelona, Spain

Early the next morning, as Barcelona came into view, Gigi helped Lucius prepare the boat for arrival. She turned and gazed at the coast. Ancient Barcelona gleamed in the sunlight, its fortress walls dwarfed by a multi-peaked mountain in the distance. It rose like a jagged crown, beautiful, yet wild, like the people who now ruled the land. The Visigoths.

“I will stay a few days, should you need me,” Lucius said as he deftly lowered the sail and maneuvered the boat against the dock. “If I don’t hear from you, I will look for wares or people to transport to Portus, in hopes of earning some coin. I am certain I will not be welcomed in Vada Sabatia by our boat’s owner, so I will sell it in Portus and get back home by land. I should make a tidy profit.”

“Taking the boat has bothered me,” Magnus said. “I would not ruin another man’s livelihood. Find a way to return it to the owner. Hire someone to sail it north once you reach Portus. I gave you more than enough coin to cover that. The rest is yours.”

“As you wish, cousin,” Lucius agreed.

They said their goodbyes, and Gigi and Magnus hurried toward Barcino’s
castellum
, or castle, where Placidia and her family lived.

After five days at sea, Gigi felt a bit wobbly, but otherwise okay, knowing it was only a matter of time before she’d get her land legs back. Magnus, on the other hand, didn’t seem affected by the transition; he was a natural-born sailor, even more so than Gigi. She recalled their previous sailing vacations, which had convinced them that one day they’d buy their own sailboat, because it would be the perfect way to escape the hustle-bustle of her career. But all that had been put aside for now.

Placidia, hold on. We’re coming!

The huge Roman walls, with their round towers and heavily fortified ramparts, loomed close. Gigi suddenly noticed black flags draped along the walls, and her senses went on high alert. Before she could gather her thoughts, Magnus made a choking sound.

“No!” she cried, and collapsed into his arms. He held her tight. “No, no, no, it can’t be that, Magnus. Not after all we’ve been through, how hard we’ve tried — ”

Horns blared and Magnus relaxed his grip somewhat, allowing Gigi to turn. Another black cloth hung over the gate.

The city was in mourning.

Horrified, Gigi and Magnus passed through the gate and spotted the funeral procession in the distance. Light glinted off a silver casket atop a black-draped catafalque. Oh, God, if only they’d made it here sooner!

Choking back a sob, Gigi set off and followed the crowds streaming toward the cathedral. The people of Barcino were dressed in simple shifts of black or gray burlap, with their hair purposely dirtied — sack cloth and ashes. Many wept and some carried bouquets of black flowers fashioned from scraps of cloth. Others clutched wooden crucifixes, with black ribbons wrapped around Christ’s body.

Magnus caught up to her and pulled her aside. “We can’t follow them,” he said. “If Placidia or Athaulf saw us … no, they cannot, not yet. We must give them time.”

Gigi reluctantly agreed, and together they turned back, passing the main gate and heading for the
castellum
.

As the cathedral bells solemnly tolled behind them, Gigi and Magnus made their way up the castle steps. Surprisingly, there were no guards posted at the main door, so they entered and looked around, finding the corridor empty. They hoped to locate a servant who would recognize them and give them a room until the royal family was ready to receive them.

Gigi suddenly heard echoing voices and the faint clatter of dinnerware. She and Magnus followed the sounds into a great hall, where they found Leontius, Placidia’s longtime steward, directing preparations for the coming funereal supper.

As they approached, Leontius looked up, and Gigi watched as shock momentarily swept the grief from his face.

“Magnus, Gigi,” he spoke soberly and bowed, “it is truly a marvel to see you. We thought you dead, years ago. In fact, the emperor made quite a celebration out of it.”

“Dead? We know nothing of this!” Magnus said.

Stunned, Gigi wondered if their return would be too much for Placidia to deal with. “Should we leave, Leontius? We could come back later.”

“Then you’ve heard of our great misfortune.”

Gigi swept away her sudden tears and nodded. “We are so sorry. We knew the babe was sick, and tried to get here in time, to see if we could help, but we just couldn’t.”

Leontius frowned. “I do not know how you could have heard, wherever you were, since our little prince was ill but one day.”

“What she meant to say is that we worried,” Magnus interceded, “knowing Placidia was to give birth in the winter. It is always hard on the babes.”

Leontius narrowed his eyes and studied them, then shrugged and said bluntly, “Forgive me, but I have much yet to do. I don’t believe it would be fitting for you to participate this evening. As for that, I ask also that you wait for word from me before showing yourselves. And be warned, it might take a few days before anyone is ready to face such a … such an event.”

Gigi started to agree, but the steward turned away and called for a servant to show them to a room. Would their reception be as chilly with the others?

They were soon settled in a bedroom at the back of the castle. There was a single, threadbare tapestry on one wall, a straw mattress on a simple wooden frame, a bench, and a washstand.

Magnus dropped their knapsack on the bed and Gigi put her arms around him.

“Leontius is angry with us,” she said, looking up at him. “I never considered our return from their point of view.”

“Nor I,” Magnus replied. “We always thought the last they heard I was kidnapped and you left in the night to save me. And then what? They thought we had died, but now we’re back. For some unknown reason, Honorius pronounced us dead. Placidia and Athaulf will either think we took advantage of the moment and assumed new identities, or that we left before knowing anything about it.”

“Either way,” Gigi said, “they will think we abandoned them. We should just tell them the truth.”

“I disagree,” Magnus said. “Not yet, anyway. For now we must come up with a story as to why we simply disappeared, something that will placate them, and put us back in their good graces. I would not lose their friendship for anything.”

“I would not lie to them for anything,” Gigi countered, her voice muffled against Magnus’s chest.

“I know, my sweet, I know.”

• • •

After a long, miserable night of little sleep and endless waiting, the morning dawned gray and overcast. Gigi and Magnus sat on the bench in their bedroom, hoping for a royal summons, yet also dreading it.

Footsteps suddenly sounded in the hall. Magnus leapt up and opened the door before anyone could knock.

Heart racing, Gigi watched as he ushered in Leontius, Elpidia — and Vana. Elpidia cried out and grasped Leontius, and Vana burst into tears of joy. She fell at Gigi’s feet, hugging her knees.

Elated, Gigi pulled her up and they embraced. “I’m so glad to see you, Vana.”

“Dear Gigi, you’re alive, you’re alive! They said — everyone in Ravenna was celebrating your death.”

Gigi hugged her again. “We only just heard about it.”

“Dearest Gigi, I never had the chance to thank you. You saved my life.”

Smiling, Gigi drew back to consider Vana, who still wore bangs to hide the brand Honorius had seared into her forehead, the letter ‘F’ for
fugitivus
. But now, there was a light in her eyes Gigi had never seen before — the mark of freedom.

Vana touched Gigi’s face in wonder, “Are you a vision, or is this real?”

Gigi laughed and hugged her again.

“After I escaped,” Vana said, “I heard … Honorius had everyone from the royal kitchens killed.”

“No!” Gigi’s chest seized with anger and pain.
Those poor women!
They had all suffered so badly as that bastard’s slaves.

“I thought it was because he was seeking information about my escape,” Vana sadly continued. “I felt so guilty.”

Horrified by what she’d unleashed in saving Magnus, Gigi started to weep as Vana comforted her.

“Neither one of you is guilty,” Magnus said. “Guilt belongs to Honorius alone. Be thankful you escaped.”

“I think the others would be happy for us,” Vana added. “May they rest in peace.”

Wiping her eyes, Gigi nodded, forcing herself to look beyond the horror of that night. “All this time, Vana, I had no way of knowing if you had ever found Placidia, but I hoped.”

Stepping away from Leontius, Elpidia put a hand on Gigi’s arm. “It was God’s will, and, with your help, Vana came to us,” she said, then crossed herself.

“Leontius, ladies,” Magnus said, “we have learned much we didn’t know, but we realize you still must have many questions. We thank you for giving us quarter and allowing us to answer them.”

The steward acknowledged the thanks with a slight nod, but despite what had already been shared, he remained unmoved. Gigi hoped Magnus could bring him around.

“We were able to escape Honorius in Ravenna,” Magnus began. “He had General Sarus hunting us, but we slipped past him.”

Magnus paused and Gigi glanced at Leontius again, but his expression remained impassive.

“That was over four years ago, Magnus,” he said. “We heard you were burned to death and your corpses put on display. We all know Honorius is a fool, which may explain why he would concoct such a web of lies. Be that as it may, you did survive that night. Why did you not return to us?”

“We had no knowledge of the reports coming out of Ravenna,” Magnus said. “It was our belief, at the time, that we were being hunted, and that if we had run back to Placidia and Athaulf, we would have heaped trouble upon you. We watched and saw troop movement, so we went north, and then east to Constantinople, where I have family. No stories of our demise ever reached us, and we lived quietly, until we felt the threat had passed.”

“You didn’t think to help in the wars against Jovinus? Or show up for the royal wedding?” Leontius countered. “It would seem to me you acted very unlike yourselves. In the old days, you were quick to aid and defend Placidia, no matter the situation. And now we’re to believe you simply left, that your strength at arms, your friendship, the love you bore the royal family … all of this was ignored, no longer of any import?”

The words stung, and Gigi stared at the floor, ashamed. She heard Magnus take a deep breath, and, when he spoke again, she could hear the emotion in his voice.

“I was very ill, Leontius.” Magnus pulled up his tunic, revealing faded scars that crisscrossed his chest. Elpidia gasped and Vana knowingly nodded as Magnus resettled his clothing. “Honorius drugged and beat me, then scourged me, before Gigi got there, and I almost died from the loss of blood. It took all of her strength and willpower to save me, to get me to a safe place, a place where I could heal. It took months, and, for all that time, Gigi bore the burden alone. She was on her own for the healing, the protection, the finding of food and shelter. She couldn’t have gotten me to you, and no news came to us. When I was at last strong enough to travel, she had no way of finding the location of your encampment, and so she took me, by long, weary routes, to my uncle in Constantinople. By the time news reached us of events going on in Gaul and Hispania, it was months late, so there was little we could do. We will forever regret our inability to help.”

Silence filled the room, and then Elpidia took Gigi in her arms. “Blessed woman, I believe your husband speaks the truth. You have ever been strong, ever giving of yourself to protect the weak and stand for those you love, no matter the cost.”

Soon, Vana joined them in a heartfelt embrace, and Leontius was left to his own thoughts. Finally, Gigi watched with relief as he clasped arms with Magnus.

“Forgive my skepticism,” Leontius said. “If you would be patient a little longer, I will find a moment to tell King Athaulf. He will know the best way and time to talk with the queen. She is distraught and taking the death of the prince very hard, as you might imagine.”

“We want what is best for Placidia,” Magnus replied. “It is all we have ever desired, and the very reason we returned.”

Gigi nodded, and Leontius met her gaze and nodded back.