After the Fall(21)
She was his enemy for life.
• • •
Gigi sat down across from Attalus as food and beer were placed before him, and he stared at the fare with longing. When he finally lifted his gaze to Gigi, he looked tormented.
“I cannot eat while Rome starves.” He pushed the plate and mug away with trembling fingers.
“Senator Attalus,” Gigi said, taking his bony hand in hers, “are you well? How is Placidia? She’s not ill, is she?”
“She is weak, as are we all. It is strange, what starvation does to a body, but women do better than men, and the princess is young and strong.” Attalus sighed. “We have tried to convince Alaric this was not Rome’s fault. We know he feels this is his last, best hope to get satisfaction from that horse’s ass in Ravenna.”
Gigi smiled in agreement.
Attalus spread his hands. “Unfortunately for Rome, the policy is sound. In his place, I would do the same.”
A sentry poked his head into the tent. “The king has called for you, Priscus Attalus.”
“So soon?” Attalus said, nervously wiping his hands.
Gigi wondered what the hurried summons could mean. Had the Visigoths rejected Rome’s offer out of hand?
Within moments, she and Attalus stood at the fire pit again, facing Alaric, Athaulf, Magnus, and the other chieftains, with only Verica and Randegund absent. The crowds had also vanished, the people now going about their daily chores.
Magnus motioned for Gigi to join him. She took his hand and waited, his skin warm, the little squeeze to her fingers his way of telling her it was going to be okay.
She felt her nerves fall away, a sense of calm enveloping her.
The king stepped toward Attalus. “Senator, the siege is lifted. I have already ordered the storage houses opened, and deliveries of food should be on their way as we speak.”
“Yes!” Gigi exclaimed in English, but only Magnus grinned at her response.
Attalus grasped the king’s proffered forearm, tears in his eyes. “May the gods bless you, King Alaric the Wise!”
“May God bless us all,” Alaric said.
Athaulf stepped forward with a small item, wrapped in golden silk. “I would have you return this to Galla Placidia,” he said to Attalus.
Gigi watched as Athaulf pulled back the edges, revealing the emerald necklace, which he pressed into Attalus’s hands.
“No, no,” Attalus protested. “Placidia’s sacrifice was voluntary, and she insisted you have it.”
“But — ”
“No! Placidia told me someday she hoped it would be returned to her, but not now.” Attalus gave the necklace back to Athaulf and lowered his voice, looking awkward. “She told me … ”
Gigi strained to hear the senator’s next words.
“ … she awaits the day when you might return this bauble to her neck. She told me she is ever patient, like Roma aeterna herself, and she will wait for a new future. She will wait.”
• • •
The curtain rose on the final act, and Honorius smiled. He touched his hair, adjusting his new pearl diadem, knowing he looked magnificent, the pride of the Empire. His smile broadened as he peered at the audience, pleased to see their expressions of awe and rapture.
He raised his sword, flexing his bared muscles, wearing but a loincloth and cloak, like the Greeks of old. Behind him, the stage of his theater had been transformed into a seascape; the air howled with a wind conjured by his court magicians, while an ocean appeared to heave and roar with pounding waves. Britomartis was chained to a column, the marble hidden by layers of plaster, making it look like the famous Siren’s Rock off the coast of Sicilia. Honorius gazed at the girl’s windblown tresses, her blond hair already damp and clinging to her white skin, which peeked deliciously through the carefully crafted rips in her golden gown.
“Ahhh,” he sighed as he winked at her. “Perfection is ours to behold, ours to hold.”
She closed her eyes against the great sprays of water now pelting her face. Honorius wished he could rush forward to spread her pale legs in front of everyone and take her there, wet, wild, unrelenting, but he forced himself into a statue pose, for he must play his role, he must be heroic Perseus to her Andromeda enchained.
He threw back his head and began to recite his beloved Ovid:
“Chained to a rock she stood!
Young Perseus stayed his rapid flight,
To view the beauteous maid.
So sweet her frame, so exquisitely fine,