After the Fall(28)

“Here,” Theodoric said in a matter-of-fact tone, dumping an armload of bracken, dried moss, and leaves on the ground near the fire pit he’d prepared. “Once I get these bits going better, we can add the branches. I’m sure we have enough now to last the night.”

Berga stood wrapped in her blanket and pouted. “I hate fire. I don’t want to see a fire ever again.”

“But you’re freezing. We all are,” Gigi said, pulling the little girl onto her lap. “And we need to eat, too, and squirrel doesn’t taste good if it’s not cooked.”

“Squirrel doesn’t taste good any time,” Berga grumbled and stuck out her lower lip. “Theo should have gotten us a rabbit. I like those.”

“Catch your own, then,” he shot back. “You don’t even know how.”

“Enough, both of you,” Gigi said. “Theo did a great job today. And when we catch up with your parents, I’m going to tell them how terrific you’ve both been. Brave, strong, full of good ideas, and if you quit squawking at each other, I won’t even mention the grumpy parts.”

Theo smiled, then added sticks to the fire. Berga buried her head against Gigi’s shoulder.

“I want Mama,” she said.

There was the threat of tears in the little girl’s voice, and Gigi started to rock the child, watching the flames. This should be comforting, she thought. It’s nothing like the inferno. She looked away, hating her memories, and tried to focus on the days they’d spent together.

Both children had been stoic and tireless. Before leaving the burned-out camp, they’d grabbed what they could from the wreckage, trying to find usable odds and ends. Theo had found coals and a metal tin to keep them in, so they’d be able to carry embers as they traveled. He’d also found an iron pot for cooking, and today he’d rigged a snare, then caught and dressed two squirrels for dinner. After that, he fashioned a tripod to hang the pot over the fire. He was an amazing kid. How many ten-year-olds back home could have done all that? They were brought up differently here, so very differently.

But Berga had found the best treasure of all — two chunks of soap. When they were well away from camp, they’d found a stream and scrubbed their hair and every inch of exposed skin to rid themselves of the oily soot.

Later on, Gigi and Berga dug up edible roots and even managed to find wild garlic and thyme. Everything was in the pot now, and the bubbling squirrel soup smelled wonderful.

Gigi sighed. She had provided little but encouragement this whole time, and wished she could play her flute to cheer everyone up, but she didn’t dare. How was she going to do this? Would she be able to hold it together, keep them safe, and travel fast enough to catch up? She figured they were at least a day behind the Visigoths. She hoped they would soon see scouts at the rear, looking for survivors.

And what about Magnus? She could feel his sorrow, his grief reaching across the distance to her. He’d thought he’d lost her once before. Now, since he wasn’t here still searching, she knew this time he was certain she was dead. Tears ran down her face, and she put her cheek against Berga’s hair, so Theo wouldn’t notice.

Don’t fall on your sword, Magnus. You promised me! We’ll find each other, no matter how long it takes.

Muffled against her blanket, the sound of Berga’s tiny voice drew Gigi’s attention away from her pain:

Atta unsar thu in Himinam weihnai namo thein,

Qumai thiudinassus theins wairthai wilja theins

Swe in Himina jah ana airthai …

Our Father, Who art in Heaven …

Berga was praying. Gigi’s tears fell unchecked.





Chapter 8


“I refuse to believe you are dead, Gigi. By the gods, it is not possible.”

Anguish prevailed, the emptiness in Magnus’s heart so deep and black he feared he could not abide by her wishes — he must escape this agony and join her. But no! He could not! On his wedding day, he had sworn an oath to Gigi that he must never kill himself, as he had been trained to do as a Roman military commander, as he was expected to do if he suffered loss or defeat. He had kissed Victoria’s image on the ring and vowed to choose life, no matter how dark things seemed, for Gigi had told him in living there was hope, still hope, and he must honor her by doing just that.

He stood alone on the mountainous crags facing north, imagining he could see beyond the mists, to the place where he last held his beloved wife.