After the Fall(33)
“Politics dog our every move, whether we would have it so or not,” he said, his voice still ragged, but calmer. “We are each pawns in this game.”
“Go.”
“Placidia!”
She pulled away from his grasp, rose, and walked to a table, her back turned so she could not see his beautiful eyes any longer, so he could not see her tears.
She squared her shoulders. “That is all. Vale, Athaulf.”
There was a moment of hesitation, then she heard his footsteps receding, and the click of the door as it closed behind him.
Placidia gazed at the silken bag, proof he had thought of her, too, day after day, night after night, over these many long months of separation. He loved her, yet he’d refused her utterly.
She dropped to her knees and opened the bag. Her necklace slid out, glittering with the same green fire she’d seen in Athaulf’s eyes.
Placidia put her hands over her face and sobbed.
PART TWO
Chapter 9
Spring, A.D. 410, Constantinople
Magnus stood on the great wall of Constantinople, looking out over the Golden Horn. Cloaked in purple, the boy-emperor Theodosius and his older sister, Aelia Pulcheria, were just visible in the distance, faint shapes on the prow of the royal galley as it rowed up the great bay. The day was fair and windy, yet the Horn was smooth as glass, its protected waters mirroring the blue of the sky with its tracery of clouds.
Tall for his age, the young emperor of the East was near to manhood and therefore desirous of finding his future empress. The coming ceremony made Magnus’s heart quake, his whole body shudder, as he stood with a contingent of nobles, waiting for the docking of Theodosius’s ship. Would Gigi be led to the parade grounds among the horde of candidate brides? Would he see her soon? Was it possible?
Magnus had searched far and wide these many months, riding the length and breadth of the eastern territories with nothing but rumor to go on, and the conviction Gigi was alive out there, somewhere, for the moment beyond his reach — but alive. When he’d heard Theodosius was about to choose from among the most comely unmarried women in the land, he’d rushed back to Constantinople, hoping and praying Gigi would be included in the procession of beauties.
He knew it did not matter if the girl were a slave or peasant, or even if she were over a decade older than Theodosius. Candidates were chosen not by rank or age, nor by family wealth or title, but for beauty alone, specific requirements regarding perfection of face and form, measurements of bust, waist, and feet a must.
And Gigi was truly a vision for all ages. Magnus shut his eyes, seeing her golden-haired beauty, his thoughts a jumble of contradictions both good and ill: if she were here, it would mean he had found her at last; yet if she were among those selected, Theodosius might seize upon her looks, choosing her above the rest.
“Nephew, they are being led forward. Is she among them?”
Magnus shielded his face against the bright sunshine. He strained to see past the troops drawn up to meet the royal galley: two sets of imperial guards, the scholarii in red tunics and bearing long swords, and just beyond, the hetairia, their gilded shields glittering in the sun like a spray of stars. He looked past them to the imperial contingent that accompanied the emperor and his sister on the galley — oiled and bejeweled courtiers, bald eunuchs, gray-bearded advisors — and then focused farther on, studying the cluster of women and girls. Varying degrees of prettiness greeted his eyes, but none of them could match Gigi in sheer beauty or grace.
Sweet Gigi.
He swallowed and fought back his emotions, then tried to see all the way down the line of women, but he could not distinguish much from this distance. They were too far away, too blasted far.
“I must get closer, Uncle,” Magnus said tersely.
Britannicus nodded. He was his father’s youngest brother, a great war hero, who closely resembled Magnus in looks.
“Nephew,” Britannicus warned, “do not get too near, or tarry by the women. If someone dares question you, just pretend you are me and leave quickly. If Gigi is there, I will take care of it later.”
Magnus smiled. Britannicus was an influential man at court, married as he was to the first cousin of Emperor Theodosius’s mother.
Of all the members of his family, Magnus realized he was now deemed the only failure. He had no real place in Constantinople any more — and he was considered a traitor in the west — his existence now utterly dependent on the charity and forbearance of his powerful kin.