After the Fall(39)
Alaric was quiet for a moment. “I have given orders to the contrary, Mother.”
Ah, Alaric! Ever the noble one. She nodded to him, knowing full well that war was war, however honorable the conquering host, however misguided its ruling king.
• • •
Getting out of bed, Gigi stood beside Magnus and stretched, relieved to see him in the warm glow of the oil lamp, sleeping peacefully at last. The first two nights home he could barely close his eyes before violent nightmares would jar him awake, each time leaving him in a cold sweat. He refused to say what they were about, but Gigi guessed well enough.
They had spent most of their time closeted, getting to know one another again, and learning to trust that it wasn’t all a dream. Finally, their love overcame any awkwardness, the rekindling of their passion beautiful and complete. Placidia had given them the space they needed, and only insisted they join her for a meal on the third evening, stating with unexpected humor she feared they would die of starvation as they embraced, if she didn’t force them to take time out and eat.
Smiling to herself and moving to the balcony, Gigi noticed the odor of wood smoke hung heavier in the hot August night than it usually did at this hour, and she wrinkled her nose, wondering if tomorrow would be another stifling day. She wandered back inside and to their bed.
Magnus was still sleeping, so she snuggled in beside him. His arm closed around her instinctively, and she rested her head on his shoulder, content and happy.
• • •
Athaulf sat in the dark atop his horse, anticipating the moments ahead. Once inside the Salarian Gate, he would make directly for the Palatine Hill. It would take but a short while to reach it on horseback, and then …
He looked up at shouts and the sounds of swordplay erupted from the other side of the ramparts. This was it! Urging his horse forward, he passed King Alaric and gave him a nod. Just then, the screech of surrendering iron told him the Salarian Gate was theirs. With a great swell of war cries, everyone moved forward at once.
But they’d miscalculated — the doors opened outward! There was no room to push them open against the surge. Athaulf shouted orders to back off, but he wasn’t heard and the masses of infantry pushed ahead anyway, unaware of the problem, expecting to pour inside.
For a chaotic few moments there was nowhere for anyone to go, until the stress was such that the doors simply broke from their hinges and crashed to the ground. Suddenly, instead of a stealthy entry into the city, there were screams of terror from among their own as many were trampled underfoot.
Athaulf’s horse reared in fright, pawing the air, and then tried to bolt, but the mob was too thick around them. Glancing across the masses, he could see Alaric and the other horsemen having much the same difficulty.
Finally, the crush of humanity broke free as many in the vanguard reached the maze of streets beyond the gates and flowed away, but as Athaulf found room to maneuver, great wafts of black smoke billowed across his path.
“Luifs Guth!” Athaulf swore, urging his horse forward as the smoke engulfed them, but it was useless — with everything going on, the animal balked and refused to advance. Dismounting, he tried to find something to cover the horse’s eyes, but this was no time of year for extra clothing and there was nothing, nothing!
Jostled by his fellow Visigoths, Athaulf felt a rising panic. This was taking too long. Placidia! He had to get to her. Spotting a man with a sack, ready for plunder, he yelled and then wrenched it out of his grasp. Quickly slinging it over his horse’s head, he was finally able to make some headway, and soon they passed the worst of it.
Remounting, Athaulf drove his horse on, realizing he had no clear sense of the layout of Rome’s winding streets, praying God would guide him to the palace without more delay. He scanned the area, trying to locate the Palatine Hill amidst the darkness and smoke. It was somewhere over … there, there it was!
“Yah!” His horse leapt forward, and Athaulf did not care as Romans and his own people scattered before them, in fear for their lives.
• • •
King Alaric urged his horse forward into the smoke, struggling to keep abreast with the surge. This was it, what he had waited for his entire life.
Penetrabis ad Urbem. You will penetrate the city. Randegund’s chant echoed in his mind.
A frenzy of shouts roused him, and he looked around. A brazier had been overturned, setting fire to the guardhouse. Nearby, embers and ash wildly blew into elaborate pleasure gardens, the famed Horti Sallustiani, and several large plane trees burst into flames. Hearing panicked screams, he saw Romans fleeing their homes, running in every direction. Alarmed, he searched for some hint of structure in the chaos and spotted a band of Visigoths advancing as a unit toward the Senate building. For the most part, he judged, these men were keeping to orders, but as for the rest … ?