After the Fall(42)

“No,” Placidia yelled. “I will not abandon my people!”

“Placidia, we must get out of here,” Gigi urged.

Athaulf approached the princess and stretched out his hand.

“Barbarian!” She lunged at him again, but he pivoted and pinned her arms behind her.

“I love you, Placidia,” he said, as he scooped her up and carried her outside, ignoring her protests. Athaulf voiced relief that his horse was where he’d left it.

Luck was with them as Magnus spotted another horse nearby, wandering riderless, and within moments all were mounted, the men perched behind the saddles, Gigi and Placidia in them. Athaulf struggled to keep the princess’s arms under control and her bottom firmly in place.

As they galloped through the chaotic streets and out of Rome, Gigi noticed how his face was buried in Placidia’s hair, and how he was holding her tenderly against his chest — as a lover would, rather than as her captor.





Chapter 12


After three days of pillaging, the Visigoths left Rome for the countryside, taking their captives with them. Placidia refused to speak with anyone, including Gigi and Magnus, keeping to the traveling wagon provided her during the day and her tent in the evenings. Anguished, Athaulf was convinced he’d destroyed all feelings she had ever held for him, and he tried to console himself with the fact that she was safe, and for now, nearer to him than she had ever been.

Resting after a long day’s march, Athaulf sat by the newly dug fire pit, jabbing a stick at the glowing embers. Verica was close by, preparing several pheasants for the evening meal, and Alaric was meeting with men just returned from taking inventory on the booty.

“Athaulf.”

He looked up at Alaric, who handed him a horn of beer and sat down.

“The reports are in,” he said, “and I must say, I’m surprised and heartened at the plunder of foodstuffs, and at the civility of our people during the attack.”

Athaulf snorted and shook his head. “Surely you jest?”

Alaric frowned. “It was a sack and brutal by its very nature, but as far as it went, more men than I would have guessed followed my orders.” He spread his hands. “Much burned, but nothing that can’t be rebuilt in a year, and true, many died, many were raped, but far fewer than I thought — ”

“You heard, didn’t you,” Athaulf cut in, “that the Mausoleum of Augustus and that of Hadrian were pillaged? Our people stole the royal urns, scattering the imperial ashes, as well as those of royal family members.”

“And for that travesty, I shall personally apologize to Placidia,” Alaric said evenly. “But still, it could have been worse, much worse. Above all, the right of Holy Sanctuary at St. Peter’s and St. Paul’s seems to have been strictly adhered to — ”

“And what of the other Catholic basilicas?” Athaulf asked. “Take a good look at our treasure. It is filled with objects from the Roman churches.”

“I have seen the loot,” Alaric admitted. “Yet many Visigoths did follow my commands. I was not the only one who assisted folks into the basilicas. Lives were saved, many people spared. The bishop of Rome is still alive, as is the princess.”

Athaulf frowned. “She was but a moment from being raped when I found her.”

“True, brother,” Verica broke in, annoyed, “but will your precious princess give us any credit for all the things that went right that day? I think not. Her Magnificence has just insisted dinner be brought to her tent again.”

Athaulf glared at his sister. “She asks for no more than our mother. Why has Randegund suddenly decided to stay in her tent?”

Alaric and Verica remained close-mouthed on the subject, and Athaulf knew why. They all suspected their mother had blatantly lied to Magnus about Gigi, sending him off on a wild goose chase, either to be rid of him, or more disturbingly, simply to hurt him. Now that he was back, Randegund was keeping well away from all of them. Athaulf shook his head and poked at the coals again.

“She’s proving a little bitch, your princess,” Verica muttered to him. “Her haughty, willful, pampered self-indulgence is — uh!” she grumbled. “She is much like her brother, conceited and craving flatterers. I can’t see why we should go out of our way to accommodate her whims. She should be thankful we were as gentle as we — Iésus!” Exasperated, Verica jabbed her knife into the meat, leaving it thus, got up, and marched toward Placidia’s tent.