After the Fall(62)

Gigi blew on her hands to ward off the cold. Standing in a copse of trees, she pulled close the heavy wolf-skin cloak draped over her shoulders. She didn’t dare light a fire for warmth, as the soldiers had done, but the fur kept her warm enough.

The temperature had fallen drastically after she left the Visigoth camp, and snowdrifts were a foot deep by the end of the first day. Now, three days later, the wind had stopped howling, but the snow was two feet deep, and her horse had to move slowly, choosing his footing with care. At first, the frigid weather had worried her, but she soon realized the snow provided two huge benefits; it was far better than soaking rain, and it made a simple task out of tracking her husband and his abductors. She’d even begun to develop a sense of how fresh the tracks were, if she was getting too close, or perhaps lagging too far behind.

The Roman camp was a long way off, but she could smell the wood smoke and whatever sort of gruel they had boiling in their pot. Her stomach rumbled with hunger and she turned away, harshly reminding herself the dried meats and grains Athaulf had provided were nourishment enough.

Keeping an eye on the distant blaze, she made both a blind and a makeshift bed by cutting tender bows off nearby trees and propping the longer ones against a low-lying branch, piling the smaller ones on the ground beneath. When this was done, she brought her horse from its hiding spot on the far side of the hill, tying him beneath the shelter of tree limbs as well. Then she fixed her cold camp as best she could, grabbing a piece of mutton jerky from her pack before settling down.

Sitting with her back against a tree trunk, Gigi faced the Roman camp, its men and horses black shapes against the flames on this moonlit night. She chewed thoughtfully, watching over Magnus the only way she could, wondering if he sensed her thoughts, her devotion, hoping he did.

• • •

The horse snorted and shook his head, waking Gigi. It was past dawn, and the sky was overcast, the clouds sickly yellow, threatening. She stood and peered at the area where the Romans’ campfire had been, seeing only a dark spot on the snow. Moving carefully, stiff with cold, Gigi saddled her horse, mounted, and approached the site with caution.

The imprint of their stay was obvious from the churned-up, dirty slush and the cold remnants of last night’s fire. Gigi dismounted and shoved at the bits of charred wood with the toe of her boot, then knelt and stretched out her hands. Even the meager warmth still emanating from the very center was more heat than she’d enjoyed in days, and she took a moment to relish the sensation and consider her situation.

This was her fifth morning on the road. Athaulf warned it could take ten days or more to get to Ravenna. Her provisions were holding out for now, and she still had all of the silver coins he’d given her to purchase more along the way, but she knew she would have to find a farmhouse today and get fodder for the horse, and maybe some hot porridge for herself.

Rising, she scanned the ground, noticed a glint in the snow near the base of a tree, and went to investigate. Somebody had stepped off to pee — the snow told her that much — but the glint came from something else, something just to the side.

Gigi’s breath caught as she picked up Magnus’s locket, the one with her hair. She knew he’d left it for her to find. He knew she was coming for him. He knew he wasn’t alone.

She held the precious object to her breast, then kissed it and put it around her neck. He had faith in her, in her courage, in her love for him.

I’m coming! You’re not alone!

The words struck her deeply and she remembered what he’d said long ago, when she was a slave and he was watching over her, protecting her. You’re not alone!

She was determined to honor those words as he’d honored them — by doing whatever it took to see him safe and free of Honorius’s relentless evil.

Gigi turned and ran back to her horse.

She wouldn’t let him down.

• • •

At dusk on the tenth day since setting out, Gigi finally arrived on the outskirts of Ravenna. The southern gate, the Porta Nuova, loomed above her, opening onto the main road through town, the Via di Roma. Peasants, merchants, horses, and livestock all pushed toward the gate, anxious to get inside Ravenna’s walls before dark. The crowd was bundled up against the cold, but the weather didn’t seem as bad here, not compared to the snowy countryside. The snow had either melted, or perhaps never fallen this far north; the skies were clear, the air crisp.

Keeping her head low and well inside her cloak, she moved past the guards at the gate, relieved no one paid her any attention. Guiding her horse into a section of town she’d never seen, she wondered exactly how she’d get inside the palace, angered by her lack of plans now that she was here. She’d lost Magnus’s trail the day before, but was sure he couldn’t have gotten to Ravenna more than a few hours ahead of her. Where is he? she wondered. With Honorius? What is the bastard doing to him? Is he torturing him right now?