After the Fall(67)

Carefully easing Magnus over the balustrade, Gigi spoke softly, soothingly, explaining what he must do. “Hold onto this. Don’t let go until I tell you.”

Standing on the outer edge, his eyes cleared and he nodded. He gripped the stonework, but then his eyes grew unfocused again, his legs wobbly.

Frantically, Gigi tossed the other end of the sheet strips over the same branch she had used to escape once before, then jumped for it herself and scrambled to the ground. Holding the other end around her back and leaning against it to take out the slack, she looked up at Magnus and swallowed, hoping her plan would work, hoping her sailing knots would hold.

“Magnus,” she whispered up to him, “let go and fall backward on three, do you understand? One, two … three.”

There was a slight hesitation, but then he let go, and she could see him falling, dropping, and suddenly the sheet went taut and nearly jerked her off her feet. Catching her breath, she couldn’t help but grin as Magnus swung easily on the other end of the line, looking pleased and bewildered. Then, gradually, Gigi let the sheet play through her hands until Magnus’s feet touched the ground.

She untied him, pulled the cloak over his head, and tossed the palla over her shoulders, then wadded up the sheeting and hid it behind a bush. With one shoulder propping him up, Gigi and Magnus made their way through the grounds, heading for the garden, and hopefully, the horse would still be tied there, waiting to take them out of town.

Whenever she saw guards, Gigi hid with Magnus until they passed. Twice she had nowhere to hide and was forced to pull Magnus against her in an embrace, so the guards would only see the cloak. Both times, they started to ask questions, but as soon as she giggled and manipulated Magnus’s hips, they backed off quickly, full of apologies to the emperor.

Exhausted and worried Honorius would sound the alarm at any minute, Gigi and Magnus moved as fast as possible, heading for Venus’s garden — and freedom.





Chapter 18


The moon hid behind silver-edged clouds. Using her shoulder, Gigi supported Magnus, guiding him down the path into the depths of the garden. She was terrified by the crunch of gravel beneath their feet, the sound magnified by the night and her fear. Stumbling on, she was relieved when the gravel finally gave way to dirt and weeds. Magnus felt so heavy, and he was groaning more often, but this only made her more determined to reach the tumbledown wall and her horse.

We’re almost there, she thought, willing herself on. We’re almost there.

She had been aware for some time of dampness spreading across her shoulder. This was bad. He was bleeding too much!

Gigi could hardly see in the gloom, the path overgrown and so dark, the naked vines pulling at them, raking like claws. Magnus’s steps were unsteady, like he was drunk, and she adjusted her gait, bracing herself to counteract his ever-increasing wobbliness. But just when Gigi feared their legs would give out, the vines disappeared, and they emerged into the clearing.

She could barely see the statue of Venus guarding the frozen pool, and to her relief, she heard her horse’s gentle snorts. Good. No one has taken him.

“Magnus,” she whispered, halting by the little bench, “we’re in the garden. We’re almost safe. I have a horse waiting on the other side of the wall.”

He managed a slight groan and whispered, “I don’t think … I can’t go on. Save yourself.”

“No,” she whispered back. “We’re staying together no matter what.”

The moon slid from behind the clouds, and the luminous statue glowed at the center of her columned temple and icy pool. But Gigi barely noticed. Magnus’s hood had fallen back, and his face looked terrible, his eyes sunken, dark pools of agony. And there were stains on the cloak, fresh stains.

“Magnus, you’re bleeding badly. I need to bandage you up.” Thoughts racing, Gigi wished she’d kept some of the torn sheeting. Desperate to find some way to staunch the wounds, she decided the cloak would have to do. She kissed his cheek and helped him sit on the bench. Untying the cloak, she could see dark smears all over his arms and chest, oozing, dripping blood.

Tears threatened, but she fought against them, the lump in her throat agonizing, making it hard to breathe. Unsheathing her knife, she cut strips from the cloak.

“Magnus,” she whispered, hoping to provide some comfort as she worked, “we’re going to get out of here. You’ve got to believe me. Placidia and Athaulf are waiting for us at Hadrian’s Villa. We can stay with them for the winter, and then maybe we’ll get a boat and sail away. Far away. Ever heard of blue water sailing? Of course you have. You’ve sailed to Constantinople. It’s very risky, but it might just be what we need to do. Perhaps we can go to the other side of the world. Hawaii, maybe. I don’t know if anyone lives there yet, which might be good, too. We’d be the only ones.”