After the Fall(69)
“General,” Africanus said evenly, “forgive the intrusion, but the emperor was attacked this night.”
“Is he alive?” Stunned, Sarus bolted from bed, grabbed his tunic, and started dressing.
“He will live,” Africanus said as he assisted Sarus with his sword.
“Where is he?” Sarus asked as they left his quarters.
“In his bedchamber. His physicians insisted he stay there.”
As they hurried down the corridor, Africanus continued, “Honorius was alone but for Magnus, who escaped with the help of a female, a kitchen slave. It was well planned, for Magnus took Honorius’s cloak, and when several of the Palatini guards saw him and the female in the imperial gardens they did not interfere with his, er, sport, assuming it was the emperor. Guards are searching the palace grounds … ” Africanus hesitated.
“And?” Sarus asked.
“To my knowledge, Magnus and the woman have not yet been found.”
“Shit!” Sarus said, changing direction. “Saddle my horse and have it brought to me.”
“It is already done.”
“Then make certain the other kitchen slaves are thoroughly questioned,” Sarus said as he swept past Africanus. “Torture them if you must. Have the sentries at the city gates been alerted?”
“No, General. I came here straight away.”
“Send word for all to be on the lookout. I want a citywide alert for the two of them: check the gates, docks, even the sewers. Assemble my personal guard.”
“Your guard already awaits you outside, and the rest shall be done immediately, General.”
Nodding, Sarus left the palace. Africanus would see to the lowly details, allowing him the luxury of hunting Magnus. He bounded down the steps, accepted the salutes of his men, and mounted his horse. “Yah!” he shouted, welcoming the surge of muscle beneath him.
Despite the cold night air, the hard ride, Sarus was suddenly drawn back to a cozy image, a snatch of a dream, which enveloped him in a palpable feeling of warm expectation. Images and sensations flitted through his mind: peering down at the sandy floor of the arena, the continual roar of the crowd, a rush of deep satisfaction, and then the dream came back full-blown, and he saw the rotting corpse of that bastard Alaric, murderer of his family, being torn apart by jackals. Sarus smiled, recapturing his exultation as he sat by Honorius’s side in the royal enclosure. Laughing uproariously together, they beheld the spectacle of Alaric’s final defilement.
But … was the dream a portend? Would it become reality?
He frowned. Honorius was a fool for not letting him question Magnus first, for Sarus knew he could get the location of Alaric’s tomb out of the bastard’s traitorous mouth. Honorius had not the talent for subtle torture, and now he had let Magnus escape.
Then Sarus chewed on another thought: the female slave who aided Magnus must be none other than that bitch of a flute player in disguise. Of course! Who else would have known he’d been brought here?
Perhaps she also knew where Alaric’s corpse had been buried. Torturing her in front of Magnus’s eyes would no doubt loosen his tongue, for he was besotted with her, and if he didn’t reveal the location, she certainly would.
Riding on, Sarus was glad he had not divulged the true details of his plan to Sergeric. For all his failings, his younger brother was loyal to his people and would never reveal the location of a Visigoth king’s tomb. In fact, even Honorius had not guessed the real purpose of Sarus’s plan, so engrossed was he by his own vulgar desires.
But it was now clearer how things might play out, with a little luck. Yesterday, Sarus had received word the new king, Athaulf — may he be cursed! — was leading his people north, to winter in the shelter of the Sabine Hills, near Hadrian’s Villa.
Sarus was certain Magnus and Gigi would be heading there as well. Indeed, he thought, tonight they would try to leave by Ravenna’s southern gates.
He nudged his mount to the left, southward, then motioned for his men, fifty strong, to follow.
• • •
Gigi heard the distant drumming of hooves. She glanced over her shoulder, listening, trying to ignore her thudding heart.
Horses were coming their way, they were coming!
She didn’t know what to do. Dozens of horsemen with torches burst into sight at the far side of the square and Gigi was forced to make a desperate decision. There was no hope of evading them, no hope of outrunning them.
There was only one option, one choice left.