After the Fall(9)

Silence. There was no sign, no answer here.

She took a deep breath and rose from her bed, heading for the balcony, intent on gazing at God’s glory, the starry night sky.

• • •

Holding a glass of wine, Gigi stood in the middle of their bedroom and studied the gorgeous frescoes, which reminded her of the art she’d seen in Pompeii. Every inch of wall was painted with scenes from antiquity, as if one were looking through windows at gods and nymphs, ladies in Grecian gowns and athletes at their games.

Magnus came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist.

“Careful, don’t spill my wine,” she laughed.

He kissed her neck and took the glass, one arm still around her. “There,” he said, placing it on a table, then pulling her tight.

She snuggled against him. “You’re so good to me.”

“You deserve it.”

“So does Placidia. Did you see how she and Athaulf looked at each other?” she asked. “Could it possibly be? Could it possibly happen? She talked of running away before leaving Ravenna. What if she came with us? It would be so perfect.”

Magnus disengaged his arms and walked under the arches leading to the balcony. “It can’t happen.”

Gigi was surprised by this curt remark. “Why not?”

He spun around and faced her. “Because she is a Roman princess, Gigi. A Roman lady.”

Stunned, Gigi stared at her husband. “I thought you admired the Visigoths. I thought you felt they were equals.”

“Not if they plan on rutting with our women!”

“Is that what we do, then?” Gigi fumed. “I thought we made love, but now you’re telling me when we barbarians mingle with you Romans it can only mean rutting. Is that so?”

“That’s not what I said. You’re not a barbarian.”

“Well, I’m no Roman! And it is what you implied. Athaulf is a decent, honorable, and, might I add, desperately lonely man. His wife died years ago, and he’s shouldered the responsibility of raising their six children alone. I’ve never seen him running after skirts. That’s not what he cares about. He didn’t look at her like he wanted to rut. He looked like he wanted to fold Placidia into his arms and care for her for the rest of his days.”

Magnus sat down, his elbows on his knees, and stared at the floor.

Gigi touched his cheek, then put a hand on his shoulder. “He looked at her, Magnus, like you look at me — like you looked at me that day in the garden — like you looked at me when you first arrived in the Visigoth camp — overwhelmed, deeply in love, yet unfailingly honorable.”

His head dropped, and he nodded. “You’re right. He’s as good a man as any Roman.”

She lightly ran her fingers through his hair. “You know, you still look at me like that, and it takes my breath away every time. Just before Placidia left the banquet tonight, they both looked like I feel when we have to be apart — like they were being stabbed through the heart with a molten knife.”

“I was wrong to say what I did. Forgive me, but I claimed her as my special charge, watched over her, loved her as a brother since she was barely old enough to talk.”

“Little sisters grow up, Magnus,” Gigi said softly, “and if they’re lucky, one day they fall in love with a wonderful man, and you have to let them go.”

He smiled. “So wise, for one so beautiful. Did you have a meddling big brother?”

The words struck hard, and Gigi rose and moved to the balcony, looking out over the darkened city. Her other life was so remote, so very far away.

“No. No brother. Just my parents and my grandfather,” she murmured. “I still miss them, every day.”

“I know.” Magnus picked her up in his arms and carried her to bed. Lying beside her, he brushed away her hair, tracing her chin, her nose, her mouth. “You are Victoria’s greatest gift to me. You are my greatest strength. We are each other’s family now.”

“Making new memories together.” She smiled and started undoing his clothes. “All day I have been looking forward to making love to you in this beautiful room, with all these luxurious things,” she said as she wriggled out of her robe.

“You are.” He kissed her again.

“That may be so, but I find the room means nothing to me,” she whispered, and their gazes locked. “You are all that matters.”

“My sentiment exactly, but let’s not overlook such an opportunity. There is the tub, and the fires are lit to heat the water whenever we desire to use it. For now,” he reached over and picked up Gigi’s glass of wine, “I will concentrate on how I might create a need for the bath.”