Love, Eternally

chapter 8




Magnus was almost home, the anticipation of seeing Gigi paramount. He had sensed her presence every moment of this journey, despite the vast distance between them. He had never felt this way about a woman before. Now, as he neared Ravenna, he thanked the gods he’d thought to have people from his household checking on her while he was away, to make certain Silvia was still following his orders to the letter.

The end of this abysmal trip couldn’t come soon enough. The land route to Ravenna always infuriated him, especially when he was in a hurry. But with Alaric closing the northern ports, they had no other option than to return on the wretched Via Popilia. Yet, for Gigi’s sake, it would have been far better to risk a sea journey than to pick his way through the infernal swamps. Why hadn’t Honorius seen fit to build a decent road to the city? Did he really think the marshes would hold off invaders forever?

Reeds and bright green, fetid ooze greeted his eyesight in every direction. Moving his chestnut stallion at a pace faster than a walk was out of the question, for the path was boggy and grasped hold of anything that dared cross over, with only the slightest provocation.

And the stench. “Bah,” he spat. He could taste it. Rot and pestilence!

Magnus looked in Senator Attalus’s direction, knowing his friend was wondering at his impatience. After all, the trip to Noricum had gone well enough. They had found their border troops in good spirits, well equipped, and determined to push back the Visigoths, who themselves were in the mood to parlay. Still, Magnus knew Attalus couldn’t guess his true emotions, how alive he felt, how very eager.

I pray Victoria has kept you safe, Gigi.

Soon, the soggy muck gave way to fields of flowers and wild asparagus. Magnus lifted his gaze to the horizon, heartened to see the jagged line of the pinetum against the blue sky. The wind came up, carrying away the stench of swamp, filling his nostrils with the forest’s sweet, healthful scent. Beyond the pines lay the capital.

Magnus glanced at Constantius, who sat slumped on his horse. Miserable old cock. Magnus thanked the gods the general had traveled as part of their mission, else by now the emperor would have forced Placidia to marry him.

Attalus brought his horse alongside. “So, Magnus, what sort of debauchery do you suppose Honorius has been up to? The men have wagers on his chickens being involved.”

A wave of unease swept through Magnus as he turned to stare at Attalus, who grinned ruefully. He urged his horse to a canter, not bothering to answer or give a reason for his abrupt departure.

But better roads were no promise of greater speed as he passed through the main gate. It was market day and the streets were crowded with shoppers. Magnus nudged his horse toward the palace, speaking to no one, his determination driving him forward.

It took another hour to make his way through town. Grumbling with frustration, he finally reached the courtyard wall surrounding the palace kitchen and its gardens, and tied his horse outside. The iron gate squeaked, and a garden girl rushed inside to alert her mistress.

Silvia appeared at the doorway with a questioning look that quickly turned to confusion. “Dominus?”

“I am just returned,” Magnus stated bluntly. “How is Gigi? I would see that she has prospered under your care in my absence. Produce her at once, if you please.”

“But, but,” the woman stammered, “you sent for her yesterday! One of your servants dropped by and said you ordered her to be taken to the baths.”

“The baths?”

“She was to be given the full treatment.”

O, ye gods! Honorius is behind this! Magnus spun on his heel and started toward his horse. He leapt upon it and rode through the royal complex, until he reached the steps of the palace.

Guards were everywhere, double — no, triple — the normal amount. He jumped off his horse and dashed past them, taking the steps three at a time.

“Halt, Senator! Quintus Magnus, halt!”

Ignoring all caution, Magnus ran into the building, past more imperial guards. He intended to throw open the doors to Honorius’s apartments and find out for himself if the bastard held Gigi captive, ready to kill him if he did. At that instant, he found himself blocked by a swarm of Germani guards. He spotted Olympius, one of Honorius’s ministers, coming toward him. Magnus made himself stop and breathe slowly, deeply, striving for calm.

Olympius’s dark eyes were narrowed slits. “What is it, Magnus?”

“Ah, Olympius, my old friend.” Magnus forced a smile. Ask for an audience, he told himself. Something is going on, and a hot head might result in a lost head.

“Olympius,” he started again, “I’ve just returned from my mission. Forgive my haste and unruliness, but I would seek an audience with Honorius, for I’ve important news he must hear immediately.”

The minister dismissed the guards with a flick of his hand. “Have you not heard?” he asked Magnus. “The emperor is indisposed. He has been injured.”

Magnus’s shock was real. Gigi, he thought in agony, where are you? “What happened?”

Through a storm of emotion, Magnus listened to Olympius’s recitation of the prior day’s events. But for his shock, he would have laughed out loud when the minister told him the nature of Honorius’s injury.

“And the slave girl? The flute player, you say? What became of her?” Magnus held his breath.

“She escaped and has so far eluded capture.”

Thank the gods! Magnus unclasped hands he hadn’t realized were clasped. He regained his emotions enough to pretend outrage. “What? She has not been found? Honorius’s men serve him ill if they cannot locate a simple slave, a female slave.”

“We are all inclined to agree with you on that point, but no, they still search, and she has not been found, yet. Come along, Magnus,” Olympius said, ushering him toward the imperial quarters. “I shall take you to Honorius. I believe news of your mission may be the balm he needs to forget the, er, episode, although I would suggest you not mention it unless he brings it up.”

It did not take long for Magnus to be admitted to Honorius’s chambers. As several of the emperor’s court physicians filed out, Olympius went inside the bedroom and announced, “A thousand pardons, Venerabilis. Quintus Magnus has returned. He requests a word with you.”

Magnus heard a muffled reply and then Olympius came out, waving him inside.

When the door shut behind Magnus, he stared at the prostrate emperor, abed and naked except for a poultice covering his privy parts. His eyes were hidden by a strip of cloth.

Ye gods, I would bet a million sesterces he’s never been hit by anyone before, the puss.

Magnus put on his best game face, moved forward, and knelt beside the bed, head bowed. “Serenissimus, how may I help you?”

“Oh,” Honorius wailed, “she kicked our royal person so hard … oh, Christ, we thought she burst open our balls! Where is the evil bitch? Tell us they found her. We will break her flute into a thousand pieces and disembowel her with the shards for this outrage.”

“Great Honorius,” Magnus paused, suppressing a smile, “the others are fools. I shall track her down myself.”

“Why you?” The emperor threw off the face cloth and glared at Magnus. “Have you some interest in what befalls her?”

Take care, Magnus warned himself. “That slave?” he scoffed. “My interest in slaves goes no further than their capacity to serve well and without rancor.”

“And yet, you seem to always insert yourself into her life.”

What was he talking about? Did he suspect … did Gigi let something slip?

Honorius sat up and looked at him evenly, yet Magnus could sense malice just beneath the surface.

Magnus decided to ignore any insinuations and feign utter loyalty. “O Great Emperor Honorius,” he clasped a hand to his chest, “I have only ever done your bidding. The slave means nothing to me, nothing at all. I vow to kill her with my own hands, if that is your desire.”

He watched as Honorius sneered. Better to change the subject now, he decided.

“Venerabilis, I arrived only now with news from Noricum. We parleyed much with King Alaric, and perhaps we may yet reach an agreement, but time is short. An attack may be imminent by way of the sea, for the king has commandeered many ships. My fellow senators and General Constantius will be here shortly. We must weigh our options and plan accordingly.”

Honorius just stared at him. The press of his lips spoke of lingering anger, but otherwise he gave no hint of his thoughts. Magnus stared back, unwavering, hoping he looked anxious about the war, instead of the unknown fate the next few minutes held for him.

The emperor removed the poultice from his crotch, tossed it aside, and stuck his arm out. “Help us up.”

The swelling and bruising were obvious and ugly, but Magnus kept his eyes averted as he clasped the outstretched arm. He stood and pulled Honorius to his feet, but the emperor didn’t let go. Instead, he held Magnus with a fixed stare.

“Tell no one what you saw here today, or lose your head in so doing,” he growled. “We are done wallowing in shame.”

Magnus felt shocked to hear this admission, but he had no admiration for the wretch’s attempt at sincerity. He fought his distain as he said, “Of course not, Serenissimus.”

Honorius jerked him closer, their faces almost touching, and Magnus could feel the spray of his words. “Give us two hours, then return with those who accompanied you to Noricum.” He looked Magnus over from head to toe and wrinkled his nose. “Go to the baths and clean yourself, man. You stink of the road and you’re hairy as a f*cking Visigoth.”

Magnus forced himself to nod and bow.

“Afterward, we will hear you out. And after that, we shall expect the return of the miserable bitch, so make sure you find her, or send someone who will, but you may not lay a hand on her — that is our prerogative.”

“Your will be done, O most excellent Honorius.” Magnus chose his next words carefully. “I shall make sure she is found.”

Honorius glowered. “Indeed, you will.”