After the Fall

PART ONE

Chapter 1


Autumn, A.D. 408, near Rome, Italy

The sailboat rode the chop up and down, steady in the face of chaos.

Salty mist bathed Gigi Perrin’s face as she kept watch over the bow. The skies overhead were clear and fiercely blue, reminding her of Magnus’s eyes. The wind and waves had just enough kick to make the afternoon perfect, and she sighed with contentment.

“Gigi! Gigi! Where are you?”

Gigi frowned. Her mother’s voice was frantic. Hadn’t Magnus let her parents know she was up on deck, manning the helm?

“Gigi! Where are you?”

Now her father? He sounded like he was crying! Gigi called out to them, but the wind carried her voice away. She tried to lock the wheel on autopilot, so she could go down below and reassure them everything was okay, but couldn’t find the mechanism.

A hand clamped over her mouth and a jolt of fear went straight to her gut. She let go of the wheel, wrenched away, and faced her attacker. Honorius! The boat lurched sideways with the waves and Gigi fell, Honorius landing on top of her. She struggled, which made him laugh. She tried to knee him, but he was ready and caught her leg, pinning it to one side.

No! No!

He hit her on the jaw and the pain made her mind reel with terror. They were naked, and he was pushing at her, pushing …

“No!” Gigi screamed, thrashing at her cloak. Opening her eyes, breathing hard, she looked around. Rolling hills. A sea of dying grass gently waving in the breeze. The rough bark of a tree against her back. Emperor Honorius wasn’t here. He hadn’t touched her, hadn’t been anywhere near her.

She wiped her mouth, then ran her hands over her face. Would she ever get him out of her nightmares? Would she ever be able to forgive herself for leaving her parents without a word? It hadn’t been her fault, but …

She sighed and leaned her head back, a single tear trickling down her cheek.

Time travel. Sometimes Gigi had difficulty believing it had actually happened to her. She shivered despite the sun’s warmth, wondering what it was going to be like spending a winter in ancient Italy. Living rough with the Visigoths, she’d be without all the things she’d taken for granted: central heating, modern medicine, chocolate.

But she was here. That was that. She looked at the beautiful hills again, seeking solace in the sight. Slanted sunshine, autumn’s last gift, the air scented with grass and thyme. She held her hand out and her ring caught the light, the image of the goddess Victoria shimmering, dancing.

Magnus’s ring, lost by him in battle, then found by her grandfather after 1,600 years, hers now, her wedding ring. Time travel had brought Gigi and Magnus together, the how of it unanswerable, the ring the key in some unfathomable way.

She touched her ring, recalling the past few months. Magnus. Always by her side, the only one sharing the secret of her other life. Their trek south through the rugged Apennines had been long and tiring, but they had persevered together. And now, finally, they were on the outskirts of Rome. What would happen next?

Getting up, Gigi brushed off her skirt and resettled her cloak. She looked at the jumble of buildings on the horizon. Rome. She was excited and nervous all at once, not only because she hoped to be reunited with her friend, Princess Placidia, but also because this was where the Visigoths would make a stand, perhaps the final stand against the Western Roman Empire. If all went well, they might just get land of their own, land they’d been promised by a string of emperors in return for decades of military service. More Romanized than the other so-called barbarian hordes, the Visigoths had fought with and eventually become part of the imperial legions, only to be spit upon and further abused by the Empire, until they supported open rebellion against its tyranny.

Gigi’s mind returned to that coward, Honorius, and she was relieved he was far away, hiding behind the walls of Ravenna. Nevertheless, he still lurked in her nightmares, but she would fight him there, too, determined to put an end to her bad dreams forever.

Would she be able to succeed? Gigi took a deep breath and hoped so as she walked back to the Visigoth tents. She held her hands before a campfire, enjoying the play of warmth against her fingers, her ring softly glowing. Some women sat nearby, humming as they sewed and knitted. She greeted them, and they smiled back in welcome.

There was a sudden rise in conversation and Gigi turned just as a group of six men and one woman exited King Alaric’s tent. With a gentle yet noble bearing, Queen Verica nodded to her husband and left to attend her own business. Gigi found it interesting Verica had equal standing among the men, something the Romans and their emperor disparaged as barbaric. Recalling how Honorius delighted in abusing women, Gigi knew without a shred of doubt the identity of the real barbarian.

She considered King Alaric and the other men standing by the tent. They looked serious and proud, especially the king and his second-in-command, Verica’s brother, Athaulf. Gigi found confidence in their strength, and gratification in the way they’d offered their protection.

Her husband came out of the tent, an upstart Roman who had also thrown in his lot with the Visigoths. Quintus Pontius Flavus Magnus. His name reflected great heritage and high honors. Gigi felt a burst of pride when she recalled how he had bravely defended her after she was enslaved by Honorius, how he had engineered her escape. Then, with a death warrant on his own head, he had barely made it out of Ravenna. But they were now free!

She almost laughed as she envisioned him riding a white horse. Magnus had his back to her, bending an ear to Athaulf, who considered him an equal. He was valued here, and she could see how much he had changed, his confidence reborn, now that he was out of the emperor’s evil shadow.

Sunshine lit her husband’s dark brown hair, now almost long enough to start a braid in the Visigoth style. Gigi loved how he looked, loved even more all the little things he did to show how much he cared: making certain she got the first taste of whatever was served; letting her ride his horse, Agrippa, for hours as they traveled, and when she walked, placing himself between her and the jumble of wagons for safety’s sake.

Gigi smiled, her will to succeed, to embrace this life, fully restored, and she marveled at how everything had changed since she’d met him. Magnus, I adore you.

Just then, he turned, searching the camp as if sensing her presence and the intensity of her thoughts. His gaze found hers, and he gave her a long look back. Soon, he told her, love lighting his blue eyes. Very soon.

She entered their tent and dropped onto the bed. Home. Not much considering what she’d had in her other life, but it was everything she needed here. She picked up her flute and idly played scales, wondering what Magnus would say if she could snap her fingers and show him what she used to have: her new digs in LA, and the charming, centuries-old family farmhouse she was having restored outside Avignon. Considering he was a Roman, she’d make sure he saw the big Jacuzzi tub in her LaLaLand abode, surrounded by vanilla candles, a bucket of champagne, and some luscious chocolate truffles.

Gigi laughed. That stuff might be necessary to enhance the mood with another guy, but she didn’t need it with Magnus. He just had to show up in this tent and …

Magic happened.

She played a tune that had been running through her head, “That Old Black Magic.”

The tent flap opened, and Magnus walked in. His face broke into a wide grin, and Gigi put down her flute. It didn’t matter where she lived — he was her life.

“Oh, yeah, my Magnus,” she smiled, “pure magic.”