After the Fall

chapter 19


Winter, A.D. 411, Hadrian’s Villa

At Hadrian’s Villa, in the craggy hills east of Rome, Placidia stood wrapped in a heavy cloak. At long last, she felt a measure of contentment. “It eases my heart to see our people well housed and well fed, if only for a brief while.”

Elpidia shivered. “I would like it even better if you would take yourself inside, for some warmth and a bit of food.”

Placidia smiled. “I told Athaulf I would meet him here. We enjoy watching the sun set over the reflecting pool. Go on and get your meal. There are guards everywhere. I’ll be all right — there, you see, he’s already here!”

Placidia waved happily as her handsome husband strode toward her. His smile, the way his eyes danced when he looked at her, the way his athletic body moved, everything about him worked a spell on her, every time she saw him.

The sound of hooves interrupted her thoughts, but she was used to this. Although Athaulf’s kingship was still new and the demands on him constant, he was a natural leader, who took great pride in caring for his people. She watched as a small group of horsemen clambered to a stop. As they dismounted, Placidia saw a thin girl near her own age, sitting behind one of the riders. When Athaulf approached and the girl was helped down, she dropped to her knees. He raised her up, and together they spoke in hushed tones.

More news from afar, Placidia thought, curious as to the stranger’s identity.

“Whoever she is, it’s clear she hasn’t brought good news,” Elpidia grumbled, as she turned to leave. “Another of Honorius’s victims having to beg for food, I shouldn’t wonder.”

Placidia didn’t comment as she watched Athaulf and the girl break away from the horsemen and walk toward her. She was blond and tall, with the look of the Germani people, yet there was something else Placidia couldn’t put her finger on, something familiar … her clothes!

Placidia rushed forward and took the girl by the shoulders, immediately noticing the slave collar and nasty brand on her forehead. “You are wearing Gigi’s clothing!” she exclaimed. “Who are you? What happened to Gigi?”

Once again, the girl sank to her knees, this time a great sob tearing from her chest. “Vana. I am Vana. I am … I was a slave at the palace and knew Gigi well. I saw her come in one night, many days ago. She gave me her clothes and some coin. She told me I was free, to escape while I could, and bade me find you here. I swear it!”

Placidia fought panic, sank to her knees, and wrapped her arms around Vana’s shoulders. “You are safe now, safe with us,” she said, managing to control her voice. “You are free. But tell me, do you know anything more about Gigi, or her husband, Magnus? We hope they may find their way here, too, very soon. We look for them daily.”

Vana’s shoulders shook as her sobbing increased. “She … was going to find Honorius that night. I did not know why, although now I know it was to save Magnus. I left the palace kitchen, as Gigi ordered. I ran and, thank God, I escaped Ravenna.”

Trembling, Placidia rose and tried to pull Vana to her feet. “Where are Gigi and Magnus?” she asked again, but the girl’s agony redoubled, robbing her of speech.

Placidia felt a chill and looked at Athaulf, reading the dread in his eyes. As one, they again knelt beside Vana.

“Tell us,” Athaulf coaxed, “tell us what you know.”

“There was a great commotion the following morning. I was already in the countryside, but even there everyone spoke of it. They said all Ravenna was celebrating, and Honorius was heaping great honors upon a general … one Sarus, because … he, he delivered Magnus and Gigi to the palace — ”

“Oh, my God, no!” Sobs caught in Placidia’s throat, tears welled in her eyes. “Are they, will they be executed? I must write to my brother — ”

“No! It is said there was a chase, and this general cornered them in a shack. When they refused to come out, he,” Vana covered her eyes, keening, hardly able to form the words, “he burnt it down around them, then delivered … God help us all … delivered the charred corpses to Honorius.”

“No!” Placidia screamed. Sagging into Athaulf’s arms, she sobbed. “No, no, no!” Dreadful words played and replayed in her mind as though screaming at her, mocking her: Delivered the charred corpses, delivered the charred corpses …

Then, another voice, her husband’s anguished voice, quieted them, if only for a moment. Coming to her ears, as though from a great distance, she heard, “By God, Sarus will pay for this. I swear before God, he will not see another spring.”

Time became meaningless for Placidia as horror dimmed the world around her, as grief engulfed her and dragged her into dark oblivion.