Return to Me

chapter 16


Moving slowly to avoid unwanted attention, Eberwolf followed the bucket brigade as they reached the end of the great hall and started into a corridor. Bringing up the rear, he followed as they walked single file past the guards posted at the entrance to the royal chambers.

He kept his gaze down as he crossed over the threshold, walked through the antechamber, and into the king’s bedroom, the guards letting him pass without so much as a second glance. The women had begun taking turns pouring water into a copper bathtub. He glanced around, assuring himself no one was watching, and then assessed the room. There were floor-length curtains in the alcove near the balcony.

Go! He took several steps backward and slid behind the heavy fabric. To his relief, there was enough room to stash his buckets. After carefully lowering them to the floor, he pushed the palla off his head, removed the knife hidden in his right boot, and waited.

• • •

After using the latrine, Magnus set off for Athaulf’s chambers on the other side of the palace. He was determined to save his friend no matter what ill fortune came his way, and braced himself for the long night ahead. Touching the hilt of his sword, he reminded himself the corridor was too narrow for swordplay, and withdrew his Bowie knife instead.

Despite what he knew, at this moment the future was unwritten.

F*ck the inevitability of history! Magnus glanced at the ceiling, sending his anger skyward, to Victoria and all the gods. I will not let this happen, his mind thundered. About to mutter a curse, he forced himself to cool down. This would not do. He needed to think clearly.

Reassessing Gigi’s plan, he hoped Placidia would understand the significance of what his wife was going to tell her.

Lives depended on it. So many lives.

• • •

It took Gigi several minutes to find out that Placidia was praying with Bishop Sigesar in the palace’s private chapel. At first, the guard at the door had refused her entry, but Gigi insisted she had urgent news for the queen, and he relented.

The door quietly closed behind her, and she stood for a moment, taking in the candlelit scene. The bishop and Placidia knelt before the altar, deep in prayer.

Gigi let her breath out slowly, seeking to relax. It wouldn’t help if she seemed desperate or frantic as she tried to make her case.

“Your Majesty?” she called softly.

Both Placidia and the bishop started at the interruption.

“I’m so sorry to disturb you,” Gigi apologized with a quick curtsy. “Placidia, I need to speak with you. It’s very important.”

The queen frowned with concern. “What is it?”

As the bishop helped Placidia to her feet, Gigi realized what she was going to say next would probably not go over well with him.

“Bishop, forgive me, but would you leave us alone? I must speak to the queen in private.”

His eyes widened at the affront, but Placidia waved her hand through the air. “No need for you to leave, bishop,” she told him. “Gigi will accompany me to my chambers.”

She watched as Placidia kissed Bishop Sigesar’s ring. He shot Gigi another look, grumbled, and then returned to his knees and his prayers.

As soon as they were in the hallway, the queen drew Gigi to her side. “Tell me what is so important.”

“Placidia,” Gigi began, and then reconsidered how she should to do this. She switched gears and said, “I think the king ought to hear this, too.”

The queen glanced at Gigi with a patient smile. “As you wish. I shall check to see if he is able to receive guests. He was planning to have his weekly bath while I visited the bishop.”

Gigi sucked in her breath. There were two versions of Athaulf’s death in the historical records: one where he was murdered in his stables, the other in his bathtub!

Desperate, Gigi grabbed her walkie-talkie, pressed the button, and shouted in English, “Magnus, where are you?”

• • •

Heart pounding, Magnus grabbed his walkie-talkie.

“Magnus!” Gigi’s urgent shout crackled. “Magnus! Hurry!”

“What is it?” he shouted back.

“Are you with Athaulf?”

“No — ”

“Go to him! Now! Placidia said he’s alone. He’s taking a bath!”

“On my way,” he yelled and broke into a run. Taking out his Bowie knife, he flattened it against his forearm, rounded a corner at full speed, then skidded to a halt.

Before him a tall man stood poised, grinning, the tip of his short sword a mere finger’s length from Magnus’s chest.

“From all accounts I thought I might find you nearer the king’s apartments,” the man said. “But your running into me certainly saves me time. On the floor, Magnus. Face down. You are my captive and you will be returning with me to Ravenna.”

Recognition flashed. The centurion. Vada Sabatia.

“Out of my way,” Magnus growled.

The man laughed. “I am the legatus Titus Africanus,” he said. “And your commands mean nothing, since you are nothing, nothing but meat for Honorius’s beasts in the arena. Get on the floor.”

“F*ck you,” Magnus replied, then flicked out his knife and charged, rending the cloth at Africanus’s belly, but nothing more.

Africanus sprang to one side, swinging his blade at Magnus in a wide, deadly arc, but Magnus blocked the strike with his knife and sparks flew off the metal.

“Magnus, are you there yet? Magnus?” the walkie-talkie screamed.

Startled by the sound, Africanus looked around for the source of the voice.

Magnus saw an opportunity and drove his knife in, but Africanus twisted away and slashed downward in one movement.

Leaping aside, Magnus heard the crackle from the walkie-talkie, just as it took a hit from Africanus’s blade, then scattered across the floor in pieces.

• • •

From his hiding place, Eberwolf heard Athaulf dismiss everyone from his bedchamber. He continued to wait behind the curtain, not moving, not even daring to take a look.

Finally, he heard the soft thud of boots falling to the floor, and then, after a long moment, the sloshing of water.

He peeked from the curtain. In the candlelight, he saw King Athaulf sitting chest deep in the tub, head back and eyes closed.

Eberwolf smiled.

Taking a steadying breath, he raised his knife, and lunged. He struck Athaulf in the chest. Once. Twice. Three times, as hard and deep as he could. Blood spewed.

Breathing heavily, he leapt back and watched, fascinated, as the king thrashed about, pathetically struggling to get out of the tub. Mortally wounded. The bath water crimson.

Just before the king slipped beneath the surface, he arched up and wailed.

Hearing noises outside, Eberwolf roused himself and quickly returned to his spot behind the curtain.

“My lord?” someone called from the antechamber.

There was no response from Athaulf, and Eberwolf heard the door crash open, then the riotous tumult as the king’s guards swarmed into the room.

He waited a moment longer, then looked out. The men had Athaulf on the floor, the atmosphere utter chaos as they attempted to save him. No one had yet thought to search the room for the king’s assassin. Eberwolf could not expect to remain undetected forever.

He had only this one chance for escape. He pulled his palla back up, grabbed one of the buckets and swiftly left his hiding place. He walked toward the door and then faced the scene with his most convincing expression of shock.

A guard noticed him and yelled, “Get out of here, woman! Alert the queen. She is in the chapel!”

Dropping his bucket, Eberwolf turned and ran.

• • •

“Magnus!” Gigi shouted into the walkie-talkie again, but all she heard was static. No answer. Where was he? What was going on?

The queen immediately realized Athaulf was in danger and took off, intent on reaching her husband. Gigi clipped the walkie-talkie back on her belt, clamped her hand over the .45 hidden beneath her palla, and chased after Placidia, summoning guards as they ran.

When they finally reached the hall leading to Athaulf’s chambers, Placidia cried out in panic and reared back, Gigi nearly stumbling into her. The place was in chaos, the corridor filled with soldiers and servants, all shouting and shrieking, everyone trying to make sense of what was happening.

The queen’s guards quickly formed a tight ring around the two of them. Just then, Athaulf’s kinsman, Wallia, came from the bedchamber, his tunic covered in blood. Placidia gasped and sagged against Gigi, who felt sick to her stomach.

The crowd fell silent, their shock palpable.

“My lady, you must hurry.” Wallia moved to support Placidia. “The king is asking for you. You must not fail him.”

Stunned, Gigi could only stare as he helped the queen inside. At that moment, the world tilted, her knees threatening to give out, but a guard standing nearby helped her follow Placidia through the antechamber and into the room beyond.

Gigi froze with shock; Athaulf lay sprawled upon the floor. He clutched his bloody chest, gasping for air with lungs that could no longer draw breath. He stared at Placidia with horror-filled eyes, pink foam bubbling from his chest wounds and mouth.

There was an immediate change in Placidia, and, with a focused purpose, she knelt and took her husband’s hands. “I love you, my Athaulf. I have loved you from the moment our eyes first met. Do you remember? God destined that we should find one another, and we did. Do not doubt, my love, I shall go on loving you, until the day we meet again in Heaven. Whatever my destiny, none will replace you in my heart. None. I love you, Athaulf, I love you, I love you.”

Tears streamed from Gigi’s eyes as she sat beside the queen and king. Behind them, pandemonium had resumed; shouting, cursing, men calling out for vengeance, but no one bothered them. It was too late for that. Gigi hoped Magnus was one of those giving orders, chasing down the man who’d done this, a man who probably had less time to live than Athaulf.

Something, a vague change in Placidia’s bearing, drew Gigi back. The queen leaned close to her husband, whispering in his ear, praying, saying goodbye. Gigi’s throat tightened when she saw a faint smile touch the king’s lips, and then the light in his eyes flickered.

Gigi tensed, sensing the moment.

“I love you, my Athaulf. I love you,” Placidia insisted, over and over.

Through her tears, Gigi stared as the light in Athaulf’s eyes flickered once more. For some reason she couldn’t let herself look away. It was important, vitally important that she witness what was coming. Somehow, it would be the ultimate act of respect, a way to honor an honorable man.

Another flicker, then a fading, a dulling of the once-brilliant light.

And then the light winked out.

Gigi watched as the face of the Visigoth king relaxed in a peaceful expression far beyond that of natural sleep. She closed her eyes and hung her head.

King Athaulf of the Visigoths, her friend, was dead.

Placidia’s resolve evaporated and she moaned, then collapsed beside her lost husband.

Fear, anger and despair suddenly surged, each fighting for supremacy, and Gigi realized time was of the essence. She needed to get Placidia out of there. They had to find the children.

The castle was in an uproar, Sergeric probably seizing power at this very moment. How long did they have before he went after the kids?

“Come on, Placidia,” Gigi implored.

The queen didn’t seem to hear her. With trembling fingers, she closed her husband’s eyes, and then fell onto his chest. “Gigi, give me your blade. I must cut my hair, as I did for King Alaric. It is my duty. It is expected of me.”

Gigi realized Placidia wasn’t thinking clearly. “Not yet, not now. We have to make sure Marga and the other children are safe.”

Placidia gaped, trying to focus on her words, and Gigi again urged her to stand.

“They have killed my husband, Gigi. They have killed my Athaulf.”

“I know.” Gigi pulled the queen to her feet and told Wallia, “Protect the king. Take him away from here. Guard his body.”

“On my life, I will do it,” he promised.

Taking Placidia by the hands, squeezing them to get her attention, Gigi leaned in and spoke forcefully, “Listen to me! We can’t stay here. We have to go to the children. Sergeric is behind this and he will kill them next.”

Placidia’s eyes went wide and Gigi yanked her away. Together, they ran to the nursery, arriving to find the door open, the room empty. Where were the kids?

Placidia just stared, her eyes vacant.

Gigi turned at the sound of hurrying footsteps and brandished her gun. Vana! She quickly put the gun away and hugged her. “Where are the children?”

“I heard the commotion and got them to the chapel for safety. The bishop was there, and he took them inside.”

The three women hurried to the chapel and found the entry barred. Gigi banged on the door and yelled, “Bishop, it is Gigi. I’m with Queen Placidia and Vana. You must let us in. We are not safe out here.”

The screech of the iron latch brought Gigi profound relief. The door swung open, and she hustled Placidia and Vana inside. As the bishop bolted the door once more, the children started screaming at the sight of Placidia’s blood-soaked dress.

The queen burst into tears as she looked down at herself. Vana ran to hold the smallest ones, who were hysterical.

Gigi did a quick head count. Seven kids. Thank God!

• • •

Frantic to reach the king, Magnus could not get the upper hand against Africanus. The man was his equal in strength and fighting prowess.

Victoria, I beg you! End this now!

He adjusted his grip on the knife and stepped sideways, keeping Africanus watchful, uncertain.

“Victoria strengthens this arm!” Magnus bellowed, desperate to get to Athaulf. He drove at Africanus again, this time connecting solidly with the man’s thigh, just as Africanus reeled and hit the side of Magnus’s skull with the flat of his blade.

Stars erupted before Magnus’s eyes. Dizzy and breathing hard, he collapsed, but immediately started forcing his mind, arms, and legs to obey. He rolled onto his side, and then struggled to his knees, commanding his eyes to focus, to no avail.

Africanus’s face was deathly pale, and he whimpered in pain. His leg wound was deep, blood spurting from a huge gash.

Magnus rose and stumbled toward Athaulf’s chambers, not caring that Africanus would soon bleed out, if he wasn’t already dead.

He felt nauseous and weak, his vision blurry. Too much time had passed. He knew he had failed to save the king. Gigi, where are you? He stumbled on.

He reached the corridor leading to the royal chambers. It was empty, the door open. There were no guards. Where in Hades was everyone?

Holding his knife before him, Magnus blinked hard, trying to clear his sight. He moved inside the anteroom, then through the door to the bedchamber.

Ye gods. Gore was splattered, pooled, and smeared all over the floor, Athaulf’s bath red with his life’s blood. Unsteadily, Magnus stepped to the balcony and was relieved to find it empty. He turned and tripped over an empty bucket, then stumbled forward.

Cursing, he spotted something he’d not noticed before, a trail of blood going out the door.

Fear pulsed the air, shook him to full attention. He gathered himself and followed the trail, hoping he would not find Gigi at its end.

• • •

It took several minutes before Gigi and Vana could get the kids quieted. The whole time, Placidia stood mute, still as a statue, and clearly in shock.

Gigi heard the bishop ask, “Your Majesty, are you injured?”

When Placidia didn’t respond, Gigi looked at the bishop and said, “That’s not her blood. There’s been fighting, and … ”

Placidia opened her arms wide. “Oh, my babes! Please hold me. I need you all in my arms.”

The children hesitated, staring at her blood-stained gown.

“Mama, I’m scared,” Marga whimpered.

Vana slipped her outer tunic over her head. “Please, Your Majesty, cover yourself with this.”

Gigi and Vana quickly slipped the garment over her head and soon the kids started inching forward.

Weeping softly, Placidia sank to her knees and gathered them to her, rocking, moaning, and drawing comfort.

Moved, Gigi wondered if the queen would be able tell them about their father’s death. She couldn’t imagine a more horrible task, and turned way, steering Vana and the bishop to one side. “This is not over. We are still in grave danger, especially the children.”

Vana gripped Gigi’s arm. “Tell me how I may help. I will do anything for them.”

“Right now, I think we should guard the door and wait for Magnus. I won’t trust anyone but him.”

The bishop stared hard at Gigi. “You’d not trust the king?”

“No one will ever hear his voice again.”

Vana’s eyes filled with tears. The bishop made the sign of the cross over them and began to pray. After a moment, grieving, Vana moved off to comfort Placidia and the children.

Grim-faced, the bishop glanced at the queen. “She was able to be with him … at the last?”

Gigi nodded. “They prayed together. They were able to say their last goodbyes.”

Wails suddenly erupted from the children, raising the hairs on Gigi’s arms. She leaned against the door and closed her eyes. The poor kids. How would they go on without their father? Who would protect them?

Magnus. Where was he? Oh, God, please …

Suddenly, Gigi heard running outside, then frantic knocking.

“Help, help, they’re after me! Help!” a woman pleaded.

The bishop moved to lift the latch, but Gigi stopped him. “Only Magnus, trust only Magnus!”

He looked at her, incredulous. “Can you not hear? It is a woman’s voice. I cannot allow some innocents to be saved, while others are sacrificed.”

He indignantly pushed Gigi aside. Startled, she toppled, hitting the ground hard. The latch went up in a flash, and someone dashed in, wielding a blade. Gigi reached for her gun just as the intruder’s blade came down on the bishop. Blood sprayed, and Gigi fired, sending the assailant sprawling.

Gigi’s ears rang, but she could still hear everyone’s screams. Heart thudding, she scrambled to her feet and checked the bishop. The gash on his head didn’t look serious, only a glancing blow, but it was bleeding profusely, and he was out cold.

She turned to inspect the assailant and recognized the mimi. Furious, Gigi swore at their stupidity. Miserable bastard! A large pool of blood was spreading from underneath his body, every ounce he’d possessed draining onto the floor.

Eyes wide with terror, Placidia scrambled over to the bishop. “What just happened?” she asked Gigi.

With complete clarity, Gigi realized exactly what had happened. This guy would’ve been the children’s murderer — not Sergeric — regardless, she’d just changed history.

She raised Placidia to her feet and looked her in the eyes. “Never mind what I did. Please, you must listen to me. It’s Sergeric’s mimi and he came here to kill the children. I told you before, Sergeric wants to wipe out Athaulf’s bloodline.”

Placidia gasped. “We must get them out of here — get them to safety!” Taking Gigi by the shoulders, she frantically added, “We must run! We must save the children.”

“Placidia!” Gigi sensed she had a small window of opportunity to get this right, and needed a moment to think. She wrapped her arms around the queen and pulled her close, rocking her, as Placidia had rocked the children. “I think if we run now, somebody is sure to track us down. We’d only be putting off the inevitable. We have to make them think they’ve succeeded. Do you understand?”

Gigi felt the slightest nod against her shoulder.

“There’s enough blood to convince anyone,” Vana quietly offered. “Do you think if we hid the dead man, perhaps — ?”

“Oh, Vana, that’s perfect!” Gigi said, grasping at the edges of a plan. “If we get him out of here, and take the children with us, they’ll be safe, but someone has to tell the bishop they’ve been killed, their bodies disposed of. I know it will be horrible, but Placidia, to save the children you must stay behind and tell everyone they were murdered.”

The queen blanched at this, but Gigi shook her head. “Only you can do this.”

Placidia stared at Gigi, and then took a deep breath. “I understand.”

Gigi hugged her. “Take off Vana’s tunic. It’ll be more believable if they see your bloody gown.”

After this was done, she and Vana moved to the grizzly body. Vana grabbed the legs, and Gigi grabbed under the arms. When they lifted him, more blood poured out. Vana slipped in the gore and crashed to her knees. As she struggled to regain her footing, Gigi wondered how they would accomplish this. The mimi was surprisingly heavy and would be awkward to carry any distance.

Gaila hurried to their side and pulled off her palla. “Wrap him in this, like a shroud. It will be easier to carry him,” she said, then turned to her older brother. “Beremund, you are the strongest. You must help.”

Gigi glanced at him and saw the frightened fourteen-year-old shake his head and try to look brave. “I’ve been in training, and I’m nearly a man. I’m staying to fight.”

Before Gigi could say a word, Placidia was holding his face in her hands, her voice shaking with intensity.

“My sweet boy, you are brave, a good son. Your father would be so proud of you, but you cannot stay! They are killing your father’s bloodline, and that puts you at the top of the list! Please understand, you must be alive to avenge your father. You must go, for now, and live to fight another day.”

Beremund bowed his head, his expression bitter but resigned.

After kissing his brow, Placidia took each of Athaulf’s children in turn, speaking to them, hugging them. While the queen did this, Gigi and Vana worked furiously to wrap the assassin’s body. When they were done, Gigi looked up to see Placidia holding little Marga in a fierce grip.

Gigi went over to them just as Placidia said, “I love you, my Margareta. Remember that always. Every night, I shall give you a thousand kisses in my … in my dreams.” Her voice caught and she looked up at Gigi, her eyes welling. “Promise you won’t let her forget Athaulf and me. Promise.”

Gigi nodded, realizing Placidia had already guessed she might never see the children again.

“Tell her about me every day,” the queen insisted. “And … do you recall what I told you about burning of letters?”

She nodded. “I will have Marga write them to you, and I’ll send them on, Placidia, I promise,” she said, without adding the rest about death, smoke, and heaven.

“Be happy, Mama,” Marga said, touching her mother’s tears, then hugging her tightly.

Placidia tried to smile, but her face crumbled. “Oh, Marga, my sweet babe!” She broke down and sobbed. “Return to me! You must, you must … ”

Marga started to wail, and Placidia hugged her until the little girl finally quieted, exhaustion setting in. “Keep her safe,” the queen said as she tearfully handed Marga to Gigi.

Holding the child, Gigi barely held herself together as Vana and Beremund picked up the corpse, as Gaila herded the younger kids out the door. They passed through the bishop’s rooms and out his private exterior door, leaving Placidia to play her part.

Before the door closed, Gigi heard the queen’s voice rise in wails of anguish. She knew Placidia wasn’t playing a role for the sake of the bishop, or anyone else.

Gigi wished she could tell her grieving friend what the future held, that she would find a reason to live — two reasons to be exact — but this was not the time or place for such a revelation.

Once outside, she, Vana, and the children moved as quickly as they could, keeping to the darkest shadows of Barcino’s back alleys.

After a few blocks, breathless and exhausted, Gigi gave Marga to Gaila and panted, “We must stop and think.” She glanced at the corpse, the wrapping stained with blood. “Put him down.” She needed to figure out a way to get rid of the body without anyone being able to trace it to the kids’ whereabouts.

She turned to Vana. “What do we do now?”

Vana’s eyes brightened. “What about the man we met at market, Lucius? Would he help us?”

That was it! “Vana, you’re brilliant! I’ll go get him.”

“No, I’ll go. You stay with the children.”

“He’s got a ship. You will find him at the docks.”

Gigi watched Vana leave and waited. Before long, she was surprised to see the dim light of a veiled lantern, Vana and Lucius coming up the alley.

Looking grim, Lucius was carrying a heavy tarp under one arm, and protectively holding Vana’s arm with the other hand. He tossed the tarp on the ground, and then hugged Gigi.

“Young man,” he said to Beremund, “unroll it. We’ll wrap the body in that, so the blood won’t soak through and arouse suspicion.”

“Thank God you’re here. Can you get rid of it for us?” Gigi asked.

“I can do better than that,” Lucius replied. “I can take all of you onboard my vessel and keep you safe at sea. We’ll dump the body there.”

Gigi’s mind hadn’t gotten that far, and she threw her arms around him in thanks.

“Vana has told me about the king,” Lucius said, extricating himself and stooping to wrap the body. “Is Cousin Magnus — ?”

“No!” Gigi replied, suddenly realizing she couldn’t know for sure. “No. But I cannot go with you. Take Vana and the children for now. I’ll go back to the castle to be with the queen. I don’t think there’ll be any more killing, but it won’t blow over, either. A rival, Sergeric, has taken over, and the children are in grave danger while he is in power.”

Lucius took Gigi’s hand. “I will keep them safe. There’s a cove northeast of the port. I’ll put in there and wait for you. If there’s trouble, I’ll leave with them and we can contact one another through my mother.”

“Give us a week,” Gigi said, remembering her history.

Lucius nodded, and Gigi hugged Vana, then kissed the children. She watched them leave, hoping she’d done the right thing. Once they were out of sight, she turned and ran back to the castle.