Return to Me

chapter 21


Spring, A.D. 416, Spain

Standing in the room where once her dear Athaulf had held his most important meetings, Placidia waited patiently. Her shorn head covered with a scarf, she felt old, ugly, and stretched to breaking, but dear Elpidia assured her she looked no different on the outside. Ha! How odd to hear that, since her very heart had been ripped from her body.

Athaulf. Theodosius Germanicus. Margareta.

The first two taken from her by death. The third gone by separation, a little death that gnawed at her every day, for she would never know what became of Marga.

She ran a finger over Athaulf’s former desk, inlaid with mother-of-pearl in the pattern of a Greek key, waiting for her audience with the new king. King Wallia.

He was a good and faithful man, and she was certain he would lead the Visigoths well. Now, however, he was being stubborn and foolish, even though his reasoning was honorable. It was time she set him straight.

Soft footfalls approached and she turned to greet him with a curtsy.

“Queen Placidia,” Wallia said, kissing her outstretched hand.

She shook her head. “I thank you for the words, but I am no longer queen.”

He looked at her squarely and his grip tightened. “You will always carry that title, my lady. Always. And you shall forever be honored by the Visigoth people, never to be forgotten or put aside. You have given and sacrificed too much for our cause, for our gratitude to be otherwise.”

She inclined her head. “My sacrifices are precisely the reason why I asked to speak with you. We have spoken of this before, but it is becoming urgent.”

Wallia let go of her hands. “I will never barter you for food. Never! It is repugnant, and however noble your offer, I deem it to be distasteful and utterly incomprehensible. I do not want to go over this again. The subject is closed.”

Placida reached out and put her hand on his arm, trying to catch his gaze, but he would not look at her. “I fear I have done a poor job explaining myself. Hear me out once more. As I live and breathe, I am certain my future, a brighter future, lies in Ravenna. Take a knee before Constantius. Let me go with him.”

Wallia grumbled and turned toward the window, arms crossed.

“My lord, Constantius will allow you to rule as a vassal king, and then you will no longer be bothered by Roman threats. I am all he wants from you, so the longer you keep me here, the hungrier your people become. He will not let the food supplies flow in until he has me, so I beg you, please, trade me for grain! I know your people would think it barter and despise you for it, so let me speak to them from the balcony. I will address them, tell them goodbye, and tell them the truth — that I ask it of you. They may never understand, but they will accept my words and you will not be held to blame. Let me go.” She reached out again and touched his arm. “Wallia, your own son lies abed, without the strength good food would provide to fight his illness. For his sake, for mine, and for all your people, let me go.”

Heaving a sigh, Wallia turned and looked at her with sad eyes. “You know I never coveted this crown, but I wear it to honor and carry on the legacy of a man I loved and served my whole life. Your husband. King Athaulf. How then can I turn you out, you, his greatest love, his widow?”

“Because my life here is done,” she said earnestly. “I know you would not turn me out, but think politically. As his widow, as both Queen of the Visigoths and Royal Princess of Rome, I can do more for you in Ravenna what I could ever do remaining here. I can fight for you, Athaulf’s people. I can advance your cause. I can make sure your future becomes yours to determine. No more Roman meddling. No more Roman lies and misbehavior. My brother will be so pleased to have gotten me back, he will do anything I ask, and that is how I, how both of us, can still serve Athaulf’s great vision.”

Wallia looked at her, and she could tell she’d finally struck a chord. Something deep within his gaze told her she’d found her way around his protective, honor-bound heart. Her path, the one Gigi and Magnus had described to her, was finally open to her. All she had left to do was take that first, difficult step.

• • •

The soaring peaks and deep crags of the Pyrenees mountains were breathtaking, the air blessedly cooler in the mountain pass, than the stifling lowlands they had left nearer the coast.

Regally gowned, a thin, golden coronet on her short curls, her pearl necklace at her throat, Placidia stood alone, head held high. Before her stood General Constantius and his legion of Roman soldiers, all battle hardened and grim, their spears and blades polished and glinting in the sun. Behind her, King Wallia and his Visigoths.

As was so often the case, soldiers, women, and children stood shoulder to shoulder. Placidia felt pride in their number, for so many had accompanied her on this difficult journey, to honor her and her dead husband, their greatest king.

She had addressed them from the balcony of the castellum, explaining why she must go, and absolving Wallia of all blame. Weeping, they had showered her with flowers, cheers, and praise, and when it had come time for her to depart Barcino, they had insisted on seeing her off, insisted on protecting her for as long as they could.

The only sound was the breeze puffing across the heights, rustling leaves and skirts. Placidia let her gaze move over the Roman troops, and had to admire their straight lines and military discipline. General Constantius knew what he was about, and she was sure there was not a man among them who would not lay down his life for him.

She turned to Constantius. He was battle hardened, tall, and tanned, an older man, yet fit and intelligent; no doddering fool was he. She saw the grim line of his mouth, the bulging eyes, and within that gaze, she also saw a spark of … hope?

The unexpected glimpse into his thoughts filled her heart with butterflies of uncertainty, but, just as quickly, she thought of Athaulf and knew she would be fine. Even in death, he would protect her, never leave her alone, would forever be her guiding strength.

Placidia bowed her head slightly in response, and then heard Wallia step up beside her.

It was time.

Constantius took a knee before her, his fist to his chest. “Aelia Galla Placida, Princess of Rome, I salute you.”

She held out a hand and drew him to his feet. “General Constantius, I thank you for your kind greeting, but I must ask you, please, to remember I am not just a Princess of Rome. I am also the dowager Queen of the Visigoths.”

Still clasping her hand, his eyes flickered for a moment to her short hair, then to Wallia, and he bowed his head. “Queen Placidia. I shall ever honor you with that title, my lady.”

Placidia took a deep, calming breath, recalling what Magnus and Gigi had told her; she would marry this man, bear his children, and even reign with him for a short time. She had known him for years, and knew he harbored feelings for her. She was also certain he would act honorably toward her. Still … Placidia sternly reminded herself she had been blessed with great love, a gift very few people were ever given. Now duty called and she must fulfill her destiny.

“King Wallia,” she said, gently removing her hand, “would you give us a moment?”

He backed off a few paces and she turned to Constantius. “You will see the food blockade is lifted?”

“It is already done,” he replied. “They should be offloading grain even as we speak.”

Relief washed over her. “Then on behalf of my husband’s people, I thank you.”

Constantius nodded curtly. “There are some issues I would like to discuss before we take custody of you. First, some unpleasantness we should cover, in case you disagree with my actions.”

“Go ahead,” she replied.

“The emperor commanded that I preserve and send your husband’s head and, er, his private parts,” Constantius blurted.

Placidia gasped and stepped back, but he raised his hand. “Of course I could not ignore a direct command,” he explained quickly, “and for your sake I found a way around it. One of my men died of a wasting disease. He looked passably like your husband, and I thought to take … er, I preserved everything needed. Should your brother ask, I hope you will agree to acknowledge the contents of the jar as belonging to your husband.”

Shocked, Placidia could only stare at him as she tried to absorb the information. Finally, she whispered, “You have acted with commendable foresight.”

Constantius nodded grimly and shifted feet. “I am glad that is settled. The next issue is, er, I believe you recall we were betrothed before … and you must know the emperor stands by that. He will see us wed, but I want to assure you that I do not take this lightly. I will honor you and care for you, and will put you before all others. Including your brother.”

Placidia inclined her head. “I thank you, for our future together, and for all you have already done in my regard.”

“Please be assured … ” He took an awkward step toward her, then hesitated. “I have harbored the deepest, purest of feelings for you since the first time I laid eyes upon you.”

Curious, Placidia smiled. “And when was that, Constantius? You have been at court as far back as my memory reaches.”

He ducked his head and Placidia was surprised to see a flush cross his cheeks.

“It was at the dual coronations of your brothers for the Western and Eastern Empires. You were so beautiful,” he rushed on awkwardly, “all dressed up in a golden gown, you glowed as brightly as the sun.”

“I was but five years of age!” she said, stunned, but unexpectedly laughing.

“True, true, but my feelings then were for your care and safety, not … my thoughts were never … lustful.”

“I am relieved to hear it.”

“Such base feelings have never been a part of my being, unlike … never mind. I assure you, had impure thoughts ever crossed my mind, I would have felt duty-bound to toss myself from a precipice. You will never want for honorable consideration from me.”

She held his gaze for several moments, and, indeed, saw only honesty. “I believe you, Constantius. I thank you, and I willingly entrust myself to your care.”

Placidia turned and motioned to Elpidia, Leontius, and the rest of her household to join her.

“King Wallia,” she said in a clear, carrying voice. “Serve your people as they deserve, treat them well and with honor, for you rule a great and worthy nation.” She kissed his cheeks, squeezed his hands, then stepped to Constantius’s side and turned to face the Visigoths.

She was no longer theirs. She belonged to Rome now, again.

Wallia withdrew his sword and, offering his hilt, took a knee before Constantius. “General of Rome, I, Wallia, King of the Visigoths, offer you my service and dedication.”

Constantius straightened to his full height and gazed down upon Rome’s newest vassal. “Rise, Visigoth, take your sword, mind Rome, and rule well. If you are wise and faithful to Rome, you will have a certain amount of independence. If you disregard Rome, you will die, along with those you rule. There is no middle ground. Do you understand?”

Placidia felt a knot form in her chest as Wallia bowed his head and consented.

“Then rise and clasp my arm in friendship,” Constantius said. “The blockade of food is lifted.”

• • •

Gigi breathed in the soft night air. Magnus walked toward her, lit in the glow of their campfire. She looked beyond him, seeing the dark outline of their ship, just beyond the pearly froth of the reef, which was all she could see of the ocean in the darkness. The children were back onboard, Vana and Lucius keeping watch over them. After the excitement of reaching the island of Gran Canaria, their boundless energy had finally found release in a day full of play on the sandy beach. Then, as dusk neared, and with grit covering every inch of their bodies, the younger ones had fallen asleep almost as soon as they stopped running, and couldn’t even be persuaded to eat before going to bed.

It had been a perfect day.

Magnus dumped some driftwood near the fire. “It is good to be on dry land,” he said.

She smiled at him. He sat beside her and took up a stick, poking at the flames and sending embers into the air, toward the stars. She glanced up and spotted the Pleiades, glorious and twinkling with cold, blue fire.

“We made it here safely,” she said, “but I’m still worried. We need to escape completely, Magnus. We need to go to Ravenna and get back to my world, but it would be so dangerous, for all of us.”

Magnus nodded. “Honorius will never relent in his search for us. If Africanus survived his wounds, neither will he, but I think we must find a way to make it happen. Also, I will not forget the promise we made to your parents.”

Mom and Dad. Gigi recalled the last, tearful moments with them, knowing they would await her return until they drew their last breath. She couldn’t let them down.

She glanced toward the east, imagining Ravenna as it slumbered beneath the same night sky. It was so far away, and yet the dangers were still so great. How could they possibly manage to get the kids into the baptistery and safely to her time, right from under Honorius’s nose — ?

She sucked in her breath and gripped Magnus’s arm.

He turned and stared, his eyes wide. “What?”

“Oh, my God!” she exclaimed, rising to her knees and taking Magnus’s face in her hands. “Honorius dies in the year 423! That’s only seven years from now! All this time I was thinking we had to get them out of here right away, but we can hide here, and then, after he’s gone, Placidia will be queen regent for her son. It will be clear sailing after that.”

Nodding, Magnus took her in his arms, and Gigi felt her worries slip away. The answer had been right there all the time. Only seven years and the coast would be clear.

Yes, clear sailing.