Return to Me

PART TWO


chapter 7


Barcelona, Spain

Early the next morning, as Barcelona came into view, Gigi helped Lucius prepare the boat for arrival. She turned and gazed at the coast. Ancient Barcelona gleamed in the sunlight, its fortress walls dwarfed by a multi-peaked mountain in the distance. It rose like a jagged crown, beautiful, yet wild, like the people who now ruled the land. The Visigoths.

“I will stay a few days, should you need me,” Lucius said as he deftly lowered the sail and maneuvered the boat against the dock. “If I don’t hear from you, I will look for wares or people to transport to Portus, in hopes of earning some coin. I am certain I will not be welcomed in Vada Sabatia by our boat’s owner, so I will sell it in Portus and get back home by land. I should make a tidy profit.”

“Taking the boat has bothered me,” Magnus said. “I would not ruin another man’s livelihood. Find a way to return it to the owner. Hire someone to sail it north once you reach Portus. I gave you more than enough coin to cover that. The rest is yours.”

“As you wish, cousin,” Lucius agreed.

They said their goodbyes, and Gigi and Magnus hurried toward Barcino’s castellum, or castle, where Placidia and her family lived.

After five days at sea, Gigi felt a bit wobbly, but otherwise okay, knowing it was only a matter of time before she’d get her land legs back. Magnus, on the other hand, didn’t seem affected by the transition; he was a natural-born sailor, even more so than Gigi. She recalled their previous sailing vacations, which had convinced them that one day they’d buy their own sailboat, because it would be the perfect way to escape the hustle-bustle of her career. But all that had been put aside for now.

Placidia, hold on. We’re coming!

The huge Roman walls, with their round towers and heavily fortified ramparts, loomed close. Gigi suddenly noticed black flags draped along the walls, and her senses went on high alert. Before she could gather her thoughts, Magnus made a choking sound.

“No!” she cried, and collapsed into his arms. He held her tight. “No, no, no, it can’t be that, Magnus. Not after all we’ve been through, how hard we’ve tried — ”

Horns blared and Magnus relaxed his grip somewhat, allowing Gigi to turn. Another black cloth hung over the gate.

The city was in mourning.

Horrified, Gigi and Magnus passed through the gate and spotted the funeral procession in the distance. Light glinted off a silver casket atop a black-draped catafalque. Oh, God, if only they’d made it here sooner!

Choking back a sob, Gigi set off and followed the crowds streaming toward the cathedral. The people of Barcino were dressed in simple shifts of black or gray burlap, with their hair purposely dirtied — sack cloth and ashes. Many wept and some carried bouquets of black flowers fashioned from scraps of cloth. Others clutched wooden crucifixes, with black ribbons wrapped around Christ’s body.

Magnus caught up to her and pulled her aside. “We can’t follow them,” he said. “If Placidia or Athaulf saw us … no, they cannot, not yet. We must give them time.”

Gigi reluctantly agreed, and together they turned back, passing the main gate and heading for the castellum.

As the cathedral bells solemnly tolled behind them, Gigi and Magnus made their way up the castle steps. Surprisingly, there were no guards posted at the main door, so they entered and looked around, finding the corridor empty. They hoped to locate a servant who would recognize them and give them a room until the royal family was ready to receive them.

Gigi suddenly heard echoing voices and the faint clatter of dinnerware. She and Magnus followed the sounds into a great hall, where they found Leontius, Placidia’s longtime steward, directing preparations for the coming funereal supper.

As they approached, Leontius looked up, and Gigi watched as shock momentarily swept the grief from his face.

“Magnus, Gigi,” he spoke soberly and bowed, “it is truly a marvel to see you. We thought you dead, years ago. In fact, the emperor made quite a celebration out of it.”

“Dead? We know nothing of this!” Magnus said.

Stunned, Gigi wondered if their return would be too much for Placidia to deal with. “Should we leave, Leontius? We could come back later.”

“Then you’ve heard of our great misfortune.”

Gigi swept away her sudden tears and nodded. “We are so sorry. We knew the babe was sick, and tried to get here in time, to see if we could help, but we just couldn’t.”

Leontius frowned. “I do not know how you could have heard, wherever you were, since our little prince was ill but one day.”

“What she meant to say is that we worried,” Magnus interceded, “knowing Placidia was to give birth in the winter. It is always hard on the babes.”

Leontius narrowed his eyes and studied them, then shrugged and said bluntly, “Forgive me, but I have much yet to do. I don’t believe it would be fitting for you to participate this evening. As for that, I ask also that you wait for word from me before showing yourselves. And be warned, it might take a few days before anyone is ready to face such a … such an event.”

Gigi started to agree, but the steward turned away and called for a servant to show them to a room. Would their reception be as chilly with the others?

They were soon settled in a bedroom at the back of the castle. There was a single, threadbare tapestry on one wall, a straw mattress on a simple wooden frame, a bench, and a washstand.

Magnus dropped their knapsack on the bed and Gigi put her arms around him.

“Leontius is angry with us,” she said, looking up at him. “I never considered our return from their point of view.”

“Nor I,” Magnus replied. “We always thought the last they heard I was kidnapped and you left in the night to save me. And then what? They thought we had died, but now we’re back. For some unknown reason, Honorius pronounced us dead. Placidia and Athaulf will either think we took advantage of the moment and assumed new identities, or that we left before knowing anything about it.”

“Either way,” Gigi said, “they will think we abandoned them. We should just tell them the truth.”

“I disagree,” Magnus said. “Not yet, anyway. For now we must come up with a story as to why we simply disappeared, something that will placate them, and put us back in their good graces. I would not lose their friendship for anything.”

“I would not lie to them for anything,” Gigi countered, her voice muffled against Magnus’s chest.

“I know, my sweet, I know.”

• • •

After a long, miserable night of little sleep and endless waiting, the morning dawned gray and overcast. Gigi and Magnus sat on the bench in their bedroom, hoping for a royal summons, yet also dreading it.

Footsteps suddenly sounded in the hall. Magnus leapt up and opened the door before anyone could knock.

Heart racing, Gigi watched as he ushered in Leontius, Elpidia — and Vana. Elpidia cried out and grasped Leontius, and Vana burst into tears of joy. She fell at Gigi’s feet, hugging her knees.

Elated, Gigi pulled her up and they embraced. “I’m so glad to see you, Vana.”

“Dear Gigi, you’re alive, you’re alive! They said — everyone in Ravenna was celebrating your death.”

Gigi hugged her again. “We only just heard about it.”

“Dearest Gigi, I never had the chance to thank you. You saved my life.”

Smiling, Gigi drew back to consider Vana, who still wore bangs to hide the brand Honorius had seared into her forehead, the letter ‘F’ for fugitivus. But now, there was a light in her eyes Gigi had never seen before — the mark of freedom.

Vana touched Gigi’s face in wonder, “Are you a vision, or is this real?”

Gigi laughed and hugged her again.

“After I escaped,” Vana said, “I heard … Honorius had everyone from the royal kitchens killed.”

“No!” Gigi’s chest seized with anger and pain. Those poor women! They had all suffered so badly as that bastard’s slaves.

“I thought it was because he was seeking information about my escape,” Vana sadly continued. “I felt so guilty.”

Horrified by what she’d unleashed in saving Magnus, Gigi started to weep as Vana comforted her.

“Neither one of you is guilty,” Magnus said. “Guilt belongs to Honorius alone. Be thankful you escaped.”

“I think the others would be happy for us,” Vana added. “May they rest in peace.”

Wiping her eyes, Gigi nodded, forcing herself to look beyond the horror of that night. “All this time, Vana, I had no way of knowing if you had ever found Placidia, but I hoped.”

Stepping away from Leontius, Elpidia put a hand on Gigi’s arm. “It was God’s will, and, with your help, Vana came to us,” she said, then crossed herself.

“Leontius, ladies,” Magnus said, “we have learned much we didn’t know, but we realize you still must have many questions. We thank you for giving us quarter and allowing us to answer them.”

The steward acknowledged the thanks with a slight nod, but despite what had already been shared, he remained unmoved. Gigi hoped Magnus could bring him around.

“We were able to escape Honorius in Ravenna,” Magnus began. “He had General Sarus hunting us, but we slipped past him.”

Magnus paused and Gigi glanced at Leontius again, but his expression remained impassive.

“That was over four years ago, Magnus,” he said. “We heard you were burned to death and your corpses put on display. We all know Honorius is a fool, which may explain why he would concoct such a web of lies. Be that as it may, you did survive that night. Why did you not return to us?”

“We had no knowledge of the reports coming out of Ravenna,” Magnus said. “It was our belief, at the time, that we were being hunted, and that if we had run back to Placidia and Athaulf, we would have heaped trouble upon you. We watched and saw troop movement, so we went north, and then east to Constantinople, where I have family. No stories of our demise ever reached us, and we lived quietly, until we felt the threat had passed.”

“You didn’t think to help in the wars against Jovinus? Or show up for the royal wedding?” Leontius countered. “It would seem to me you acted very unlike yourselves. In the old days, you were quick to aid and defend Placidia, no matter the situation. And now we’re to believe you simply left, that your strength at arms, your friendship, the love you bore the royal family … all of this was ignored, no longer of any import?”

The words stung, and Gigi stared at the floor, ashamed. She heard Magnus take a deep breath, and, when he spoke again, she could hear the emotion in his voice.

“I was very ill, Leontius.” Magnus pulled up his tunic, revealing faded scars that crisscrossed his chest. Elpidia gasped and Vana knowingly nodded as Magnus resettled his clothing. “Honorius drugged and beat me, then scourged me, before Gigi got there, and I almost died from the loss of blood. It took all of her strength and willpower to save me, to get me to a safe place, a place where I could heal. It took months, and, for all that time, Gigi bore the burden alone. She was on her own for the healing, the protection, the finding of food and shelter. She couldn’t have gotten me to you, and no news came to us. When I was at last strong enough to travel, she had no way of finding the location of your encampment, and so she took me, by long, weary routes, to my uncle in Constantinople. By the time news reached us of events going on in Gaul and Hispania, it was months late, so there was little we could do. We will forever regret our inability to help.”

Silence filled the room, and then Elpidia took Gigi in her arms. “Blessed woman, I believe your husband speaks the truth. You have ever been strong, ever giving of yourself to protect the weak and stand for those you love, no matter the cost.”

Soon, Vana joined them in a heartfelt embrace, and Leontius was left to his own thoughts. Finally, Gigi watched with relief as he clasped arms with Magnus.

“Forgive my skepticism,” Leontius said. “If you would be patient a little longer, I will find a moment to tell King Athaulf. He will know the best way and time to talk with the queen. She is distraught and taking the death of the prince very hard, as you might imagine.”

“We want what is best for Placidia,” Magnus replied. “It is all we have ever desired, and the very reason we returned.”

Gigi nodded, and Leontius met her gaze and nodded back.

• • •

The following morning, Gigi stood beside Magnus in a richly appointed room, nervously waiting. There was a light tap on the door and Placidia entered, leaning heavily on Athaulf’s arm. Gigi knew the royal couple had already been told by Leontius of their survival.

Red-eyed, Athaulf nodded to them, his grief plain and deep, but Placidia’s was another matter, even more horrible to behold. She looked pale and lifeless, gazing at Gigi and Magnus as if she’d never seen them before, as though she couldn’t find it in her heart to care.

Black, all black, Gigi thought. Head to toe. Even the deep circles under Placidia’s sad, listless eyes were black. Then Gigi noticed Placidia wore a pearl necklace, one she’d never seen before, but it too was shrouded in a scarf of black gauze.

Deep, dark, achingly tragic loss. Placidia was no longer the sweet, cheerful girl of four years earlier, and seeing sorrow’s devastation rocked Gigi to her core.

At Magnus’s prompting, he and Gigi bowed low, but the stark misery on her dear friend’s face was too much to bear. Gigi’s throat tightened, strangling on words unspoken. Instead of rising from her bow, she dropped to her knees, pressed the hem of Placidia’s gown to her eyes, and started to sob.

“I’m so sorry, Placidia,” Gigi wept, regret and shame convulsing her body. “I’m so sorry I wasn’t there for you, for your son. I’m so sorry I couldn’t help.”

Gigi felt Magnus’s comforting hand on her shoulder, but couldn’t stop the outpouring of grief. Then another hand, small and cool, gently touched her cheek.

Placidia knelt on the floor beside Gigi and the two friends clasped one another, crying, comforting, and eventually … forgiving.

• • •

That evening, King Athaulf welcomed Magnus to his private chambers. The men had been long apart, and much had happened in the intervening four years, but Magnus knew Athaulf was needful of his company, for the king greeted him in a bear hug.

“It is good to see you yet drawing breath, my friend.” Athaulf poured Magnus some beer, then bade him recline on a sofa, Roman-style. “Take your ease before me.”

Magnus nodded.

“And thank you,” Athaulf went on as he settled on his own sofa. “I am in your debt for bringing Gigi here. Her presence is a blessing for my wife just now.”

“I am very sorry for your loss,” Magnus replied.

Athaulf’s gaze wavered, and silence rose between them. Magnus covered this by sipping his beer. It was good and hearty, tasting of rye, with a thick consistency reminiscent of Egyptian brews.

He glanced around the room. Having noted the rich, Romanized trappings of the castellum, and knowing Athaulf well, he was amazed the king hadn’t pitched it all out the door for more rustic furnishings.

“I can read your thoughts, Magnus. And I am still as uncomfortable lying here in this vulgar setting as I would be in kissing Honorius’s perfumed ass.”

Magnus raised his cup. “A king must rule strong and true, yet once in a while he must also bend to the will of courtly fashion, even to the point of reclining on a sofa to share beer with an old Roman friend.”

The king smiled, but sadly. “It is good to have you here, good beyond all hope that you and Gigi are alive. You must have many questions.”

Magnus nodded, knowing exactly where to start. “Tell me — for I wish hear it from you directly — why did you order the death of General Sarus?”

“It was in retaliation for what I believed he had done to you and Gigi. Placidia agreed to it, also, by the way. An eye for an eye. My wife is a gentle young woman, but she is a queen, nonetheless, and, as such, she can be determined, even ruthless, if it be deemed necessary. When we heard Sarus had hunted you down and burned you alive, then crucified you before Honorius as trophies, there was no dissuading Placidia from any other course of action. She would do anything to protect her own, and you and Gigi were like … are like family to her. To both of us.”

“As are you and she to us,” Magnus replied, remembering exactly why he and Gigi had risked everything in coming back to the fifth century.