by Roger Booth
Then Sigesar came forward, raised his hand and in Latin spoke the words they had agreed last night: “A blessing on the Christian peoples of Tolosa, a blessing on this land of Aquitania. May the Lord forever keep in His guard the Kingdom of the Visigoths, our King Theoderic and Rohilde, his lady Queen.”
*
The regiment formed up on the highway. Once gone, the feasting could start – as soon as they could find food and wine enough. Meanwhile, she thought to join the farewells. Euplutius was expected back but Lucellus and Clavinianus had fought side by side with the people and who was to say if they would ever ride with them again?
“Count Lucellus.”
“My Lady,” and he bowed his head over her hand.
Theoderic held the Roman by the shoulders. “Lucellus, ride well,”
The Roman mounted up, nodded with a cautious smile. “Look after Aquitania.”
Constantius she saw astride his horse, slightly apart. As Lucellus headed for the front of the column, at first Constantius made to join the other Roman officers. Then he turned and rode back towards them, the horse kicking up the grass; he bent in ungainly fashion half over its neck.
“My Lady, Theoderic,” he reached down from his saddle. “We had no chance to talk about this. But I’m sure she’d like you to know. Galla Placidia will never forget you all. And I say this not as Patrician of Rome. I speak as the lady’s husband.”
He did not wait for an answer and what words could she have found? So many the lives and the high hopes that had wasted away during that man’s long war of hunger. With a salute he backed the horse around, cantered across the grass the length of the column. The now familiar voices gave the command and, at once, the ordered ranks moved out along the highroad.
Theoderic at her side, she sauntered back towards the gates, ran a hand over the thick wood, then the stone. She felt the knot, the shallow indent of an old inscription.
They were real.
By the gatehouse, under the proud smiles of the watch, they took the steps up onto the town wall. If she had been able, she would have stretched out to each of the red tiles of the roof tops, stroked them and talked to them; as mother to child.
“So what did you make of him?” Theoderic asked her.
“Constantius?” The slightest frown: “he can be charming enough when he cares to be; a clever man who gets what he wants.”
“Aye, but so did we. You like it, our new home?”
She turned in a circle, her wool gown flowing. “It’s all I ever hoped for, Theoderic. The town, the river, the fields; they seem to stretch for ever.”
“We’ll see them all, Rohilde, I promise you; each and every one of the fields in our new lands.”
He placed his hand around her swollen waist. “Alaric, Athaulf, Wallia; they were great men. Not sure what I did to deserve it – apart from marrying you.”
At the compliment a smile first lazy, then just a little sad: “The great men are all dead and we are here. I don’t know if either of us deserves it, Husband. But our people do.” For a moment she had forgotten the softness of the air. “They’ve fed the earth enough.”
“Not sure Sigesar would say it so.”
“Probably not; but Wallia would.”
Theoderic nodded as her thoughts went back to the small clearing and the simple grave. Once the camps broke up, that grave would look down at nothing more than an empty road. Perhaps it was true what Sigesar had said at the brief ceremony. Empty roads were all that Wallia needed; all he had ever wanted.
But it was a glorious day and such gloomy thoughts could not hold her for long. She would have stood there till sunset as, together, they lost themselves in the golden landscape, when Theoderic started back towards the main gates.
“We almost missed them,” and he pointed. “There, you see.”
Following the line of his outstretched hand, she saw the proud Roman backs, unbending, riding the road they had ridden for centuries. Leaning against the wall, through the billowing dust she watched them go. Placing his hand again on the roundness of their unborn child, she closed her eyes and made a silent wish.
When next she looked, the last of the red cloaks had disappeared into the hillside.
Swallowed up by the living trees.