His tone was grim, shaded with frustration. Gigi realized she felt the same; her stomach hadn’t stopped churning since Sergeric’s return was announced.
“I must remain at Athaulf’s side,” Magnus continued. “Even at night, I’ll sleep outside his door. Other than arresting Sergeric or killing him outright, which the king has expressly forbidden, I’m at a loss regarding what else to do.”
“Magnus, we can’t hold back any longer. We should tell Athaulf what we know … and why.”
He shook his head. “Perhaps it would have been the wiser course earlier, and I’m sorry I didn’t listen to you then, but I do not think anything now will change the tide of history. If we told Athaulf what we know, he’d think we’d gone insane. We can’t take the risk.”
She shook her head. “I don’t agree. Maybe I should try.”
“Athaulf will not believe you.”
“Okay, then I’m going to tell Placidia, and we’ll see what happens. She’ll hear me out. She’ll listen to me, I know she will.” Gigi waited a moment, and gauged his silence as uncertainty, rather than resistance. “Magnus, I’m going to do it. I have to.”
He heaved a frustrated sigh, but then she felt his arms enfold her. They stood like that for a moment, and then she reached up and took his face in her hands.
“Do whatever you can to save Athaulf,” her voice choked with emotion, “but at least let me try in my own way to save him.”
“There is great danger ahead for all of us.”
“I know. I’ll watch out for myself, and you … please, Magnus, you must be careful. If you die — ”
He stopped her words with a deep, impassioned kiss, and then pressed her to the wall.
She could feel him, every inch of him, and her surprise at his ardor quickly turned to desperate desire.
“Gigi, let me love you,” he whispered.
Swept up in his need, she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him with wild abandon. Nothing mattered beyond this moment, nothing.
Tugging at her clothes, freeing himself, he lifted her onto his hips. With a groan, he thrust into her as far as he could go, filling her completely, body and soul.
His mouth closed over hers, his kiss savage, demanding and relentless. She held on as he pounded her, taking her to a raw, surging precipice, the point of no return. Her body arched with an explosion of pleasure unlike anything she’d ever known.
Limp and liquid, she fell against him, just as he stiffened and groaned at his finish.
Breathing heavily, they clung to each other. A beautiful warmth surrounded Gigi, and she felt her heartbeat slow, in shared measure to his. She didn’t want to let him go.
Tears filled her eyes. This wasn’t the last time. No!
“My sweet, sweet wife,” he finally said, kissing her brow. He gently let her down and smoothed her hair.
Gigi settled her shift, then rested her head against his chest, his next words a soft rumble against her ear.
“We know better than most, that history is a vicious master. We may dare to play with it, but it will force its way toward an inevitable end. We have tried. We shall continue to try, but if we cannot change history, we must still survive it.”
She drew back and looked up at him. “Then you promise, whatever else happens, you will save yourself?”
Magnus’s face shifted away, but Gigi drew him back, demanding an answer.
“I am in no history books, so it follows that I had no lasting impact on history. I think that if I should perish in trying to save my friend, then you could come back again and — ”
“No, no! You cannot count on that!” Gigi insisted, tears falling freely. “We have no control of when we arrive, but we’ve never gone to an earlier time. You must save yourself, Magnus. You have to. I could not manage … ” She let her emotions run free and started sobbing.
Magnus rocked her, allowing her to cry. Then, as she regained control, he spoke softly, “I will come back to you, and together we will save the children. At the very least, we’ll save them.”
“I know.” She swiped at her tears. “Keep me informed as to what’s going on. Use the walkie-talkies. We’ve had these things with us for so long, we can’t forget to use them. Please, Magnus, send me a beep once in a while, just to let me know you’re all right. Two beeps if you need to tell me something. If anyone hears it, they’ll think it’s a bird … a mouse … whatever. I can always break away and find a place to talk, or find you.”
“Yes, my sweet. Promise you’ll do that, promise you’ll find me.” He pulled her close, his kisses feather soft. “I love you,” he whispered as he released her.
Before she could respond, he walked off, disappearing into deeper shadows. She heard the squeak of a door and briefly saw him backlit in the patch of light coming from the hall, but then the door shut and blackness again shrouded the courtyard — and her world.
He was gone. She leaned against the wall, the cold stone as much a shock to her senses as the wild heat she’d experienced in his arms. She could still feel the depth of his passion, his power upon her: the aching pleasure between her legs, the chafed skin on her chin. She touched her lips and felt tenderness there as well. He had taken her so completely.
This wasn’t the last time …
Tears threatened once more, a lump rising in her throat, but she forced everything back.
Gigi frowned into the darkness. No more self-pity. No more weeping and worrying. The time had come, and she had a job to do.
She headed off to find Placidia.
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.
Fuck 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 s
eemed 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.”
“Fuck 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.
Somethin
g, 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.”
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