Love, Eternally

by Morgan O'Neill

  Gigi curtseyed and glanced up at the mosaic ceiling glittering in the candlelight. Hundreds of golden stars were strewn across a field of royal blue, a crescent moon at its center. So, Placidia’s mausoleum wasn’t the only place with such a ceiling. The sound of Grand-père’s voice came back to her, softly singing “Night and Day.” Now she understood the inspiration for the song. It was undeniable. “Night and Day” — she wanted to play the tune right then — and she hoped, like the song said, Placidia would be the one; in this case, the one who could protect her.

  “So beautiful,” she whispered.

  “As was your flute playing,” Placidia said, smiling. “I remember it — and you — from the baptistery. That was indeed a mysterious evening, was it not?”

  Gigi flinched, then caught herself. Better to steer the conversation away from her appearance there. “Magnus sent me with a message he insisted be heard by you alone. I don’t mean to be presumptuous or rude to the lady,” she glanced at the older woman, “but those were his explicit instructions.”

  “She must stay,” Placidia said easily. “You’ll understand that for safety’s sake, I am never left alone. Magnus would know this, of course, and he would also know Elpidia is loyal to me and I trust her with my life. What is your name?”

  “My name is Geneviève Perrin. My friends call me Gigi. Gigi Perrin.”

  Placidia disguised her shock well, but Elpidia gasped. She whispered something to the princess and backed away.

  “Your unusual name is certainly known to me,” Placidia said, “because of what happened today at the palace. Word travels fast, gossip even faster. I’m sure you are aware, at this very moment, soldiers are searching the streets for a woman in a golden gown, one who assaulted the emperor, one who is named Gigiperrin.”

  “Is that why they’re outside now?” Gigi asked in fear. She backed away a little, shaking, remembering their axes.

  Placidia and Elpidia stared hard at her.

  “No,” Placidia said, “those men are the palatini guards. They belong to Honorius, that much is true. However, they are not in place to keep others out, but rather to keep me in. The emperor fears I will bolt before I am wed.” She shook her head. “But that does not concern you.”

  Elpidia cleared her throat. “A man without honor sees no honor in anyone else. The princess would be justified if she did flee, but she has not.”

  Placidia merely smiled at this, then waved her hand toward Gigi’s plain dress. “It seems you are quick on your feet. I should imagine your golden gown is stashed in some dark crevice or lying at the bottom of a canal. I must admit … I did not connect the name Gigiperrin with that of the mystifying flutist, nor would I have suspected violence in a musician. Is the gossip true? Did you attack my brother?”

  Nodding, Gigi looked away. “I had a good reason. I received a message, supposedly from Magnus, saying he wanted to see me. When I got to the palace, your brother was waiting. He tried to rape me.”

  The princess put her hand to her mouth. “Merciful Lord, is he really so depraved?” She glanced at Elpidia. “I’m sorry, so sorry my brother did this to you.”

  “Magnus said if I were ever in trouble, I must find you.” Gigi heard her voice rise in desperation. “Please, you’re my only hope. He said you would protect me.”

  “What?” Placidia looked startled. “Magnus must value you beyond his own life, for I never heard him express such … never mind, we shall shelter you for as long as necessary. See to it, Elpidia, after we are done here.”

  After casting a sober look at Gigi, Elpidia bowed to Placidia.

  Placidia showed Gigi to a couch and poured a glass of wine, then bade her drink. Gigi gratefully took it, savoring its fruity warmth. Feeling somewhat restored, she explained in greater detail what had happened. She was relieved to see the princess laugh when she admitted kicking Honorius.

  “Ah, my brother is much deserved of your … attentions.” Placidia shook her head, stifling her mirth. “Magnus has certainly put much upon my shoulders. But do not worry, you had no other place to go and I am well able to keep you safe. My people are loyal unto death, so no word of you shall travel beyond these walls.”

  “Thank you,” Gigi said, relieved.

  “But … forgive me, because I must ask,” Placidia flushed, “for proof of Magnus’s support. You must understand my need for precautions. What you ask of me could put us all in grave danger.”

  Gigi fumbled for the golden pouch, drawing it from beneath her clothing. She took out the ring and held it forth, so Placidia could see it clearly. “Magnus said I was to show you this … that you would understand.”

  Placidia’s eyes grew wide and Elpidia gasped.

  “God Almighty,” the princess exclaimed. “When Leontius said he believed he recognized it, I thought him mistaken, but as to my understanding … hardly. How did you — it is Magnus’s ring! The one given him by my father, so long ago. How did you come by it?”

  “Magnus’s ring?” Gigi replied, confused. “No. He knows I have it, but it’s not his. My grandfather owned it for years and just recently passed it to me in his will.”

  “But of course it is his ring,” Placidia insisted, approaching and looking more closely. “My father commissioned only one, this very ring, in honor of Magnus’s prowess and leadership in battle. It is how he came to be called Magnus.”

  Gigi could only stare at the princess. Then, slowly, the story she remembered her grandfather telling and retelling came to mind, and she realized the enormity of what she held.

  “My grandfather was visiting Italy, er, Italia, just after the war, looking for trinkets, coins mostly, things to sell in his antiques shop. He bought it from a construction worker who said he’d found it and pocketed it during a road project, somewhere in the south, I think.”

  “But Magnus lost it during the Battle of Pollentia, in the north.” Placidia frowned. “It matters not where or how the ring came to your grandfather. What good fortune! It is no wonder Magnus values you as he does. He has felt abandoned by her — his Goddess Victoria — and now he must believe she has sent you here. No wonder you are so precious to him.”

  Gigi looked at the ring. All thoughts of its twisting journey through time vanished as her mind plunged into uncertainty. Is that all Magnus cared about? The ring? Suddenly, she felt more alone than she had in weeks.

  Her energy sapped, Gigi gathered her frazzled nerves and spoke again, her voice flat. “I guess it’s his ring. He knew you would recognize it, obviously, knew you would protect it … for him.”

  Placidia keenly searched Gigi’s expression. “Had he wanted simply to protect the ring, he would have reclaimed it and left you to your fate. How long has he known you possess it?”

  “I don’t know, weeks maybe.”

  “And Magnus never told you it belonged to him? Never asked for its return?”

  “No, he just said to keep it safe, and he would watch over me when he could, and that you would protect me if he could not.”

  Placidia raised her eyebrows at Elpidia, then smiled and took Gigi’s hand in hers. “Then let not your heart be troubled. The ring means a great deal to him, certainly, but he must think the world of you if he vowed his protection — and let you keep the ring besides. By sending you here, he took an enormous risk, for it could spell much trouble for us all, even death, if his plans are found out. Indeed, he must think the world of you, my dear, he must.”

  Chapter 8

  Magnus was almost home, the anticipation of seeing Gigi paramount. He had sensed her presence every moment of this journey, despite the vast distance between them. He had never felt this way about a woman before. Now, as he neared Ravenna, he thanked the gods he’d thought to have people from his household checking on her while he was away, to make certain Silvia was still following his orders to the letter.

  The
end of this abysmal trip couldn’t come soon enough. The land route to Ravenna always infuriated him, especially when he was in a hurry. But with Alaric closing the northern ports, they had no other option than to return on the wretched Via Popilia. Yet, for Gigi’s sake, it would have been far better to risk a sea journey than to pick his way through the infernal swamps. Why hadn’t Honorius seen fit to build a decent road to the city? Did he really think the marshes would hold off invaders forever?

  Reeds and bright green, fetid ooze greeted his eyesight in every direction. Moving his chestnut stallion at a pace faster than a walk was out of the question, for the path was boggy and grasped hold of anything that dared cross over, with only the slightest provocation.

  And the stench. “Bah,” he spat. He could taste it. Rot and pestilence!

  Magnus looked in Senator Attalus’s direction, knowing his friend was wondering at his impatience. After all, the trip to Noricum had gone well enough. They had found their border troops in good spirits, well equipped, and determined to push back the Visigoths, who themselves were in the mood to parlay. Still, Magnus knew Attalus couldn’t guess his true emotions, how alive he felt, how very eager.

  I pray Victoria has kept you safe, Gigi.

  Soon, the soggy muck gave way to fields of flowers and wild asparagus. Magnus lifted his gaze to the horizon, heartened to see the jagged line of the pinetum against the blue sky. The wind came up, carrying away the stench of swamp, filling his nostrils with the forest’s sweet, healthful scent. Beyond the pines lay the capital.

  Magnus glanced at Constantius, who sat slumped on his horse. Miserable old cock. Magnus thanked the gods the general had traveled as part of their mission, else by now the emperor would have forced Placidia to marry him.

  Attalus brought his horse alongside. “So, Magnus, what sort of debauchery do you suppose Honorius has been up to? The men have wagers on his chickens being involved.”

  A wave of unease swept through Magnus as he turned to stare at Attalus, who grinned ruefully. He urged his horse to a canter, not bothering to answer or give a reason for his abrupt departure.

  But better roads were no promise of greater speed as he passed through the main gate. It was market day and the streets were crowded with shoppers. Magnus nudged his horse toward the palace, speaking to no one, his determination driving him forward.

  It took another hour to make his way through town. Grumbling with frustration, he finally reached the courtyard wall surrounding the palace kitchen and its gardens, and tied his horse outside. The iron gate squeaked, and a garden girl rushed inside to alert her mistress.

  Silvia appeared at the doorway with a questioning look that quickly turned to confusion. “Dominus?”

  “I am just returned,” Magnus stated bluntly. “How is Gigi? I would see that she has prospered under your care in my absence. Produce her at once, if you please.”

  “But, but,” the woman stammered, “you sent for her yesterday! One of your servants dropped by and said you ordered her to be taken to the baths.”

  “The baths?”

  “She was to be given the full treatment.”

  O, ye gods! Honorius is behind this! Magnus spun on his heel and started toward his horse. He leapt upon it and rode through the royal complex, until he reached the steps of the palace.

  Guards were everywhere, double — no, triple — the normal amount. He jumped off his horse and dashed past them, taking the steps three at a time.

  “Halt, Senator! Quintus Magnus, halt!”

  Ignoring all caution, Magnus ran into the building, past more imperial guards. He intended to throw open the doors to Honorius’s apartments and find out for himself if the bastard held Gigi captive, ready to kill him if he did. At that instant, he found himself blocked by a swarm of Germani guards. He spotted Olympius, one of Honorius’s ministers, coming toward him. Magnus made himself stop and breathe slowly, deeply, striving for calm.

  Olympius’s dark eyes were narrowed slits. “What is it, Magnus?”

  “Ah, Olympius, my old friend.” Magnus forced a smile. Ask for an audience, he told himself. Something is going on, and a hot head might result in a lost head.

  “Olympius,” he started again, “I’ve just returned from my mission. Forgive my haste and unruliness, but I would seek an audience with Honorius, for I’ve important news he must hear immediately.”

  The minister dismissed the guards with a flick of his hand. “Have you not heard?” he asked Magnus. “The emperor is indisposed. He has been injured.”

  Magnus’s shock was real. Gigi, he thought in agony, where are you? “What happened?”

  Through a storm of emotion, Magnus listened to Olympius’s recitation of the prior day’s events. But for his shock, he would have laughed out loud when the minister told him the nature of Honorius’s injury.

  “And the slave girl? The flute player, you say? What became of her?” Magnus held his breath.

  “She escaped and has so far eluded capture.”

  Thank the gods! Magnus unclasped hands he hadn’t realized were clasped. He regained his emotions enough to pretend outrage. “What? She has not been found? Honorius’s men serve him ill if they cannot locate a simple slave, a female slave.”

  “We are all inclined to agree with you on that point, but no, they still search, and she has not been found, yet. Come along, Magnus,” Olympius said, ushering him toward the imperial quarters. “I shall take you to Honorius. I believe news of your mission may be the balm he needs to forget the, er, episode, although I would suggest you not mention it unless he brings it up.”

  It did not take long for Magnus to be admitted to Honorius’s chambers. As several of the emperor’s court physicians filed out, Olympius went inside the bedroom and announced, “A thousand pardons, Venerabilis. Quintus Magnus has returned. He requests a word with you.”

  Magnus heard a muffled reply and then Olympius came out, waving him inside.

  When the door shut behind Magnus, he stared at the prostrate emperor, abed and naked except for a poultice covering his privy parts. His eyes were hidden by a strip of cloth.

  Ye gods, I would bet a million sesterces he’s never been hit by anyone before, the puss.

  Magnus put on his best game face, moved forward, and knelt beside the bed, head bowed. “Serenissimus, how may I help you?”

  “Oh,” Honorius wailed, “she kicked our royal person so hard … oh, Christ, we thought she burst open our balls! Where is the evil bitch? Tell us they found her. We will break her flute into a thousand pieces and disembowel her with the shards for this outrage.”

  “Great Honorius,” Magnus paused, suppressing a smile, “the others are fools. I shall track her down myself.”

  “Why you?” The emperor threw off the face cloth and glared at Magnus. “Have you some interest in what befalls her?”

  Take care, Magnus warned himself. “That slave?” he scoffed. “My interest in slaves goes no further than their capacity to serve well and without rancor.”

  “And yet, you seem to always insert yourself into her life.”

  What was he talking about? Did he suspect … did Gigi let something slip?

  Honorius sat up and looked at him evenly, yet Magnus could sense malice just beneath the surface.

  Magnus decided to ignore any insinuations and feign utter loyalty. “O Great Emperor Honorius,” he clasped a hand to his chest, “I have only ever done your bidding. The slave means nothing to me, nothing at all. I vow to kill her with my own hands, if that is your desire.”

  He watched as Honorius sneered. Better to change the subject now, he decided.

  “Venerabilis, I arrived only now with news from Noricum. We parleyed much with King Alaric, and perhaps we may yet reach an agreement, but time is short. An attack may be imminent by way of the sea, for the king has commandeered many ships
. My fellow senators and General Constantius will be here shortly. We must weigh our options and plan accordingly.”

  Honorius just stared at him. The press of his lips spoke of lingering anger, but otherwise he gave no hint of his thoughts. Magnus stared back, unwavering, hoping he looked anxious about the war, instead of the unknown fate the next few minutes held for him.

  The emperor removed the poultice from his crotch, tossed it aside, and stuck his arm out. “Help us up.”

  The swelling and bruising were obvious and ugly, but Magnus kept his eyes averted as he clasped the outstretched arm. He stood and pulled Honorius to his feet, but the emperor didn’t let go. Instead, he held Magnus with a fixed stare.

  “Tell no one what you saw here today, or lose your head in so doing,” he growled. “We are done wallowing in shame.”

  Magnus felt shocked to hear this admission, but he had no admiration for the wretch’s attempt at sincerity. He fought his distain as he said, “Of course not, Serenissimus.”

  Honorius jerked him closer, their faces almost touching, and Magnus could feel the spray of his words. “Give us two hours, then return with those who accompanied you to Noricum.” He looked Magnus over from head to toe and wrinkled his nose. “Go to the baths and clean yourself, man. You stink of the road and you’re hairy as a fucking Visigoth.”

  Magnus forced himself to nod and bow.

  “Afterward, we will hear you out. And after that, we shall expect the return of the miserable bitch, so make sure you find her, or send someone who will, but you may not lay a hand on her — that is our prerogative.”

  “Your will be done, O most excellent Honorius.” Magnus chose his next words carefully. “I shall make sure she is found.”

  Honorius glowered. “Indeed, you will.”

  Chapter 9

  Gigi gazed from the balcony to the garden below. Nervous, she watched torches blazing in the dark, illuminating scores of people hurrying to and fro. The commotion had started the day before, just hours after she’d arrived at Placidia’s villa.