Love, Eternally

by Morgan O'Neill

  “I understand.”

  Magnus nodded. “His name is Rufus. He is a pagan, and once the two of you leave the caravan, he will be able to give you some instruction on how to behave should anyone challenge you. Your cover is simple and fitting. You are pilgrims, traveling to worship at an ancient oak grove on the island of Corsica. It is a venerated place and still frequented by the faithful, so the story won’t raise any eyebrows. When it is time to leave Placidia’s company, Rufus will guide you west to the port of Vada Sabatia and then arrange for passage,” he lowered his voice, “to Capreae.”

  “Capri? Oh, that’s a wonderful idea!” Gigi exclaimed, then blurted out, “Will you meet me there?”

  “No.” He hesitated. “No, but you will be with members of my family. They own a villa on the island, and you will be safe with them.”

  Gigi frowned. “No? Then when … when will I see you again? In Rome? Am I going to Rome after that?”

  “No.” Magnus touched her wig, playing with one of the dark curls. “You cannot risk going to Rome. Ever. Honorius will be watching. As for when we will see each other again, I cannot say. For good or ill, I am the emperor’s man and must abide by his decisions and direction. With Alaric causing trouble, it could be months or perhaps far longer, if the Fates are unkind.”

  “But, but you will come to Capri eventually,” her words tumbled out, “because I’ll wait, Magnus, I don’t care how long it takes, I’ll wait for you.”

  He looked intently at her for several seconds. “You care for me that much?”

  “Of course I do!”

  “Then wait for me,” he said, still staring into her eyes. “I am often called to Rome to attend meetings in the Senate. I will find a way to come to Capreae afterward.” His voice grew thick. “I will find a way.”

  He wrapped her in his arms, his lips finding hers once more. Hot tears spilled down her cheeks, a match to the heat, the yearning she felt inside. The kiss went on and on, a powerful, lingering kiss, and she abandoned herself to the moment. Feeling the fevered beat of his heart, his body ready, she willingly opened herself and begged for more.

  He moaned, eager to comply. His lips roamed on, taking a slow, seductive journey from her throat to the top of her breasts. “You are so beautiful, Gigi, so soft,” he pulled on the drawstring at her neckline, “so captivating.” His tongue explored a nipple before he took it in his mouth, “So … ”

  Heat tore through her body, seared her skin, wherever his lips touched her. She was only vaguely aware when someone tapped on the door.

  “Ignore them,” Gigi begged. “I want you.”

  Another tap. “Time.” It was Persis.

  Magnus pressed hard against Gigi, then relaxed, his kisses stilled. “Damn meddling servants.”

  Gigi sighed.

  “Senator, please,” Persis spoke louder this time. “The princess has asked that Gigi be escorted to her wagon right away. It is time!”

  “It would seem so,” Magnus answered in frustration as he pulled back slightly, resting his forehead against Gigi’s. “Alas, my sweet,” he said with resignation, “I must go.”

  She looked into his eyes, and her heart skipped at the intensity of his gaze.

  With a tender kiss, he helped straighten her gown. “What have you done to me, Gigi? What is this power you wield over my heart? Once I cared for nothing but war, the Empire, but now … ” He touched her face. “Wait for me in Capreae. I’ll get to you somehow. I’ll find an excuse or create one. I promise I shall come to you, when I am able.”

  “Soon,” Gigi said, “please, come soon.”

  “Upon my life, I will.” He closed his eyes for a moment, then glanced at the door. “We must go. Placidia is waiting for you, and Honorius’s watchers are waiting for me.”

  “Magnus, I wish … ”

  “Do not wish, but pray, pray the gods are kind.” He hesitated. “I would ask one favor, my Gigi, just one.”

  “Anything,” she said earnestly.

  “I would request a lock of your golden hair, to keep against my body so I may touch you, have you with me, every moment of every day, until we meet again.”

  She was unprepared for the profound effect his words had on her, the depth of his feelings. Trembling, she removed her veil and wig. Magnus drew forth a dagger and cut the strands of hair, then carefully tucked them away in a pouch, and sheathed his knife.

  He smiled, but his gaze showed worry. “You are favored by the gods, truly. May they protect you on your journey.” He placed a final kiss on her hand. “Vale, sweet one.” Releasing her, he opened the door and left.

  Badly shaken, Gigi touched her hair as despair swept over her. Would she ever see Magnus again? She straightened, then tried to fix her wig, but gave herself up to her misery instead. Then Persis was beside her, replacing the wig, the veil, wiping her tears, and coaxing her toward the door.

  “Come, sister.” Persis’s voice was quiet. “We must leave.”

  “Vade in pace, Magnus,” was all Gigi could say. “Vade in pace.”

  Chapter 10

  The journey was not the exciting adventure Gigi had imagined it would be. In fact, it was endless, hot, and tedious, and so was Gigi’s horse, a spiritless roan. And the lack of stirrups was driving her nuts! She wondered when they’d been invented. She’d thought about making some and covering them with a blanket, but every time she contemplated it, a vision of her grandfather came to mind, warning her against messing with history.

  Two, miserable, feet-dangling days had passed since she’d said goodbye to Placidia, and four since she’d last held Magnus in her arms. Rufus was her only companion now, and he was boring. Stern and wary at all times, he was older, perhaps forty-five, but still strong and tough as nails. He rode in cautious silence, even when the open vistas showed nothing more threatening than the occasional cow or goat.

  Gigi pulled her veil forward, trying in vain to shield her sunburned face, and stared at the empty landscape. Nothing. Also boring. On top of everything, she felt grimy, her hair oily and matted beneath the dark wig, and her clothes were filthy now, closer to gray than white.

  “How much farther, Rufus?” she complained.

  He grunted.

  “Please tell me, or I’ll keep pestering you.”

  He scowled. “Three days, four at the maximum.”

  “Four more days just to reach the coast?” Gigi groaned. “Couldn’t we just rent a Ferrari somewhere? We’d get there a lot faster.”

  “What did you say? You speak gibberish. None will get you to the port faster than I, and I wouldn’t trust a guide I didn’t know, anyway.”

  Gigi grinned, thinking how much worse the misunderstanding would become if she tried to explain. “Never mind, Rufus.”

  “We are coming to a river. We will stop there for the midday meal. You will want to bathe. You may use my sapo for cleansing. I use it when I’m on the road.”

  “Soap? You have real soap?”

  “Sapo, sister,” he grumbled. “It is pronounced saaa … po. You should endeavor to speak less like the blue Picts. Magnus prizes intelligence above all, and good conversation and cleanliness. If you expect to keep his interest — ”

  “What? Who do you think you are? You have no right to give me advice about what Magnus likes or doesn’t like. And, by the way, you haven’t given me any opportunity to bathe.”

  “You’ll have your opportunity now. As to Magnus, I know very well what he likes. We fought together for many years.” Rufus paused, looking down his nose at her. “I know him very well. Indeed, I think far better than you.”

  • • •

  Gigi watched Rufus as he watered the horses at the river, then hobbled them. Grabbing a saddlebag, he sat on the ground and tossed her a meal packet. It was the same thing day after day: for breakfast, a lump of cold po
rridge made from ground chestnut flour — soldiers’ food, Rufus had explained — and then, for lunch and dinner, packets of dried figs, dates, raisins, and nuts.

  She’d thought these little meals were so cute at first, wrapped as they were in dried grape leaves, knotted with strands of raffia. They looked darling, like something from a trendy boutique, but there was never a sparkling bit of jewelry inside, just figs, dates, raisins, and nuts. She sighed. What she wouldn’t give for a huge, juicy cheeseburger, fries, and a chocolate shake!

  For several minutes, Gigi munched in silence, watching Rufus wolf down his share. She studied his battle-scarred leather breastplate. A long repair patch across the chest was particularly intriguing.

  “So, Rufus,” she said, wiping her mouth, “by the look of your armor, you’ve obviously spent a career fighting. Tell me about your service with Magnus. Did he fight the blue Picts, too?”

  “No, I met him later.”

  And … ? Gigi watched Rufus fill the silence by taking a mouthful of wine. Ooookay, she thought. Hmmm.

  “Well, er, how long have you known him?”

  More silence. Rufus narrowed his eyes, then to her surprise said, “It has been … nigh on ten years.”

  “Really? That’s a long time.”

  Rufus nodded and proudly pulled out what looked like a large dog tag. “I’d already put in my twenty-five years, and earned my citizenship, but when I had the opportunity to serve under him I stayed. I fought under his direct command for six years. He was my legatus. In my opinion, he was Rome’s finest commander.”

  “Very impressive,” she said.

  He sat up straighter. “Magnus taught me much, and saved my life more than once. So, despite my position, when he left the legion, I retired and went with him.”

  Gigi felt grateful for this move to a more open, easy conversation. “I’ll bet you’ve also saved his life a time or two,” she ventured.

  He glanced at her shrewdly. “A time or two perhaps.” He grinned. “You should see his armor.”

  When Gigi laughed, he held out his right hand, showing her the thick silver ring on his middle finger. “Magnus gifted me this in thanks for just such a moment. I killed a man who nearly killed him. I wear it proudly.”

  “Is that why he trusts you with this errand? With me?” Gigi smiled at him. “Or is he just mad at you right now, and this is the worst punishment he could think of?”

  He chuckled. “I’ve known worse duty, to be sure. Though I prefer open battle to sneaking about, it was my good pleasure to help Magnus in this way. It was a great honor to be asked.”

  Gigi thought he looked honored just to be talking about Magnus, and she didn’t doubt his sincerity.

  Rufus frowned. “It is a disgrace, though, that others do not honor him as he deserves. In all the years he served Rome, Magnus’s only error was not taking his own life to avoid capture, but what choice did he have? He was numbed by a blow and couldn’t move. There is no shame in that.”

  Gigi was confused. “He was numbed? When? What do you mean?”

  “It was at the Battle of Pollentia. I was away, recovering from wounds I received in a previous skirmish. Had I been there, I would surely have eased his passage into the Afterlife, so I am thankful for the wound that kept us apart.”

  “Oh, my God!”

  Nodding, Rufus described the battle in greater detail, then finished with, “Despite his shame, Magnus was well treated by King Alaric. Though he be Rome’s enemy, the king is honorable and much more capable than Honorius. Now, because Magnus knows the Visigoths well, the emperor keeps him alive so he may parley with them.”

  Gigi had many more questions, but Rufus stood and brushed bits of his meal off his clothes. “Of course, I also agreed to this duty because I’ve never seen Magnus so besotted with a woman, regardless of her butchery of the language.”

  Surprised, Gigi stared at him, mouth agape.

  He grinned, tossed her a lump of soap and turned away. “I’ll just take myself over to the trees, there, and give you time to bathe. Call me when you’re done.”

  Gigi watched him leave. Mulling over everything he’d said, she made her way to the river’s edge and looked around. The grass along the bank was tall enough to hide her, so she parted it, moved in, dropped the soap by her feet, and peeled off her wig and clothes. She looked down at her mesh bag, strung around her waist. She couldn’t take a chance at losing her precious ring in the river, so she removed the bag and tucked it away in her gown.

  She smiled as the mud oozed between her toes. Magnus — besotted with me! She’d known, of course, since that time in the kitchen garden, but to hear it said aloud by one of his friends, well, it made her day.

  “Hoo hoo!” she laughed and dove in. She surfaced with a gasp, the water so cold she could hardly draw a breath. She swam back to shore, but one glance at her filthy clothes convinced her to wash as planned.

  She grabbed the soap and sniffed it hesitantly, surprised to find it was perfumed with lavender. She waded back in, her skin nearly frozen, yet she hardly felt the cold anymore. She vigorously ran the soap over her hair and rubbed it in, then rinsed, hoping the luscious smelling stuff would do the job.

  Humming, she scrubbed her face and ears, then moved on to the rest of her body, relishing the invigorating combination of cold and clean. La Traviata came to mind, and, since she didn’t know the words, loudly la-la-ed her way through the boisterous refrain.

  “Luifs Guth!”

  Gigi screamed as the foreign voice penetrated her contentment, then she dove. Heart racing, she popped her head out of the water midstream, just enough to see several horsemen watching her from the riverbank, some bearing wicked-looking curved swords, others holding long spears. Some of their clothing resembled typical Roman soldiering gear, but their beards, rough hide breeches, and helmets with metal nose guards filled her with foreboding.

  Someone shouted gibberish, then another horseman yelled in Latin, “Come out of there, or I will come in after you.”

  His leering grin told her she’d be better off swimming to the other side and running like hell.

  “No, go away!” Gigi tried to sound angry and defiant instead of terrified. “Leave me alone. You have no right to bother me.”

  To a man they laughed. Then, to her horror, the one who’d spoken Latin got off his horse, discarded his helmet, and plunged into the water.

  “Get away!” Gigi screeched, kicking and swimming like mad.

  She felt a hand grasp at her foot and she shrieked harder. But the hand found its grip and in seconds he had her in a headlock. He slung her over his shoulder and took her out of the river. Screaming, pounding, scratching, and kicking with all her strength, she tried to find vulnerable spots, open skin, eyes, anywhere she could do damage. Finally, her attacker howled in protest and flung her on the ground before clamping a hand across his torn cheek.

  Gigi scrambled to her feet, ready to pounce again or run, not caring that the men surrounding them were almost at the point of tears, they were laughing so hard.

  “Leave me alone — all of you — I want my clothes — ”

  “Shut your fucking mouth!” Her assailant turned on her, glaring, blood pouring from his cheek, forearm, and just above an eyebrow. “You’ll get your clothing back when I’m done with you.”

  Gigi wheeled about, ready to bolt, but the horsemen blocked her flight. Suddenly both her wrists were wrenched behind her, and she was shoved to the ground, unable to move.

  “Bitch,” he growled in her ear as he fell across her back, shifting to get his wet clothes out of the way.

  Gigi could see the other horsemen turning away, leaving her to be raped.

  “Sergeric!” a voice boomed.

  Gigi sensed her attacker’s hesitation and she struggled to free herself. The men exchanged heated words,
then the commanding voice said in Latin, “Sister, you have my leave to throttle Sergeric if he does not desist.”

  “Gasts!” Sergeric shoved her away and got up. “Why do you interfere, Athaulf? I’m within my rights, here.”

  Trying to cover herself with her arms, Gigi moved into higher grass and watched the confrontation.

  “You are wrong,” Athaulf replied. Drawing closer, he tossed her clothes to her, missing her wig, which lay trampled in the mud.

  Gigi hurriedly pulled the robe over her head and clutched at the folds. To her relief, the little bag containing her ring was still inside.

  “Did you not see her garments?” Athaulf continued. “She is a priestess of the old gods, and I will not allow her to be profaned.”

  Sergeric paled when he saw her clothes, then worriedly glanced at her, before dropping to his knees and grabbing the hem of her dress. “Forgive me, Holy One. I did not know.”

  Disgusted by his nearness, Gigi clenched her fist, then swung hard, hitting him squarely in the temple. “You bastard, I hope you die without seeing another dawn!” The man slunk away, and Gigi looked up to see a surprised smirk on the face of her liberator, Athaulf. “You find it amusing I was almost raped?”

  “No, not I.” His smirk turned to a smile. “It was the curse you just put on him. I was thinking how unpriestesslike it was. Highly unusual. Effective, I’m sure, but unusual.”

  “He deserves much worse,” Gigi said. “Where is Rufus? I have a guard, er, guide with me. He’s taking me to Vada Sabatia.”

  “Vada Sabatia?” Athaulf asked. “These are dangerous lands. It is a wonder just two of you ventured the trip. Why? From where do you hail, priestess? More importantly, where are you really going, and why?”

  “What business is it of yours?” Gigi asked, angrily. “Is this your land? We stopped for a meal. Is that a crime? Where is Rufus?”