This was her fifth morning on the road. Athaulf warned it could take ten days or more to get to Ravenna. Her provisions were holding out for now, and she still had all of the silver coins he’d given her to purchase more along the way, but she knew she would have to find a farmhouse today and get fodder for the horse, and maybe some hot porridge for herself.
Rising, she scanned the ground, noticed a glint in the snow near the base of a tree, and went to investigate. Somebody had stepped off to pee — the snow told her that much — but the glint came from something else, something just to the side.
Gigi’s breath caught as she picked up Magnus’s locket, the one with her hair. She knew he’d left it for her to find. He knew she was coming for him. He knew he wasn’t alone.
She held the precious object to her breast, then kissed it and put it around her neck. He had faith in her, in her courage, in her love for him.
I’m coming! You’re not alone!
The words struck her deeply and she remembered what he’d said long ago, when she was a slave and he was watching over her, protecting her. You’re not alone!
She was determined to honor those words as he’d honored them — by doing whatever it took to see him safe and free of Honorius’s relentless evil.
Gigi turned and ran back to her horse.
She wouldn’t let him down.
• • •
At dusk on the tenth day since setting out, Gigi finally arrived on the outskirts of Ravenna. The southern gate, the Porta Nuova, loomed above her, opening onto the main road through town, the Via di Roma. Peasants, merchants, horses, and livestock all pushed toward the gate, anxious to get inside Ravenna’s walls before dark. The crowd was bundled up against the cold, but the weather didn’t seem as bad here, not compared to the snowy countryside. The snow had either melted, or perhaps never fallen this far north; the skies were clear, the air crisp.
Keeping her head low and well inside her cloak, she moved past the guards at the gate, relieved no one paid her any attention. Guiding her horse into a section of town she’d never seen, she wondered exactly how she’d get inside the palace, angered by her lack of plans now that she was here. She’d lost Magnus’s trail the day before, but was sure he couldn’t have gotten to Ravenna more than a few hours ahead of her. Where is he? she wondered. With Honorius? What is the bastard doing to him? Is he torturing him right now?
This last thought sickened her, making her tremble. She glanced around in self-conscious desperation and told herself to get it together, or someone might notice how freaked out she seemed.
Not too far off, she spotted a signpost with the name Alle Mura and made a quick decision to go into the narrow alleyway. The back lots of warehouses lined one side of the alley; a few had stables, where horses and carts were stored at night. For the moment, the place seemed quiet, empty of all but a stray cat or two. Along the opposite side, scraggly, leafless vines covered a broken brick wall, and Gigi stopped her horse for a moment to peer over the top, trying to see despite the deepening gloom. It looked like a body-shop yard, filled with spare wheels and wagon parts, and Gigi decided it might be just the place to hide until the streets emptied of the evening crowds. She found the gate and led her horse inside to wait amid the debris, sheltered by the dark.
After a half hour or so, Gigi heard — very faintly — the sounds of trumpets, followed by the beating of drums. From the palace? Did it have something to do with what was happening to Magnus?
The drumbeats continued, pounding, pounding. She leaned against the wall, listening in fear.
• • •
Another hour passed, or so Gigi estimated. The city seemed quieter, so she left her hiding spot and ventured down the dark alley, leading her horse deeper into the city. She walked several minutes until she reached a crossroad to a broad avenue, the Via di Roma, which was well lit by street lanterns.
The palace couldn’t be far away. Keeping to side streets, she moved parallel to the avenue, until she recognized a big church that overlooked the palace’s southern grounds. Growing excited, she led her horse down a road intersecting the main thoroughfare and suddenly saw stone walls with elaborately carved capstones.
Was this … ? Could it be … ?
Gigi looked up and down the Via di Roma, searching for soldiers or Honorius’s thugs, but only two common-looking people were in sight, and they had their backs to her, heading away.
She led her horse across the avenue to a side road well away from lanterns, following the walls until she reached an area were the stones were broken, a tumbledown area of overgrown vegetation, a long-forgotten place — her place! After tying off her horse, she climbed onto the saddle for a better look. It was the garden, her secret hideaway, her way in.
Sliding Magnus’s sword and dagger into her belt, she hitched herself onto the wall, then silently dropped over the other side. The garden looked desolate without the tangle of leaves, flowers, and scented herbs, but the weed-strewn path was easy to follow, and soon she found the old bench, the columns, and poor Venus, the statue trapped in a frozen pond, icicles hanging from her delicate arms and head.
Reaching the arched entry, Gigi pulled out her small blade and kept it in front of her as she crept, phantom-like, from shadow to shadow, moving through the grounds toward the palace, toward Magnus. As she neared the outer buildings, Gigi saw sentries everywhere, and wondered how she could avoid them. Slinking back and forth across the grounds, just out of sight, she watched for an opening, a way inside the wing where Honorius had his apartments.
Time dragged as she scanned the perimeter, looking for anything, growing more and more desperate with the delay. Finally, wandering farther than she had previously, her gaze fell on a familiar sight — the kitchen, her old prison — and the beginnings of a plan took root.
With dread, she slipped into the kitchen garden, her hands trembling as she let herself inside the unlocked door. The familiar smell of freshly baked bread brought back evil memories, and she fought her revulsion, focusing instead on her goal. The main room and sleeping quarters were quiet, the fire banked and waiting for slaves to begin stoking it well before dawn. There was some commotion in adjacent rooms, work being done, but Gigi had expected this. The palace kitchens never completely shut down.
Moving quickly, Gigi entered the large storage closet where clean servants’ garments were kept. She pulled off her cloak, heavy boots, and wool tunic and hid them on a back shelf, then dropped a coarse, burlap shift over her head. She tied on a belt, then started to tuck Magnus’s blades into it, but one slipped from her grasp and fell, clanging loudly on the tile floor.
Shit! She gathered it up, then slung her flute and sword over her shoulder. She tossed on a bulky palla, hoping it wasn’t too unusual to wear for service on chilly winter nights.
Gigi started for the door, then heard footsteps on the other side. To her horror, they stopped. Holding her breath, she grabbed the hilt of a dagger and waited.
“Show yourself, or I’ll call for the guards,” a voice warned.
Gigi’s mouth dropped open. “Vana? Is that you?”
The door burst open. “Gigi? Why are you back? I thought you were gone forever.”
“Quiet!” Gigi pulled the girl in, shut the door, and fiercely hugged her. Vana had been her only friend while she was enslaved.
“I have missed you,” Vana whispered, hugging her back. “I was so glad when you escaped.”
Gigi stared into Vana’s eyes, her mind seizing on her last word. “Oh, my God, I have something for you.” She grabbed her Visigoth clothing and shoved it into Vana’s hands. “Change into these, and here,” she gave her the purse of coins, “take this, too.”
Then she stopped, focusing on Vana’s scarred forehead, the branding inflicted by Honorius years before. What could be done about it?
“Vana, hold still. You’re g
oing to escape tonight. I’m going to fix your hair to hide what that bastard did to you, and you’re going to get out of here.” Gigi pulled out her dagger, grabbed a handful of hair above Vana’s brow, and cut her friend some bangs. When she was done, she stood back and assessed her efforts, then grinned and nodded. “Good enough. Besides, no one will recognize you all bundled up against the cold. Now hurry. You must leave right away. The Visigoths are at Hadrian’s Villa. You can get directions from villagers along the route — five days south at most. Galla Placidia is with them. Tell her I sent you. She will take you in.”
Gigi made a move to go, then glanced back at Vana. “Placidia’s husband is named Athaulf. Have him remove your slave collar and melt it down. He should make a knife from the metal, a dagger, and you can carry it to protect yourself.”
“I understand.” Vana gave Gigi a smile and a hug, fierce and strong.
Gigi smiled back. With a bit of luck, Vana would make it.
Quietly closing the door behind her, Gigi left the room. Looking both ways, heart thumping, she picked up a tray, a flagon of wine and cups and two loaves of cooling bread, then headed for the palace. There were several dozen slaves sweeping the huge terrace and stairs, and a few looked up with curiosity as she hurried past, but they made no move or comment before returning to their chores.
The guards at the main entrance waved her through, and once in the great hall, Gigi got only cursory glances from others as she moved purposefully, remembering only too well the route she had to take. When she reached the corridor leading directly to Honorius’s rooms, her knees started to quake. The big Germans were there, but they hardly took notice, until one, nearest the double doors, blocked her way and glowered.
“What is your business?”
Gigi kept her eyes downcast and smiled, trying to ignore her pulse-pounding fear. She bobbed a curtsey. “Our most worthy emperor requested I bring a late night snack when I was done with my chores. He promised he would wait for me, and, er, I have bathed as he asked.”
“He didn’t speak of it to me,” the guard countered. “Besides, he has received another, uh, guest, and I’m sure he does not want to be bothered. Be gone.”
Pouting, Gigi looked up at the man and blinked several times. “It was an order, and I would not care to ignore such a direct request. If he doesn’t want to see me anymore, I’m sure he’ll say so, but please, I don’t think either one of us should presume to know his mind.”
He hesitated, looking uncertain and uneasy, and Gigi’s thoughts veered to what might be happening behind those doors.
“Go on then,” the guard huffed, letting her pass. “Be it on your head alone if he takes it ill!”
Gigi headed for the second set of doors, where a pair of bored-looking sentries stood. Through the walls, she could hear yelling and laughter and recognized Honorius’s voice at once. Her arms started to shake, but she put her chin up and forced her gaze down.
“At the emperor’s request,” she said, holding up the tray.
To her relief, the men stood aside and let her in, and the doors shut behind her. Honorius was across the room, pacing, ranting, paying no attention to her, and Magnus was on his knees before the emperor, bare-chested and bloody, head bowed, arms bound behind his back.
Gigi gulped back a cry and crouched behind the large bed. She put the tray on the floor, then pulled off the palla and drew out her dagger and Magnus’s short blade. Just as she was about to rise, she heard footsteps approaching from the opposite side, and something heavy landed on the bed. The footsteps receded, and Gigi rose slightly, to see what was going on.
Honorius’s clothing was in a heap on the bed and he was naked, standing before Magnus with a barb-tipped leather whip in his hand.
Horrified, Gigi looked at Magnus and suddenly realized he wasn’t kneeling on purpose, and it wasn’t just a bloodied nose he’d suffered, but much, much worse. There were open, bleeding cuts across his chest, shoulders, and arms, and he was tied against a column to keep him upright. She cried out. Magnus was unconscious!
Honorius spun around and Gigi saw expressions of fury, then shock, and finally delight pour over his face as he moved toward her.
Then she saw the bastard’s erection.
Enraged, ready to kill, she leapt to her feet, holding both blades in front of her. “You sonofabitch,” she said in English, “you’re going to die for this!”
She stepped away from the bed, making sure of her surroundings, always keeping him before her, as Athaulf’s boys had taught her.
“Gigiperrin,” Honorius cooed, swinging the whip back and forth, his cock whipping side to side as well, “we should have known you’d come running to save your lover, although we’re afraid there’ll not be much of him left when we are done. For all we know, he’s dead already.”
Suddenly terrified, Gigi glanced at Magnus again. Was he breathing? She couldn’t tell.
As if in response, he moaned just as Honorius lunged, snapping the whip at her head, but she leapt away just in time. She thrust one of her blades toward him, but missed by several inches and he laughed at her efforts. She pivoted and faced him again, heart pounding. Get closer next time, she told herself. Draw him in. She swallowed hard, quelling her instinct to run.
Honorius grinned. “So, the whore-slave has yet to learn humility, but we shall see what we can do about that.”
With a flick of his wrist, he sent the tip of the whip flying at her again and Gigi heard herself scream as she raised her arm defensively, then scream again as pain ripped through her senses. Not only had the thing cut her forearm, she was surprised to see the thin leather braid had wrapped around her elbow. Furious, she jerked the whip as hard as she could and glanced up when she heard Honorius cry out.
She had pulled the handle right out of his hand. It fell to the floor, scudding on the tiles, and she shook off the leather strips encircling her arm. A look of bewilderment crossed Honorius’s face, then wrath, and he lunged for his sword and swung violently.
Gigi barely avoided him, and, with her mind screaming in terror, she darted closer. Squeezing her eyes shut in the last instant, she madly slashed and sprang away.
Breathing hard, she opened her eyes to see Honorius blanch, then touch his bloodied cheek, his face contorted with rage.
“You bitch!” he said, baring his teeth in a seething, angry grin. “You shall be the first to die. Once you weary from this man’s sport, Gigiperrin, and you will tire, we assure you, you will long for the sweet release of a blade, but it shall not be quick in coming. Oh no.”
He moved around her slowly, going in circles, waving the tip of his blade at her, trying to make her dizzy. But Gigi knew the tactic, had fallen for it too many times with the boys in camp, and she knew she could not wait for him to make a move. She had only two real choices: attack or run.
She leapt toward Honorius when he was between steps and slightly off-balance, flailing with her arms, hoping to land a blow serious enough to take him out of the fight, if only for a moment.
Honorius backed away in time, but he stumbled into Magnus and fell flat on his back, his sword clattering across the floor. Gasping for breath, he struggled to get up.
The bump brought Magnus out of his lethargy, and Gigi quickly cut his bonds. Weak and unfocused, he fell forward once his wrists were freed, and Gigi moved to catch him, but Honorius found his footing in the next instant and came at her. She let Magnus fall and tried to spin around to face her enemy. Too late! Honorius was on her, grappling for her knives, then punching her in the stomach.
She doubled over from the pain and they crashed to the floor together, but Gigi had the sense to fling her weapons as far as she could, knowing he’d overpower her in hand-to-hand combat and use them against her, hoping he hadn’t seen the sword still tucked into her belt and digging into her back.
They struggled and Gig
i tried to claw at his face, twist free, anything, but he was agile and strong, and suddenly, in a brutal flurry of movement, Gigi’s arms and legs were pinned — she couldn’t move.
Honorius looked down at her with a triumphant grin, then lay on top of her, grinding his hips against hers. “You shall be sweet to taste, slave. We can hardly wait.” Arching up, he rocked back and forth over her, playfully thrusting his re-engorged cock toward her face.
“Ah,” he murmured, his face so close she could feel his breath on her cheek, “this is a fine gift, Gigiperrin, and we must thank you for the interesting foreplay. It is what we have dreamt of since last we met, since you kicked our royal person … a chance to put you in your place.” He paused and glanced at Magnus. “And now it is even better than we imagined, for Magnus is here to watch, coherent enough to realize, but too incapacitated to act. We drugged him, you see, with a highly concentrated feverfew potion we’ve been brewing for days in anticipation of your arrival. It will keep his blood from clotting. Do you see how it continues to seep from his veins? Of course, we also gave him just enough belladonna to keep him manageable, and now he shall watch while we fuck you and fuck you, and he’ll know, but he won’t be able to do a thing about it.”
Honorius ran his tongue along Gigi’s neck, then looked at her and grinned again. “You taste like you’ve been living rough, Gigiperrin. Mmm, delicious.” He licked her again, this time across her face, and she heaved up, trying to unseat him, but he laughed, and continued, “Magnus’s blood will empty onto the floor eventually, but not so soon that he won’t first see you die some sort of hideous death, perhaps whipped like him, until your flesh hangs in tatters. Or, or, perhaps, after your branding. Ah, we see your fear! We may even do it ourself, just for fun, and then, hmm, should we execute you in the arena, or the parade ground? Indeed, a very public death could be just the thing. But how, how shall we … ?”
After the Fall Page 17