After the Fall (2 page)

She had no answer. Honorius had the right, the duty, even, to use her marriage to shore up his alliances in this ever-changing world. But his choice of General Constantius did nothing in this regard. The general derived what power he had from Honorius, so her brother was treating her as nothing more than common booty, to be drooled over and played with, and, ultimately, caged like a dainty bird.

Constantius. Placidia cringed at the memory of his bulging eyes, balding pate, and thin smile. Fifty-odd years of fighting and court intrigue and military regimens. Set in his ways and much too old. God Almighty, she was only seventeen!

Would she be brave enough to seek her freedom when it came time to marry Constantius? Freedom. What did it actually mean? Slaves longed for it, of course, and debtors wanted to be free of their debts, but didn’t everyone desire something other than what they had? She sighed, feeling guilty for worrying so selfishly about her own situation.

“Placidia?” Elpidia said, coming outside. “Priscus Attalus has arrived.”

Placidia nodded to her old nurse and smoothed her gown, her thoughts in turmoil even as she strove for calm. What was happening in Ravenna? After Honorius murdered General Stilicho, two senators, Attalus and Magnus, had abandoned the city
and
her brother, each escaping a fate identical to Stilicho’s, if the rumors were true.

And now her cousin Serena, Stilicho’s detestable widow, had come to Rome. Ruined and impoverished, she had dragged along her surviving children, her young son, Eucherius, and her daughter, Thermantia, the emperor’s discarded wife. Realistic about her own shortcomings, Placidia didn’t know if she would extend a helping hand if Serena showed up on her doorstep, but shrugged it off. She admittedly felt the need for revenge, after all Serena had done, but the need was a burden unto itself, and Placidia wondered how long it would be before guilt overwhelmed her.

“Greetings, O most exalted Placidia,” Attalus said.

“Welcome, O most excellent Attalus. Please take your ease. Have you any word from my brother? Or from Magnus?”

“There has been no word from Magnus, nor any hint of his whereabouts. It’s as though he dropped out of Italia altogether.”

She frowned. “No word at all? Not even rumors?”

“None. But fear not, dearest princess, for Magnus is Magnus. He will survive. As for the emperor, I received a letter from him this morning, which is why I sought an audience with you. Although it is addressed to me, I believe it is meant for your eyes as well.”

Attalus handed over the rolled parchment, and Placidia quickly opened it and read:

“Priscus Attalus,

We were most decidedly vexed by your unanticipated leave-taking from Ravenna, but we understand your fear, for we have received word the Visigoths have left Noricum and are heading south.”

“His royal ‘we’ annoys, does it not?” Placidia asked, then caught herself, remembering her manners. It would be unseemly to speak more about Honorius’s conceit. She looked up at the senator. “Does this mean the Visigoths are on the march again?”

“Indeed, I’m afraid they will spread like a plague of locusts,” Attalus said flatly. “But know this, I did not leave Ravenna with my tail between my legs because of the damnable Visigoths.”

“I know.” She swallowed. “But … do you know where they are heading?”

He shook his head. “I have heard they made plans to attack Ravenna by sea.”

Placidia took a breath. Magnus had said that was a possibility. “Then the barbarians are fools. They will not succeed.”

She resumed reading:

“As to the main point of our royal message — we care not if the Roman citizens hate Serena. There must be no housing in any royal properties and no bodyguards given her or any of her family. MAKE SURE OUR SISTER PROVIDES NONE! We would not want the boy to grow up weakened by overprotection. As to our former wife, let her EARN her bread.

With all esteem and sincerest regard,

Flavius Honorius Augustus, Emperor of Rome.”

Placidia frowned and met Attalus’s troubled gaze. Her brother had not changed, would never change, his selfish disregard for all but himself still paramount.

Knowing Rome seethed with hatred for Serena because of her loathsome deeds, Placidia said a swift, silent prayer for the two remaining innocents of the family. Thermantia and Eucherius were not responsible for their mother’s desecration of pagan temples, her burning of sacred books, or her utter deceit. However, without bodyguards, their lives were as good as forfeit, for the mob would have its vengeance if they were ever recognized.

She crossed herself. “I must help them.”

Attalus looked surprised by this, and so, she realized, was she. But then, Honorius had not thought of everything.

As to financial succor, he had said nothing at all.

• • •

The Avenue of Janus was hot, noisy, overcrowded, and stank of human sweat and garlic. Serena left the pawnbroker’s shop and eyed the street carefully, mindful of the purse of coins hidden beneath her
palla
. The last of her jewelry had brought this final pittance, and she worried where she would get more money once it was gone.

Slipping back to the doorway of her tenement house, she was relieved to see Thermantia waiting there with Eucherius. They set off together without a word, and Serena breathed easier when no one caught her eye, nobody looked suspicious or seemed to care about their presence.

The crowds at the market had always terrified her. She didn’t trust the plebian hordes, and knew they would attack if they discovered her identity. Unwilling to leave her children unprotected at the tenement, her only other choice was to bring them along when she did the shopping.

“Pull your
palla
close, Thermantia,” she said in a harsh whisper. “I don’t want the plebs recognizing you. Eucherius, keep your head down, and don’t draw attention. Now, come.”

They moved down the street as one. Suddenly, the hair on Serena’s arms rose and she tensed, but there was no shoving, the sounds hadn’t changed, the faces around them wore expressions of boredom.

All’s well, just keep moving,
Serena told herself.

They turned right, onto a better street lined with more prosperous shops, heading toward Quirinal Hill, to the Great Market. Serena saw Thermantia cast a longing glance at the window of an
unguentarius
, and she scowled at the girl — cosmetics were the last thing they could afford. She heard hawkers shouting from butcher and wine shops and smelled her favorite bakery’s delicious fresh bread and
pulmentum
, the scent of the rich barley cakes making her stomach growl.

She had never experienced a time when she’d been so hungry, for so long. She glanced at her son and drew a deep breath. He looked thin and unhappy. She decided to visit the baker first, for the man was always happy when she flirted with him, and he let them sample his specialties before she bought anything. It was a good way to alleviate their hunger.

Serena quickened her step. “Hurry, keep up, children.”

“Mother!”

“Hush, Thermantia,” Serena scolded. “Your accent gives you away. Can’t you remember a thing I — ”

Serena saw the flash of sunlight on metal and instinctively threw up her arms, saw the arching, terrible swiftness with which the blade tore through the air, saw the edge embed itself and then slice across the neck of her beloved … her sweet babe … Eucherius!

Oh, dear God in Heaven!
The murderer darted away, carrying something round and dripping in his hand.
No! Oh Lord, no! No!

She started to run in the opposite direction, terrified she would be next, crashing through the people who stood and stared.

A wail rose up, a high-pitched keening. Serena halted in her tracks, listening to the horrible cries, then turned back, fearing the certainty of what she would see.

There, kneeling, Thermantia rocked, screaming and weeping, holding Eucherius's gaping, headless body against her own.

• • •

Thermantia watched as her mother lay curled on the floor of their squalid tenement.

“Oh, my dearest,” Serena cried. “Please, hold me. I cannot bear any more grief.”

It was the second day since her little brother’s murder, and her mother had done nothing but bewail her misfortunes. Serena’s eyes were puffy slits, her face blotchy and red, her hair undone and in a shambles. She was a disgrace to her family and dishonored Eucherius’s memory by this endless display of self-pity. Where was the evidence of nobility to which she was born? Where was her pride?

Thermantia had stood alone, dignified, stoic, and brave when they’d buried her brother’s headless corpse. Alone she had represented the family as her mother writhed on the floor at home, alone she had endured the pain of saying goodbye. And now her mother wanted comfort from her?

Enough is enough!

Serena checked her sobbing for an instant and looked up with a startled expression.

Did I say that aloud?
Thermantia wondered.

“Sweet girl, please don’t be angry,” her mother sank back onto the floor and started in again. “Hold me. I have lost everything. Hold me, please.”

In a fury, Thermantia crouched and grasped her mother by the hair, snatching her head off the floor.

Pitiful, disgusting, covered with snot and tears, Serena raised her arms, pleading, “Don’t strike me, please, my dearest.”

“You bitch, how dare you whine and wail and ask me for comfort!” Thermantia thundered. “You have done nothing but use us, use everyone you ever knew, for power, for prestige, for standing. You married off my dear sister Maria to Honorius, to be shamed and brutalized unto death, but that was not enough, oh no! Then you handed me over for the same, and the same he gave me. But I survived, because you could not wait to hand over one more, your own husband, and he was slaughtered! That makes two … two dead because of you. And now you have seen your son butchered before your cowardly eyes because of your words, your plotting, your plans, and then … you ran away! That makes three! Three within your own family whose blood is on your hands, yours and yours alone! May God curse you for the wretched human being you are!”

Her mother stared back at her, unmoving, silent for the first time in days.

Something in her mother’s eyes, something deep inside her own mind, told Thermantia she had gone too far, much, much too far.
Don’t say another word,
she told herself
. Don’t do this, don’t give in to the hatred or … or you will become what she is, and you mustn’t, no, you must never let that happen. You must never become like her!

“I’m sorry, Mother,” Thermantia whispered, releasing and smoothing her hair. “Forgive my harsh words, it was the grief speaking, only my grief.”

Weeping, Thermantia knelt beside her mother and gathered her into her arms, cradling her, soothing her, rocking her. “We shall get through this together, Mother. Worry not. Shhhh, now, Mama. It will be all right, you’ll see.”

• • •

Placidia wrote the last few words on her waxen tablet, put the stylus down, and smiled at her steward. “That should do it, Leontius. Please see the funds are quietly gotten to poor Thermantia. She has endured much because of her mother’s endless machinations, and now her brother’s murder, and I shall do my utmost to see to her needs. Honorius would treat his former empress as a leper, but he has no feelings for anyone but himself, does he? Tell Thermantia the old royal villa at Capreae will be made available for her use, and arrange for an escort.”

The steward nodded. “Your will be done,
Domina
— ”

The door to Placidia’s office crashed open, and Leontius sprang up to protect her, but the intruder was only Elpidia.

“My apologies,” she began breathlessly, “but I heard noises and shouting in the street and went to see what was going on. Everyone is yelling that barbarians have descended upon Rome! Can it be true? Have you heard anything?”

Stunned, Placidia glanced at Leontius.

“
Domina
,” he said, “I shall go to the Forum to see if the Diurnal has been posted with any news.” He headed for the door, but found the way blocked by the sudden arrival of Senator Attalus.

“Forgive the intrusion, O most exalted Placidia,” Attalus said, “but I must speak with you immediately.”

Elpidia’s hand went to her mouth. “It’s the barbarians, isn’t it? Dear Lord, it’s not the Huns come all this way, is it?”

Attalus looked from Elpidia to Placidia, then shook his head. “It’s the Visigoths, King Alaric and many thousands of his people, not just the warriors. They are within several
mille
of Rome — of all of Rome. The city will soon be completely surrounded, cut off. As to whether they plan to attack, or lay siege, or simply to parlay with us is as unclear as this tactic is unprecedented.”

Placidia could feel her heart madly thumping. King Alaric and his people! Why had no one seen them coming? Where were Rome’s scouts? Why hadn’t the army stopped their advance? She knew the military was in total disarray because of what Honorius had done to General Stilicho. So many barbarian soldiers had deserted the ranks that the legions in Italia had been decimated. It was impossible to believe, but had the Empire decided to let Rome fend for herself?

She glanced down at her shaky hands, then clasped them together in an attempt to control herself. What should she do? Send to Honorius for help? Was there time? Would her brother even care? No, probably not.

Attalus cleared his throat. “Placidia, know this … the walls of Rome cannot be breached. We are safe here. And King Alaric is honorable, in his own way. I do not believe he will do anything unprovoked, or without warning. If it pleases you, I shall send out a delegation, or go myself, to find out what is on his mind and if there is anything we can do.”

“How I wish Magnus were here to deal with this,” Placidia said as she walked to the balcony to look out. “Where is he, Attalus? He knows this king and his ways. What does the Senate say about this?”