Nobilissima (20 page)

As the notes of the final victory anthem died away, Marcus climbed to his feet and came to stand in front of us. “I have one last gift to offer you,” he said. “This arrived last night by messenger.”

He gave a parchment to Ataulf, who opened it, read it and, with a smile, gave it to me. It was a letter from my brother, thanking Ataulf for his services in overcoming the usurper, and granting him the deed to the land in Aquitaine long ago promised to Alaric by the Roman government.

I hugged Ataulf and then Marcus, hardly able to believe that my brother had finally fulfilled his promise. Ataulf was jubilant.

As we made their way towards the dining tent, Aurelia and Sylvia caught up with me and Sylvia embraced me, with tears in her eyes.

“At last,” she said. “Olympius is dead. You are in love and married, and your husband has the land that was the due to him and a home for the Goth people. I can hardly speak for being so happy. Who would have thought things could’ve turned out so well?”

“Yes,” said Aurelia, quietly. “It’s almost too good to be true.”

Chapter 18

For the next few weeks, I bathed in a golden pool of joy and excitement. I suspected that I was pregnant but waited to tell anyone, even Ataulf, until I was sure. The Goth women were full of stories of babies lost before the third month but I felt strong and well, confident of a happy outcome. Meanwhile, Ataulf and I made plans to move the Goths west to Aquitania, sending a group ahead to find the best locales for the massive camp and for planting the crops we intended to grow. Reports back were full of praise for the terrain, and soon advance units of men set off to begin building the encampment.

Early one morning, with the chill in the air hinting at the autumn soon to come, I gazed out from a hillside above the camp towards the Mare Nostrum, which was lavender colored under the pastel sky.

“Placidia?”

I turned to see Aurelia and beckoned her over. “Look at this view. Isn’t it magnificent?” I asked.

Aurelia nodded and I realized that she was crying.

“Tell me what’s wrong,” I said.

“Marcus…” began Aurelia, her voice trembling. “Marcus has asked me to marry him.”

“Thank God, at last!” I said. “So why are you crying? You love him and he adores you. At least that much has been evident these last months, although Sylvia and I were beginning to despair that he would ever ask you. This is wonderful news.”

“It’s not,” said Aurelia. “He must return to Ravenna now that the campaign here is over. He’s asked me to go with him.”

I was quiet, realizing with shock that I had assumed Marcus would always be with us. My own long absence from Ravenna had diluted its importance in my mind, but I knew Aurelia was right. He reported directly to the Emperor and worked closely with the Senate: his position demanded his presence in both Ravenna and Rome.

“Then you must go,” I said. “Aurelia, this is your chance for happiness. There is no better man in the Empire than Marcus and he wants you to be with him.”

“I can’t leave you,” began Aurelia.

“This time you can,” I said. “God knows how much I needed you when we were hostages of the Goths but I’ll never forgive myself for the danger I put you in, and for keeping you away from Marcus. I can’t do that again. I have Ataulf now, and Sylvia will stay with me. Once we are settled in Aquitania, I will come to visit you, I promise. And perhaps Marcus can spare you for a month or two in the summers and you can come to us.”

“How can you let me go, when my heart is breaking to leave you?” sobbed Aurelia.

“Because I love you,” I said. “Now go to Marcus and tell him I give my fullest blessing for your marriage.”

As Aurelia began to protest again, I held up my hand. “That’s an order, Aurelia.”

My friend managed a faint smile and hurried away. I waited for a few minutes and began the descent to the camp, tears flowing down my cheeks.

Waving goodbye to Aurelia and Marcus two days later was unbearable. I remembered watching Ataulf leave on the campaign and how painful that had been. Somehow this felt even worse. Aurelia and I had shared much happiness, but also the worst of times together: the siege and the attack, the long march south, the assault by Sigeric and his men. The bond between us couldn’t be broken by distance but I would miss her terribly. I’d decided not to tell her about the baby, fearing that she would use that as an excuse to stay.

Alanus had asked to go with them on the journey, convinced that the Bishop sorely needed him back in Rome. Feeling guilty about inflicting his company on my friends for such a long trip I had nonetheless agreed. I was happy enough to see the last of the irritating man.

I watched the carriages disappear along the long road that ran alongside the seashore, heading back to the heart of the Empire. Hearing my deep sigh, Ataulf pulled me into his arms.

“Aquitania is beautiful, and temperate,” he reminded me. “Our people will have homes, and fields to till, for the first time in their lives. We’ll live there under the laws of Rome and follow its government and traditions. You and I will be happy there.”

“You, me and our child,” I said, smiling as I watched the expression on his face change from incomprehension to delight.

“You’re with child?” he asked. “Already?”

“I think it was our wedding night, or perhaps the night before,” I said.

“It’s wonderful news,” he said. “We’ll have lots of children, both sons and daughters, and they’ll be as beautiful and intelligent as you, and as strong and fearless as me.”

I laughed, and kissed him and led him back to our room, where we made love and fell asleep even though the sun was up.

I woke with a start, my skin damp with perspiration. My heart beat fast and I tried to push away the memory of my nightmare. I had been in a vast, open field where the sun beat down on dry, hard-baked earth. Two birds of prey circled overhead, and their loud cries ruptured the silence. In the shimmering heat, a figure appeared, dressed in white. It approached slowly and I wanted to run away but my feet seemed planted in the soil. As it came closer, I saw it was my cousin, Serena, her skin white as marble, even whiter than her gown, and her black hair wild and disheveled. Angry red scars circled her neck, and she tore at them with her fingernails, lacerating the flesh until it bled.

“Remember,” screamed the apparition. “Remember my curse on you. Your children will bring you nothing but misery. And you will suffer as I suffer, wandering in purgatory forever and ever.”

“What is it, sweetness?” asked Ataulf, waking up. “Are you sick?”

“No, just a bad dream,” I said. “I’ll get up now and have the servants bring us some food.”

Fortunately, I didn’t have much time to reflect on the dream and the reminder of my cousin’s curse because of our imminent departure. As they had done hundreds of times before, the Goth people packed up their belongings, loaded them on to carts and wagons and formed orderly lines for the journey to their new home. Groups of men came to the farmhouse with transport for my clothes and furniture, and soon the entire nation was once again on the move.

I wondered what kind of reception we would receive from the Aquitani, originally a Celtic tribe, long since Romanized and under the authority of a Roman Prefect called Ingenuus. Their region was considered important by Rome as it lay along the route to Hispania, and the Aquitani had often been called on to defend the road against attacks by Suevis, Franks and other barbarian tribes.

I did not have to wait for long to meet Prefect Ingenuus, who invited Ataulf and myself to reside at his villa in Narbo while accommodations were built for us. He was a gracious and generous man, and I liked him at once. He told us that the land we’d been granted was badly neglected but was capable of bearing good crops with the right attention. He had studied various treatises, he said, on the subject of farming and would be happy to provide us with access to his library of documents.

But first he wanted to provide us with a wedding banquet worthy of a king and queen. He’d heard of our hasty ceremony in Nizza. So, on a hot day in the late summer, Ingenuus threw a magnificent party in his villa. Two gilded chairs were set in the middle of the largest hall and swagged with purple silk. The Goth chiefs filed past to pay homage to us, and presented extraordinary gifts: cups and plates of pure gold, a table inlaid with countless jewels; silks and diadems; gold coins, dishes and goblets. Although the guests gasped in awe at the array of riches, I shifted uncomfortably on my throne. Most of the gifts must have been ransacked from the houses of the aristocrats of Rome during the assault on the city. It was hard to see them given here as tribute and even harder to imagine using them in any way. Relieved to see the last of the chiefs placing a gold plate on the top of the pile, I turned to Ataulf to suggest we move on with the feast but he held up his hand and pointed to the doorway.

“There is more,” he whispered.

A group of handsome young men, dressed in white silk robes, paraded into the hall carrying basins of jewels and coins. One by one, they placed the bowls at our feet and, when they were finished, they stood together in the center of the room and raised high, sweet voices in songs that I didn’t understand. Moved by the music, however, I held Ataulf’s hand and was grateful for the chance to celebrate our marriage.

The festivities lasted several days, and then we returned to the business of creating a new homeland for the Goth people. After one morning of reading, Ataulf dumped a pile of parchments at my feet.

“I have no patience for learning about crops and planting cycles. I’m a warrior, not a farmer.”

“There are no battles to be fought here,” I replied, “except with the land. From what we’ve seen, it will take months to bring it under control. You must organize work parties to get started as quickly as possible before the winter sets in. Come with me and we’ll talk to Ingenuus. He has plenty of good advice for us.”

In truth, I was concerned about the state of the land we had inherited. For many years, the fields had been left unplanted. Irrigation canals were blocked, the empty ditches full of dirt and weeds. The barns were almost bare and there wasn’t enough hay to feed the thousands of horses owned by the Goth army.

"It will take a year to bring these fields back to production," Ingenuus told us. “They need tilling and nutrients and we will need workers to mend the canals to bring water to them. But the Goths represent a huge workforce and it should not be hard to put things back in order."

"A huge workforce that will need feeding for a year," said Ataulf.

Ingenuus nodded. "Yes, but that should not be a problem. I understand that you have more than enough wealth enough to buy all the grain and supplies you need from Rome?”

“That’s true,” I said. “I can work with the stewards to order seed for the crops and enough grain and livestock to get us through the winter here. The men will need to start work at once to build shelters and fences for cattle and sheep.”

“There are plenty of resources for you to draw on,” said Ingenuus with enthusiasm. “Our local craftsmen can make axes, shovels and rakes. I’d be happy to help make arrangements.”

“Wonderful,” I exclaimed, buoyed by the Prefect’s support. I stood and stretched, aware of the tightness in my back now that the baby was growing. “With such fine weather, the ships can make good speed, and we should be able to rely on delivery of our supplies within a few weeks.”

A month later, I sat in my room and Sylvia rearranged a few cushions to support my back more comfortably. I folded my hands protectively over my swelling abdomen and smiled in contentment. A gentle breeze coming through the window wafted the sweet fragrance of orange blossoms towards me. Knowing that I found the scent soothing, Sylvia had arranged to have pots of the citrus trees near all the doors and windows.

A letter from Aurelia lay on the couch, telling us that she and Marcus were in good health, and sending news of the Bishop and the senators in Rome. I felt a twinge of nostalgia for life at the center of the Empire, but it passed quickly. For now, I was happy to be in the country with my beloved husband and a baby soon to be born.

“There’s a problem,” said Ataulf, striding into the room and throwing his cloak on to a stool.

“What is it?” I asked.

“The grain we ordered should have been here last week,” he said. “So I sent some scouts to the port at Narbo to find out what’s going on. They are reporting a massive gathering of Roman ships at the port. The locals say no merchant vessels have been allowed into the harbor for days. They’re all out at sea or have returned to where they started. It looks like a blockade. “

“A blockade,” I echoed. “Against us?”

“So it would appear.”

Ataulf paced around the room several times. “Bring some wine,” he ordered and a servant scuttled away.

“I have a group of men down at the port handing out bribes to find out more about who ordered the blockade.”

“It must have been Honorius, surely?” I said, “But why? He agreed to give this land to us, so why would he change his mind now?”

“I don’t know,” said Ataulf. “But I intend to find out.”

He accepted a goblet of wine and drank it down. His face was tense, and his eyes narrowed.