Nobilissima (27 page)

“When I say so, you must run for help,” I whispered, feeling Sylvia shaking at my side.

Sigeric stopped on the far side of the bed and I felt an overwhelming revulsion for the huge, ugly brute, who had crossed my husband at every opportunity.

I remembered his menacing face and his hands on my body in those silent woods years ago. This time, there was no Ataulf to save me, but I wouldn’t succumb to Sigeric.

“You can come with me, or we can do it here,” he said. “It wouldn’t bother me to take you in the bed you shared with your husband but it’s your choice.”

I screamed at him, snatched up a small oil lamp from the table next to me and flung it at him. It missed but fell to the ground and oil spilled out across the woven carpet on the floor, followed by a tiny tongue of fire. He stamped it out with his boot and sneered at me.

“I don’t think you should make this more difficult than it needs to be,” he said and then shouted at his guards to leave the room.

“You go too,” he told Sylvia. “Your mistress and I want to be alone.”

At my nod, Sylvia took a few steps as though following his instructions and then grabbed at a large, floor-standing candelabra, tipping it toward the bed. Flames immediately sprang along the silk coverlet and ignited the curtains that hung along the wall next to the bed.

For a few seconds, Sigeric stared at the fire, giving us enough time to run to the door and into the hallway. Sigeric’s bellow of anger rang out right behind us, and his guards, who had reached the end of the corridor, turned to run back to him.

I pushed Sylvia through a small door on the right of the hallway and into a servants’ passageway that led to the kitchens. I closed the door but it had no lock. It would only be a matter of seconds before Sigeric and the guards caught up with us. Spurred on by our terror, we dashed along the dark, narrow hall, making no sound in our bare feet. Behind us, the soldiers blundered along, their swords clattering against the walls in the confined space.

In the darkness, I collided with the door to the kitchen, and then pushed it partially open and we both slid through. The kitchen was a jumble of dark shapes under a pale wash of moonlight. I ran across the tiled floor, around a broad wooden table, and opened a door that I hoped led into one of the main corridors of the villa.

Several lamps were lit in the hall and I hesitated. In the light, we could not hide from Sigeric and his men. Better perhaps to stay in the kitchen and hide. It was hard to think clearly. The sound of the men behind us in the kitchen made me realize that I had no choice but to go forward. Sprinting across the wide expanse of marble, I chose a corridor and continued to run. Where were my guards? Where was Felix? The emptiness was terrifying.

Hearing the pounding of feet behind us, I turned to see Sigeric now at the front of his pack of men. Leading Sylvia, I turned a corner and we ran towards a wide column and hid in the dark space behind it. I held my breath as he plunged past us, sniffing like a wild animal scenting its prey.

Suddenly, he stopped, turned slowly and grinned. He’d found us. Sylvia stifled a sob.

He walked back towards the wide hall that was ringed with columns and faced the one behind which we were hiding. I pulled back out of sight. I heard his men follow him, and a metallic din as they all drew their swords.

Then silence as they waited for Sigeric to give an order.

But a volley of shouts echoed through the hallway and I heard my name being called. I recognized Felix’ voice. “Halt, Sigeric. My men have you surrounded.”

“Drop your arms,” Sigeric shouted back. “I have declared myself King of the Goths and you will obey me now.”

“Never,” said Felix. “Wallia is our rightful sovereign and we will fight for him to the death.”

“Then prepare to die,” said Sigeric to the roars of approval from his men.

I dared to peek out from behind the column and watched in horror as the two groups of soldiers advanced on each other. Felix stood firmly at the head of his unit of royal guards.

When the men engaged and the hall was filled with the sound of fighting, I led Sylvia away, back to the kitchen. As I searched for a hiding place, a candle appeared, trembling and flickering in the darkness. Quickly, I crouched down between several large clay pots, pulling Sylvia down with me.

“Who’s there?” a voice whispered.

“It’s one of the cooks,” Sylvia said.

I stood and announced us and the cook waved the candle closer so that he could see my face. “Your Highness” he said, his voice shaking as badly as the candle he held.

“We need to get out of here and find a safe hiding place,” I said.

The cook nodded. “There are back stairs we can take.” He held the candle higher so that we could see our way out. While I tiptoed down the stairs, I thought of the night of the attack on Rome when Ataulf had led us out of the palace. The stairs led down to a small vestibule and then out into the herb gardens. Aromatic plants gave off sweet scents as we brushed against them in the darkness.

“Here,” said the cook, his voice still trembling. “I know the way to the soldiers’ quarters from here. Follow me.”

He blew out the candle and we hurried in silence under the moonlight. Emerging through a gap in a tall willow hedge, I saw lights ahead and figures running towards us. There was no time to judge if they were friend or enemy but with relief, I saw that they were royal guards and I recognized the young tribune who led them.

“Your Highness.” The tribune saluted. “Please come this way.” He led us quickly to the guards’ quarters and ensured that the door of room was secured behind us. My heart slowed and I was able to ask him what was happening.

“Sigeric’s men are fighting throughout the city,” he replied. “He’s attempting to seize the throne before Wallia can get here. We’re resisting, but he had this planned out and some of my men have already turned to his side. It’s hard to know whom to trust.”

“You mean the men who fought for my husband are now betraying us?” I was appalled.

He nodded. “The death of a ruler is always a fragile moment, Your Highness. Soldiers will gravitate to the most powerful leader and will find plenty of justification for their behavior.”

“But Sigeric is a lawless thug who will do nothing to protect the interests of the Goths. He wants to be king only for his own gratification and to satisfy his greed.”

“There are a few Roman emperors who could be accused of the same,” said the soldier. He flushed. “I’m sorry, Your Highness. I don’t refer to your family but to emperors of the past. The problem is that Sigeric has been a very successful military leader. Many Goth soldiers look up to him and want him to lead them into battles against the Vandals and Suevis, perhaps even Romans. They prefer warfare to settling and farming.”

“So what are our chances? How many men remain loyal to us and will wait for Wallia to come?”

“I don’t know, to be honest. My unit was wiped out in the first attack. I don’t even know where Sigeric is.”

“He’s in the palace, fighting against General Felix and his men.”

“Then I must go assist,” he said. “I will leave you here with four of my men. The room is barricaded and you’ll be safe until I return.”

Watching his figure disappear into the darkness, I thought of Ataulf. All that we had fought for and worked for was unraveling before my eyes. I wished I had a sword and could fight.

“You must go to Ravenna,” Sylvia said. “Ataulf was right. You should have left at once. Let’s pray it is not too late.”

“I won’t leave the Goths under that brute Sigeric,” I answered. “We have to stay until Wallia is crowned.”

Sylvia shook her head and pulled a blanket closer around us, while the night dragged by.

In the cold dawn light, the tribune returned, nursing a wound on his forearm. He bolted the door behind him.

“Sigeric has taken over the palace,” he said. “Until Wallia gets here with his troops, there’s nothing we can do. I don’t have enough men to overcome him. He insists that we all attend him in the central atrium in one hour.”

“Placidia can’t go there,” cried Sylvia. “Sigeric has tried to kill her, and worse.”

“We have no choice, Your Highness,” said the young man, his voice flat and toneless. “If we don’t go, he’ll send his soldiers here and I only have half a unit of men left to defend this place.”

“What happened to Felix?” I asked, hardly daring to listen to the answer.

He shrugged. “I don’t know. Someone said he ran away.”

“No!” I argued. “He wouldn’t desert us. He loved my husband.”

The tribune just shook his head. He looked exhausted.

An hour later, we left the relative safety of the barracks and joined throngs of soldiers, servants and staff, who made space to allow me to pass. Some bowed or saluted, but many averted their eyes as though embarrassed to see me there.

In the spacious atrium, someone had set the great bejeweled and carved chair on which Ataulf used to sit for ceremonies. Decorated with pearls that glistened, milky in the pale sunlight, it was draped with a red cape. I was relieved to see several members of my household staff among the crowd. At least some of them were safe. I watched with rising nausea as Sigeric approached, heavily guarded by armed men. He strode across to the chair and sat down heavily, looking more used to sitting on a horse than a piece of furniture.

“Get on with it,” he ordered abruptly, and several dignitaries stepped forward.

One of them held a gold crown, which he placed on Sigeric’s head. He began to speak, but Sigeric growled at him. “Keep it short.”

Clearly unnerved, the man gave a quick blessing and pronounced him King of the Goths.

The noise was deafening. Cheers and applause, hisses and jeers rose into the air in a deafening cacophony. Sigeric’s men drew their swords and made a protective ring around their leader. Gradually, the noise died down and Sigeric stood up to speak. His uniform was spattered with blood.

“I thank you for our support,” he said. “I am now your king, and I am ready to lead our armies into war against Rome. It’s time to take what we want by force.”

A great cheer went up again, as the soldiers yelled their support and banged their daggers against their shields.

“But first we have a few items of business to take care of,” he said, waving his hand for silence. The crowd grew still and the tribune touched my arm.

“Let’s go,” he whispered, pulling me back behind a wide column. “We need to get you out of here immediately. He has more support than I realized. I have men I trust who will take you as far as Narbo. From there, I hope you can make your way back to Ravenna.”

“Very well,” I said. With so few remaining troops, there was little I could do. Perhaps if I left the city, I would be able to contact Wallia and arrange a counterattack against Sigeric.

“It will be a long and strenuous trip, Your Highness. You’ll have to ride on horseback as we cannot risk the slowness of a carriage. I’ll go now and secure horses for you. Stay with these two men and make your way to the sea gate, which is rarely used. We can take the back roads from there out of the city.”

“God go with you,” I said. We watched him disappear into the shadows, and then followed the two escorts from the atrium, through empty passages inside the palace and then along narrow paths that led through the palace grounds. Soon, we reached the gate. Set in the great stone walls that surrounded the palace, it had once allowed access from the sea. Now the sluice was empty and it was clear that it hadn’t been used for a long time. Beyond the gate, I saw several of the tribune’s men, pacing and watching.

“Come, Your Highness,” called one of them pushing open the heavy, rusted gate. It shrieked on its hinges.

Sylvia and I hurried through the gate and stood with the men, watching anxiously for signs of the tribune and the horses he was bringing.

A sound from beyond the wall set my nerves on fire. Within seconds, six or seven of Sigeric’s men hurled themselves through the gate and confronted my four guards. There was a brief struggle before the guards were overcome, backed up against the wall with daggers at their throats. I felt all the strength in my body dissolving. In Rome, on the night of the attack, I’d drawn on the power of my father’s legacy, and my faith in the Empire, to believe that I could survive. Now, I felt abandoned, alone in a foreign country with no king, no law, nothing to protect me other than a few brave guards who had lost their leader. It was still hard to believe that Felix had left us.

I felt calloused skin against my cheek and opened my eyes to see Sigeric. His gold crown sat askew on his filthy blonde hair and his breath stank of cheap wine.

“Yet again, my lady, I find you trying to escape from me. I try not to take it personally but you wound me deeply. I’ll have to punish you.”

Without a word, he pulled his sword from its scabbard and thrust it through the throat of one of the royal guards.

“No!” I cried. “These men are innocent and acted only on my command. I order you not to harm them.”

Sigeric made a show of examining the blood on his sword, which he then wiped on his tunic.

“You forget I am the king now and I don’t take orders from you, a dead king’s wife and a queen of nowhere.”