Nobilissima (29 page)

“Your Highness,” the figure whispered. I didn’t recognize the voice but at least it wasn’t Sigeric.

“Here,” I responded, in the same low tone.

“Thank God,” the man replied and this time I knew who it was. Felix. He was holding a heavy iron ring with many keys on it.

“How did you know where we were?” I asked him while he worked, trying one key after another.

“Your new friend, Maldras, told me,” he replied. “Now, we have to move very quickly. Sigeric’s men are on full alert as Wallia is within miles of the city. I want to get you both into the town before he arrives. Not that there’s anywhere safe to hide, to be honest, but the palace is certain to be a battleground, so we need you away from here at least.”

He glanced down at my bandaged feet. “You can tell me later what happened to you but we need to find you some clothes and sandals. You’re not going to be able to move very fast in bare feet.”

“I’ll move as fast as you need me to.”

He looked dubious but carried on trying keys. Finally, he found the one that opened the locks, pushed the gate open, and walked in. “I could carry you, Your Highness?”

“No,” I replied. “I can walk well enough.” In truth, my feet felt as though shards of glass were embedded in them, but I couldn’t bear the indignity of being carried like a sack of grain.

Felix grunted. “Very well, but tell me if you change your mind.” He paused, a look of distress on his face. “I’m sorry I couldn’t come sooner,” he said. “I’ll explain everything later.”

We followed him out of the cell. He moved very quietly for a man of his size and we soon reached the bottom of the stairs that led back up to the ground floor of the palace.

“Where are all the guards?” I whispered.

He glanced up the stairs. “In the plaza, getting ready to ride out to confront Wallia. But Sigeric is sure to leave an auxiliary unit behind to defend the palace, so we will have to make our way out carefully. I have a small group of men waiting for us and they will look after you.”

“What about you?”

Felix smiled, his eyes crinkling with evident pleasure in his plan. “I have another unit of men hiding very close to here. And,” he paused, “at least a hundred of Sigeric’s men who have turned against him and will fight with us to put Wallia on the throne.”

“That’s good news. But aren’t you still outnumbered? How many men is Wallia bringing?”

Felix’s smile faded. “Enough, I hope. Enough.”

He held the torch up a little higher and scanned the staircase. “Right. I’ll go first. Follow me and do everything I tell you.”

I tried to ignore the pain in my feet when we climbed the stairs behind Felix. Between the discomfort and the fear of coming across Sigeric or any of his men, the ascent seemed interminable. I thought of Sisyphus pushing his boulder up a steep hill and felt his despair. I had no idea where we were going or what would happen once we got there. I wasn’t sure I even cared. To leave Barcino, where my husband and child were buried, was unimaginable, but there was nothing here for me any more. My footsteps slowed while I struggled with my bleak thoughts.

“Your Highness?” Felix had paused and turned around. “We need to make good time.”

I waved him on and planted one foot on the next stair tread, wincing at the impact even through the layers of bandage. Sylvia put a hand under my elbow and helped me along, darting worried looks at me.

Finally, we reached the landing at the top of the stairs and Felix scanned the passageways for any sign of activity. All was quiet and dark. “I think this corridor will take us to the southern exit,” he said turning left. “Stay close.”

We had moved a hundred yards down the passageway when we caught sight of torchlight ahead. At once, someone yelled. “Identify yourselves.”

I half turned to run but Felix put his hand on my arm to stop me, then he stepped behind me and pushed me in the small of the back. Too surprised to react, I staggered forward, almost losing my balance. The light from the other torch came closer and I saw that four of Sigeric’s men blocked the passageway.

“What are you doing with these women?” one of them asked.

“Taking them to Sigeric’s quarters like he told me to,” replied Felix. He held the torch high, keeping his face hidden in shadow.

The men grinned and one of them spat on the floor near my feet. “Our king has all the luck, right? You’re too skinny for my taste though.” He leered at Sylvia. “A bit old, but at least you’ve got some meat on your bones.” He reached out a hand to touch Sylvia’s breast.

Felix growled, a guttural noise that stopped the man in his tracks. “Sigeric wants them both, so hands off. And stand aside, I’ve got to do this and still report back for duty in the plaza. Haven’t got all night.”

The men laughed and cleared the way for us to pass. I held my breath until I heard their voices fade into the distance.

“Good job, Felix,” I whispered.

“Lucky for us that they’d been drinking and weren’t thinking straight. We need all the luck we can get tonight.”

The passageway stopped at a narrow door and Felix pushed it open slowly, peering out to see where we were. “Good,” he said, extinguishing the torch and throwing it to one side. “Enough of a moon to see by and just a short run to the cathedral.”

Felix’s version of a short run seemed like a long time to me, limping after him as fast as I could through narrow alleyways that led into the center of the city. The roads were remarkably quiet, and all the houses dark, with their shutters closed.

“Curfew,” he whispered.

Finally, the alley opened on to a wide street that I recognized. To the right, it led back to the plaza in front of the palace. To the left, it went to the cathedral. I had walked that road many times to visit the tomb of my beloved Theodosius, and then to attend Ataulf’s funeral.

A motion in the shadows of the cathedral caught my eye. Felix drew his sword. “Name yourself,” he called.

“It’s me, Maximus,” came the reply.

“Good man,” said Felix, and we hurried forward. At the door stood Maximus and three other men whom I knew by sight. They had been members of Ataulf’s personal guard. Felix saluted me good-bye. “You’ll be safe with these men,” he said. “Once the battle is won, I’ll come for you.”

He kissed my hand and strode away, disappearing into darkness. Sylvia and I followed the soldiers into the cathedral and watched them bolt and bar the huge wooden doors before taking up positions with swords drawn. Their helmets and cuirasses gleamed in the candlelight. Only four men, but I felt safe. It was because it was a church, I thought. No other building with four guards could withstand Sigeric’s army if he decided to attack.

A rustling noise made me turn and I was relieved to see that it was Bishop Speratus, hurrying towards us in a black robe that swept the stone floor.

“Your Highness. I would never have thought to see you in such dire circumstances.” He paused and dabbed at his eyes. “Forgive me. Such unhappy times. Will you please allow us to tend to your injuries and give you refreshment? I called in my own doctor. He’s very trustworthy. After hearing about the march around the walls, I surmised that you would need some treatment.”

I barely heard him. I was listening to a different voice: that of my son, calling to me and laughing as he always had. Drawn towards it, I began to walk down the aisle towards the crypt where he was buried, his father next to him.

“I’m coming, Theodosius,” I called.

I wasn’t sure how the Bishop and Sylvia suddenly appeared in front of me, blocking my passage. Sylvia reached out and took my hand. “Placidia, perhaps you should eat and rest first?” she suggested. “The… the emotion of visiting the tombs might be too much for you right now. At least, let the Bishop’s doctor tend to your wounds and have a cup of wine. Then we will visit Theodosius and Ataulf together.”

“Very well,” I said, allowing myself to be led forwards. I felt faint and had the same eerie feeling of floating above my body that I had experienced at Ataulf’s funeral.

“I fear an infection,” I heard Bishop Speratus murmur to the doctor who waited for us in the small office where I had signed the documents for my son’s funeral. I didn’t remember if I had signed Ataulf’s. The room began to spin and the doctor helped me to lie back on a couch in a corner. I felt him unwrapping the linens that Sylvia had put on my feet and heard Speratus gasp.

Sylvia held a cup to my lips. I took a swallow of the sweet red wine, and then passed out.

When I came to, I heard Sylvia crying and the Bishop praying out loud. I kept my eyes closed and thought that this is what it must be like to be dead. Friends grieving and clerics sending up prayers to God. I hadn’t wanted to die out on the road being dragged after Sigeric’s chariot, but here in this room, safe, and close to my son and my husband, it was easy to imagine slipping away. Then I could stay with them forever in Barcino, in this church. I would never be separated from them.

Was wanting to die a sin, I wondered. It wasn’t as though I would take my own life. All I had to do was nothing. Not struggle against the despair that pressed on me, not open my eyes and take the food and medicines that undoubtedly awaited me. Just lie there, still and silent as the corpse I longed to become. The faces of Theodosius and Ataulf floated above me, smiling.

I sighed. The faces disappeared and I opened my eyes. There was still so much for me to do. Dying wasn’t an option.

“Thank God,” breathed the Bishop, and Sylvia jumped to her feet. The doctor handed her a cup and she held it to my lips.

“It’s bitter,” the doctor warned. “But it will heal the infection quickly. It is remarkable, Your Highness, that your wounds are doing as well as they are. Sylvia did a good job of cleaning them.”

“Thank you for your help, doctor,” I replied, sitting up and drinking the medicine, which was foul. “What hour is it?”

“Almost dawn,” answered the Bishop to my surprise. I had been asleep for longer than I thought.

“Is there any news?”

“We don’t know anything.”

“I hope Wallia…” Sylvia began, but shouting and the thud of boots on stone stopped her, Seconds later, Maximus, the young tribune, appeared at the door. “I’m sorry but you must come with us. Wallia’s men have broken through the gate, and the battle is moving towards the center of the city. We need you to be in a safer place in case…”

“In case Sigeric wins?” I said.

“Dear God,” breathed Speratus.

The doctor slipped a pair of sandals on to my feet. They were of rough leather and too big for me, but I was grateful for his thoughtfulness. The bishop gave me a red cloak to wear over my nightdress and I stood up. The pain had faded considerably and I nodded to Maximus that I was ready.

“Is there a lower level?” he asked.

“The crypt,” said the Bishop. “Follow me.”

A thundering sound echoed around the cathedral and the party stopped in its tracks. “They’re ramming the front doors,” said the tribune. “We have no time to lose.”

Speratus rushed us down the curving staircase that led to the crypt. We waited while he fumbled with the keys to the gilded gates that secured the space.

“Why are they attacking the cathedral?” I asked.

The captain shrugged. “I’m not even sure who’s out there. It could be civilians trying to find a place of safety or Sigeric’s men intent on finding you or the Bishop.”

“Why Bishop Speratus?”

“Because he’s an agent of Rome. Sigeric has sworn to kill all who represent Rome. In his kingdom, only Goths will hold power. Those of us who supported Ataulf are Romans in his mind. He’s talked about purifying the Goth nation and eradicating all who hold to Roman customs or thinking.”

“He’s mad,” commented Speratus, pushing open the gates, “but madness hasn’t stopped men from being kings before.”

I walked in first, and went directly to the tomb of my husband. It was a stone slab in the floor, marked only with his name. On the wall above it hung a relief showing him on horseback with his sword raised. It had been intended as part of a frieze for the palace but I had taken it instead to serve as a memorial for him until a more elaborate tomb could be prepared. I ran my hand over the carvings. It wasn’t how I remembered him. My memories were of our quiet times together, sharing dreams for our new Roman-Goth nation, and for our son. The stone was cold to the touch, and I leaned my forehead against it, savoring the chill against my skin, which was still sunburned and hot. My fingers traced the curves of the muscles in Ataulf’s raised arm and followed the sharp blade of his favorite sword, the one with the hilt shaped like an eagle’s head. I remembered his strength and courage, his stubborn refusal to give in, however dangerous the obstacles he faced.

“I have to leave you here,” said Maximus. “I must stay with my men.”

I turned to look at him. His face was pale with tension, and he had dark circles under his eyes.

“We’re coming with you,” I said.

“No,” objected the doctor. “You need to rest, Your Highness. And you will be safer here.”

“I’ve had enough of hiding. Of being scared of Sigeric. If he wins this battle, no one will be safe from him anywhere. We must do all we can to stop that from happening.”

“But…” Speratus began to speak. A thin film of sweat glistened on his face and his eyes were large with fear. I sympathized with him but I was determined. One way or another, my own fate, and his, would be determined by the outcome of the battle raging above us. I couldn’t fight in it but I wouldn’t hide.