Nobilissima (36 page)

I agreed, relieved not to be alone with him just yet.
Alone with him.
What had made me believe that I could go through with this? I could hardly imagine having a private conversation with him, much less anything more intimate. Feeling my neck flush at the thought, I put my hand to my throat.

“It’s so warm here, don’t you think?” I said. “Aurelia, let’s go stand near the windows for a few minutes to cool down.”

Marcus raised an eyebrow, but, good friend that he was, put a hand on Constantius’s shoulder. “Excellent tactics in the latest campaign against the Burgundians,” he said.

I made a grateful escape, but knew that I was only delaying the inevitable. Very soon, I would have to confront the reality of life with this man I hardly knew.

Several days later, Aurelia decided that I needed distraction and suggested that we renovate the apartments where Constantius and I would reside after the wedding. The date had been set for three months later, close to the holy day of Christmas.

At first, I refused, but Aurelia insisted and I relented. Together, we commissioned a local painter to decorate the walls and ceilings with frescos, and ordered swathes of silk to dress the windows. Outside, a grand portico ran the length of one side of the suite, leading down a flight of steps to a garden that inclined its face to the sun. Hedges and vines sheltered the gardens from the eyes of other palace inhabitants and gave the space a small, personal feel that the larger, elegantly landscaped gardens of the palace lacked. Aurelia loved water features and chose pretty fountains to be placed where the sparkling water caught the sunlight, and the soft splashing provided a soothing backdrop. Great golden carp frolicked in the ponds, while frogs and water birds made homes in the many small waterways that crossed the gardens.

To my relief, Constantius had left Ravenna the day after the engagement to rejoin his forces in southern Gallia. In his long absence, there were days when I almost forgot that I was betrothed to him. The trees changed color and darkness came earlier each evening. Rain soaked the gardens and the fountains overflowed, turning the ground below into mud. Now that the Goth agreement was settled, I needed to find other ways to stay busy, and began attending the audiences presided over by Honorius. He rarely exchanged any words with me of a personal nature, but increasingly asked for my advice on official matters. What I didn’t know, I quickly learned, spending many hours in the library with Tertius. Although Tertius claimed to prefer poetry to judicial mandates, he was very knowledgeable on a broad range of topics, from taxes to law, and we soon slipped back into the familiar and comfortable roles of teacher and student.

Absorbed in learning, and participating more and more in the business of the court, I found time passing quickly and, all too soon, Constantius was due back in Ravenna. The staff, already occupied with preparing for the Christmas festivities, hurried through the hallways cleaning the statues and torch holders. Wagons arrived each day with food, olive oil and wine; enough, it seemed to feed all of Rome’s armies.

Bishop Ursus of Ravenna requested an audience with me to discuss the marriage service, and arrived on a cold, frosty morning, stamping the ice from his boots. Sylvia had the servants bring him hot wine as he settled into the pillowy depths of a couch in my office. He was short in stature, but rotund in girth. His red robes were cinched with a gold belt that must have cost a small fortune, given how long it needed to be. But he had a kind and generous spirit, and I liked him. His door was always open to the poorest parishioners, and he had the knack of exacting money from wealthy donors, which he used to fund a small hospital in the city and to provide bread and oil to those in need.

While he sipped his wine, Alanus arrived. I tried to hide my irritation. I’d grown accustomed to having him at the palace, but preferred to see him at a distance. He took his position as palace priest very seriously, holding services every morning for the staff, and a later, separate service for the courtiers. I’d heard that he toured the corridors constantly looking for souls in need of redemption. Still, that was his job and I knew that many of the palace staff liked him and trusted him with their confessions.

“Good morning!” said Alanus. “How wonderful to be here with you, planning such a joyous event. So different from the suffering of the travels with the Goths.” He shuddered. “Yet, suffering should be regarded as the catalyst for moral growth. Only by suffering as Christ our savior did, can we truly attain the goals that God has set for us.”

I held up a hand to stop him but he continued. “You experienced pain and misery in your exile and imprisonment. Yet, as Augustine tells us, pain in itself is not evil. It can refine and ennoble character. Even, of course, if that character is already of the most noble kind as yours is, Nobilissima.”

I glanced at Ursus, but he appeared to be dozing over his wine so I would get no help from him. “Thank you, Alanus. You persist in believing that I was unhappy with the Goths but the opposite is true. I experienced great joy with the Goths, and with their king.”

“Joy that you will find again in this happy marriage to General Constantius,” Alanus said, folding his hands together and beaming at me.

His obtuseness amazed me. Every courtier who had been in the room when Honorius had made his deal with me knew that this was an arranged marriage. That Alanus believed I was happy at the prospect was beyond belief.

Fortunately, Ursus started awake and rubbed his hands together. “So, let’s discuss the wedding ceremony. We’ll have it at the cathedral of course.”

“Yes,” I agreed. “But the guests will be small in number. I want to keep this as private as possible.”

“But this is such an opportunity for the people to see you, Nobilissima,” objected Alanus.

“That’s my decision,” I answered. “Constantius’s family will come, as well as a few of his chosen generals. I’d like to keep the ceremony brief.”

Alanus opened his mouth to speak, but Ursus held up a hand. “As you wish, Nobilissima. I thought that as we are approaching the Christmas festival, we would decorate the church with white flowers and altar cloths. They can then remain for the holy day services a few days later.”

“I think the Nobilissima’s wedding warrants flowers and linens in any color she wishes,” said Alanus. “And they hardly have to do double duty for two events.”

“I like white and I like the idea of using them for the holy day,” I said.

“Good,” said Ursus, draining the rest of his wine. “I’ll conduct the service and Alanus will assist me. Rest assured that we’ll do all we can to make this day just as you want it.” He paused. “It is customary to list as one of the benefits of marriage the begetting of children. Do you have any objections?”

I felt the blood drain from my head. No child could ever replace Theodosius. But to enter into marriage, even one such as this, was to make a commitment to raising a family.

“I…” I hesitated and Alanus jumped in.

“I wonder if I might speak honestly?” he asked.

Looking at Ursus with a raised eyebrow, I said drily, “I would think that the clergy would always speak honestly?”

“Indeed, Nobilissima,” Alanus said, his face flushing with confusion. “I meant, perhaps, bluntly. I hope that you’ll decide to start a family as soon as possible. There are so many benefits to accrue from the production of children, and I’d hope that there is no reason for you to…” he faltered. “Not have children.”

I stared at the priest with astonishment.

“There was only one child with Ataulf,” he said, plunging on. “And I know that childlessness is an affliction for many women. The lady Aurelia, for example.”

My blood felt like ice. “How would you know of such a thing?”

I knew that Aurelia was sad that she would never have children, but she rarely spoke of it and never asked for sympathy.

The priest shrugged. “People talk,” he said, “and it is my job to listen.”

“You’d do better not to listen to palace gossip,” I replied. “So are we finished here?”

Bishop Ursus heaved his bulk from the couch and bent his head over  my hand. “I’ll ensure all is as you require, Nobilissima.”

Chapter 33

Constantius returned to the palace the day before the wedding, went directly to his room, and spent the evening dining with Marcus and a group of senior military friends. I was relieved. Anxiety had left my stomach in knots and I wanted to be alone with Aurelia and Sylvia.

I slept badly and woke when it was still dark outside. My dreams had been of Ataulf and Theodosius and I felt again a terrible sense of guilt that I was betraying them. I sat in my bed while a servant lit the lamps, and Sylvia, still groggy with sleep, roused herself and ordered food to be brought to the chamber. While we waited, the first cold light of dawn crept into the room, killing the warmth of the candle glow. The wind keened at the windows, like a child crying. Shivering, I pulled on a cloak and made a half-hearted attempt to eat while the servants lit the braziers.

“Let’s go to the baths,” suggested Sylvia. ‘You won’t have time later on, and the caldarium will be warmer than here.”

I agreed and, accompanied by a group of servants, we entered the palace’s elegant bath house. Several women helped me to disrobe while one pinned up my hair. Another wrapped a linen sheet around me and slid linen slippers on to my feet.

“Lavender or white lily today, ma’am?” one of the women asked Sylvia. The bath servants never addressed me directly.

“Lily,” said Sylvia. With a nod, the servant hurried away to retrieve jars of lily-scented oil and cream, which she arranged on a table nearby.

“Come in with me, Sylvia,” I urged. “I don’t like being in the water alone.”

Together, we entered the caldarium and I felt the chill melting from my bones. After a quick soak in the hot water, we sat on benches in the steamy room, while the women rubbed my skin with oil and wiped it clean with scented cloths.

“Remember our time with the Goths,” I said to Sylvia, “when you did everything for me: dressing, bathing, brushing and pinning up my hair? Did you mind?”

“Mind?” exclaimed Sylvia. “I loved it. Better than this, where everyone has a task and there’s hell to pay if you do something you’re not supposed to, even by accident.”

“Yes, I’m not fond of the formality. You’ve seen that I’ve now been assigned a servant whose only job is to tell me what the weather is doing?  And I have two clock servants. At least they always agree on what the time is.”

Sylvia laughed and we stood up to make our way to the frigidarium. “I hate this part,” said Sylvia, dipping just one toe in the cold pool. “Maybe I’ll skip it today.”

“Not me,” I said drily. “The cold water is good for tightening the skin and I may as well look my best for this afternoon.”

It took the rest of the morning to prepare for the wedding ceremony. Servants were waiting in my rooms to attend to my makeup and hair, while another anointed me with perfume. Sylvia insisted on helping me dress, however, and shooed the others from the room before slipping the cream silk gown over my shoulders and securing it with matching emerald pins that brought out the color of my eyes. I put on an ornate emerald necklace and silk shoes embellished with emeralds. Sylvia stood and looked, my head on one side.

“Not bad,” she said. “You look beautiful.”

Aurelia was shown in, stunning in a blue linen gown that highlighted her glowing golden hair and blue eyes. She caught my hands in her own and kissed me on the cheek. “How are you feeling?”

“Well enough, I suppose. None of that excited fluttering I felt when I married Ataulf. This is different, more like going to an official occasion for someone else.”

Aurelia squeezed my hand tightly. “I’ll be standing right behind you.” She paused. “I don’t think you should wear that gold pendant. Just the emerald necklace.”

I touched the pendant. “I never take it off.”

“For today, I think you should. It’s likely that Constantius knows it was a gift from Ataulf. It’d be better not to flaunt it on your wedding day. And then Constantius will be traveling again and you can wear it whenever you want to.”

I nodded and Sylvia gently unclasped it from my neck and placed it in my jewelry box.

I looked around the room with sadness. While I was at the ceremony, the servants would move all of my personal items to my new rooms, the ones I would share with Constantius. I would miss this place, which had been mine since I was a young girl. I stood at the door and silently said goodbye to the walls with their flowery frescos and to the dolphin mosaic on the floor.

We made the short journey by carriage to the Cathedral. The weather had worsened and rain drove against the windows like fistfuls of gravel. The sky was black, lit only by occasional bolts of lightning. Exiting the carriage, I was surrounded by a score of servants holding capes and parasols to protect me from the rain but the wind seemed to want to tear my gown from my body. Then, entering through the narthex, I felt the peace and silence of the church, sheltering me from the angry elements. A thousand candles had been lit, filling the space with warm effulgence and the sweet smell of wax. Although the invitation list had been limited, the church was packed to capacity, full of nobles, dignitaries, clergymen and military leaders. Honorius sat on a red velvet covered throne at the front, and stood when I entered. Constantius stood at his side, resplendent in his military uniform. The contrast of their scarlet robes with the white linens and flowers was striking.