Nobilissima (42 page)

“A writ like that requires an imperial signature,” I objected, and then stopped when Ursus nodded his head.

“Honorius signed it,” he said. “Alanus went to him privately and obtained his approval. I only found out this evening when Alanus showed me the document.”

“You were supposed to keep him away from the palace and out of the way,” I stormed, furious at both Alanus and Ursus. “How could he have managed to get a private audience with Honorius without my knowing?”

Ursus shrugged.

“We’ll deal with him later,” I said. “For now, we have to stop the violence. Bring me parchment and pen and I’ll sign an order. Call the tribune of the guard here at once.”

Within minutes I’d given the tribune a signed writ declaring the persecution illegal.

“Round up everyone, take away their weapons, and put them in jail or whatever you have to do,” I ordered.

“And Ursus, you find Alanus and get him out of Ravenna. I don’t care where he goes but he needs to leave immediately. I’ll file an official complaint with the Pope.”

Ursus raised his hand to object, but I ignored him. “In fact, on second thoughts, I want him sent to North Africa. He can clean up down there to his heart’s content. Make it happen, because if I see him I’ll throw him in jail for subversion, illegal protest and assault.”

Ursus sank on to a stool that stood against a wall and held his hand to his chest.

“No excuses,” I warned.

Without waiting for a response, I swept out of the chamber and into my carriage, with Aurelia hurrying to keep up. It was a struggle to keep my anger under control. That Alanus had gone directly to Honorius was bad enough. That Honorius had signed the writ without conferring with Constantius or myself was unbelievable. I wondered what else my brother had signed that he hadn’t bothered to tell me about.

Chapter 37

When we reached my apartments, Sylvia was there, looking nervous. “The children are fine,” she said quickly, “but Constantius is not well. The doctors came to look for you and asked that you go to his room at once.”

My first reaction was one of frustration. I needed to talk with Constantius about what had happened that evening and what I’d learned about Honorius. It wasn’t a good time for my husband to be sick. Quickly removing my cloak, I crossed the hallway to his private room. A guard opened the door for me and I entered. A few lamps were lit, casting deep shadows in the purple-draped room. A single lamp illuminated a group of bearded men huddled around the bed, where Constantius lay propped up on pillows. His face was pale.

“Is that you, Placidia?” he called. I stepped forward and the doctors fell back to give me space.

“I heard you are unwell,” I said, trying to keep my voice soft.

“It’s a big fuss about nothing,” he said. “I ate some bad oysters earlier today, that’s all. I’ve survived countless battles and numerous injuries and I have no intention of staying in bed because of some old seafood.” He paused and took a breath that rasped in his chest. “I heard that there was a problem in the city this evening.”

“I’ve dealt with it,” I said, still aware of my racing pulse. “In fact, I need to talk with you about something that I discovered.”

One of the doctors coughed and I stopped.

“His Imperial Highness should rest, Augusta,” he said, while the others fidgeted and looked uneasy. “And we have a few examinations we would like to perform, with your permission.”

“No, no examinations,” said Constantius. “Tell them, Placidia. I just need a good night’s sleep and I’ll be fine in the morning.”

The doctors all turned to look at me with enquiring looks on their faces. In their dark robes, they reminded me of blackbirds. I was tempted to shoo them away but Constantius’s skin was gray and I thought it was more than a touch of food poisoning. “You may conduct your tests as quickly as possible,” I said. “And then I’ll return to sit with my husband for the night.”

I left the room, feeling taut and uneasy and wishing I could have shared my news about Alanus with my husband. I knew he would be as furious as I’d been, and that he’d find a way to confront Honorius over the secret writ. Aurelia was waiting for me in my room and looked worried when I told her about Constantius.

“He has been looking a little unwell of late,” she said.

“I hadn’t noticed,” I admitted.

“But I’m sure it’s just what he says it is,” Aurelia tried to assure me. “A bad oyster can unman even the strongest of warriors. The doctors know how to deal with that.”

I nodded, unable to shake off the tension that tightened my shoulders and made my stomach queasy.

An hour later, I grew impatient of waiting for the doctors to complete their tests and went back to Constantius’ room. In the crepuscular light, I saw that he was still sitting up but his eyes were closed. I moved into the glow of the lamp and took his hand. It was cold and clammy.

“Well?” I asked the doctors. “What do your tests tell you?”

They looked at each other uncertainly. “We believe that His Imperial Highness has an affliction of the heart,” one of them said. His voice shook. “His heart beat is irregular and he appears to be having some trouble with his breathing.”

“Then do what you must to correct it,” I said.

The men nodded and began to move around the room, fiddling with jars and bottles of herbs.

“You can make him better, can’t you?” I said, but no one answered.

I kept hold of Constantius’s hand and talked to him quietly. “I don’t know if you can hear me, but it’s going to be all right. The doctors here are the finest. You just need to rest and tomorrow you’ll be better.”

He didn’t respond and I kept talking. “I haven’t been the most loving wife to you. We both know that. But I respect you and we have made a good partnership together, don’t you think?” I squeezed his hand. “We have much still to do. More than you know even. Honorius does things behind our backs and we need to keep better watch on him. But never mind that now. We can deal with him together in a day or two. I’ve sent Alanus away so he can do no more harm and I’ll tell you the whole story when you feel better.”

The doctors had stopped making any pretense of fussing over their medications and stood quietly in the darkness.

“Keep working,” I said sharply to them and watched until I was sure they had resumed their tasks.

“So, husband, you must rest and get better quickly. I have ideas for us both to spend more time together and with the children too. They would love to see more of you, and you can teach Valentinian how to ride a horse. He’s old enough for that now.”

Constantius stirred and opened his eyes. He looked at me and spoke in a low, halting voice. “I’ve always loved you, Placidia. I’ve done a bad job of showing it, and hope you can forgive me for it.”

His eyes closed and he sighed deeply as though a wave of long-held regrets had overcome him.

I gripped his hand tightly. “Constantius.”

A doctor approached the bed and with a shaking hand felt Constantius’s forehead, and then held a mirror under his nose to watch his breath condense on the glass. There was no sign of expelled air. In a panic, I leaned over him. “Constantius, wake up.”

“Do something!” I commanded. The doctor put his hand on Constantius’s chest and felt for a pulse in his wrist. After an excruciating wait, he shook his head. “There is nothing to be done, Augusta.”

The other doctors stood motionless and silent. The stillness in the room was intense, broken only by the sound of a candle guttering in its holder. Dazed with disbelief, I fought back the sobs that stopped up my throat. It couldn’t happen again. I’d lost one husband and had made peace with myself about marrying a second time. To be widowed again and so soon seemed impossible.

After a few minutes, one of the doctors gently pulled me away from the bed.

“Please take this,” he said, holding out a vial of liquid. “It will help you to sleep and rest the mind.”

I drank the bitter potion and allowed myself be led back to my room where Aurelia waited for me. She settled me into bed, while Sylvia ordered milk with honey.

“It’s not fair,” I began, but my eyes wouldn’t stay open and my tongue felt swollen.

I woke up early to find Sylvia sleeping beside me, holding my hand. I lay still for a few minutes, trying to comprehend what had happened. It was like a bad dream. I imagined that at any minute Constantius would walk in and laugh at me for letting a nightmare get the better of me. But the door remained closed and there was no sound from the hallways. I realized that the servants would be waiting for instructions, afraid to follow their usual routines until I told them what to do. I sat up in bed and saw Sylvia stirring beside me. There would be a funeral, of course. It made my head ache to think of how many people would want to come. And I had to talk to the children. They would take it badly, but not as badly as Honorius. I wondered if anyone had told him yet.

With a sense of dread for what the day would bring, I swung my feet to the floor. The marble was cold and I shivered. Sylvia woke up and jumped out of bed, searching for a robe and for slippers.

“Here you are,” she said, helping me to put them on. “I’m sorry. I don’t even know what to say.” Tears rolled down her cheeks.

“I didn’t think you cared for Constantius that much,” I said.

“I’m not crying for him. I’m crying for you. Sit there and don’t move. I’m going to ring the bell for breakfast and I want a doctor to come take a look at you.”

“No doctors,” I said firmly. “But call for my scribe. I have to send messages to the Pope and to Ursus and probably a thousand other people. I need Marcus back here too. Can you have Aurelia come in to help me?”

Sylvia eyed me. “You should be resting, not worrying about talking to people. Word will get out soon enough.”

I sighed. “I know.”

“Eat first and then I’ll bring the scribe in,” offered Sylvia. “What about the children? Shall I fetch them?”

“Yes, they should hear it from me before some servant blurts it out in front of them.”

Sylvia opened the door and issued instructions to a group of servants who were waiting outside.

Within minutes the room began to fill up with servers bearing food. The children wandered in, looking sleepy and grumpy about being woken early. I patted the bed. “Come and sit here with me,” I told them.

“I’m hungry,” whined Honoria, but Valentinian climbed up on the bed and turned his face up to mine. “What is it, mama? We never see you in the mornings. Are we going on a trip?”

“No, sweetheart,” I said. It was going to be hard to say the words out loud. “Your father was taken ill. He…” I stopped and stared into Valentinian’s brown eyes. “He’s dead. I’m sorry.”

“Dead?” Honoria howled. She broke into tears and flung herself to the floor.

Valentinian looked confused. “You mean he’s not here any more? I’m not going to see him again?”

I shook my head and pulled Valentinian tight against me. His little body quivered and I felt his tears soaking into my robe.

Sylvia came over and picked the boy up. “Come on. You need to eat and then we’re going to play outside before the rain comes.”

“All right,” he said and blew a kiss to me. His grief seemed forgotten already.

It took two women to retrieve the screaming Honoria from the floor and carry her from the room. They passed Aurelia, who was on her way in.

“I’m so sorry,” she said. She looked pale and had dark circles under her eyes. I guessed that she hadn’t slept well.

“I’m going to need your help,” I said. “There’s so much to organize.”

By evening time, we’d sent urgent couriers to call Marcus back to Ravenna and had arranged the funeral. Ursus came to receive instructions for the service. Following my outburst the night before, he initially seemed a little wary of me but soon returned to his usual kindly self.

“It’s only been five years since we arranged your wedding, Augusta. I’m distressed to be here to discuss your husband’s funeral. You have my sincerest condolences.”

Five years, I thought. The time had flown by. My husband and I’d been raised to the highest possible rank in the Empire and had two children. And now it was over. I’d never loved Constantius but his loss hurt me more than I’d ever imagined. Life without him felt unsure, like a cold, unlit road stretching in front me.

After the funeral, I returned to my duties, glad of the distraction. Honorius was cantankerous and sullen.

“It isn’t the same without Constantius,” he complained a week after the funeral. “He should have taken better care of his health. I made him co-Emperor for life and it is most inconvenient to be without him so soon.”

“I’m sure he didn’t die just to make you unhappy,” I replied, appalled by my brother’s selfishness.

“Well, it does make me unhappy,” he retorted. “And now I have to be here all the time to be sure you are doing things properly.”

But soon he began to miss the daily audiences and spent more time with Valentinian playing dice and feeding the chickens. The two of them walked the hens each day through the corridors of the palace. Valentinian thought this was very entertaining, but I heard the scornful laughter of the courtiers and blushed in embarrassment for my brother.