Nobilissima (43 page)

Left to work alone, I was glad that I had little time to dwell on my new state of widowhood.

“You’re working too hard, Placidia,” Aurelia lectured me as we sat together in my rooms one evening. “You have to be careful and not make yourself ill. There are rumors that Constantius died from the stress of the work he undertook.”

I smiled grimly. “If anything, poor Constantius died of boredom,” I said. “He hated the administrative and civil tasks that keep the government running. He had a great intellect but he was too impatient and wanted quick resolutions. Administration doesn’t work that way. The key to resolution is in the detail and in taking the time to convince people of your ideas.”

I stopped and looked at my friend. “Aurelia, I do believe you yawned just now.”

Aurelia blushed. “I’m sorry. I know how important this all is, but it is difficult to get excited about it.”

I laughed. “But I do find it exciting. It’s interesting, a puzzle to solve. I read the law books that Tertius has in the library, and I listen to what the senators and bishops have to say. And Honorius needs more me than ever, now that Constantius is gone and I have to admit I enjoy it. Being so needed.”

After a short silence, Aurelia ventured a question.

“What about Constantius? Do you miss him at all?”

I picked up Apollo, who’d taken a liking to me. He sat on my lap purring loudly and I ran my fingers through his silky fur before replying. “I didn’t love him as I should have, Aurelia. He knew that. I came to respect him finally and we made a good partnership. I miss him as one would miss a colleague, rather than a husband. I have you and Sylvia and Marcus of course, and you three are the dearest people in the world to me. But sometimes, I’m sad that I don’t live like other women. It seems it wasn’t my destiny to marry and love a husband and run a household as my mother did.”

“It’s a cruel fate indeed that would have you widowed twice, Placidia. Only a strong woman could survive such a blow.”

I thought before I answered. I’d spent many hours since Constantius’s death praying to God and receiving no answers. It didn’t seem natural to me to be alone. I’d never been happier than when I had been with Ataulf and I had derived comfort from Constantius’s presence. Yet I couldn’t imagine either falling in love or marrying for a third time.

“I believe that God is punishing me for something,” I said. “Or perhaps Serena’s curse was real.”

“You don’t believe in curses,” said Aurelia. “And if God has a hand in this, I am sure it is because He has something greater in mind for you.”

“I don’t know what that could be. But I have my health, my children and you. I’ll manage, and I’m sure something will turn up to keep life interesting.”

‘I wish you wouldn’t say that,” said Aurelia. “Whenever you make a prediction about the future, it comes to pass. I think we should be content with boring and mundane for a while.”

Chapter 38

Summer faded into autumn and winter came early, full of rain and strong winds. The children, unable to run in the gardens, complained about being indoors all the time. Marcus was away again, and I spent as much time as I could with Aurelia and Sylvia. Their company helped to assuage my regrets for the loss of Constantius and life assumed a comforting, if dull, routine. Honorius was rarely seen in the audience chamber, and I preferred it that way, with less chance of confrontation between us.

It was early March when news came of the death of Pope Innocent. I was saddened; I’d admired him deeply and I called Ursus in to talk about the Pope’s successor. Ursus arrived promptly and settled himself, eagerly accepting a glass of his favorite wine. The day was pleasant; the first hint of spring sunshine fell on the richly colored rugs on the floor and the red cloth on the table, bringing them vividly to life against the muted ivory of the floor and walls. I gave Ursus a few minutes to relax before beginning.

“I’m sure you’re as distressed as I am by the passing of a great Pope,” I said. “What’s important now is that a worthy successor is appointed. I want to add my opinion and make sure it’s heard.”

Ursus shifted in his chair and put his wine down on the table next to him. “I wasn’t aware that the imperial court had any say in the election of a Pope?”

I gave him my most innocent smile. “Dear Ursus, it seems only fair that we interfere in religious matters if the bishops meddle with secular ones, don’t you think?”

Ursus and I had debated the role of the Church in matters of State many times. Although we agreed on many things, this was one topic that always led to friction. The issue that currently irked me the most was the increased tendency for ecclesiastics to represent a citizen in a court of law. The senators had long ago appointed defenders to do this job, but they were overworked and cases could drag on for months or years. If a nobleman had access to an educated bishop who could clearly argue his case, he would take that alternative. And there were plenty of bishops who were eager to offer their services, happy to augment their earnings from the church.

“I’d hardly call it meddling,” he argued.

“But you know I disagree,” I said. “I feel that representing a civilian in court detracts from the image of a bishop as a man of spiritual leadership.”

Ursus sighed and picked up his glass of wine, draining it in one gulp. He seemed resigned to my request.

“I see no reason why you shouldn’t make your choice known,” he said.

“Thank you,” I said and I gestured to a servant to top up the bishop’s glass again, but a guard announced the arrival of Marcus and I gently excused Ursus, promising to invite him for dinner within the week.

Marcus strode in and I jumped up to greet him. He had been away for several months. The death of Constantius meant that all the responsibilities  of the Magister Militum once again rested on his shoulders. He was looking older, with some wrinkles around his eyes and a few gray hairs at his temple. But to me, he was the same young hero who had watched over me after the death of my father.

“Does Aurelia know that you’re back?” I asked while a servant removed his boots for him.

“Not yet. There’s something important I want to talk to you about.”

“Is there a problem?”

“Yes, Gallia is a huge problem. Our defenses are failing against Frankish invasions. We need to send more troops, but that would weaken us somewhere else. We can’t afford to take any forces away from the Danube. I assume you’ve heard stories of the Huns gathering up there? The numbers grow bigger every time we get a report, and they are forcing more and more Germanic tribes to flee west and south.”

In spite of the sunlight, I shivered. Everyone had heard tales of the Huns; their savagery was already the stuff of legend. They dressed in animal skins, ate their food uncooked, and killed their enemies with arrows and spears, not swords.

“That reminds me,” Marcus continued. “You met Aetius, son of Gaudentius, didn’t you? He was also taken hostage during the attack on Rome.”

I thought back and then remembered. Alaric had liked him and let him train with the Goth soldiers. “Yes, an attractive young man but with a sullen demeanor. What became of him?”

“After the Goths freed him, he established quite a reputation as a warrior, and went north to fight with a band of mercenaries, but was captured by the Huns. He’s still with them.”

I was surprised. “I thought they tore their victims to pieces at the first opportunity?”

“Not quite,” said Marcus with a smile. “They keep hostages when they think they can be of some use in negotiations. Aetius been in touch with me several times, offering the services of the Huns as mercenaries.”

“No,” I said. “I can’t imagine us ever being desperate enough to need that kind of assistance. Still, I feel badly for Aetius. His father was a great man. Can we secure his release by paying for it?”

Marcus nodded. “I’ll look into it further and let you know. But I get the impression he’s quite happy with them.”

He stretched his injured leg out in front of him. “Back to the reason why I am here. I think it’s time for me to retire. My leg is getting worse, not better. We need someone younger and more mobile than I can be.”

“No,” I said, wrenching my thoughts back from the Huns and Aetius. I knew that Marcus needed to retire at some point, but hoped for another year or two. “There is no one capable of replacing you, Marcus. This is the time when we need experience and expertise, not someone new and unproven. I’m sorry about your leg but we can get around that. You can delegate some of the fieldwork to your best generals and you can focus on strategic planning.”

Marcus grinned. “I had a feeling you would say that. But to be a good Magister Militum, I have to be out in the field. I have to be fighting, for God’s sake. Not skulking in the palace with bits of parchment and a few good ideas.”

“I can’t imagine anyone less likely to skulk than you, Marcus. Let’s talk about this again in a few months. For now, do as I suggest and send others out to do garrison reviews. You can work wonders from here. And now you should go to Aurelia. She misses you when you’re away.”

“All the more reason for me to retire,” he pointed out.

“She’ll also understand how much we all need you to stay on as Magister.” I felt guilty as I spoke. In truth, Aurelia would probably welcome Marcus’s retirement. She worried about him constantly.

Marcus stood and I watched him walk to the door. It was easy to see that he favored his injured leg even though he tried to hide any sign of a limp. It pained me to see it but I was sure I’d done the right thing in stopping him from resigning. I’d seen what happened to Constantius when he gave up his horse and his weapons. Marcus would wither as well, if he retired too soon. And what I’d said was true. There was no one capable of replacing him.

The new Pope, Zosimus, was elected two weeks later and I invited him to Ravenna. I’d lent my support for his election but I was disappointed when I met him. He was dark, thin and his hooded eyes gave away little of his thoughts or feelings. His tone was acerbic and he didn’t have his predecessor’s sense of humor. He wore a simple red wool robe, with a large wooden cross on a bronze chain and waved away the rich fare offered by the palace kitchens. He shared many of my views, however, and we managed well enough as we discussed the problems facing both State and Church. Ursus joined us, looking splendid in a gold-embroidered red robe with a creamy pallium around his neck, and beaming with joy at having a private audience with both the Pope and the Empress.

After a long day of dry discussions, I was ready for a change and offered to take the Pope to visit my new church. Seeing it always lifted my spirits. I still went regularly to check on its progress, marveling at the fearless stonemasons and bricklayers who worked high inside the cupola and outside on the domed roof. Often I watched the marble craftsmen, who labored under clouds of dust thrown up by their sharp chisels. It was magical to see how they carved perfect, glossy columns out of huge blocks of unpolished stone. I admired the mosaic workers most of all, mesmerized by their painstaking work in placing the tesserae, the tiny, brightly colored cubes of glass and stone, into the wet mortar.

With great pride, I led Zosimus and Ursus on a tour of the building. It was very close to being finished, with only the windows and the entry door still to be installed. Inside, the walls and ceiling were stunning, covered with mosaics in brilliant blues, deep rosy reds, sunny yellows and pure whites. Interspersed among them were stones of sparkling gold. These were my favorite. I had watched as the craftsmen carefully applied gold leaf to each piece of glass and then burnished it to a luminous radiance.

The Pope was clearly impressed. He nodded his head in appreciation of the overall plan of the building, and complimented me on the decoration. “But be sure to keep the altar simple,” he advised me. “I dislike overly ornate altars.”

I promised that I would and his lips curled in what I could interpret as a smile. It was a good time, I thought, to make a request. I’d been thinking of it for a long time, but had not thought it fair to Constantius while he was alive.

My request was to move the coffin and remains of my son, Theodosius, from his resting place in Barcino to St. Peter’s in Rome. I still thought of him every day and remembered every tiny wrinkle in his pudgy arms, the startling blueness of his eyes and his downy blonde hair. I would never go back to Barcino, but I could visit his tomb whenever business took me to Rome. I felt guilty for taking Theodosius from his resting place next to his father, but knew that no one would ever agree to having Ataulf’s body buried in Rome.

The Pope, to my relief, said he’d be delighted to lend his assistance.

“I will conduct the interment service myself, Augusta,” he said, his face grave with sympathy. “As soon as his coffin arrives in Rome, we will arrange for you to come for the service. It will be good for you to be reunited with your baby.”

My resulting happiness was short-lived. The following evening, I attended a dinner given in honor of emissaries from North Africa. Honorius was there, looking better than he had for some time. He wore a robe of heavy purple silk, embroidered with gold and embellished with hundreds of rubies. His crown was also set with rubies, as were his gold sandals. He appeared relaxed and congenial, and chatted with some of the guests. Aurelia and Marcus stayed close to me and I was grateful for their company. I missed Constantius most as my escort at these official dinners. Walking into the banquet hall alone still saddened me.