Nobilissima (9 page)

“Patience is not one of my greater virtues,” I said with a tight smile.

“I know that,” agreed Aurelia. “But we’ll do our best and meanwhile, we must eat and sleep.”

I could not eat, but must have slept, and awoke to find the dinner platter cleared and a new tray of day old bread with a jug of warm milk on the table. Pale grey sky showed through the opening and a dank smell of smoke and soot hung in the air. I threw off the cloak I’d slept in and gazed in dismay at my gown, which was rumpled and torn, the hem stained black with the blood that clotted it.

“I have to change, “ I said. “I wish I could bathe. Imagine a hot tub of scented water, with clean linens to step into.”

Aurelia laughed. “Your optimism may be dented, but your imagination isn’t, I’m glad to see. Here, Sylvia will find you a clean gown in that bundle of hers, and you must eat this morning because you didn’t last night.”

We ate the bread hungrily, though it was stale, and drank the milk, which was still fresh. Sylvia helped me dress, rebraided my hair and pinched my cheeks to put some color into them.

“Perfect.” she declared. “You look imperial again.”

I prepared in my head the speech I intended to give when our captors arrived, but as the morning wore on, I had nothing to do but pace from one end of the room to the other.

“They can’t mean just to leave us here,” I cried. “I need to contact Honorius and let him know what’s happening. We must be allowed to send a message to him and to Marcus. Do you think that Alaric has forgotten about us?”

The hours passed slowly, with nothing to mark them but my anxious pacing. Aurelia had brought with her some of her precious embroidery in the bundle she had carried from the palace. She took the needlework out and worked on it. Usually, she loved to sew and would work silently, engrossed in her work. Today, she dropped needles and muttered under her breath, once or twice flinging the linen on the floor and eventually retrieving it.

Sylvia would not stop talking. “It’s the gods’ doing, that’s what it is. They’re angry that we have abandoned them and now they’re punishing us. People can’t just turn their backs on the gods and pretend they don’t exist any more.”

I was of the mind to find something to gag her with but, with relief, heard footsteps outside followed by a bang on the door. The guard pushed it open but it was just the young girl who had come the night before.

“Dinner,” she said, placing another tray on the table.

“Take it away,” I said, trying to keep my voice calm. “I don’t want food, I want to talk to Alaric or that brother-in-law of his. I want writing tools so I can communicate with my brother.”

The girl cowered and said nothing but ran from the room quickly.

“Eat,” said Aurelia, looking up from her needlework.

“How can you see to do that in this horrible room?” I retorted, still pacing and growing increasingly frantic. “I’m a prisoner, this is so uncivilized.”

Sylvia stopped talking for long enough to grab some food. There was more stale bread and some dried fruit. The wine was heavily watered. The room grew darker and I realized that the fires must be dying down, as the sky was black outside. The pitiful lamps barely cast enough light for Aurelia to continue sewing and the chill of the room was pervasive.

Finally, I slept fitfully again and woke to see the same small oblong of dull, grey sky. Aurelia was still asleep, uncomfortably perched on the couch, with her needlework lying on her lap. I went over and stroked a few blonde hairs back from her forehead and laid a cloak gently over her. Sylvia had finally dropped off to sleep, curled up in a pile of cloaks in the corner of the room.

I listened for a minute and realized that it was very quiet. The shouting and screaming had stopped and there were no sounds of horses in the streets. I went to the door to listen but could hear nothing. With excitement, I wondered if the barbarians had left the city. Holding my breath, I put my hand to the knob on the door, slowly turning it. Immediately there was a clatter outside and the door was opened violently, almost pushing me to the ground. One of the guards looked in and grunted at me, then pulled the door closed with a bang. Infuriated, I beat on the door with my fists.

“ I need to talk to Alaric,” I shouted. “I need to talk to your chief, your leader. Do you understand me?”

There was no response and the door didn’t reopen. Slowly I slid to the ground, my back to the door, giving into tears of frustration. “I need to talk to someone,” I yelled, waking Aurelia and Sylvia who bolted from their sleep as though chased by demons.

Within an hour, my wish was granted. A gentle knock at the door was followed by the appearance of Alaric himself. I tried to hide my tear-stained face and swollen eyes by standing in the shadows.

“I must communicate with my brother, the Emperor,” I said before he had the chance to say anything.

“Agreed,” said Alaric, and called out to the guards at the door. There was a long silence. Alaric did not seem uncomfortable, but merely gazed at the strip of sky visible through the opening, hands at his side. He turned suddenly to look at me. He was almost a foot taller than me, and his height combined with his erect posture and piercing blue eyes were quite intimidating.

“You should know,” he said, “that we plan to leave the city tomorrow.”

I looked at him, without understanding. “You’re leaving Rome?”

“We are leaving,” he said, “and that includes you and all our hostages. There’s no food left here. We’ll move south to seek shelter for the winter and food for everyone.”

“But you said you would return me for a ransom,” I protested.

“I will, when the ransom is paid. Your brother will know where to find us, and we can settle accounts when he is ready. For now, you must prepare for the journey. Ah, here’s the parchment you’ll need to write your message.”

The young girl entered, bearing an armful of writing materials. She bowed and curtsied and turned to run from the room as soon as Sylvia had taken the things from her.

“Please inform your brother that I’ll be sending him a demand for your ransom and that you’ll then go home safe and unharmed,” said Alaric. “I assume you’ll have the ransom paid for your ladies?”

I nodded, and he turned to leave but added, “I’ll send in a messenger shortly to collect your letters. And be ready at first light in the morning. Try to eat and sleep tonight as the journey will be long and hard.”

“Leaving Rome,” I said when the door was closed again. “He must be mad. There will be Roman armies hounding him the minute he leaves the gates.”

Aurelia smiled for the first time in three days. “Obviously, he’s not as clever as he looks. We just have to be patient and wait for our release. Every Roman soldier within a hundred miles will be looking out for you, and will do all they can to free us and the other hostages. “

I laid out the parchment and looked at the pen and ink for a moment.  “Or maybe not,” I said quietly. “There seems to be no sign of Roman resistance. We don’t know what has become of Marcus and his troops. If Honorius doesn’t send reinforcements quickly, it’s possible that we’ll remain captive for quite some time. Aurelia, do you think Honorius might abandon us and not send any soldiers?”

Aurelia stood and came to me, putting her arms around my shoulders. “I think it’s possible. He did nothing to protect Rome from the siege and threat of attack and he may do nothing now. Our hopes must lie with Marcus to bring all the troops he can muster to secure the freedom of the hostages and to protect other cities from the Goth rampages.”

“And my ransom? Will Honorius pay that, do you think?” I felt as though I already knew the answer. I saw it confirmed in Aurelia’s wide, blue eyes, which looked at me with compassion.

“I think it’s possible that he won’t pay the ransom, but Marcus will negotiate with Alaric. You’ll be freed, I, I promise.”

In spite of Aurelia’s assurances, I felt lost and vulnerable. My brother, one of my few surviving relatives, would not protect me. I would have to rely on my own resources and the love of my friends. I pushed the parchment away and put the pen back on the table. I wouldn’t write a letter begging Honorius to save me. He would know soon enough of my situation and how much the ransom would be. He could choose to help me or not. Standing, I smiled at my dearest friend.

“We’ll do this our own way,” I said.

In spite of Alaric’s advice, I ate little and barely slept. The small hard bed was uncomfortable and every time I closed my eyes, I saw images from my past. My father held me in his arms and stroked my hair, telling me that I was the most precious thing in his life. Half-awake, I wept to think of all he had done to unite the Empire that was now being ripped apart. I thought of my beautiful, gentle mother and was glad she was not here to see this, and I remembered Serena spitting and cursing at me. All night, I tossed and turned, wishing for morning to come and dreading it at the same time.

As soon as dawn broke and a feeble light poked into the corners of the room, I dressed quickly and pulled my cloak tight against the chill of the morning. I woke Aurelia and Sylvia gently and, not long afterwards, the young girl crept in, still groggy with sleep, to give us a bread roll each and a jug of watery wine. Then she dug into a pocket in her tunic and gave us a handful of dried apricots.

“These are the last,” she said. “ The kitchens are bare. Those soldiers have eaten everything.”

I thanked her and asked if she would be coming with us. “ No,”  she said, “I have been released to go to my own people near the northern border. A party of us leaves today. I bid you goodbye, Nobilissima, and wish you well.”

Her words were interrupted by the arrival of four dour Goth soldiers who told the girl to leave at once. They grunted their instructions, and indicated that we should follow them. Gathering up our few belongings and bundling them inside the cloaks, we followed them out of the room.

I stopped at the door to take one last look at the small room that had been my prison. I was sure I would come to miss its comparative comfort and safety in the ordeal that lay ahead.

Chapter 11

The guards marched us quickly through the corridors of the villa towards the atrium. The house, once beautiful, was a pigsty. The elegant furnishings were gone, the marble floors soiled, mosaics wantonly destroyed. Blood was smeared on the walls and the woven hangings were torn or ripped away. When we reached the atrium, a foul smell filled the air, and I saw that the pool was clogged with floating debris and the bloated body of a dog.

The guards hurried us into the gardens, and I tried not to look as we passed several dead soldiers, one flung backwards across a manicured hedge, eyes wide and staring. When we came to the gates, another unit of ten or more Goth guards fell in line behind us. No one spoke and they set a brisk pace that left us almost running to keep up. Sylvia’s sandal came off and she bent to retrieve it, but a guard quickly pulled her to her feet and pushed her forward. I grasped her arm to support her as we marched away from the villa, and down towards the Circus Maximus. Not far away was the palace, its walls shining in the early morning light. From where I stood, it looked peaceful and serene.

The air was hazy, the lingering smell of smoke still sharp and bitter. Pushed along by the soldiers, we reached the main road and stopped, prevented from crossing by a huge caravan of horses and riders, carts, carriages, coaches and open wagons, strung along the road into the far distance. The carts closest to us were piled high with furniture taken from the affluent villas on the hill, and with chests spilling gold plates and strings of gems. On one cart, beautifully embroidered cushions were piled on top of trunks bursting with coins and jewelry. A marble statue of some former Emperor was propped up between two chests, weighing down the cart so that the boards sagged in the middle.

Flanking the carts were dense throngs of people on foot. They seemed to be the families of the barbarian soldiers, strangely clad women, children and older men.
Rome had long been a melting pot of nationalities but the sheer number of Goths in one place made me realize that Rome had truly been invaded for the first time in its history. Loathing welled in my
stomach and I felt the bile rising in my throat. The scope of the damage and slaughter was hard to comprehend.

The guards watched the cavalcade of wagons passing for a few minutes, and then seemed to remember we were there. One of them prodded us back into motion and we walked along the crowded street until we reached another small group of Roman captives. Most of them stood still, not talking, just staring at the procession. But one woman was sobbing and calling out a name, repeating it over and over again. I recognized her as Justinia, wife of one of the senators, and made my way towards her.

“Oh, Nobilissima,” cried the woman. “They took my child. She let go of my hand for just a moment and those barbarians seized her. I haven’t seen her since last night.”

She began to wail again, inconsolable, and I drew her into my arms and tried to comfort her.

“Nobilissima.” A man’s voice attracted my attention and I released Justinia into the care of Aurelia and Sylvia. The man bowed his head. “I am distressed to see you here, Nobilissima,” he said. “It’s an outrage that the Goths would take you prisoner.”

It was Septimus, one of the senators who had remained in Rome to assist Gardius.