Love, Eternally (16 page)

• • •

The moon and stars.

Placidia let her gaze wander, seeking comfort in the glorious gold-and-blue mosaics of her ceiling. Hers, indeed, for she had designed it all, down to the very last shimmer of gold. She felt a sudden apprehension as she tried to take it in, to make a lasting memory of this, her favorite room, her sanctuary.

Would she ever return?

She rubbed her eyes, feeling tired, yet she knew she could not rest, for she had to formulate a plan with Magnus. They had to help Gigi. Placidia knew Magnus worshiped her, could read it in his eyes, and she wanted to assist them both.

If she could not hope to marry for love, then she would see them happy, at the least. And someday, when the Visigoths were vanquished and her brother’s mind was captivated by other play, she would make certain those two found each other again.

A knock on the door brought her around. She turned and smiled as Magnus strode toward her.

“Capreae,” he said, excitedly. “I thought of the solution just now in the corridor. My family has a villa there. Gigi will be safe.”

Placidia smiled at Magnus’s reasoning. He knew Honorius almost as well as she did. Her brother would not think of looking there, for he loathed that fair isle, ever since …

She trembled at the remembrance. During a childhood visit, Honorius was horribly stung by a swarm of bees — and swelled up like the odious toad he still was. Indeed, indeed! Once Honorius hated something, he was either consumed by it or forced it from his mind. And Capreae had been banished from his thoughts long, long ago.

“We shall send her to Vada Sabatia,” Placidia said, nodding to Magnus, “then she shall travel south by ship. Capreae is the perfect spot — my brother will not search for Gigi there. He surely won’t.”

She glanced back at her ceiling, the blue tiles the same shade as the famed grotto of Capreae.

She prayed God it was a sign.

• • •

Everything was in an uproar. Gigi hadn’t slept all night, listening to the preparations for departure, thinking about Magnus, and worrying about her future. Now, as light crept into the eastern sky, the commotion was finally dying down. It was nearly time for Placidia’s caravan to head out, and Gigi was ready to go, too.

She glanced at two small satchels resting near the door. All her worldly possessions were inside, augmented somewhat by items Placidia had given her: several sets of undergarments, which resembled bikinis, an extra pair of sandals, a heavy
palla
, and some toiletry items, plus a small pouch filled with gold and silver coins.

Giving in to her raw nerves, Gigi checked again to make sure her flute was safely hidden. Fine. It was fine. After everything, she didn’t want to take the chance of its being damaged. She felt for the mesh bag at her waist. Yes, the ring was secure, too.

Satisfied, she examined herself in the polished bronze mirror and tried again to assess her costume, but the reflection was too distorted to tell her much.
This mirror makes me look like a peeled potato!

Persis had arrived early that morning with Gigi’s disguise: a white dress and lustrous, chestnut-brown wig. The wig wasn’t a costume store joke, either; the hair was real and thick, the wavy tresses falling to Gigi’s mid-back. Even with the bad mirror, she could tell it really changed her looks.

Adjusting the padding added to her hips and belly, Gigi tried to improve the undulating image, to no avail. “I must look awful.” She smiled to herself, crossing her fingers. “And in that case, this just might work.”

A knock sounded at the door, and Persis came in with a veil to complete Gigi’s outfit. “They are expecting you at the front door in a few moments. Your disguise is wonderful, beyond my hopes.”

“Are you sure?”

“It is perfect! You’ll be well hidden — in plain sight of everyone.”

“But what am I supposed to be? It’s so white. I look like a fat bride.”

“Heavens, no! A bride would never wear anything this austere. You are dressed as a priestess of the Ancient Ones, of course. Bend down, for I must settle your veil properly about your head, or people will stare.” Persis shrouded Gigi’s wig. “There, now your guise is complete.”

“All right.” Gigi heaved a sigh. “I don’t want to keep Placidia waiting, and I’d like to say goodbye to Magnus. Is he with her?”

Shaking her head, Persis giggled. “Actually, you have company waiting in the hall. Magnus!”

As if on cue, there was a tap at the door. Magnus came in, gleaming in his white senator’s toga. Persis scurried out as Gigi stared at him, smiling. A vivid recollection of the prior evening’s passions crowded into her head. He was so good-looking, so … there.

His eyes took her in from head to toe. “Ye gods, I could have passed you in the street — reverently, to be sure — but without guessing who you were.”

She turned slowly, giving him a chance to assess all angles.

He grinned. “You look authentic and very different.”

“Good. The padding was Placidia’s idea.”

“The added, er, breadth truly does make you appear shorter.”

“So, you’re saying my butt looks big in this dress?”

He laughed and took her hand, drawing her to him. “I would never disparage the figure of a priestess, and to kiss one is a great violation, but seeing as you are a fraud, it is a violation I am willing to make.”

His lips brushed across her cheek, before finding her mouth, his arms enveloping her. His kiss was deep, sending waves, a storm of desire, crashing through her.

Soon, too soon, he pulled back, his eyes smoldering. He pushed strands of wig hair away from her face. “You are beautiful.”

“Then you’ve gone blind since yesterday,” she whispered, rising up on her toes. “Kiss me again.”

“In a moment,” he smiled, “but first I must tell you of the arrangements we’ve made and why you are dressed as you are. Please, this is important, Gigi.”

Her face felt hot as they drew apart, and she cautioned herself to listen — her life depended on what he was about to say. “Persis said I’m dressed as a priestess of the Ancient Ones.”

“True, but there is a reason beyond a simple disguise,” Magnus said. “Most importantly, as a priestess your person will be inviolate, and additionally this should work because it is blasphemy to impersonate the holy. However, considering your situation, I think the gods will forgive you this once. You must keep the disguise on at all times. You will have an escort near your coach while you travel with Placidia, but don’t expect to engage him — or anyone, for that matter — in conversation, for it could attract unwanted attention.”

“I understand.”

Magnus nodded. “His name is Rufus. He is a pagan, and once the two of you leave the caravan, he will be able to give you some instruction on how to behave should anyone challenge you. Your cover is simple and fitting. You are pilgrims, traveling to worship at an ancient oak grove on the island of Corsica. It is a venerated place and still frequented by the faithful, so the story won’t raise any eyebrows. When it is time to leave Placidia’s company, Rufus will guide you west to the port of Vada Sabatia and then arrange for passage,” he lowered his voice, “to Capreae.”

“Capri? Oh, that’s a wonderful idea!” Gigi exclaimed, then blurted out, “Will you meet me there?”

“No.” He hesitated. “No, but you will be with members of my family. They own a villa on the island, and you will be safe with them.”

Gigi frowned. “No? Then when … when will I see you again? In Rome? Am I going to Rome after that?”

“No.” Magnus touched her wig, playing with one of the dark curls. “You cannot risk going to Rome. Ever. Honorius will be watching. As for when we will see each other again, I cannot say. For good or ill, I am the emperor’s man and must abide by his decisions and direction. With Alaric causing trouble, it could be months or perhaps far longer, if the Fates are unkind.”

“But, but you
will
come to Capri eventually,” her words tumbled out, “because I’ll wait, Magnus, I don’t care how long it takes, I’ll wait for you.”

He looked intently at her for several seconds. “You care for me that much?”

“Of course I do!”

“Then wait for me,” he said, still staring into her eyes. “I am often called to Rome to attend meetings in the Senate. I will find a way to come to Capreae afterward.” His voice grew thick. “I will find a way.”

He wrapped her in his arms, his lips finding hers once more. Hot tears spilled down her cheeks, a match to the heat, the yearning she felt inside. The kiss went on and on, a powerful, lingering kiss, and she abandoned herself to the moment. Feeling the fevered beat of his heart, his body ready, she willingly opened herself and begged for more.

He moaned, eager to comply. His lips roamed on, taking a slow, seductive journey from her throat to the top of her breasts. “You are so beautiful, Gigi, so soft,” he pulled on the drawstring at her neckline, “so captivating.” His tongue explored a nipple before he took it in his mouth, “So … ”

Heat tore through her body, seared her skin, wherever his lips touched her. She was only vaguely aware when someone tapped on the door.

“Ignore them,” Gigi begged. “I want you.”

Another tap. “Time.” It was Persis.

Magnus pressed hard against Gigi, then relaxed, his kisses stilled. “Damn meddling servants.”

Gigi sighed.

“Senator, please,” Persis spoke louder this time. “The princess has asked that Gigi be escorted to her wagon right away. It is time!”

“It would seem so,” Magnus answered in frustration as he pulled back slightly, resting his forehead against Gigi’s. “Alas, my sweet,” he said with resignation, “I must go.”

She looked into his eyes, and her heart skipped at the intensity of his gaze.

With a tender kiss, he helped straighten her gown. “What have you done to me, Gigi? What is this power you wield over my heart? Once I cared for nothing but war, the Empire, but now … ” He touched her face. “Wait for me in Capreae. I’ll get to you somehow. I’ll find an excuse or create one. I promise I shall come to you, when I am able.”

“Soon,” Gigi said, “please, come soon.”

“Upon my life, I will.” He closed his eyes for a moment, then glanced at the door. “We must go. Placidia is waiting for you, and Honorius’s watchers are waiting for me.”

“Magnus, I wish … ”

“Do not wish, but pray, pray the gods are kind.” He hesitated. “I would ask one favor, my Gigi, just one.”

“Anything,” she said earnestly.

“I would request a lock of your golden hair, to keep against my body so I may touch you, have you with me, every moment of every day, until we meet again.”

She was unprepared for the profound effect his words had on her, the depth of his feelings. Trembling, she removed her veil and wig. Magnus drew forth a dagger and cut the strands of hair, then carefully tucked them away in a pouch, and sheathed his knife.

He smiled, but his gaze showed worry. “You are favored by the gods, truly. May they protect you on your journey.” He placed a final kiss on her hand. “
Vale
, sweet one.” Releasing her, he opened the door and left.

Badly shaken, Gigi touched her hair as despair swept over her. Would she ever see Magnus again? She straightened, then tried to fix her wig, but gave herself up to her misery instead. Then Persis was beside her, replacing the wig, the veil, wiping her tears, and coaxing her toward the door.

“Come, sister.” Persis’s voice was quiet. “We must leave.”

“
Vade in pace
, Magnus,” was all Gigi could say. “
Vade in pace
.”

The journey was not the exciting adventure Gigi had imagined it would be. In fact, it was endless, hot, and tedious, and so was Gigi’s horse, a spiritless roan. And the lack of stirrups was driving her nuts! She wondered when they’d been invented. She’d thought about making some and covering them with a blanket, but every time she contemplated it, a vision of her grandfather came to mind, warning her against messing with history.

Two, miserable, feet-dangling days had passed since she’d said goodbye to Placidia, and four since she’d last held Magnus in her arms. Rufus was her only companion now, and he was
boring
. Stern and wary at all times, he was older, perhaps forty-five, but still strong and tough as nails. He rode in cautious silence, even when the open vistas showed nothing more threatening than the occasional cow or goat.

Gigi pulled her veil forward, trying in vain to shield her sunburned face, and stared at the empty landscape. Nothing. Also boring. On top of everything, she felt grimy, her hair oily and matted beneath the dark wig, and her clothes were filthy now, closer to gray than white.

“How much farther, Rufus?” she complained.

He grunted.

“Please tell me, or I’ll keep pestering you.”

He scowled. “Three days, four at the maximum.”

“Four more days just to reach the coast?” Gigi groaned. “Couldn’t we just rent a Ferrari somewhere? We’d get there a lot faster.”

“What did you say? You speak gibberish. None will get you to the port faster than I, and I wouldn’t trust a guide I didn’t know, anyway.”

Gigi grinned, thinking how much worse the misunderstanding would become if she tried to explain. “Never mind, Rufus.”

“We are coming to a river. We will stop there for the midday meal. You will want to bathe. You may use my
sapo
for cleansing. I use it when I’m on the road.”

“Soap? You have real soap?”

“
Sapo
, sister,” he grumbled. “It is pronounced
saaa … po
. You should endeavor to speak less like the blue Picts. Magnus prizes intelligence above all, and good conversation and cleanliness. If you expect to keep his interest — ”

“What? Who do you think you are? You have no right to give me advice about what Magnus likes or doesn’t like. And, by the way, you haven’t given me any opportunity to bathe.”

“You’ll have your opportunity now. As to Magnus, I know very well what he likes. We fought together for many years.” Rufus paused, looking down his nose at her. “I know him
very
well. Indeed, I think far better than you.”