Love, Eternally (6 page)

“Business.” Honorius’s tone was flat with boredom. “Whatever is so important?”

The general came forward and went down on one knee, holding out Gigiperrin’s blue dress for inspection. Magnus’s guts twisted, and he hoped the bloodstains were only from her beating in the baptistery, and nothing more.

“Great Emperor Honorius,” Stilicho said, “I believe the woman is a high status barbarian, not only because of the silk, but because it is unusually and beautifully sewn, the stitches so regular and fine that even your royal seamstresses were filled with amazement. Look here, these round fasteners are made of mother of pearl — and of an ingenious design. They fit into small slits sewn on the opposite side, closing the seam. And there is a patch of fabric tucked inside with strange words — Vera Wang.”

“Wang?” Honorius screwed up his face. “It sounds absurd. A barbarous word, to be sure.”

General Constantius stepped forward, eyes protruding from his broad head. “We must address the woman’s wanton vulgarity. Your Majesty, I could barely stay my sword when she, when she mentioned — ”

Honorius raised his hand, cutting Constantius off.

As Magnus watched, a flush crept up the emperor’s neck. Magnus guessed it was not from embarrassment, but from pure anger. Was it justified? He recalled how Gigiperrin looked when she was dragged before Honorius. Her vulnerability and fear were apparent, and he speculated at her use of the offending word. There was another possibility; “fascinating” might not mean
fascinum
in her tongue. And yet, word of what she’d said was already circulating in the streets. Returning from the baths, he’d seen graffiti depicting Honorius with a huge, erect, horse-like
fascinum
, which he’d quickly ordered erased from several walls near the palace. In the coming days … well, Magnus knew it might be best to keep the emperor occupied here, so he did not travel about Ravenna, see the outrageous drawings and seek out Gigiperrin for more punishment.

“The woman is a beautiful enchantress, Constantius,” the emperor continued with a sly smile, “possibly a professional. We heard her playing wonderful music before she appeared at the door, and we are determined to hear more. Besides, there are many mysteries in need of answers. We would know where Horace went and if she had some part in his disappearance.” Honorius waved his hand. “And what of her golden flute and this marvelous ring? They are of a very fine and curious manufacture. Our imperial jewelers are unable to say how the gem was shaped with so many planes and angles. In fact, everything about her is quite unusual.” He glanced around, then honed in on Magnus. “You questioned her. What have you learned?”

Magnus wondered how much he should reveal. He walked forward, then hesitated, eyeing the bird droppings on the carpet. He bowed and was relieved when Honorius didn’t motion him to his knees. “
Imperator Honorius, Serenissimus
… the woman does not speak Latin. Therefore, I — ”

“Come, come,” Honorius flipped another chunk of apple toward his hen, “you speak Greek and several of the heathen tongues. Surely, you understood something she said?”

Give him a crumb
, Magnus told himself, watching the bird peck.
Anything to gain more time.
“I believe I have learned her name.” He paused.

“And?”

“Gigiperrin, her name is Gigiperrin.”

“My God, how do you pronounce such,” Honorius laughed, “such tripe? That name is more barbarous to our ears than Wang.”

“Your Majesty?” Still on one knee, Stilicho shifted uncomfortably. “I would question her alone. You charged me with the investigation. Might I humbly remind you that I, too, know the old tongues of Gaul and the Burgund lands?”

Honorius stared for a moment, then said, “No, we think not. We shall leave that task to our friend here.” He nodded to Magnus and smiled.

Although Magnus kept his expression neutral, his heart exulted. “Great Emperor,” he said, “with your permission, I will visit her again after this meeting.”

“Please do. Find out how much she is enjoying her kitchen duties. Perhaps scullion work will convince her to play for us, eh? Just make sure you don’t use the opportunity to sample her charms.” He turned and peered at the others. “That applies to all of you. She is ours.”

Magnus nodded with the rest, even as he ground his teeth at the man’s foul insinuations.

The emperor laughed, then reached down to pet his bird. “Ah, Rome dearest,” he said tenderly, “we think scullery work shall break her pride nicely, don’t you?”

• • •

Gigi’s desperation was beyond anything she had ever experienced. Two days since her concert for the mayor’s wife, two days since all the insanity started in the baptistery, and now she was up to her elbows in slimy eel entrails, trying not to throw up. The heat pouring from the cooking hearths was unbearable, and she swiped at the sweat dripping into her eyes. At least no one had put a slave collar on her yet. The thought made her feel sick. But there was something even worse.

Gigi glanced at a blond girl standing nearby. She’d been branded with an “F” on her forehead, the scar still an angry welt, swollen and red. Who could do such a thing to anyone, let alone a girl? But she knew exactly who could, and hazarded another glance at the poor thing’s face. Her features were twisted in permanent pain, all traces of youthful prettiness gone. She couldn’t be more than sixteen or seventeen. Gigi’s heart surged with pity for her.

The other kitchen slaves were by comparison better off, but not by much. In the immediate area, Gigi was part of a wretched assembly line made up of four women and her. The first, the one with the brand, plucked eels from a barrel; the next, a short, swarthy girl with deep circles beneath her eyes, beheaded each eel with a knife, then slit it open; after her, a gaunt, older woman hung the carcasses over a basin to catch the blood; Gigi, fourth in line, tore the guts barehanded out of the drained eels; and after her, a gray-haired slave cut the eels into pieces.

One of the cooks already had several pans of eel bits sizzling in olive oil. Gigi noticed a delicious smell had started to replace the reek of blood. Her stomach growled.

She heard a sudden commotion at the door, a flurry of words exchanged between the guards and someone else. Gigi knew who it was and glanced up as he pushed past the guards and into the kitchen. His blue eyes searched everywhere until they locked on her face.

Gigi’s heart beat hard and fast. Magnus! His warmth reached out to her from across the room.

The moment was shattered when Spoon Lady hurried forward and rapped Gigi hard on the knuckles.

“Ouch!” Gigi yelped and lowered her eyes.

Magnus let loose a torrent of sharp words at Spoon Lady, and she replied in a sickeningly sweet voice. Gigi risked a peek. The woman cringed before Magnus, who glared back. She meekly gestured for him to follow her to another room.

Once they left, Gigi glanced sidelong at the other slaves. None of them dared look up, except for the swarthy girl, who gave Gigi a sharp nod, indicating she should get back to work. Gigi did just that. The woman next to her pushed another headless eel her way.

“Gigiperrin?”

She jumped, then turned and looked straight into Magnus’s eyes.

He stood several feet away. His eyes held no trace of warmth as he surveyed the dead eel, and her bloody arms and hands. Gigi noticed everyone in the kitchen stood stock-still, staring at the floor. After a moment of silence, she felt a touch on her sleeve. Gigi flinched, but this time Spoon Lady seemed apologetic and led her into another room. She indicated a bucket of water there and motioned for Gigi to clean up, then left.

Gigi was stooped over, washing her arms, when Magnus approached.

“Gigiperrin?” he repeated, smiling.

She straightened, studying his eyes. They were filled with the same caring warmth she had sensed when he arrived.

“
Salve
, er,
hails, Gigiperrin
,” he said.

His voice was gentle, a sweet caress to her ears. She closed her eyes, daring herself to believe he could help. He smelled wonderful, a powdery scent that reminded her of incense. She hoped the reek of blood on her own skin wasn’t too apparent.

She opened her eyes to his smile. “You smell good,” she said in English, then lowered her gaze, embarrassed she’d spoken out, and self-conscious about her appearance, especially in light of his perfect grooming: his well-manicured hands, his tanned skin devoid of hair and looking polished, his body chiseled like a statue.

“Gigiperrin?”

“Oh, my name is Gigi … Perrin. Don’t run it all together. Gigi … Perrin.” It was a relief to talk without the ever-present threat of the spoon, and she reveled at this bit of freedom. “Gigi. It was my father’s idea. He adored the musical. My real name is Geneviève, but you can call me Gigi.” She knew she was rambling, and that he couldn’t possibly understand, but she didn’t care.

He was silent for a moment. “Gigi,” he nodded, “Gigi.”

She laughed, thrilled he’d actually gotten something from her words. “Yeah, me Gigi. You Magnus.” She decided to ask him a question that had been nagging her, a crazy thought, something so weird, so unsettling she hadn’t wanted to face it.

“
Quelle année est-elle?
” she ventured in French. When he didn’t respond, she went for broke and added, “What year is it?
Année?
”

Magnus’s brow furrowed as he pondered her question, but then his eyes widened. “
Anno?
” he asked.

She nodded, listening to his rapid string of indecipherable words ending with
Imperator Honorius.

What the — ? Did he mean … why mention that jerk?

Then Gigi sucked in her breath. Mind reeling, she recalled reading about Honorius at the baptistery. That’s where she’d first heard the name.
Of course — Emperor Honorius
.

And the brochure had mentioned something about the 400s.

A.D.
400? Gigi’s pulse pounded as she grabbed Magnus, her limbs rubbery. “This isn’t a joke, is it? Is it?” Her words tumbled out, frantic. “No, no, no!”

Almost fainting, she clung to his robe, then lost her grip, her knees buckling.

He held her, preventing her fall, and then pulled her to him. She felt the warmth of his cheek touching hers, heard him whisper, “Gigi.”

“Help me,” she whispered back as she sank into dark, blessed nothingness.

• • •

Magnus lowered the unconscious woman to the floor. He was struck to his core by her beauty, her features gentle and peaceful, as if innocent sleep had overtaken her and not the torments of the waking world. He touched her cheek — her skin was soft and warm beneath his fingers — and felt humbled by her vulnerability. What had caused her such panic? He hadn’t understood most of her words, or her questioning of the year, which was a strange gap in basic knowledge that seemed at odds with her obvious intelligence. Had his first instincts been right all along? Was she a divine being, newly come to Earth? That would explain much.

He studied her face. She was perfection, even in rags. She shifted slightly as he watched her, and a ring on a golden chain rolled out from beneath her clothes and onto the floor beside her head. He gaped. Was it — could it be
his
ring? He picked it up to examine it more closely, and his shock was justified. It was identical to the one given him by Theodosius — but that one had vanished six years before! His ring was unique, bestowed by his emperor. There were no others like it; no copies were made of such momentous gifts, ever. By the gods, how had she come to possess it, lost as it was, among the bodies and gore on the battlefield?

He could hardly breathe. Who was this woman? He had wondered if she might be Venus reborn. Or was she sent by Victoria instead? Was he back in the good graces of his goddess? Or, might Victoria herself have come to him in human guise?

Whatever — whoever — she was, Magnus vowed to care for her, to keep her safe. He didn’t dare touch the ring. Victoria would see fit to bestow it again, when — and if — she deemed him worthy.

Magnus lifted the mysterious woman in his arms, then glanced around for somewhere to put her. “Silvia!” he yelled. The kitchen overseer appeared at the door and he glared at her. “Where does she sleep?”

Silvia hesitated. “She has not yet slept here.”

He narrowed his eyes. “Tonight. Show me where she will sleep tonight.”

Shaking, Silvia motioned with her spoon, leading Magnus to the slave quarters. Several women rested there — the kitchen night shift, he assumed — and they immediately roused upon seeing him, alarm replacing exhaustion.

He placed Gigi on a cot and then rounded on Silvia, “Woman, I shall hold you personally responsible for this one, and I will expect reports from you on her good health — daily reports. Treat her well. Her person is inviolate, as are her possessions. Touch nothing of hers.”

“
Dominus
, I am your servant.” Silvia dropped to her knees and kissed the hem of his toga.

The others watched their overseer in silence, but Magnus could see the hatred flashing in their eyes.
Best not to encourage rebellion
, he decided.

He cleared his throat and pointed to the slave women slowly, one by one. “You there, and you, I charge you, each and every one of you, with making certain she is not harmed or in any way abused. Tell the other slaves this goes for them as well. And by the infernal Styx, someone teach her our tongue!”

The looks on their faces told Magnus his orders would be followed to the letter.

He turned on his heel and left, hoping the next time he sought Gigiperrin she would be able to speak with him, for he yearned to know more about her, who she really was.

• • •

Gigi came to with a start. She felt disoriented and weak as she touched her chest. Her grandfather’s ring still hung beneath her shift and she sighed in relief. Her hand strayed to her neck, but she already knew the answer — no slave collar. She closed her eyes, listening to the conversation outside.