Nobilissima (23 page)

“Thanks be to God,” I said. “I can’t wait to be moving again.”

“It won’t be easy,” he warned me. “The scouts say that to get to the pass, we must cross a saddleback with sheer drop-offs on each side. It will be dangerous and we’ll have to move carefully.”

“Anything will be better than being trapped in this tent,” I said, jumping to my feet. “I’m going to pack and I’ll be ready to leave the minute you give the word.”

I had to be patient, however, as it took several days to dismantle the camp and load the wagons and carts. Finally, the great caravan began to move, but progress was slow. The road wound steeply uphill through the rocky terrain. In parts it was narrow and crumbling at the edges where streams of melting snow had washed the rocks away. I became accustomed to the heart-stopping sound of stones falling from above and prayed constantly that none would hit the carriage where Theodosius slept on Sylvia’s lap.

On the first day of the ascent a dozen carts lost wheels on the tough and unforgiving trail and the cavalcade halted while repairs were made. The nights were the hardest. There was nowhere to camp, and the people stretched out on the ground or slept sitting upright, their backs against boulders. Large stones were used to wedge the wheels of the carts and carriages in place so that they wouldn’t slide backwards. Even so, I found it hard to sleep, nervous about the constant rockfalls from above and the howls of wolves in the distance.

By the afternoon of the third day, the saddleback was in sight and it took my breath away. The road ran like a narrow ribbon strung across the ridge, with drops of several hundred feet on each side. From where I stood, it didn’t seem possible that the road was wide enough to accommodate the carriages, but Ataulf assured me that we would travel across with room to spare.

I watched while the first unit of horsemen cantered across the ridge and then gathered on the other side to await the wagons. Ataulf had lined up the horse-drawn vehicles to make the crossing in single file. Our coach was third in line and I stood by the door to watch the first of the wagons traverse the saddleback. With relief, I saw them reach the other side and pull over to a grassy area on the wide plateau. Around me, the Goths cheered and applauded, no doubt feeling better about their own crossing still to come. At a whistle from my driver, I climbed back into the carriage and felt it jolt into motion.

Sylvia still held the sleeping baby, and Taiga sat next to her, stroking his hair. I glanced out of the window and quickly averted my eyes. From where I sat, the ground fell away precipitously and I glimpsed the tops of trees in the valley below.

“Don’t look,” I advised Taiga who had turned her head towards the window. “The view will make you dizzy.”

Taiga nodded and then screamed as the carriage lurched to one side. For a terrifying moment, I thought it would tip over, but after several gut-wrenching shifts back and forth, it seemed to right itself. Taiga had turned white and Sylvia was biting her lip, grasping the baby tightly.

“It’s all right…” I began, but a shout from the driver brought my heart to my throat. Seconds later, the carriage tilted again, canting over until, with a shriek of splitting wood, it fell. The impact threw us against the carriage side and then the carriage was dragged along the ground by the whinnying horses. I heard a scream from outside and then Theodosius began to cry. Gravel and dirt flew in through the open window and the din of wood scraping against the road was deafening.

We slowed and then came to a stop and I heard a commotion of hoof beats and men shouting.

“Is the baby safe?” I asked Sylvia who lay beside me with Theodosius clasped to her chest. Sylvia lifted him a few inches and he laughed, as though she was playing a game with him.

“He’s not hurt.” Sylvia’s voice shook.

“Thank God,” I said. “Are you all right, Sylvia?”

“I’m fine. ”

There were scrabbling noises outside and seconds later, the door, which was now above our heads, was pulled open. Daylight flooded into the carriage, and then a face appeared in the opening. It was the driver.

“Nobilissima, is anyone injured? Can you stand so we can help you out?”

I managed to pull myself into a sitting position and wriggled away to give Sylvia room to move. “Let me send Theodosius up first,” I said. Sylvia passed the baby to me and I reached up to place him in the strong hands of the driver.

“Don’t you dare drop him,” I warned. The driver lifted the child clear of the carriage and I heard exclamations of relief from our rescuers outside. The driver reappeared seconds later.

“Will you permit me to pull you up, Nobilissima?”

“Yes, but please take Sylvia first,” I replied and put a hand under Sylvia’s elbow to help push her up. Sylvia groaned when she put weight on her foot.

“What is it?” I asked.

“My ankle, but it’s nothing to worry about.”

“Be careful,” I said to the driver. “Sylvia is hurt.”

He grunted and pulled Sylvia up through the opening. I moved over to help Taiga, who seemed to be wedged under the bench that Sylvia and I had been sitting on earlier. She lay with her back to me, her head out of sight under the woven hanging that covered the seat.

“Come on, Taiga,” I said. “Can you get out from under there?”

There was no answer and I crawled closer.

“Taiga?” I said and then again more loudly. “Taiga!”

I reached over and pulled up the cloth. There was a puddle of blood around Taiga’s head, and her blonde hair was dark with it. I let out a scream.

“What is it, Nobilissima?” asked the driver. “Will you stand so that I can get you out?”

“It’s Taiga,” I said. My heart pounded and I felt sick. “She’s injured badly and you’ll need some help to lift her.”

“Then I’ll get you out first to make some room for myself and another helper,” he said. “Quickly now, if you please.”

I reached out and touched Taiga’s pale cheek. “You’ll be all right,” I whispered.

Scrambling to my feet, I allowed the man to put both hands under my arms and pull me clear of the carriage. A group of men stood close by to help me down to the ground, where a woman was already attending to Sylvia’s ankle and another held Theodosius. I took the baby and looked around, trying to understand what had happened.

The carriage lay just inches from the edge of the precipice, and there was no sign of the horses that had pulled it. The axle was shattered into pieces. I shuddered and crouched down next to Sylvia.

“Does it hurt much?” I asked.

“Hardly at all,” said Sylvia bravely. She looked towards the carriage. “Where’s Taiga?”

“She was hurt. It looks as though she banged her head. The men are bringing her out now.”

We watched in silence while a group of men carried Taiga from the overturned carriage and laid her gently on the ground. One of the women tore strips of cloth from her dress and wrapped them around Taiga’s head but the blood seeped through immediately. The sounds of galloping hooves caught my attention and I watched Ataulf pull his horse to a halt and jump down. In a couple of strides he covered the space between us and caught me in his arms.

“They told me your carriage had turned over. Thank God you and the baby are safe.”

“Taiga is hurt,” I said.

He turned around and the women attending Taiga moved out of his way. He knelt beside her and stroked her face. Her eyes were closed and her skin was white. Only the slightest movement of her chest gave any sign that she still lived.

“Call for the doctors,” he said.

“They are on their way, my lord,” said one.

I gave Theodosius back to Sylvia, and went to speak to the women who still hovered near Ataulf and Taiga.

“Leave them,” I commanded. Obediently, the women moved away, and I turned away too. I was very close to the edge of the precipice, but it no longer scared me. In the valley below, thick forests stretched to the horizon, their vivid green foliage fading to grey in the hazy distance. The sky was blue but crowded with soft white clouds that barely moved in the still air. There was nothing to remind me of death, no violent storm as there had been on the day Taiga’s husband had died. My heart clenched when I thought of how desperately Taiga had grieved for Alaric.

I turned to see a thin, dark man arrive, carrying a satchel. Stumbling on the gravel road, he hurried to Ataulf and began to unwind the makeshift bandage from Taiga’s head. Unable to watch, I turned again to the view in front of me and blotted out all thought. I counted the clouds until I heard movements behind me. The doctor was standing up, wiping his hands on his tunic and Taiga’s limp body looked tiny and fragile on the rocky ground.

Ataulf climbed to his feet and gestured to two of the women to take his place at Taiga’s side. Then he went back towards the overturned carriage.

“What happened here?” he shouted at the people who had gathered around. “Where’s the driver of the carriage? He’ll die for this.”

“My lord.” A soldier took a step forward. “I was here. A wheel came loose, and the driver did all he could to avert the accident. The horses panicked and bolted when the carriage started tilting over. They were running close to the edge of the road and the driver managed to hold them straight at first.”

He stopped. I saw that he was trembling under the gaze of his king. Ataulf’s eyes burned with anger.

“Continue,” said Ataulf.

“When the carriage tipped over, the driver managed to jump free. I ran to help him and together we were able to cut the ties that held the horses to the carriage. The poor beasts kept going, but the carriage slowed and stopped. I swear, my lord, that the driver prevented those horses from taking the carriage over the edge of the precipice.”

Ataulf nodded. “Then my thanks to you both. But why did the wheel come off? That carriage is constantly inspected.” He looked at me and beckoned me to join him. “I suspect that someone tampered with the axle,” he said.

“Sigeric,” I said. “Who else would do such a thing?”

A shrill cry from one of the women interrupted us and Ataulf swung round to look at her. She was holding Taiga in her arms, and weeping. “She’s dead, she’s dead.”

I saw the pain in my husband’s eyes, but he stood upright and gave orders.

“We’ll bury my sister on the plateau,” he said. “And then we’ll get off this accursed mountain as quickly as we can.”

He stopped, his eyes welling with tears but he blinked them away. “Continue with the crossing,” he told his general. “We need everyone on this side of the pass before nightfall. And send me six of your men to move Taiga and prepare a place for her.”

I walked back to Sylvia and took the baby. He opened his eyes and smiled when he saw me, and the thought of how close he had come to injury or death almost stopped my heart. I tickled him under his chin and he chortled, blissfully unaware of the tragedy that had befallen his family.

It was only an hour later that we gathered to say goodbye to Taiga. Ataulf had chosen a spot in the shelter of an overhanging rock and he placed Taiga’s body there. It was wrapped from head to toe in strips of white linen. After the Arian priest had recited a prayer, Ataulf placed a smooth round stone over Taiga’s heart. I set a stone above her head, and then, one by one, Sylvia and all of Taiga’s attendants placed rocks in a circle around her. We moved aside to allow Ataulf’s men to bring larger boulders to cover her completely. I shuddered to think of the weight of those cold, granite rocks on that fragile body, though I knew that Taiga felt nothing and that she would be protected from wild animals and the weather by the cairn we had built over her.

Weeping, I walked away from the tomb. Another death to lay at the feet of my brother and Constantius. I would make sure my brother learned of it. But first we had to make the descent into the valley and regain some form of civilized life. I had no vision of what that could mean.

Despite my grief for Taiga and my anxiety about our future, the journey down the mountains was easy. The weather remained fair and each day brought a hint of spring. Birds sang and I sometimes caught sight of goats with newly born kids perched on ledges watching the caravan pass by. Small drifts of snow still remained in the shelter of the massive rocks that dotted the flat ground and the peaks above us were white and often surrounded by thick cloud, but the sun held some warmth and the air was crisp and bright.

Ataulf never rode more than a few hundred yards from my carriage now. He blamed himself for what had happened, convinced that he would have been able to prevent the carriage from overturning if he had been closer. He watched over Theodosius like a mother hen, constantly reminding Sylvia to change the baby’s linens or checking that the nutrix was suckling the baby on a regular schedule.

He told me he’d talked with Sigeric after Taiga’s funeral but Sigeric denied any wrongdoing. He remained with the caravan and Ataulf took no action against him.

After a week of constant travel, Ataulf called a halt. He said we would rest for a few days before riding to Barcino to give the advance party time to meet with the governor of the city and establish whether the Goths would be welcomed as guests or repelled as invaders.

We camped in a high pasture where the grass was green and dotted with tiny white flowers. A stream, fed by melting snow from above, provided abundant water for cooking and washing. The men caught rabbits, goats and boar, and the fires burned all day and all night to cook the food and dry out clothes and tents after months of snow and rain.