Nobilissima (30 page)

I held my hand against the stone for a second or two longer, and turned to look at the small sarcophagus that lay next to Ataulf’s tomb. Inside the stone enclosure lay the tiny silver casket that held my infant son. Blinking away hot tears, I leaned over and kissed the stone. “I’ll be back,” I whispered. “I promise.”

I followed the captain out of the crypt and through the nave towards the entrance. Morning light poured in through the windows of the clerestory that ran the length of the nave, painting the interior with hues of pink and gold. Every few seconds, the huge doors shook, but they held firm. Suddenly, a rock burst through one of the windows of the clerestory and broken glass rained down on us. At once, Maximus rushed us all forward towards the font. He glanced up. “No windows above us here,” he said, then he ran towards the other three men and they leaned forward to speak together.

A second rock crashed to the stone floor amid a cascade of glass, followed quickly by another. Through the broken windows came the clamor of battle: the clatter of sword on shield and the sharp clang of blade against blade, the blaring horns, shouting, and the occasional scream of the mortally wounded.

“We can’t go out there,” said Maximus. “We must wait for the fighting in the plaza to be over.”

For an hour, Sylvia and I crouched together near the font. The Bishop knelt nearby, and the doctor had joined the soldiers at the door. The battering at the doors continued and occasionally an iron bar was dislodged and fell to the ground. Each time, the soldiers lifted it back into place. The doors held.

I judged that it was near the sixth hour when the battering ram stopped. Warm air drifted in through the shattered windows and shards of glass on the floor glinted in the bright light that filled the nave of the church. The sudden absence of noise at the doors was as startling as the onset of it had been. Then I realized that the din of fighting had stopped too. Getting to my feet, I joined the soldiers who were having a whispered but heated conversation.

“What do you think?” I asked.

Maximus glanced at the men beside him. “We have to find out, one way or the other.”

“Then we should open the doors,” I said.

“I need your permission to do that, Your Highness.”

I nodded.

He and another soldier lifted an iron bar from its socket and set it on the ground.

“What are you doing?” demanded Speratus, rushing towards us.

“Opening the doors,” said Maximus. “We need to know if Wallia has been victorious.”

“And if he hasn’t? If that silence signifies the death of the brave Wallia’s troops, what then?”

Maximus glanced at me and I answered on his behalf. “Bishop, whatever awaits us out there is already decided. Our only option is go find out what it is.”

The soldiers removed the last of the iron bars and unlocked the doors. Maximus pulled open one door a few inches and peered out. “My God,” he murmured.

“What? What is it?” demanded Speratus.

“Hard to tell. See for yourself.”

He pulled the door further open and I stepped forward to look out. The small square in front of the church was littered with bodies. I thought there must be a hundred or more of them. A soldier lay face down on the top step, one hand outstretched and almost touching the door. His other arm had been cut off at the shoulder and blood pooled around him, glistening purple in the bright sunlight.

“Is he one of ours?” I whispered, awed at the vision of so much death.

Maximus shook his head. “It’s impossible to know. This is civil war, nothing I’ve ever experienced before. Goths fighting Goths. Stupid.” He kicked at the body and I put my hand on his arm to calm him.

“It seems we must venture further out to find out what has happened,” I said, taking a determined step or two outside. After the coolness of the church, the heat was like a blow to my body.

“Come, Sylvia. Follow me.”

I walked down the steps away from the church, listening to the Bishop beseech me to return, Sylvia and the four soldiers at my heels. I stepped over bodies and walked around them until I reached the center of the small square, where suddenly, I felt marooned as though by water. Blood lay thick on the ground and already my sandals and the hem of the red cloak were wet with it.

Voices from an adjacent street put the soldiers on full alert. They moved closer to me and drew their swords when a dozen or more citizens appeared at the edge of the square, cheering and waving their arms. As I stared at them, trying to decipher what they were shouting, I heard horses galloping towards us, their hooves ringing against the cobblestones. Maximus and his men tensed.

Five horsemen burst out of the mouth of an alleyway and wheeled to a halt to survey the carnage in front of them. The leader picked his way slowly through the bodies, sword drawn and then rammed it back into its sheath as he came closer.

“Your Highness?” he called.

Maximus shifted his weight on his feet. “Do you know who that is?”

I shook my head.

“I am Portius, tribune in the army of Wallia. He sent me to find you. The battle is won.” He held out a seal for me to look at. I glanced at Maximus. I had no idea whether the seal was genuine or not but I wanted to believe that Wallia had taken the city.

“We’ll come with you,” I said.

Maximus and his men grouped themselves around me. “Allow Her Highness to ride because she’s injured,” he said and Portius, nodded, jumping to the ground and assisting me to mount his horse. With Sylvia, Speratus and the guards following, we rode out of the blood-soaked square, through street filling with citizens who ventured from their houses as news of Wallia’s victory spread.

Several hours later, bathed and dressed in a clean robe with soft sandals on my feet, I sat on a couch opposite Wallia. He was a stocky, thickset man with broad shoulders and wavy blonde hair, somewhat older than my husband had been. Behind him stood Felix, with one arm bound in bandages. He looked tired but jubilant.

“Your husband was a great leader and we have lost him at a crucial point in our history,” Wallia said.

I reached forward and touched his hand. “You must take up his crown and his cause,” I answered. “The army and the people support you.”

“The crown of a kingdom that may yet be lost,” he said. “We all dreamed of Aquitaine but that was taken from us.”

“The fault of that contemptible Constantius,” I said. “Wallia, I intend to return to Ravenna. It is what Ataulf wanted and there I can do more good than I can here. I’ll do everything possible to broker a deal between you and Honorius. I believe that I can convince him.”

I stood. “I’ll leave tomorrow,” I told him. “Felix will accompany me.”

Wallia nodded, then stood and bowed to me. “The people love you, Your Highness, and want you to stay. But you’re right that you can achieve more by returning to the imperial court. You have the fate of the Visigoth nation in your hands, and the support of every man, woman and child. God speed and keep you safe.”

Chapter 28

We traveled the Via Augusta during daylight hours, stopping at night to rest the horses and allow Felix and our bodyguards to catch a few hours of sleep. The men pitched tents and lit cooking fires with impressive speed and efficiency. It reminded me of the long journey towards Sicilia and made me realize how much I missed Aurelia. I had written to her before leaving and planned to visit her in Rome before continuing on to Ravenna.

The first few days passed without incident and we made good time. Felix preferred riding his horse but occasionally joined Sylvia and me in the carriage, where he filled in the details of the days that had passed after Ataulf’s murder. Sigeric had quickly drawn up a list of the generals most likely to support Wallia and had ordered them killed. Felix was at the top of the list and so he had gone into hiding while plotting with Wallia on the best way to take the city.

“I felt badly about disappearing,” he told me. “But I knew more than anyone else about Sigeric’s military placements, the numbers of soldiers, and who we could count on to take our side. I had to help Wallia but I abandoned you to the dreadful mercies of Sigeric.”

I patted his hand with affection. “And you rescued us,” I reminded him. “You did more than anyone could have expected. I’ll miss you when we leave Narbo.”

We planned to spend a couple of days resting at the villa of my old friend, Ingenuus, and then we would part ways, Felix to return to Barcino while Sylvia and I rode on with the bodyguards to Ravenna.

We made good progress. The road was busy with horsemen and people on foot, some pushing carts of produce or driving small herds of sheep ahead of them. Some of them watched with curiosity as the carriage and its escort of bodyguards passed by but there was no sign of any hostility towards us. We were traveling through gentle terrain with wide vistas of the sea shimmering below. One afternoon, I told the driver to stop for a while so that I could gather some of rosemary and lavender that grew in fragrant profusion alongside the road.

After we had collected what we wanted, I paused to look out over the sea. It was the same water that lapped at the walls of Barcino, where Ataulf and Theodosius lay. How could I leave them behind? What was I thinking of, to run away from the place where we had so happily lived together? I felt as though I was betraying them. In a panic, I turned to Sylvia. “We have to go back. I can’t leave my family behind. Tell Felix, please.”

“But,” began Sylvia.

“Don’t argue. Please do as I say. Why did I even think of returning to Ravenna? I must have been out of my mind with grief. My place is with the Goths now and Wallia would welcome me back, I know. I can help him to continue Ataulf’s plans for settling the people.”

“The Goths won’t stay in Hispania for long.” It was Felix, who had walked up behind us. “And I will not take you back to Barcino.”

He sniffed the air. “Can you smell that smoke? That is from the fires of the Sueves up on the plains. They are moving south, just as the Alanis and the Franks are. And they’re all fighting for land and control. There will be many battles here before this country can be settled again."

“Then the Goths are in danger?” I asked.

He shrugged. “Yes, but no more than we were before we left Germania. No more than we would have been had we made it to North Africa. No more, maybe, than we would be in Aquitania. We are just one of many tribes fighting for space. Rome’s power is diminishing in these areas, leaving a hole, empty of law or order, and so there must be periods of upheaval until the void is filled.”

“You seem very accepting of your fate,” I said.

“It’s just a fact of life, Your Highness. And it’s the reason why you must leave Hispania and continue to Ravenna.”

“I’m not sure that’s what I want to do after all,” I said.

Felix put out his arms and pulled me into a quick embrace, crushing my  lavender against his bronze cuirass. I breathed in the scent, remembering how it grew too in the gardens of Ravenna.

He released me and took a step back, looking sheepishly at the broken stems of the herbs. “I’m sorry, Your Highness. You remind me of my own daughter, who would be your age now. She would never listen to me and always thought she knew best.” His eyes were sad and he answered the question that I was about to ask. “She’s dead. Killed by Frankish bandits. But that’s no matter now. What does matter is for you to remember you have a place to fill, and that place is back in the heart of the Empire. Ravenna is where you can do some good. Remember your promise to Wallia to have Aquitania returned to the Goths? You should do that and more besides. The Empire is going to face more serious threats than even the Goths. It’s no good pretending that it’s not happening, as your brother is prone to do. You have suffered and survived more than he ever can. With that experience, your education and wisdom, you’ll be able to do what is needed.”

It was the longest speech I had ever heard from Felix and rather than answer with more words, I simply put my arms around him and kissed him on the cheek. I doubted that I would ever achieve what Felix thought I could, but I would at least try. His confidence in me touched my heart.

“Thank you,” I said. “Then let’s make haste to continue our journey.”

Our arrival into Narbo was quiet and unheralded, which was the way I wanted it. When we passed through the gates of the city, in spite of my promise to Felix, I felt a burden of sadness weighing me down. With evening falling, I gathered a coverlet around me and leaned my head against the wall of the carriage. I’d never thought I would return here without Ataulf; the place where we had celebrated the success of our hard-won negotiation with Honorius now seemed dark and dull, empty of any promise or hope.

The carriage rattled up the driveway to Ingenuus’ villa and I roused myself. I remembered the old Prefect with affection and determined to show him my gratitude for once again welcoming me into his home. Descending from the carriage, I followed Felix into the atrium. The house glowed with candles and lamps, and the passageways were noisy with the bustle of servants and guards. I suppressed a small sigh of frustration. I’d hoped for a quiet dinner with Ingenuus and the chance to retire early, but it seemed that he had planned a more elaborate evening.