Nobilissima (40 page)

I held my breath, my mind running over the possible meaning of what Honorius was saying. I glanced at Constantius, whose face showed no reaction at all. Honorius shooed the bird off his leg and sat upright.

“I have decided to make Constantius co-Emperor with myself,” he announced. He leaned forward and stared at me.

“That is what you want, is it not, sister?”

I didn’t reply but bent down on one knee in front of him. Constantius followed suit.

“Your Imperial Highness, I humbly accept this great honor,” he said. “I will do all in my power to assist you.”

Honorius waved a hand to silence him. “ Of course you will. Otherwise I would not be appointing you.” He took a swallow of wine and looked at me.

“You shall be Augusta. We both need your brains to keep things straight.”

While I struggled to digest this news, Honorius stood up. “I think we should go to Rome at once to have this declared in front of the Senate. I hate the place personally but we need only stay for a few days. I’ll have the arrangements made. That’s it. You can leave now and call for my servants on your way out.”

Excused from his presence, we hurried from the room and along the corridors until we were out of earshot. Constantius stopped walking and turned to me.

“What do you think?” he asked. “Am I really co-Emperor?”

I hesitated, trying to sort out my thoughts.

“I don’t know,” I said finally. “There were no witnesses and Honorius had been drinking. He could forget it all by tomorrow and no one would ever take our word that he’d ever said such a thing. I think it’s too early to celebrate.”

Constantius nodded his agreement but his eyes shone. “Just imagine, “ he said. “To be Augustus. I never dreamed it could happen.”

“I did,” I said, leading the way back to our apartments.

Chapter 36

The following morning, Valentinian came to our bed, crying. “Honoria stole my spinning top,” he whined. “Make her give it back to me.”

Constantius sat up and frowned at his son. “Stop crying, Valentinian,” he commanded. “Boys don’t cry over lost toys, for God’s sake!”

I got out of bed and bent to hug my son. “I’ll get it back for you,” I whispered and led him to the door of the bedroom. A nanny stood outside, looking frightened. “I’m sorry, Nobilissima. I tried to stop him running in but…”

“Take him for now. I’ll be out soon,” I said. I had slept badly, torn between wanting to believe what Honorius had said, and knowing that it was unlikely that he meant it. He loved wielding power and I couldn’t imagine him diluting his position by appointing a co-Emperor. It didn’t make much sense and in the dawn light, seemed almost impossible.

I pulled on a robe and sat on the edge of the bed.

“The children are turning into brats,” Constantius growled. “They run circles around the nannies and fight all the time. I can’t stand to listen to the constant whining.”

“Maybe you should spend more time with them,” I suggested tartly. “They might benefit from your influence.”

A heavy silence fell between us. I knew we were both on edge and afraid to bring up the meeting with Honorius. I guessed that Constantius had slept as badly as I had, and that he had spent hours imagining himself in the role of Emperor, just as I had.

“We should go to the audience chamber as usual,” I suggested.

“Not yet,” he said. “I can’t face the disappointment if we walk in and Honorius says nothing.”

I leaned over and patted his arm. “It’s better to find out now,” I said. “I can’t stand the uncertainty any longer.”

A knock on the door made me jump. “Come,” I called.

A messenger edged into the room, his eyes on the floor. He held a silver platter in front of him, on which rested a folded document bearing Honorius’s seal. I took it with a trembling hand and dismissed the messenger.

I gave it to Constantius. “You open it.”

He stared at the parchment for a few seconds and then tore it open. I watched his eyes move across the script.

“What does it say?” I asked, impatiently. I was tempted to seize the letter and read it for myself.

He looked up me and I knew from his expression.

“You can call me Augustus from now on,” he said with a broad smile.

I leaned over to embrace him. “Bravo, husband,” I said.

“Brava, Augusta,” he whispered back to me.

Honorius later sent word that we were to leave for Rome within the week. I asked Aurelia to accompany me, and Sylvia offered to stay behind to help watch the children. Marcus remained as the most senior official in the palace while the Emperor and his new co-Emperor traveled.

“Someone has to watch the ship while you’re all celebrating,” Marcus said while Aurelia supervised the servants who were packing clothes into a chest.

“What do you think of this move of Honorius?” I asked.

“I think it’s interesting that he recognizes his loss of influence,” said Marcus, watching Aurelia refold a gown that one of the girls had just done. “He knows that Constantius is popular and has general support from both the military and the Senate. The esteem in which he is held will reflect well upon the office of the Emperor and should restore some of the luster to the crown.”

“Sylvia’s opinion is that Honorius is lazy and doesn’t want to work so hard,” said Aurelia.

Marcus smiled. “There’s some truth in that, but we’ve had lazy Emperors before, and he could have continued as things were, with Constantius and Placidia doing most of the work while he kept all the power. No, I have to say that I think he’s made an intelligent decision.”

“You probably shouldn’t sound so surprised,” I said and everyone laughed.

Aurelia embraced her husband warmly. “I wish you were coming too,” she said. “But I’ll return as soon as the ceremony is over. Look after that leg and no running around after the maids while I’m gone.”

Marcus’s eyes twinkled. “Not even one?” he teased.

The Emperor and his entourage led the procession of carriages and horses that left Ravenna along streets lined with cheering citizens. Aurelia and I traveled together, and Constantius chose to ride his favorite horse. I hadn’t left Ravenna since my escape from Hispania and I enjoyed watching the countryside roll by. Piles of old snow lingered at the edges of the roads, and the trees were still bare. Occasionally, I saw brave clumps of primroses pushing up through the wet soil, a cheerful portent of spring. We crossed through the Apennines, which split the peninsula down the middle like a huge bumpy backbone. At altitude, I could see nothing through the dense, cold mist, but the weather cleared as we came down from the hills and Rome was spread out before me in the distance.

Aurelia and I didn’t speak when we entered through the Salarian Gate. There was nothing to indicate that this was the place where the Goths had begun the sack of Rome, but the memories of that night were strong; the smoke, the roar of the fires, the debris and the smell of death. By contrast, the city now glistened in the sunlight and proudly displayed clean roads, restored buildings and swathes of green grass in public parks.

I noticed that many of the new buildings were churches. One was still under construction and we stopped to admire brickwork that rose in high columns, ready to be clad with shining marble and creamy limestone. Below, in the foundations, I saw the old ruins of an ancient temple of Mithras. And so we obliterate one religion and hide it from sight, I thought. I wondered if Christianity would share the same fate one day.

We were to stay in the old palace on the Palatine Hill, our former residence. It had been cleaned and cared for since its assault by the Goths, but retained the slightly shabby aspect that I’d found so endearing. Covering the terrace where we had first seen the fires on the night of the attack were overgrown vines that hung down in long unkempt strands. There were still chunks of marble missing from the balustrades that bordered the terrace. I shivered to think of the violence we had witnessed from there and ached to remember that this was where I had first met Ataulf.

Aurelia looked uncomfortable as we walked through the corridors to our rooms. All of the damaged statues had been removed, and the torn and burned wall hangings had been taken down. There was no blood on the floor and the walls had been scrubbed clean. But it was all too easy to remember the dreadful sights we had seen that night. We hurried along, the slap of our sandals on the floor echoing in the empty hallways.

Once we had settled into our rooms, we took goblets of wine out to the terrace. Beyond the hills, the sun was setting in a blaze of red, just as it had on the last evening we had spent in Rome.

“I still dream of that night, you know,” I said. “I dream of Alaric and Ataulf both covered in blood, with swords in their hands. It’s as though they are there by my bed and I can reach out and touch them.”

I gazed over the balustrade. “I wonder how my life would be if they had lived. If Alaric hadn’t died, Ataulf would probably also still be alive. I can’t stop thinking that. I wish I could go back and change things.”

“But if you could, what would you change?” asked Aurelia. “Would you stop the attack by the Goths so that Rome would have been saved? If you did, then you would never have met Ataulf.”

I turned to look at my friend. “You’re right. We can’t reverse just one thing. That one change would affect so many other events. But I can’t help wondering, what was the point? Why did God give me that time with the Goths if it wasn’t going to last? What good did it do?”

“It made you who you are now. It helped to bring you to this moment. You learned so much. You and Ataulf ruled the Goth nation and that experience prepared you to be a ruler again.”

We both leaned on the balustrade to watch the last few rays of the sun threading their rosy way through the graying sky.

“I’m sorry for what you’ve lost,” said Aurelia after a while. “But you have to think about the future now. You’ve worked so hard for this honor and recognition and you deserve it. Now you should enjoy it.”

“I know. And I will. We have so much to do. Just look at what Rome has achieved since the siege and the attack.” I waved my hand across the city spread out in front of us, where hundreds of torchlights flickered in the growing darkness. “They rebuilt what was damaged and restored daily life to what it had been before. We can do this throughout the rest of the Empire, I’m sure of it. North Africa still flourishes under Governor Boniface and the eastern regions of Gallia can be strengthened and reinvigorated. With our new power, we’ll be able to move quickly and get more done. Just think, Aurelia, to be able to see the Empire again as it was in the time of Augustus. Another golden age!”

I squeezed my friend’s arm lightly. “Admit that you share some of my optimism.”

Aurelia laughed. “All right. I agree. With you at the helm, we can change everything.”

The ceremony was held the following morning in the restored Basilica Aemilia and was attended by a host of noblemen and dignitaries. Governors and prefects stood next to generals and admirals, all straining for a glimpse of the new co-Emperor and his Empress. The bright gold, red and white colors of their robes, uniforms and togas dazzled the eye, eclipsing even the brilliance of the Basilica’s frescoed walls and mosaic floors. Candle smoke drifted up into the vaulted ceiling, muting the pale sunlight that shone though the high windows. The air was still, heavy with the scent of candles, and I felt warm in my new gown of pale gold silk, embroidered with purple thread and encrusted with emeralds and pearls.

Accustomed to ceremonial grandeur, I was still surprised to find myself so moved by the proceedings, and so nervous. The palms of my hands were damp, and I felt knots in my stomach. My skin prickled with goosebumps when the officials wrapped a purple robe around my shoulders and placed a golden crown on my head. I turned my head to watch as Constantius was crowned. His head was held high and still, and his hands gripped the arms of the throne tightly. Obviously, he was as nervous as I was. Honorius, fortunately, appeared to be enjoying himself. He sat straight, but with a smile on his face. Our father would have been so proud, I thought, to see his son and his daughter sitting side by side on thrones, sharing power. It’s what he would have wanted.

After a full day and night of celebrations and feasting, Honorius announced that he was ready to leave Rome. I guessed that he was anxious to immure himself inside the protective battlements of Ravenna as soon as possible. Constantius was to ride with him, while Aurelia and I arranged to stay for an extra day so that I could meet with the Pope and spend some time with our old friend, Senator Gardius. Both were delighted with my new status. As friends, they were happy for me personally, but I knew that my increased position of power was also something that they hoped to benefit from in the coming years. I didn’t blame them. Everyone aspired to greater influence, or to be connected to someone with greater influence. It was the way that Rome had always worked.

“Here,” Aurelia said, when we were settled in the carriage on the morning of our return. “I bought some trinkets for us to take home to the children.”

“I hope they behaved themselves properly,” I said, already preoccupied with thoughts of my new responsibilities.