Nobilissima (49 page)

“My dear Aunt.” Theodosius held out his arms to embrace me. The title of aunt made me sound old, I thought, yet I was only a year older than Pulcheria.

“Welcome to Constantinople. We were horrified to hear about your terrible voyage and the loss of some of your household staff. We’re providing doctors and supplies for the sick and injured. We trust that you and the children are well?”

“Yes, thank you,” I replied and before I could say any more, Pulcheria spoke in a high, thin voice that matched her cold manner. “I hope that your accommodations here are comfortable. You must stay, of course, until renovations on your own palace are finished. I’ve given the foremen instructions to have their men work extra hours to complete the improvements. The palace has been empty for so many years, as you know.”

“Thank you both,” I said. “You are most kind. I’ll try not to presume on your generosity for too long.”

My father had bequeathed to me the palace in which I had grown up, but I had never expected to visit it after moving to Milan at the age of eight. I had many happy memories of the palace, and of my mother, but it was a curious feeling to be moving back into my childhood home. I wondered if it would be a comfortable place to settle if I could see no way to return to Ravenna.

Pulcheria gave a little cough to attract my attention. Theodosius introduced me to his group of advisors, who bowed but did not speak. I had heard the protocol of the court was far stricter than that of Ravenna, and the courtiers rarely spoke unless commanded by the Emperor.

It seemed that no one was inclined to ask any questions about my hasty departure from Ravenna or to raise the question of what I would do now that I was here. Our short and stilted conversation about the summer weather was interrupted by the chime of a bell. Pulcheria looked relieved. “Ah, it is time for us to go to Church,” she said. “I hope that you will join us in future but for today, I’m sure you need to rest.”

She turned to one of her advisors. “Please ensure that the Nobilissima has everything she needs.” She gave me a thin smile and turned to move away.

“Niece,” I said. “I am Augusta of the Western Empire and that is the title I prefer to use.”

Pulcheria frowned. “You aren’t Augusta here,” she replied. “You can’t be Empress of the West now that you are no longer residing there or carrying out your duties. I’d have thought that was obvious. Nobilissima will be satisfactory for your status and title while you are in Constantinople.”

I opened my mouth to object but Pulcheria continued. “Theodosius and I are agreed on this.”

Chapter 44

It was not the right time to argue, so I excused myself and hurried back to the apartments. I was anxious to see how Marcus was doing and I found Aurelia sitting outside his room, her face pale and her eyes ringed with dark smudges. She smiled when she saw me, however, and her voice was brighter than it had been since the night of the storm.

“The doctors are in there, changing the dressing, and they’ve given Marcus something to make him sleep,” she said. “He says he feels a little better now that he’s not subject to the constant motion of the ship and he’s doing well with the medicinal potions that take away some of the pain in his leg. I think he’ll recover, Placidia.”

I hugged, hoping that my gesture would tell her what I couldn’t find the words to say, how much I loved her and Marcus and how guilty I felt at bringing this grief upon them.

“How was the audience with your niece and nephew?” Aurelia asked.

I grimaced a little, enough to make Aurelia laugh. “We have to hope that my palace is ready soon,” I said. “Pulcheria doesn’t want us here for too long. I don’t think she likes me much, and I’m sure she thinks we’ll be too disruptive to her routines and procedures.”

“And she hasn't even met the children yet. Then she’d know what disruptive really means,” said Aurelia.

“I doubt she’ll expect to see them. She runs the court like a monastery, apparently, with strict observance of the liturgy of hours. No one is allowed to speak during meal times and she and her ladies-in-waiting have taken an oath of chastity.”

“Chastity? Good heavens,” exclaimed Aurelia. “And can you imagine our household not talking through dinner? It is a wonder anyone ever manages to eat with all the talking that goes on. At least, that’s the way it was in Ravenna.” Her face fell a little.

“We’ll recreate our court here, Aurelia, with our own customs and traditions. It’ll be fine, you’ll see. For now, we have to pray for the swift recovery of Marcus and the others. I’m going to visit the ladies now. Do you want to come?”

Aurelia tucked her arm in mine and we went to see those who were well enough to have visitors, offering encouragement and hopes for a speedy return to health.

Leaving Aurelia to sit with Marcus, I returned to my rooms to find the children crying. Sylvia was with them, standing with her hands on her hips, glaring at Valentinian.

“You will drink the milk,” she was saying, “or you’ll stand in that corner for the rest of the day.”

Seeing me, Valentinian howled loudly, pointing at Sylvia. “She’s the meanest woman in the whole world, mama. I don’t want to drink any milk.”

Honoria joined in, sobbing theatrically.

“Be good now,” I said, “and maybe Aunt Aurelia will visit you later. Sylvia, they could go without their milk today. The journey has thrown us all off our routines.”

Honoria beamed. “No milk, no milk.” She and her brother danced around the room, taunting Sylvia, who shot poisonous looks at them but said nothing. I’d have to find companions and tutors for them as soon as we were settled in our own residence. Even their disobedience and defiance seemed charming today, however, thankful as I was for their safe passage through the storm.

Once the children were calmer and were playing quietly, I called for a carriage. I wanted to visit the small church of St. Peter and St. Paul to give thanks for surviving the storm. The horse pulled the carriage at a leisurely pace along the wide, tree-lined roads of the city. Warm sunlight poured in through the windows. The sea voyage seemed like a distant nightmare, but I knew that for Marcus and others, the horror would linger for as long as they struggled with their injuries.

I noticed we were on the road that bordered the eastern side of the great Hippodrome. Although there was no racing event today, the gates were open and through them I caught glimpses of the vast arena within. The track encircled a smooth grassy area. Along its center ran a line of tall columns and obelisks, raised by various Emperors to make their mark in this popular place of entertainment. On a sudden whim, I asked the driver to enter and drive as close as he could to an obelisk at the far end of the arena. This great Egyptian pillar had stood for fifteen hundred years in Alexandria before Emperor Constantine had brought it here to the city that he had made the capital of the Roman Empire.

Getting out of the carriage and walking towards it, I wondered at the feat of moving it, undamaged, across the Mare Nostrum. Fifty years after Constantine had brought it here, my father had moved it on to a carved marble base that made the obelisk the tallest in the arena.

The top of the pedestal towered over my head as I circled around it. On one side was a stone relief, showing images of my parents, my two brothers, and myself as a small child. I reached up to run my hand over the smooth outlines of the figures of my mother and father and felt a lump forming in my throat. The presentation was formal, my parents dressed in imperial robes and crowns, looking out as though at the sculptor. The image captured my mother’s serene beauty perfectly and I felt her presence there in a way that I’d never been able to in Ravenna.

I’d been only five when my mother died while giving birth to a stillborn son. My eyes ached with unshed tears and I leaned my forehead against the cool marble for a moment, then resumed my exploration of the frieze, amused at the stylized image of myself, solemn and unsmiling, as though concentrating on balancing my tiny coronet on my unbound curls.

With a last tender caress of my mother’s face, I went back to the carriage. We rejoined the road that ran alongside the arena and went south towards the water, where the little church nestled up against part of the great wall that defended the city from attacks by sea.

The church was designed in the form of a Greek cross and splendidly adorned with colorful mosaic images of Christ and his apostles. Its beauty inspired me to think of designs for the church that I had vowed to build in thanks for our deliverance from the storm. There was no one else inside and, undisturbed, I said my prayers, and remained kneeling for some time, enjoying the silence.

Pulcheria had left several messages for me when I returned to my rooms, the latest requesting my immediate presence. I was escorted to her rooms and kept waiting for several minutes before being admitted. Finally, I was allowed to enter and found my niece sitting at a desk, dictating to her scribe. At least ten women were in attendance, each occupied with reading or sewing. The shutters were open but the golden sunlight did little to soften the severity of the room. There were no rugs or curtains, no soft pillows on the wooden benches that served as couches and Pulcheria’s desk was little more than a slab of dark wood on sturdy, utilitarian legs.

Pulcheria continued her dictation and I suppressed my impatience. I wasn’t used to be kept waiting. When the clock servant announced the hour, the scribe began to gather up his instruments and bowed his way backward away from the desk. Pulcheria looked up and gestured to me to take a seat opposite her.

“How are you settling in, Aunt?” she asked, and went on without waiting for a reply. “I’ve been talking with the foreman in charge of renovations and he indicates that the main apartments in your palace will be ready within a matter of days. There are more than enough rooms to accommodate you and your entourage, and the other apartments can then be completed before the rest of your household arrives. Have you sent for them yet?”

“No,” I replied. “But I will when I know I can accommodate them.”

“Good. I can arrange for my decorators and furniture makers to meet with you at your convenience. Just let my head chamberlain, Valens, know when that will be.”

I glanced around the dreary room and decided I would find my own artisans and craftsmen, but I nodded and murmured my thanks.

Pulcheria studied a list in front of her. “Clothes, “ she said. “Again, I am more than happy to send my dressmakers to you. Let Valens know and he will arrange it. Also tutors for the children.”

She tapped the list with her finger. “Guards. I heard that your Comes Domesticorum was injured. Is he going to recover enough to command your bodyguard or will you be looking for someone else? Sometimes it’s better to replace the wounded. They’re never quite as fast on their feet as they need to be. If you don’t want to terminate him yourself, I can have Valens talk with him.”

I stiffened at the suggestion. Flavius Glabio had been commander of my bodyguard since my move to Ravenna and I thought of him as a trusted friend. His wounds were not serious and I was sure he would be able to return to his duties soon. I also sensed an indirect jibe at Marcus in Pulcheria’s words and stood up, pushing my chair back. The feet made a screeching sound on the marble floor and everyone glanced up at me.

Pulcheria looked concerned. “Are you well?” she asked.

I would be if you weren’t interfering in my business, I thought, but I managed a smile. “Yes, I’m sorry. It’s a little warm in here and I need some air.”

“Of course,” Pulcheria replied. “We’ll finish this later. I’ll expect you at Mass at the sixth hour. You may join us for dinner if you care to.”

I beat a hasty retreat. Moving into my own palace had just become my highest priority.

Marcus continued to improve and was soon able to stand up and take a few steps at a time with Aurelia in constant attendance. Whenever I could escape from overseeing the decoration of the palace, I joined them on their short walks. I could tell how well Marcus was by how much he grumbled. The more he complained, the better he was feeling.

“I can’t just sit in bed all day doing nothing,” he said, while we slowly traversed the rose garden one morning.

“There’ll be plenty to do when you are better,” I said.

“I am better. The doctors say I have to rest but they don’t know what they’re talking about. Besides, I don’t use my leg to think and work. So you just let me know what you need me for.”

“I will,” I promised, although I did not really have an answer. For the first time since I was a child, I had nothing specific to do and I felt the loss of my power more keenly than I’d thought possible. Theodosius and Pulcheria would not have me meddling in Eastern affairs and I was completely divorced from all political activity in the West. For now, my plan was to spend more time working with the ecclesiastics to ensure the continuing adoption of the orthodox Christian faith throughout the Empire. I was confident that I’d find other causes to work for when I had more time.

For the present at least, there was plenty to keep me occupied with the final renovations on the palace and interviewing tutors for Honoria and Valentinian. The children seemed to have settled quickly into their new home, and were calm and well-behaved. Only Valentinian complained occasionally, saying that he missed his Uncle Horius. He knew nothing of the circumstances under which we had left Ravenna and so I placated him with promises that he would see his uncle again one day.