Nobilissima (41 page)

“I doubt it,” said Aurelia. “They don’t when you are there, even less when you are not.”

“Are they that bad?” I asked, even though I knew the answer.

Aurelia grimaced, then nodded. We both laughed.

“But seriously, Aurelia, I don’t know what to do with them. I remember when Honoria was born that I was terrified of losing her, but we’ve never had a close bond. She’s pushed me away since she was a baby, and she’s mean to Valentinian. I don’t understand her at all.”

“It’s hard for me to say this,” replied Aurelia, “but Valentinian is spoiled. You defend him every time there is a quarrel, and you give him everything he wants. And if you don’t do it yourself, you make sure the nannies do. No one has ever said ‘no’ to him. Ever. He has no idea of right and wrong. And Honoria’s difficult, I agree, but she needs your attention.”

“I gave her attention when she was little,” I objected.

“No,” said Aurelia. “You made sure that you didn’t become attached to her by keeping your distance. And she’s old enough to understand that. She craves your love.”

I was angry; I didn’t like to be criticized. I stared out of the window at the streets, lined with people waving goodbye to me. When I turned back, Aurelia was looking crestfallen.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m not a mother and I’m no expert on children. I want you to be happy and I always thought that having children would bring joy.”

“Oh, Aurelia. I’m so selfish. I’m sorry. I will try to spend more time with them. And Constantius should too. Valentinian needs a father’s firm hand. Goodness knows what ideas Honorius puts in that child’s head.”

Aurelia was right about the children’s behavior. They were both irritable and complaining from the minute we arrived back at the palace. Aurelia gave them the little toys she had picked out for them, a small catapult for Valentinian and wooden dolls for Honoria and Claudia.

Honoria screamed. “Valentinian’s present is better than mine. I always get the worst things.”

Valentinian threw his catapult at her in disgust and howled as it broke into pieces on the tiles.

I could not hide my exasperation. Forgetting my good intentions, I left Sylvia and the nannies to deal with the screaming children, and retreated to my rooms to find Constantius. I began to talk to him about spending time with Valentinian but he looked bored and quickly changed the subject to a list of legal matters he had made that needed urgent attention. Soon we were both engaged in making plans for how to address them.

Life in the palace took on a new energy and urgency. We worked long hours but I enjoyed every minute. For several months, things went well. Constantius, Honorius and I agreed on most issues, from the appointment of prefects and governors to the allocation of funds. Honorius often left us to manage the day’s business alone. When he made an appearance, the courtiers appeared to be more relaxed in his presence; there were fewer gaggles of men in corners, complaining or gossiping.

Whenever I had a spare hour, I went to watch the progress of my church. The foundation had been laid and the bricklayers were busy constructing the walls. They had put boards across the substructure for easier access and I loved to tread my way carefully across them, measuring the size of the floor. The space seemed so much bigger in reality than I had been able to imagine when looking at the architect’s drawings.

Returning from one of my visits there, I found Aurelia waiting for me at the entry. Her face was pale. “You’d better come quickly,” I said. “Honorius is acting very strangely.”

We hurried to the audience chamber. Constantius was there, standing with a group of delegates from eastern Gallia. They were talking quietly and some of them glanced at Honorius from time to time. The Emperor slouched on his throne, his face pale and perspiring. Servants offered him wine but he ordered them away.

I joined Constantius. “What’s happening?” I whispered.

“The Emperor is unwell,” said Constantius, loudly enough for everyone close by to hear. “We’ll delay our meeting until later. For now, we have to persuade His Imperial Highness to rest. As you all know, he insists on carrying out his duties even when he’s sick, such is his devotion to the Empire. Isn’t that right, Augusta?”

I nodded although it wasn’t true. I followed Constantius towards Honorius’ throne. At once, my brother straightened up and pointed at us.

“You plot behind my back,” he shouted. “Don’t think I don’t know what’s going on. I have my spies everywhere and they know what you are up to. I won’t be ignored a moment longer. I’ll undo whatever decrees you’ve published and make you look like fools.”

Constantius flushed red and his eyes were flashing lightning but he said nothing.

“My dear brother,” I said quietly. “You can’t believe what you say. You know that we have only your interest and the interests of the Empire at heart. I would do nothing to harm you or undermine you in any way. Together, we’re achieving great things, and your advisors mislead you if they say we are not doing these things in your name.”

My brother’s face was like a little boy’s again, confused and upset. Abruptly he stood up, waving his arms wildly.

“Get out, get out all of you. I’ve had enough of this.”

Bemused, the entire assembly left the chamber and waited in the hallway outside. When I followed, I could see that Constantius was furious and hoped he wouldn’t say anything to fuel the fire. Already, the courtiers and the visiting delegates were gathered in groups, whispering to each other. I approached one of the groups, hoping to calm them down, but was interrupted by a guard who came out of the chamber and called for me.

I strode back into the chamber with my head high, knowing all eyes were on me. Honorius sat with his elbows on his knees and his head resting in his hands. He looked tired and dispirited. All the anger of a few minutes ago had dissolved. I went to him and knelt at his feet.

“What’s wrong, Honorius?”

When he didn’t reply, I repeated what I had said before, assuring him that Constantius and I would never do anything to cross him.

With tears in his eyes, he looked up at me. “Do you swear?” he asked. He sounded like his little nephew, plaintive and unsure.

“I swear,” I answered.

“I couldn’t bear it if you betrayed me.” He held out a hand to me.

I stood and wiped the tears from his cheek with my fingers. “I will never betray you.”

He smiled, sat up, and straightened his robes. “Let’s go back to work then.”

By the time everyone was back in the chamber, he was looking composed and it was hard to imagine that he had thrown a tantrum such a short time ago. The rest of the meeting was conducted cordially and calmly and I breathed more easily as the day went on.

But such events began to happen more frequently, as Honorius veered between apparent indifference and paranoid fury towards Constantius and me. Sometimes he chided us for asking him too many questions and sometimes cursed us for superseding his authority. Each time, I found myself acting as the main mediator. It was exhausting. The chamber buzzed with gossip, and I could see that factions were forming, both for and against my brother. Constantius despised the idle chatter, and was discouraged by the constant uncertainty that each day brought. He began to make excuses to miss meetings and I was often the only one in the audience chamber. I didn’t mind; in fact, I relished the opportunity to act alone. But I was concerned.

I confided my worries to Aurelia and Sylvia one evening. Aurelia had a new companion, a grey cat. He was a lovely creature from the East, with smooth hair and blue eyes. Aurelia called him Apollo and he loved to lie on her lap, purring loudly. His tail twitched angrily whenever my children were around, but he liked Sylvia’s little girl and allowed her to stroke and feed him small cubes of fish, contentedly licking her chubby little fingers. Looking at my friends, I felt guilty that I found so little time to spend with them.

Aurelia waited until the servants had finished lighting all the candles before speaking. “How was Honorius today?”

“Better today, but every day is different.”

I paused before continuing. “I’m frightened, Aurelia, both of Honorius and for him too. He’s so mercurial; there’s no knowing what he will do next. Meanwhile, the court’s in disarray. Everyone’s nervous, unsure of whom he’ll target. You know that he’s discharged more than a hundred courtiers this month already? He flies into a rage if he thinks someone is looking at him strangely – which they are all are – and orders them out of the palace. It’s causing a panic.”

“Do the doctors have an opinion?”

“Hundreds of opinions,” I said drily. “But nothing useful. They are treating him with valerian and lemon balm for anxiety, but I see no sign of improvement.”

Aurelia frowned, and stroked Apollo. He opened his sapphire eyes briefly and blinked at me before curling up and falling asleep again. Sylvia was sewing a gown for Claudia. She looked tired and I felt another pang of guilt.

“Are you not well, Sylvia?” I asked. Sylvia still served as my personal maid but we never seemed to have time to talk together any more. I was always in a rush, and a multitude of servants accompanied us wherever we went.

Aurelia shot me a look and then patted Sylvia on the hand. “I think you should tell her,” she said.

Sylvia put her sewing to one side. “My marriage is over,” she said. “He is a nice enough man, but he prefers to spend his evenings with the other chamberlains playing dice. And I prefer to sit with Aurelia and Apollo doing my sewing.”

“I’m sorry,” I said. “I had no idea. Is there anything I can do to help?”

Sylvia shook her head. “It’s all right. We get along, ignoring each other mostly. I have Claudia and that’s the most important thing.”

We sat in silence for a few minutes and I mulled over what Sylvia had told me. I felt sad for her, understanding what she felt about a marriage without passion or love.

“Do you hear bells ringing?” asked Aurelia suddenly, looking at the windows.

We all listened and I heard a faint tolling in the far distance.

“Find out what that is,” I instructed a servant. It was too late in the evening for any bells to be rung to signal the opening of the baths or the market, and we were too far from the port to hear the harbor bells.

I led the way out on to the balcony, where the sound was more distinct; a steady beat over the lapping of the surf on the beach beyond the palace wall.

“It sounds as though it’s coming from the city,” Aurelia said. I felt my heart thud when I heard shouts coming from the same direction.

“Is Ravenna being attacked?” asked Sylvia. “I should go to Claudia.”

“Go,” I agreed. “Make sure that the children are in bed and that they stay there.”

“It’s impossible,” said Aurelia. “No one can attack Ravenna, except by sea, and we’d have heard a full alert if there were vessels approaching.”

Her voice sounded confident but she peered into the darkness as if expecting to see Vandal ships bearing down on the beaches.

A chamberlain rushed out to the balcony and waited for permission to speak.

“Well?” I asked.

“It’s a purge, Augusta. Bands of Christians are swarming through the city, looking for pagans and Arians.” He stopped and wiped his brow.

“Looking for them in temples?” I asked.

“Yes, Augusta, but also in their homes.”

“And then what?” asked Aurelia.

“If they go willingly, they are dragged to the jail,” he replied. “And if not, they are beaten.”

“Bring my cloak,” I commanded, “and order the carriage to be brought to the front entrance at once. Aurelia, you can come with me if you want, or stay here.”

Aurelia gestured to one of the servants to fetch her cloak and shoes. “Where are we going?” she asked.

“To see Ursus. We can’t have violence instigated in the name of the Church. I don’t know what he’s thinking to not have put a stop to this already.”

The carriage clattered through noisy streets, crowded with people who wandered with weapons fully visible in the torchlight. A unit of guards ran alongside the carriage with their swords drawn. I watched in horror when a group of young men dragged an elderly man from the doorway of his house and beat him to the ground, kicking at him and raining blows on his head. Worse still, a monk in his brown robes stood by, nodding his head in satisfaction.

We reached the Bishop’s Residence and a guard ran ahead to announce me. Soon, we were standing in an anteroom facing Ursus. He wore only a tunic and sandals and was perspiring heavily.

“What in the name of God are you thinking?” I demanded. “You should have called out the guard at the first hint of trouble. This isn’t just the ill will of a few young men. There are clerics out there too.”

“They have a permit, Augusta,” he said. His voice was so low, it was hard to hear him.

“A permit?”

“A writ, authorizing them to arrest non-orthodox Christians,” he said.

“That’s impossible,” I said. “Who requested the writ and who issued it?”

“Alanus obtained the permit,” said Ursus, looking tired and drawn. “He’s been ranting on for months now about the state of the city, about it being overrun with non-Christians. He says it’s the center of Hell itself. I’ve been meaning to talk to you about him but…” He raised his hands in the air. “We’re all so busy.”