Nobilissima (7 page)

Above me, the ceilings were decorated with images of nymphs and satyrs cavorting in a flower-filled meadow. I grimaced. Tiberius had been well known for his fondness for romps in the countryside, none of them as innocent as the pretty picture on the vaulted roof.

I pushed my hands through the water to watch the ripples travel outwards. They reminded me of the tiny waves on the shore in Ravenna, and I felt a momentary pang for the place that had become my home for the last ten years. I had been born in Constantinople during the time when the Imperial court had resided there, but I remembered little of it -- other than that I had been happy there. My mother had been my constant companion and I still remembered her scent and the touch of her soft skin. She had died when I was five and, not long after that, my father moved my two brothers and me to Milan.

A noise outside the chamber disturbed my thoughts and I looked up at Sylvia, who gestured to me to come out of the water. A door opened and closed, and I moved quickly to the side of the pool, stepping into the embrace of the linen that Sylvia wrapped around me.

The visitor was Aurelia and she came across the tiled expanse towards us in a rush. Her face was pale and she was biting her lip, as she always did when something worried her.

“Nobilissima,” she said, bowing her head.

I was overcome with emotion, glad to see my friend again, and all memories of the quarrel between us were forgotten. I folded my arms around her neck.

“I’m so sorry,” said Aurelia. “I should have come sooner but I wasn’t sure how you would feel.”

“I’m overjoyed to see you now,” I said. “But I think that you have come with bad news?”

Aurelia glanced at Sylvia and nodded. “I have. The young priest, Alanus, has been to the Bishop to accuse certain household members of being pagans. He seems set on making a great deal of it and there’s talk that arrests will be made.”

Sylvia grabbed my arm. “Is he speaking of me?” she asked. “Oh my heavens, what will become of me?”

I guided her to a bench and made her sit. She did as she was told, burying her head in her hands, her whole body shaking.

“Help me with my clothes,” I said to Aurelia. “What else have you heard?”

“Not much more than that,” said Aurelia, picking up my under-tunic from the bench and helping me into it. “I heard it from Aunt Laeta, and would have paid no attention if she weren’t such a trusted source. The Bishop, she says, is in a quandary. He has no desire to pursue anyone in the palace and yet he has to answer an accusation that was made quite publicly. There are many in the church who would be happy for the opportunity to make an example of…” she glanced again at Sylvia. “Of non-Christians.”

“At such a time as this?” I exclaimed. “When we are facing a deadly enemy and should all be pulling together? The last thing we need is disunity among ourselves.”

While Sylvia sniffed and wiped her eyes, I let Aurelia comb out my wet hair, and was glad of a few moments of silence to think about what to do. Sixty years after Constantine had issued the Milan Edict in support of Christianity, my father had made a decree naming Nicene Christianity as the official religion of the Empire. Most citizens, rich and poor, now professed to be Christian, but many still clung to their old gods. Christians avoided the stalls in the market that were rumored to be owned by pagans, and pagans would not go to the same wells or fountains as Christians. I had always felt that the Church was handling the problem sensibly but now I was uneasy. I went to Sylvia and sat down next to her.

“Tell me,” I said. “Can you give up your pagan gods and turn to the True Faith?”

Sylvia looked at me pleadingly. “I can’t give them up,” she said. “Things are all turned upside down in the Empire and it’s easy to see that the gods are angry with us for abandoning them. It does no harm to appease them with the old rituals and a few prayers. I’m truly sorry, but I can’t change my ways. I know it’s wrong but I grew up with the gods of my parents and my grandparents. They’re familiar, like an old pair of sandals. Christianity is like a new shoe. It pinches.”

“Sylvia, you work for the imperial household, which is Christian. But that’s not even what is important. The problem is that it’s dangerous. This priest wants some sort of action taken. It’s not safe for you, do you see that?”

Sylvia bent her head and started to cry again, the noise of her sobs echoing in the tiled chamber.

“Oh, for goodness’ sake. Stop crying. Please, dry your tears.”

Sylvia got to her feet, holding her back where it always hurt when she walked too fast or carried too much.

“I’m sorry, Placidia. Truly, I am. I’m just an ignorant woman, I suppose.”

“Ignorance is not an excuse,” I retorted. “I want you to be safe, Sylvia. And I want your soul to be safe too.”

Aurelia put her hand on my arm and gave me a look telling me to calm down.

I took a breath. “I’ll have the Bishop come to the palace and I’ll talk to him about this young priest and his interference.” I managed to sound more confident than I felt. “I promise you, Sylvia, you’ll have nothing to fear. Let’s go back to my rooms and have some refreshments.”

A while later, I sat with Aurelia on the terrace outside my rooms, savoring the comfort of my friend’s presence. We sat next to each other on an upholstered chaise, Aurelia’s arm twined through my own. I hadn’t realized until now just how much I had missed the constant companionship we had come to share. The sun blazed down on us, but the faintest of breezes brushed against our skin, easing the worst of the heat. The air was fragrant with the blooms of an orange tree in a pot at the corner of the terrace.

I heard Sylvia inside, arranging cups of cold drinks, and soon she appeared, setting a tray down on a small marble table. Her hair curled in damp tendrils against her cheeks and she wiped her forehead with the back of her hand. “Gods, it’s so hot that I can barely breathe.”

“Take a seat, Sylvia. We’ll wait for the evening air to cool us,” I said, picking up a cup and smelling the sweetness of orange peel and honey. It was almost possible to remember the time before the siege, when this would have been a pleasant time to sit and talk about the next day’s activities. But now there was no discussion of what tomorrow would bring. Dissent inside the walls and the Goth army outside them brought nothing but uncertainty. I took deep breaths to ease the nauseous feeling in my stomach.

“I heard that you visited Alaric’s camp last night,” said Aurelia. “What happened?”

I briefly recounted the details of the meeting and the bizarre appointment of Attalus as Emperor. Aurelia stared at me, wide-eyed in disbelief and laughed when Sylvia described how uncomfortable Attalus had looked in his coronet and purple-edged toga.

“Well,” she said. “At least, we may have a few days or weeks of grace until Alaric and his generals recognize that Attalus can do nothing for them.”

“I’m not so sure,” I answered. “It’s clear that Alaric was trying to appease his men but they know better. Our meeting didn’t achieve anything other than to confirm that no one has any faith in Honorius any more.”

Standing, I paced the tiled floor of the terrace, stopping to pluck an orange from the tree. I rolled the fruit in my hands, and found that the motion calmed the knots in my stomach. Leaning over the wall of the balcony, I watched the sun setting in a flare of crimson and coral over the hills to the west. Below, in the streets beyond the Palatine Hill, a dog barked, and then another. Suddenly, the quiet of the evening was punctured by the howl of animals and by men shouting. A church bell began to toll and in the far distance, I saw a plume of black smoke cutting through the rosy sky. My heart contracted painfully as I realized what was happening. The city was being attacked.

Chapter 9

Sylvia dropped a cup and it shattered on the stone tiles. Aurelia ran to my side. We heard more shouting and screams of alarm and the acrid smell of smoke carried on the breeze.

“Dear God,” I whispered. “It can only be that Alaric and the Goths have breached the defenses and have entered Rome.”

Beside me, Aurelia stifled a sob. “How? They couldn’t get over the walls. You know Marcus would do anything to stop them. Oh, I hope he’s safe.”

“Marcus will be fine,” I said, refusing to allow myself to think about him as I strained my eyes to see what was happening. The pink light of sunset had darkened to violet, and stygian shadows crept across the city. A half moon appeared from behind the Esquiline hill, where it seemed to hang, paralyzed into immobility. In the distance to the north, I saw an eerie orange glow.

“There,” I said, pointing. “There’s a fire near the Salarian Gate. That must be where they broke in.”

The noise of the city grew louder. Horses’ hooves clattered along the streets and more church bells began to toll.

Turning, I called to Sylvia. “Go, at once,” I said. “Find the tribune of the guard and bring him here. Quickly now.”

Without hesitation, Sylvia ran across the terrace and I watched her fling open the doors of the chamber and disappear into the darkness of the hallway beyond. Below the terrace a loud clamor presaged the appearance of a group of servants who ran from the palace into the gardens, shouting for torches. Gradually they dispersed along the various paths that led to the city, their voices fading into the darkness.

“We must go find out what’s happening,” I said, pulling Aurelia by the arm into my room. Already, outside the huge double doors, the floors were ringing with the heavy tread of the palace guard. Two soldiers burst into the room, fully armed. Sylvia came behind them, out of breath and pale.

“Come, my ladies,” said the tribune, bowing to us both. “We will take you to safety.”

“There’s nowhere safe in Rome,” I replied, fighting the urge to run with the soldiers and hide wherever they took me. “I need you to get a message to Alaric, to tell him where I am, and that we need to talk.”

“Nobilissima,” pleaded the tribune. “It’s chaos out there and we can’t be sure of finding Alaric. His soldiers are all over the city, already looting and taking hostages. They’re setting fires everywhere they go, killing anyone who stands in their way and taking women. If they make it to the palace, you won’t be safe. We are terribly outnumbered. Please, come with us and I’ll do all I can to save you.”

Taking a deep breath, I sat on the couch, motioning for Aurelia to join me. “I won’t run,” I said. “My duty is first as a member of the imperial family. My father wouldn’t have wanted me to run away, but to stand firm and show the Goths that Romans will not flee in the face of danger.”

The poor soldier looked at his companion, obviously at a loss. He stepped forward as if to seize me by force but thought better of it.

“Go on,” I said. “Defend the doors of the palace, and send messengers to find Alaric. I’ll wait here for him. God speed, captain.”

Shaking his head, he saluted. “God be with you, Nobilissima,” he said and bolted from the room, followed by his companion. Sylvia hesitated for a moment, watching the fleeing soldiers, then slammed the doors closed and locked them. She came to sit on the couch next to me and I felt her violent trembling. She started to cry and I put my arms around her, but spoke fiercely. “Stop crying, Sylvia. We must stay calm and stay together. I’m sorry you are so scared. I am too, but running away will achieve nothing. The Goth soldiers will find everyone eventually, don’t you see?”

The room was almost dark, lit only by a single oil lamp on a table. Sylvia was so pale that she looked like a spirit, frail and ready to fade at any moment. In the distance, we heard the sound of hundreds of horses’ hooves on the cobbled streets that climbed the Palatine Hill. The Goths must have broken through the defenses at the base of the hill and were riding towards the palace. We waited in silence for what seemed like an eternity, and Aurelia jumped to her feet when a crash of falling timbers startled us all. A fire erupted somewhere near the palace, the flames throwing a red wash on the pale marble walls of my room. On the desk, a bust of my father looked on, his face shadowed as though in deep distress.

Hearing the sharp clatter of blade on blade, I realized that the guards were already fighting the invaders within the walls of the palace. Sylvia cried out loud at the din of hundreds of feet pounding along the marble floors, punctuated by the crash of stone, and the clink of broken pottery.

The shouts grew louder and came closer, followed by a tremendous pounding on the wide doors. Suddenly, I jumped up and pushed Aurelia and Sylvia towards a smaller room at the back. Cursing my stubbornness that had left us so exposed, I slammed the door and let the heavy latch fall. It was a room used for storing clothes, and was littered with an assortment of chests and trunks.

“Hide,” I whispered, lifting the lid on one of the trunks and pushing Sylvia inside. Within seconds, however, the small door splintered under the blows of the soldiers and the room was filled with Goths, whooping and yelling. One grabbed me by the arm, and another caught Aurelia by the hair. They dragged us back into the main chamber, shouting at us in their own language. In the darkness lit only by the fires from outside, the room swirled red and orange, and the gigantic shadows of the invaders with their helmets and long wild hair loomed grotesquely on the high walls. It was a like a painting of Hell.

There were no signs of any Roman guards. I felt faint but was brought to my senses when the Goth who held my arm pulled me towards him and I felt his foul breath on my face.