Authors: Alice Borchardt
The fountain running along the wall was a frieze of nymphs and satyrs. One of the horned and hoofed men was pissing enthusiastically into the pool. Water spurted from his engorged member. Another was embracing a nymph with one hand while his wine pitcher clutched in the other dumped its contents into the pool at his feet. The rest were coupling in lusty delight, their nude bodies arranged in every possible position of human sexual congress.
“Oh,” Regeane said, and then, “Ooohahaha!”
Lucilla laughed.
Augusta flung Regeane’s hand away and stalked off into the crowd gathered in the garden.
“She’s angry,” Regeane said. “I’m sorry. I suppose I shouldn’t have looked.”
“Nonsense!” Lucilla snapped. “You should examine anything you want to. Besides, I make it a point to infuriate Augusta at least once every time we meet. In any case, she’s served her turn. I wanted you to be seen by the nobility of the city in her company, not mine. You have been, and so it’s done. At the feast tonight, you and Elfgifa will recline beside her. Her anger or
goodwill are quite beside the point. The seating arrangements aren’t under her control, but the pope’s. You are, after all, royal. She will probably be quite pleased to be placed so near his couch, beside you.”
Regeane took another long look at the fountain and, to her surprise, found her eyes prickling as they slowly filled with tears. “They seem so happy,” she said softly.
“Love is a happy thing,” Lucilla said. “I have found it so, and I hope some day you will, too. But come, we haven’t much time and I want you to meet Hadrian privately before the feast begins.”
“Lucilla, how did Augusta learn Maeniel’s name?” Regeane asked. “Did you tell her? She mentioned it on the way here in the litter.”
Lucilla paused. Her eyes narrowed. “No, I didn’t. I operate on the premise that the less Augusta knows about my business the better. She’s a conformist, terrified she’ll make even the slightest social error. She quakes at the thought of incurring even the mildest form of displeasure from her husband’s incredibly snobbish family. She’s my own beloved daughter, but she isn’t very strong or very smart.
“I can’t believe she’s up to anything. She doesn’t dare court my displeasure either. But I’ll keep an eye on her, just in case. Someone else may have told her. Gossip rolls like the sea in Rome. What is said at the Lateran is being repeated within the hour at the Vatican. No one can keep their mouth shut—least of all Augusta.”
Lucilla led Regeane away from the lighted garden, crossing the small shadowy courtyards, all dark and silent under the glow of the stars. Away from the magnificent reception rooms deep into the villa’s private heart.
They found him seated on a bench in a small, quiet garden. A lamp burned on the bench by his side. He was feeding bread to the carp in a pool at his feet.
Drawn by the bread and the light, the fish were shadows moving in the water, given away only by the gleam of an eye or the flash of shiny scales catching the light.
“My dear,” Lucilla said softly.
Hadrian raised his head, threw the last bread into the water, and said, “Lucilla.”
And Regeane heard his heart in the word, in the way it was spoken.
Lucilla walked toward him, her hands outstretched.
He took her hands and they gazed at each other for a long moment before they embraced. She stood quietly in the circle of his arms, her head on his shoulder.
“My dear,” Lucilla said, “my very dear. What are you doing hiding here alone?”
“I was visiting with some old friends,” he said, indicating with a glance the fish in the pool, “and waiting to greet another friend.” He let her go. They stood together, hand in hand, watching the fish moving in the water at their feet.
“Well, I’ve brought yet another friend to greet you,” Lucilla said. She beckoned to Regeane.
Regeane stepped into the circle of light. As she drew closer, she lifted the stiff, brocade dress and tried to kneel and kiss the pope’s ring.
Instead, Hadrian—Stephen—caught her by the elbows, raised her, and kissed her gently on the forehead. “There now,” he said to Lucilla, standing beside him. “That’s a lot better than having my ring kissed and,” he continued with a quick wink at Lucilla, “it’s a lot more fun.”
He took Regeane by the shoulders and held her back to have a good look at her. “Lucilla tells me you were able to get Antonius away from Basil into some safe hiding place.”
“Yes,” she answered in an uncertain voice, thinking furiously all the while,
How much has Lucilla told him? Is he going to demand an explanation?
But he didn’t. Instead, Hadrian began to examine Regeane herself, looking her up and down and meanwhile nodding his head in approval. Then he patted Regeane’s cheek and said to Lucilla, “You’ve done wonders with her, my dear.”
Lucilla gave a self-deprecating little shrug and smiled. “She was born beautiful. A few nice clothes, a new hairdo. She has a natural grace that’s all her own and shows itself even in strange surroundings. I wonder if the Frankish king knows he has such
a prize among his royal ladies? If he did, he might see fit to bestow her higher than—”
“No, no,” Hadrian said. “This marriage is very important. Come into my library and I’ll explain further.”
The library was separated from the garden by a simple curtained colonnade. The walls were lined with bound books and had niches for scrolls.
Regeane’s gasp of delight stopped both Hadrian and Lucilla in their tracks.
“She liked my library, also,” Lucilla said.
“The special one?” Hadrian asked.
Lucilla nodded. “My heavens, she didn’t even look at our little fountain that way.”
“No?” Hadrian said with a lift of his eyebrows. Then he echoed Augusta. “You showed her our fountain? Hardly a sight for a maiden.”
“A maiden, soon to become a married woman. She needs to know what she’s facing,” Lucilla said waspishly.
“Lucilla,” Regeane said soberly, “I don’t think love’s joy or love’s delight has a lot to do with what I’m facing.”
“You can never tell,” Lucilla began.
“No, you can’t,” Hadrian broke in on her, “but on balance, I think the girl is right in learning to prefer the more sedate independent pleasures of intellectual inquiry. They often serve to comfort a troubled spirit when events in the world go awry. So, you like to read?” he asked Regeane.
“Yes,” she answered. “Sometimes when I was younger,” Regeane gave Lucilla a quick, warning glance. “I was … alone for long periods of time. My stepfather had a large library—over sixty books. They were, as you have said, a great comfort to me in my … loneliness.”
Hadrian gestured expansively toward the shelves lining the walls. “Books are meant to be read, and mine, alas, often simply sit and gather dust since affairs of state leave me little time for them. So if there are any here of particular interest to you I would be glad …”
“Have you a life of Alexander?” Regeane asked. “I’ve often read of the doings of the noblest among the Greeks. I’d like to know more about him.”
“I have three good lives of Alexander,” Hadrian said. “I’ll send you one. Your stepfather had sixty books. That’s quite a fine library for a layman. What happened to them?”
Regeane lowered her eyes. “Gundabald sold them along with the rest,” she said.
“Gundabald again …” the pope mused and scratched his chin. “But no matter, sit down. We have not much time. Soon I must join my guests.”
Lucilla and Hadrian sat down side by side on a cushioned bench and Regeane took the high-backed chair opposite them.
“Regeane,” Hadrian said, “Regeane, you notice I call you friend and I treat you as one of my intimates. Do you know why?”
Regeane shook her head.
“Because,” he continued, “Lucilla calls you friend. And she dignifies very few people with that name, reserving it only for those who have done her a great service, or she feels are absolutely loyal. Do you understand?”
Regeane nodded.
The couple’s hands clasped and their fingers intertwined. They looked into each other’s eyes and smiled. Then Hadrian turned his attention back to Regeane.
“Since Lucilla calls you friend, I’m going to trust you, too. But what I say must never leave this room. Do you understand?”
“Yes,” Regeane said.
“Very well, then, I must tell you. In the spring, Charles, king of the Franks, will cross the Alps and make war on the Lombards in my behalf. That’s why your marriage is so important, Regeane. Maeniel’s principality straddles his line of march. It must be secured by his submission to Charles before his spring campaign.”
Lucilla leaped to her feet and strode quickly toward the colonnade that separated the room from the garden. She stared up at the stars.
“We’ve done it,” she said quietly, almost to herself. Then she repeated more loudly, “We’ve done it,” and stood, fists clenched over her head and shouted, “We’ve done it!”
“Yes,” Hadrian said simply. “We have.”
Regeane felt the blood drain out of her face, leaving it numb.
She seemed to hear an audible click as the jaws of the trap snapped shut. “There is no help for it then,” she muttered between clenched teeth. “I must marry him.”
“Yes.” Lucilla gave Regeane a look of fierce delight. “But how long such a marriage will last once Charles is master of Lombardy is a matter of some conjecture.”
Lucilla walked back toward Hadrian. She radiated power and had the step of a queen. “We’ve done it,” she said, “and a peasant girl from the Abruzzi holds the fate of nations in her hand. I can’t believe it. But why is my Antonius the price?”
Hadrian took her hand again, pulled her down on the seat beside him, and kissed her on the lips.
“Why is it so important that the Frankish king win?” Regeane asked.
“In a word,” Hadrian answered, “peace.”
“Peace?”
“Look around you, girl. Have you no eyes? Over half this city, once the most populous in the world, lies in ruins. Every day the poor troop to the churches and almshouses of this city, hands outstretched, begging for bread.
“Our fountains that once ran with the clear, pure water of mountain streams are green and stagnant, filled only by the rain. The aqueducts that once fed them are abandoned or lie in the hands of our enemies. Barbarian kings fight over the papal tiara like dogs over a bone. Each hopes to place his own candidate on the throne of the first apostle and use the church as a tool to further his own ambitions.”
“I still can’t see how Charles is superior to Desiderius or the Duke of Spoleto or any of these other kings,” Regeane said.
“Regeane, do you presume to question?” Lucilla said in rebuke.
“No. No. No.” Hadrian said, rapid as finger snaps. “I’m glad she’s not a rattle-brained little ninny. In fact, her inquiry puts me in mind of you at her age and it’s the same sort of point you would have raised.”
Lucilla smiled. “Yes, I suppose that’s true. I questioned you often at first.”
Hadrian smiled back at her. He rested one hand on her hair, drew her face close, and kissed her on the forehead. “No, her
question is a very good one.” He settled his arm over Lucilla’s shoulders and turned back to Regeane.
“Charles is like the rest—a very ambitious man and he, too, has definite ideas about the role of the church as a cornerstone of state policy. But,” Hadrian raised his finger, “he has already guaranteed my independence as ruler of the Duchy of Rome and has promised to return those lands stolen by Desiderius and the other Lombard kings. And,” he added triumphantly, “he is very far away. In short, Rome cannot be ruled from Franca, nor can Franca be ruled from Rome.”
“I see,” Regeane said slowly. Hadrian was playing off one distant state against another, closer one. “A very dangerous game you are engaged in,” she said. “And when the Lombard king learns of your agreement with the Franks—and he will, it cannot be kept secret forever—he’ll be wild. He’ll use every means he can think of to destroy you.”
Lucilla laughed. “Oh, you child. He already has.”
“Yes,” Hadrian said. “Why do you think he kidnapped Antonius and threatened to crucify him?”
Regeane shook her head. “I don’t have any idea.”
Hadrian leaned forward toward her. “He wanted to force me, at the price of Antonius’ life, to anoint the sons of Carloman made into kings by my hand, those two little boys, his dead brother’s sons, would be rival claimants for the throne Charles sits on. They’d be a focus for every kind of rebellion and dissatisfaction. Every troublemaker and malcontent would try to attach himself to their cause.
“Charles is young, and though he looks to become a great king, many still doubt him. Yet others will try to test him. Some out of greed or a lust for power. In short, my intervention, if it be bought or coerced by Desiderius, could make Charles’ throne a very shaky seat.
“Archimedes is supposed to have said, ‘If I had a lever, I could move the world.’ Well, those two little boys are the lever I have used to bring Charles across the Alps to aid me in my battle with the Lombards. To yield to Desiderius’ demands that I anoint them would destroy all my carefully laid plans and probably—I must mention this in passing—cost me my life as well.”
Lucilla drew away from Hadrian and rested her back against the cushions at the arm of the bench. “Now do you see why Antonius must die?”
“Is that why you brought me here,” Regeane shot back at her, “to be a party to murder?” From the corner of her eye, Regeane saw the glow of distant lightning. It was too far away for thunder, but a gust of wind set the curtains that divided the library from the garden to flapping and rattling.
“Hush, girl,” Hadrian replied sternly. “There’s no question of your killing Antonius or anyone else.” Then he reached toward Lucilla and placed his hand on her face. “No, my dear. I won’t give the order and neither will you.”
“But you must,” Lucilla cried desperately, hysterically, “You must. My God, yesterday …” She seized him by the shoulders and shook him. “Yesterday the mob gathered around my litter and threw stones at me, called me the pope’s whore and accused you of being tainted by the devil’s curse, the vile disease. Hadrian, don’t you think I love Antonius?”