Authors: Morgan O'Neill
Gigi patted her mare goodnight and then sat by the fire. Magnus already had their dinner spread out on a cloth: bread and olive oil for dipping, plus dried figs and cheese.
Her stomach growled. “Are we celebrating?” she asked in English. “This looks lovely after all the muck and rain and eating jerky all week.”
Magnus studied her face. “Your eyes belie the gaiety in your voice. You look troubled, my sweet.”
“I can’t shake the feeling we’re getting further and further behind schedule.”
“I agree. I’ve been thinking we should sail from Vada Sabatia. It can’t be far off now, and there’s sure to be a ship heading to Hispania.”
“Oh, that’s a great idea!” Gigi heaved a sigh of relief and gave him a quick kiss. “I feel so much better. Let’s open that wine.”
He grinned, picked up the wine skein, and poured two cups full. “By the way, yes, we are celebrating. We’ve found a cave. We’re dry. And I’m going to make love to you for the first time in days.”
“Suddenly,” Gigi smiled, “I’m not dry anymore.”
Magnus threw back his head and laughed, then touched his cup to hers. “Drink up.”
The red wine tasted wonderful, fruity and mellow. Relaxed, she watched him rummage through his gear and come up with their iPod. He turned it on and Andrea Bocelli’s voice filled the cave, singing, “Your Love.”
“You are my life’s greatest gift.” Magnus sat beside her and touched her face. “We have loved for ages, haven’t we? Beyond time.”
Gigi took his hand and kissed it. “And we will love for ages more.”
“Beginning with tonight.” He pulled her close, kissing her throat, her mouth.
Her lips parted and she tasted him, wine and warmth and love.
• • •
After three weeks of constant travel and evasion tactics, Gigi was relieved to see Vada Sabatia sprawled out below them. They were at the very northwestern end of the Italian coastline, just beyond the point where it turns west toward France. Monte Carlo, or what would become that beautiful enclave, was not far away. Curious as to what it looked like in this time, she hoped to be able to spot the location from onboard a ship bound for Barcelona.
Magnus scratched his short, heavy beard, then pushed a hand through his hair and gazed down. “I don’t think we risk anyone recognizing us here.”
Gigi nodded. “I agree. We’ll blend in with the crowd.” Nevertheless, she reached under her cloak and
palla
and readied her gun. Although they’d had no indication they were being followed, she felt anxious, partly because she’d continued to keep the .45 a secret from Magnus. But how could she not? If she told him she’d brought it, he would insist she throw it away. He’d also learn of her deceit. She wasn’t proud of that and didn’t want to face his anger.
Magnus nudged his horse and Gigi followed him down the road to the seaport. They passed several ordinary, working-class people, who didn’t give them an extra glance. Clearly, they couldn’t care less about a pair of travelers on horseback. Even the soldiers manning the main gate looked bored.
As they entered town, Gigi saw that Vada Sabatia was smaller and more dilapidated than Portus, but it had nearly the same level of cart traffic and pedestrian congestion. She suspected its rundown appearance was due more to its distance from chic and sophisticated Rome, than from any lack of riches.
They went straight to the docks, where Magnus dismounted and addressed a group of dockworkers. “Friends, I want to book passage for us and our horses to Hispania. Barcino, preferably. Where might I make inquiries?”
“Hispania? Surely you jest, brother, or you’ve been living under a rock!” an agitated dockworker snarled. “There is a general blockade, ordered by the emperor, and no boats have been allowed in or out since the Nones. It is killing us! Is Honorius trying to ruin commerce? I don’t understand it. Some are talking of a revolt, but General Constantius is carrying out the order, and to cross him would be to forfeit life, you may be sure!”
Magnus looked stunned, but quickly recovered his composure. Sitting on her horse, Gigi stared at the ground and thought of the endless weeks still ahead of them, if they were forced to go by land. Magnus pressed his shoulder against her knee, and she knew he was trying to comfort her, but it did little to help.
He reached for a pouch on his belt and hefted it a couple of times, so the sound of clinking coins could be heard. “I’m sure there must be some way to find passage.”
“I’ll gladly take your money,” another dockworker laughed, “but that’ll get you no closer to your destination. Constantius’s men threaten to lob Greek fire against any ship that so much as casts an eye toward the western horizon. You’ll go by land, or not at all. And that is a bad idea as well, because of the
Bagaudae
.”
“As you say,” another man added. “Those miserable bandits infest the north and west, all the way to Hispania. They will kill you and take your coin, your horses, and your wife.”
Magnus narrowed his eyes. “Well, it seems we shall stay put then, until the blockade is lifted. In the meantime, we must get a meal, provisions, and a place to stay. Suggest a good
taberna
.”
“Most are shuttered for now, because the docks are near empty,” the first worker answered, and then pointed to the north end of the wharf. “Only the gambling houses and brothels are left, and you can find them that way.”
Magnus glanced in the direction the man pointed, and then grinned. “All the better. I thank you.”
The workers laughed as Magnus remounted.
Once they were out of earshot, Gigi said, “Every route is closed. What are we going to do? And you aren’t serious about going to a brothel, are you?”
“Not to worry,” Magnus replied. “I hope to the gods this works out. I think a brothel may well be just the place to find someone willing to risk his life and his ship for some coin.”
They turned a corner and arrived at the busy street. The walls of the buildings were covered with graffiti depicting every imaginable type of copulation, some acrobatic beyond belief.
Gigi hid her smile. The street was crowded with men, mostly drunk soldiers and sailors. A hawker stood outside a gambling den, loudly proclaiming that his establishment had more winners than any other. Farther along, a naked woman danced seductively in front of a brothel, letting passersby touch and fondle her as she enticed them to go inside.
To her surprise, Magnus chose to dismount here. Gigi watched as he tweaked the prostitute’s nipple, then spoke in her ear.
He’s playing a part
, she reminded herself, shaking her head,
and I have to play mine.
The dancer stopped moving, pouted, and shook her head, then pointed to a brothel several doors down.
Magnus gave her a coin and then patted her butt, before he turned and smiled at Gigi, his eyes dancing with mischief. “Follow me, wife.”
Once they picked their way along the crowded street and reached the second brothel, a young boy dashed out of the door to take their horses. Magnus helped Gigi dismount, and exclaimed, “I’m sure we’ll like this place.”
“I doubt it,” Gigi grumbled under her breath in English.
She saw a smile flash across Magnus’s face, just as they ducked inside. The interior had tables filled with noisy patrons and nearly naked prostitutes. It smelled of crushed rosemary, and Gigi guessed the floor was strewn with the stuff in a decent attempt to mask earthier odors.
A beautifully clothed woman approached, and Gigi thought the madam looked surprisingly upscale and clean, her hair and makeup tastefully done. She wore gorgeous gold and turquoise earrings, and a necklace of turquoise and pearls.
“How may we serve you, brother?” the madam asked Magnus pleasantly.
“Are you the owner?”
“I am. My name is Vespera. Would you like to see girls? Women? Boys? We can accommodate any desire.” She glanced at Gigi’s gold ring. “Will your wife be enjoying our services, or would you rather she wait? We have a very lovely, very private garden in the back.”
“May we all go into the garden for a moment?” Magnus asked.
Vespera tipped her head and led the way.
The open-air courtyard was tiny, the surrounding walls three stories high and covered in flowering vines. There was a table and two benches, and a small, bubbling fountain in one corner. It was an oasis compared to the interior.
Vespera turned, hands clasped before her. “Obviously, you wish to speak with me of something other than my regular business. I run an honest establishment and will not be bribed. What do you want?”
“I believe you know my uncle, Decimus Pontius Flavus.”
Vespera gasped and stepped back, her hand at her throat. “I have not heard that name in a very long time — a time belonging to another life.”
Surprised, Gigi looked from one to the other. Magnus hadn’t mentioned having any connections in town.
“I hope he is well?” Vespera asked, the glimmer of tears in her eyes.
Magnus’s expression wavered slightly, his brow furrowing. “The last I heard, indeed, he was enjoying his old age.”
“I remember a nephew of his,” she said cautiously, while studying Magnus’s eyes, “one he doted on … Quintus?”
Magnus bowed his head. “Quintus Pontius Flavus. I am called Magnus, now. This is my wife, Gigi.”
She nodded toward Gigi before turning her attention back to Magnus. She straightened and squared her shoulders. “How may I help you?”
“We need to sail out of here tonight, without fail. I can pay.”
Vespera heaved a sigh, and then tilted her head back, thinking. “I know of one sailor. He could acquire a ship, without permission of course, but then he would do anything if the price were right.”
“Are you sure he can be trusted not to talk?”
The brothel owner smiled. “He is my son, and for me, at least, he is entirely trustworthy.”
“We are most grateful.”
“I do this for Decimus … and that other life,” she replied. “Wait here.”
As the afternoon faded into night, Gigi and Magnus anxiously waited in the garden for Vespera to return. Servants came in, bringing an oil lamp, food and wine, all the while saying nothing.
Despite their nerves, Magnus and Gigi took advantage of Vespera’s hospitality. Dinner proved delicious: filets of grilled tuna served with fava beans, the wine a sweet white that reminded Gigi of Riesling.
She finished her wine, then poured some more. “Are you completely sure we can trust Vespera?” she asked Magnus in English.
He nodded. “In Rome, family always comes first. She is my cousin, fathered by my uncle, Decimus, on his mistress. I met Vespera when we were children, at my uncle’s villa on Capreae.”
“And your aunt allowed her to visit?”
He sipped his wine, and then smiled. “Aunt Publilia is a kind woman, and she regularly welcomed Vespera to her home. As a child, I swam and played with her, along with Decimus and Publilia’s daughters. After I entered my teens, I went to Constantinople, and I did not see anyone from that branch of the family for a long time. Before Vespera turned fifteen, she ran away with a lowlife. My uncle lost track of her after that, until word came that she was alone and supporting herself as a prostitute, later, as a madam. He offered to bring her home, but she refused, saying she had done too much to dishonor him. Despite this, I believe she has overcome the circumstances of her birth and her youthful indiscretions, and I am glad she has prospered.”
“You knew she was here in Vada Sabatia?” Gigi asked.
“She’s been living here for many years. After you escaped from Honorius, Rufus was to contact her once he’d gotten you here.”
Gigi fell silent, thinking of Rufus, now long dead. He had been Magnus’s good friend, and he’d served as her guide after she’d escaped enslavement. He had given his life to protect her and she would always honor his memory because of that.
She locked eyes with Magnus, and then touched her glass to his. “Here’s to Rufus,” she quietly said.
“The best of men,” Magnus replied as he downed his wine. He rubbed the silver ring he wore as his wedding band. “This was his and became mine upon his death, because you gifted it to me to honor his memory. I’ve always believed Rufus approved of that, and I know he watches over us, even now.”
“I think he does, too,” Gigi said, just as Vespera came back.
“It is time,” she whispered, after taking a seat beside them. “The streets are crowded with the usual revelers, so you will pass unnoticed. My son has already brought the ship alongside the northernmost dock. You must be quick. The winds are light, so he will expect you to help with the rowing, at least until you are past the imperial ship at the mouth of the port. May the gods blind those onboard, until you are safe and gone.”
Magnus stood and moved to open his coin pouch, but Vespera stopped him. “Pay my son. I do this freely for Decimus’s sake, may the gods bless his old bones. Go!”
Back on the busy street, Gigi and Magnus led their mounts away from the brothel. She felt tired and nervous after the long day. She knew she wouldn’t be able to relax until they were on the boat and safely away.
“What about the horses?” she asked Magnus in English. “I can’t imagine whatever we’re sailing on will be big enough for all of us.”
“We must keep them with us until we get to the dock,” Magnus replied. “Once we know we can leave, we’ll take our gear and set the horses free. They bear the tattoos of the Roman legion, so I am certain they will be returned to the nearest garrison.”
Despite his assurances, Gigi was worried. She looked around, feeling the weight of stares, and noticed the crowd had thinned. They walked on, nearing the intersection where the street met with the main road to the docks.
She turned to pat her mare, their imminent parting tugging at her heart.
“Gigi!”
Magnus’s harsh whisper sent a chill down her spine. She spun back around. The intersection was blocked by soldiers bearing swords and torches, a tall centurion standing in their midst.
“It may be a patrol, nothing more. Stay calm.” Slowly, Magnus drew forth his sword, his breathing controlled, but heavy.
Gigi took out her knife, then glanced at Magnus, and also pulled out her .45. She could see his gaze flicker to it, and then heard, “Well done. Stand ready.”