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
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
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