Return to Me - By Morgan O'Neill Page 0,23
chasm where her heart had been.
With a gasp, the babe suddenly moved, and Placidia’s heart thudded back to life. “Athaulf! He lives!” she cried out.
“No, Placidia, he has died. The physician told me this might happen, the last movements as the soul leaves the body.”
“No, he is mistaken!” Placidia wailed. She had felt Theo come back to life. She had heard him try to breathe. “Athaulf, no, Theo is still alive!”
Her husband put his arms around her, rocking her until her wild sobs died away, until her son grew cool to the touch and she knew, she knew.
Gently coaxing the child from Placidia’s grasp, Athaulf took their babe to the bishop, who proceeded to shout the infant’s name into his tiny ear, “Theodosius Germanicus! Theodosius Germanicus! Theodosius Germanicus!”
Numb, Placidia watched as the bishop turned to Athaulf and pronounced, “The soul of Theodosius Germanicus has gone to God.”
Athaulf’s shoulders drooped, tears streaming down his cheeks as he started to remove his son’s bulla.
Placidia felt faint. No, no! This cannot be happening. It is a nightmare!
“Give him back to me!” Overcome, Placidia leapt up, intent on taking Theo and leaving this foul place, but her legs gave way and she dropped to the floor. Screaming, flailing about, she rolled in grief, until Athaulf took her in his arms and the world went black.
That night, Placidia dreamt she was in the depths of hell, being chased by demons. She woke the next day, only to find her hell on earth.
• • •
Standing at the mast, Gigi scanned the horizon in all directions. Not a ship in sight. They’d been the only vessel at sea since leaving Vada Sabatia four days earlier. They hadn’t been chased, so, in a perverse way, the imperial blockade must have worked to their advantage.
Gigi laughed at dolphins swimming alongside their boat. With each leap, they looked at her and seemed to smile as they frolicked at the prow. She hadn’t sailed in quite some time, only on her honeymoon in the Greek Isles, and then on a romantic trip with Magnus along the Turkish coast. Ah, the smells, the wind, the sounds of sails snapping full, the creak of the lines. Everything about it felt right and good.
She’d spent her time at their skipper Lucius’s elbow, learning everything she could, including navigation — something she’d formerly left to modern charts and GPS. Despite her misgivings about ancient vessels, this one had proven very sturdy and easy to handle. The ingenuity of its design impressed her. The planking overlapped, much like a wooden rowboat, but without nails or rivets; instead, the boards were sewn together with hemp rope and then caulked with tree pitch. The boat didn’t leak at all, and the only water in the bottom came from the occasional high wave. Lucius had chosen the perfect vessel to steal.
About twenty, Lucius was funny, lighthearted, and very bright. He was also extremely handsome, with blond hair and blue eyes, not quite as blue as Magnus’s, but gorgeous, nonetheless. He looked like he should be surfing in Malibu, or giving Ryan Gosling a run for his money on stage and screen.
They were all delighted about Magnus’s renewed relationship with Vespera and her son, Lucius. In the months ahead, Magnus would be able to keep in touch with his cousins via the carrier pigeons that flew continually between Barcelona and Vada Sabatia.
And Barcelona wasn’t more than a day’s sail away, now, if their steady wind kept blowing. She was excited to see Placidia, anxious to get there in time to save her little boy.
“Gigi?” Magnus called from the tiller. “I think you should hear this.”
She went aft and sat near her husband, wondering what he and Lucius were discussing. A big talker, Lucius told stories so exaggerated, she’d spent most of her time doubting if even a kernel of what he said was true.
Keeping this in mind, she smiled at him. “What do I need to hear?”
Magnus answered first. “He tells me there has been a peace of sorts between Honorius and Athaulf — and that Honorius consented to Placidia marrying Athaulf in a great ceremony in Narbonne.”
Gigi nodded. “I remember reading about that, but didn’t know Honorius had anything to do with it.” She turned to Lucius. “The Visigoths are in Barcino by now, though, right?”
“Indeed, indeed,” Lucius said. “You will find them there. They had to flee to Hispania because of the blockade, and because General Constantius threatens them. As for the marriage, I believe our great emperor