Return to Me - By Morgan O'Neill Page 0,51
stature. There, he would be considered average, a man like any other. He would find a wife, settle down, and raise a family.
But now he had a job to do. With a grunt of displeasure, he surveyed his damnable costume, then pulled off the jewelry he’d been forced to wear for hours on end.
“Idiots,” he muttered, recalling how the courtiers fawned over him after each performance. How he hated the Visigoth upper classes, soft as the debauched Romans, the face-fuckers!
He grabbed his cup and swilled down the rest of his wine. Wiping his mouth on his sleeve, he caught movement out of the corner of his eye, and turned to see a line of women leaving the kitchen carrying buckets and heading for a corridor.
Which, if he was not mistaken, led straight to the royal chambers.
Hmm. Always alert to Fortuna’s gifts, Eberwolf rose from the bench, settled his palla over his head, and moved toward a pair of serving women filling buckets with heated water. Barcino had public baths like any other civilized town, and it intrigued him that someone wanted a private soak. But whom?
In his excitement, he grabbed the handle of one of the buckets, then cursed to himself as the water sloshed onto the floor. The nearest servant turned and scolded him for the mess, which made him realize his disguise was working better than he’d ever imagined. She was still grumbling, so he bobbed his head up and down, apologizing profusely in his high, squeaky, womanish, mimi tone.
She huffed, and then turned away, intent on resuming her work.
It was working — and beautifully! Eberwolf grabbed a second bucket and found his place among the shuffling women.
• • •
Troubled, Gigi met Magnus in a rarely used courtyard of the castle, still holding the note he’d sent asking for the meeting.
Glancing around, nervous they might be observed, Gigi was glad for the darkness of night. She spoke to him in English, “I was almost out the door and on my way home when I got your message. Shouldn’t we be talking about private things there?”
“I can’t leave the king. I won’t be going home any time soon,” Magnus replied. “I’m not even comfortable with this time away from him, but I needed to talk to you.”
“It’s almost here, isn’t it?” she whispered in dread.
“Gigi, we have no time left,” Magnus said. “I have used every conceivable argument I could think of with Athaulf, short of telling him the truth, and I cannot dissuade him. I have men watching Sergeric at all times, but I fear history cannot be stopped.”
His tone was grim, shaded with frustration. Gigi realized she felt the same; her stomach hadn’t stopped churning since Sergeric’s return was announced.
“I must remain at Athaulf’s side,” Magnus continued. “Even at night, I’ll sleep outside his door. Other than arresting Sergeric or killing him outright, which the king has expressly forbidden, I’m at a loss regarding what else to do.”
“Magnus, we can’t hold back any longer. We should tell Athaulf what we know … and why.”
He shook his head. “Perhaps it would have been the wiser course earlier, and I’m sorry I didn’t listen to you then, but I do not think anything now will change the tide of history. If we told Athaulf what we know, he’d think we’d gone insane. We can’t take the risk.”
She shook her head. “I don’t agree. Maybe I should try.”
“Athaulf will not believe you.”
“Okay, then I’m going to tell Placidia, and we’ll see what happens. She’ll hear me out. She’ll listen to me, I know she will.” Gigi waited a moment, and gauged his silence as uncertainty, rather than resistance. “Magnus, I’m going to do it. I have to.”
He heaved a frustrated sigh, but then she felt his arms enfold her. They stood like that for a moment, and then she reached up and took his face in her hands.
“Do whatever you can to save Athaulf,” her voice choked with emotion, “but at least let me try in my own way to save him.”
“There is great danger ahead for all of us.”
“I know. I’ll watch out for myself, and you … please, Magnus, you must be careful. If you die — ”
He stopped her words with a deep, impassioned kiss, and then pressed her to the wall.
She could feel him, every inch of him, and her surprise at his ardor quickly turned to desperate desire.
“Gigi, let me love you,” he whispered.
Swept up in his need, she wrapped her arms around his neck