Return to Me - By Morgan O'Neill Page 0,64

their horses. “But my heart tells me you are sincere. I have seen some of the items you carry, and witnessed what they can do. They are marvelous and terrible beyond my ken, and it makes sense they come from the future. Based on this, and the love I know you have for me, for my family, I have chosen to step forth in faith.” She kissed Gigi’s cheek, her voice thick with emotion. “I have cherished our time together and love you as a sister.”

“I love you, too,” Gigi said tearfully. “I wish we could make this easier for you.”

They embraced a moment more, and then Placidia turned to Magnus. “My protector, my true brother, please know that I will forever honor your name and your memory. You have been my closest friend, my greatest advocate, and I love you dearly.”

Eyes brimming, Magnus swallowed hard and could only nod in response.

Placidia touched the flute strap on Gigi’s shoulder. “Play your flute for the children. Play for yourself and for Magnus. And, once in a while, play for Athaulf and me. Write a song about the love we shared. Something beautiful. I’m sure I will hear it in my heart, and it will bring comfort to me.”

At a loss for words, Gigi nodded.

There was a last round of hugs, and then Magnus and Gigi watched as Placidia, Leontius, and Elpidia mounted their horses. Wallia saluted Magnus, then turned his mount and led the group down the hillside.

Gigi and Magnus followed the others at a careful distance. The day passed uneventfully, and if not for their grief and the sense of foreboding, Gigi would have enjoyed the mountain trek. Late that night they were within several miles of Barcino when Placidia’s group made camp.

Speaking very little, and then only in hushed voices, Gigi helped Magnus pitch their own meager camp and they hunkered down. The night air was oppressive, her thoughts dark, and she knew sleep would be elusive.

A great clamor sent Gigi and Magnus out of their bedrolls in an instant. Gigi had her gun drawn, Magnus, his sword. Light was just brightening the sky, and the horses were agitated, but not alarmed. Gigi looked at Magnus. The racket was not close by, but it had all the hallmarks of an ambush. Placidia’s camp was being attacked!

“Should we help?” she asked.

Magnus shook his head. “No, I believe history has taken hold, and Placidia’s fate is out of our hands.”

“So we just leave?”

“How long was the forced prisoner march?” Magnus asked.

The questions shook Gigi. Implacable history would have its way, and she shuddered at its power. “I think it was about ten or so miles, but I don’t know what that is in Roman mille.”

Nodding, Magnus turned to her. “I think we are about ten miles from the outskirts of the city.”

Gigi leaned against Magnus and holstered her gun. “I hate this.”

“She will be fine. You know this will bring the people out against Sergeric, and that is good.”

Gigi nodded. “Would it be safe to follow and watch?”

“Perhaps. In any case, it would greatly ease my heart.”

When they were packed and mounted, Gigi and Magnus were able to get close enough to the others to see what was going on.

Placidia’s party was surrounded by several dozen troops wearing new colors, Sergeric’s colors. Sure enough, Sergeric was at their head, taunting the queen, Wallia, and his men. Their horses had been confiscated, and everyone was bound at the wrists and forced to march on foot.

It was hot and dusty, and Sergeric hurled insults at every opportunity. As the group drew closer to Barcino, local people lined the roadway, silent and sullen.

Gigi saw a little boy recklessly dash out and press a flower into Placidia’s hand, before he was shoved to the side by a soldier. Many of the people prayed, some wept, and as Placidia’s group got closer to the city, townspeople began to pelt Sergeric and his soldiers with whatever they had at hand.

As Gigi watched with tears in her eyes, Magnus touched her arm. “We have risked too much already,” he said. “It’s time to follow our own path and let her go.”

With a ragged sigh, Gigi agreed. They mounted their horses and skirted Barcino in silence, heading toward the cove.

It had grown dark, a deep, moonless night, and they couldn’t see if the ship was there. Hoping they weren’t too late, Magnus lit a pair of torches and waved them back and forth.

Before long, they heard the soft lapping