Nobilissima by Carrie Bedford Page B

delighted to eat with you,” she said.
    Aurelia leaned over and whispered to me. “I think it’s best to cultivate Alaric’s friendship and that of his wife,” she said. “We aren’t in a position to be rude and refuse their offer of a meal. You must watch out for yourself and stay close to Alaric and his family for safety. Even your father would have recommended such a course of action.”
    “Very well,” I agreed. She was right.
    Talk at the table stopped, interrupted by the sound of horses’ hooves and an outburst of shouting and laughing. A short time later, seven or eight barbarian soldiers entered, led by a huge man with long fair hair left unbound. He wore a tunic made of animal skins stitched together, and the long trousers favored by the Goths. A number of gold bracelets encircled his arm. From his belt hung a sword in a jeweled scabbard that had certainly been stolen from a wealthy Roman, and an assortment of short knives. His face was crossed with several scars including one that ran from his eye to his chin, giving him a leering expression that only made him more terrifying to look at.
    He found a place at the table and laid a silver dagger down in front of him. His hands were huge, with dirt ingrained in the skin. A servant came in with a plate of bread and he leaned over and took a piece without waiting for anyone else.
    “Sigeric,” Alaric said. “Meet Aelia Galla Placidia, daughter of our late Emperor Theodosius.”
    Sigeric glanced at me as he pulled the piece of bread apart with his teeth, and he grunted but did not stop chewing. The conversation round the table resumed and eventually Sigeric stopped pushing handfuls of food into his mouth and took a long gulp of wine. He belched loudly and turned his chair to look at me, gazing at me from head to toe as though I were a slave for sale at the market.
    “Nice,” he said, nodding approvingly, and I hoped that would be the full extent of the conversation.
    “Married?” he asked. I pretended I hadn’t heard him and moved to pick up my goblet of wine. To my horror, he grabbed my wrist and held it tightly.
    “I asked if you are married,” he said again. There was a sudden silence at the table.
    “No,” I replied. “Please let go of me.”
    Ignoring my request, he squeezed my arm and continued his open appraisal of me.
    “You’re a virgin then?” he asked. Horrified and shamed, I stared at him and jerked my wrist away, knocking over my cup of wine. For a moment, I watched, mesmerized, as the dark red liquid ran across the table and dripped over the side on to my gown.
    Coming to my senses, I stood. “We’re leaving. Come on, Aurelia.”
    “Don’t go,” said Sigeric. “It’s just a little wine. I can lick your clothes clean for you.”
    “Enough,” said Ataulf, standing suddenly. “Sigeric, get out, unless you can behave in a more civilized way.”
    Sigeric picked up the dagger from the table and held it in front of him, point upwards. It glinted in the candlelight.
    “I’ll fight you for her,” he said. Ataulf pulled out a knife from his belt and held it up for all to see. Several soldiers appeared from the shadows behind him and drew their swords.
    I took a deep breath. “Stop it, both of you.”
    Alaric put his hand out to touch his brother’s arm.
    “Put that away. There’ll be no fighting here. Sigeric, leave and make sure the men are told of our plans for tomorrow. Ataulf, sit down and stop snorting like a mad bull.”  
    Sigeric stood up, pushing his chair back so hard that it fell to the floor. He stared at Alaric.
    “I’m sick of you protecting your brother-in-law,” he snarled. “I should kill you both and lead this army the way it’s supposed to be led. We should be turning back to fight the Romans, not running to the south and worrying about food.”  
    “Get out,” ordered Alaric again, holding up his hand to stop one of his guards from lunging at Sigeric. For a few seconds, there was silence before