Africanus and his men knelt before the throne. Rumors were flying, hideous gossip about the method of execution. Crucifixion. Burning at the stake. Flaying them alive.
Shifting, restless, Honorius still felt pain and weakness in his hand, which had suffered a burn from the weapon. His physicians had warned him not to remove the honey-soaked bandage, but he had ignored them, taking a peek that morning. He was relieved to find his skin healing well and swiftly.
The bandage had been replaced; no harm done. He stole another glance at Africanus and smiled. The chant stole into his thoughts once more, as it had many times since he’d been wounded:
Live and seek vengeance.
“Ah, what to do?” With his good hand, Honorius stroked his favorite chicken, his dearest Rome. “Would you have me kill these soldiers now, my precious one? Or shall we spare you the fuss and bother, and set them free?”
He saw several of the men’s eyes widen at his remark. Ah, how he relished their surprise, mingled as it was with a desperate hope, the desire to live. It was almost poetic, a beautiful moment! Africanus, however, held himself still and straight of spine, as would any worthy warrior. Clearly, he was resolved to his fate, a noble man. Honorius had learned Africanus was ready to fall on his sword for the pain he’d wrought, a willing sacrifice to his emperor.
Honorius felt a sudden misty-eyed longing to hug him, but instead, he gently handed off Rome to a slave.
“We have considered this at length, with much thought as to the true intentions of these men,” Honorius proclaimed. “We are exceedingly grateful for the gifts brought to us by Titus Africanus and his legionnaires, and we hereby grant full pardons to them all.”
Gasps erupted from the crowd, followed by utter silence. Confident, Honorius waited but a heartbeat before he heard a smattering of applause, which grew louder with each passing moment. He watched with interest as several of the soldiers grew tearful.
Ah, look at Africanus! He smiles!
he thought, overjoyed.
Honorius knew this act of clemency would be hailed throughout his realm. It would give his army yet another reason to feel loyalty toward him, for he was not only God’s Chosen One and their Great Emperor, but he had shown mercy to their own.
He raised his hand and the crowd grew quiet. “To further show our gratitude, we have decided to grant these brave men rewards of coin and land: a gold
aureus
for each, along with rich farmland of his choosing, in thanks for noble service. And their commander, the centurion Titus Africanus, is hereby given a great honor; he is now a
legatus
of Rome, and, as such, he is to resume his work with General Constantius to seek out and vanquish our foes, the criminals Quintus Magnus and Gigiperrin, and our greatest enemy, Athaulf the Uncouth.”
Africanus looked stunned as Honorius motioned toward several of his
Germani
guards. “Raise them up and unbind them. They are free.”
“Honorius the Merciful,” he whispered to himself. He liked the sound of that, but he also knew this show of compassion would only go so far.
Seek vengeance.
The chant in his mind had changed slightly, and he grinned at the truth in this, for he felt alive and whole, quite well, in fact.
He visualized his enemies. Athaulf. Magnus. Gigiperrin. Even his own sister, Placidia.
Vengeance would be his. But first he must find them. Where were they at this very moment? The answer might be revealed if he could determine what they had been doing in Ravenna two months ago. Were they meeting with fellow usurpers, a previously unknown group of enemies hidden here, perhaps under his very nose?
Honorius turned to the Master of Offices, Rutilius Namatianus. “Go to the jailer of our royal dungeon. See if there is anyone left from our kitchens who served with Gigiperrin. If so, bring them to our private study, but only after we have eaten our evening meal.”
“Your will be
Shifting, restless, Honorius still felt pain and weakness in his hand, which had suffered a burn from the weapon. His physicians had warned him not to remove the honey-soaked bandage, but he had ignored them, taking a peek that morning. He was relieved to find his skin healing well and swiftly.
The bandage had been replaced; no harm done. He stole another glance at Africanus and smiled. The chant stole into his thoughts once more, as it had many times since he’d been wounded:
Live and seek vengeance.
“Ah, what to do?” With his good hand, Honorius stroked his favorite chicken, his dearest Rome. “Would you have me kill these soldiers now, my precious one? Or shall we spare you the fuss and bother, and set them free?”
He saw several of the men’s eyes widen at his remark. Ah, how he relished their surprise, mingled as it was with a desperate hope, the desire to live. It was almost poetic, a beautiful moment! Africanus, however, held himself still and straight of spine, as would any worthy warrior. Clearly, he was resolved to his fate, a noble man. Honorius had learned Africanus was ready to fall on his sword for the pain he’d wrought, a willing sacrifice to his emperor.
Honorius felt a sudden misty-eyed longing to hug him, but instead, he gently handed off Rome to a slave.
“We have considered this at length, with much thought as to the true intentions of these men,” Honorius proclaimed. “We are exceedingly grateful for the gifts brought to us by Titus Africanus and his legionnaires, and we hereby grant full pardons to them all.”
Gasps erupted from the crowd, followed by utter silence. Confident, Honorius waited but a heartbeat before he heard a smattering of applause, which grew louder with each passing moment. He watched with interest as several of the soldiers grew tearful.
Ah, look at Africanus! He smiles!
he thought, overjoyed.
Honorius knew this act of clemency would be hailed throughout his realm. It would give his army yet another reason to feel loyalty toward him, for he was not only God’s Chosen One and their Great Emperor, but he had shown mercy to their own.
He raised his hand and the crowd grew quiet. “To further show our gratitude, we have decided to grant these brave men rewards of coin and land: a gold
aureus
for each, along with rich farmland of his choosing, in thanks for noble service. And their commander, the centurion Titus Africanus, is hereby given a great honor; he is now a
legatus
of Rome, and, as such, he is to resume his work with General Constantius to seek out and vanquish our foes, the criminals Quintus Magnus and Gigiperrin, and our greatest enemy, Athaulf the Uncouth.”
Africanus looked stunned as Honorius motioned toward several of his
Germani
guards. “Raise them up and unbind them. They are free.”
“Honorius the Merciful,” he whispered to himself. He liked the sound of that, but he also knew this show of compassion would only go so far.
Seek vengeance.
The chant in his mind had changed slightly, and he grinned at the truth in this, for he felt alive and whole, quite well, in fact.
He visualized his enemies. Athaulf. Magnus. Gigiperrin. Even his own sister, Placidia.
Vengeance would be his. But first he must find them. Where were they at this very moment? The answer might be revealed if he could determine what they had been doing in Ravenna two months ago. Were they meeting with fellow usurpers, a previously unknown group of enemies hidden here, perhaps under his very nose?
Honorius turned to the Master of Offices, Rutilius Namatianus. “Go to the jailer of our royal dungeon. See if there is anyone left from our kitchens who served with Gigiperrin. If so, bring them to our private study, but only after we have eaten our evening meal.”
“Your will be
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