After the Fall by Morgan O'Neill Read Free Book Online

waited a moment, then smiled. No convulsions or loss of sight. No stomach pains.
    Elpidia crossed herself and nibbled at a date, while Persis wolfed down some cheese, but after Placidia swallowed a second helping of nuts, she looked around guiltily. “We cannot do this. We cannot hoard such a gift. It would be selfish and terribly un-Christian, unforgivable.”
    Persis’s faced reddened as she reluctantly put the cheese back into the sack. “You are right, my lady.”
    Elpidia swallowed and hung her head. “What should we do?”
    Placidia grabbed the sack of spelt and hoisted it, testing its weight. “There must be fifteen libres of grain, not counting the other food. We have enough to make many, many bowls of hot puls with this amount.” Her mouth watered at the memory of porridge laced with honey, despite the fact there was no honey to be found in Rome these days.
    Placidia, be grateful for what has been given!
    Then something made her pause, something in the air, something so transient, so faint, but compelling and unforgettable.
    Astonished, she put her hands to her face. Leather and lavender. Unblinking, mouth open in surprise, she looked at the women. “I know who brought this.”
    • • •
    Placidia felt hungry and tired, her hands cold, her heart colder still. Six weeks and counting since she’d sent word to Honorius, since he’d refused to become involved. Four weeks since Athaulf had first smuggled in food, but the deliveries had tapered off, and it was ten days since the last one.
    Why? Where was he? Her eyes misted, and she feared he no longer cared.
    She walked to the balcony, parted the heavy curtains and gazed out. The weather was wet and miserable, winter’s fury come early, and innumerable diseases ran rampant in the city, killing more than they ought, because of everyone’s deteriorating strength.
    Shivering, she hurried back inside. Warming her hands over a brazier, she breathed in the heady, sweet scent given off by her last, precious hoard of stone pine, then went to her mirror and studied her wavy reflection in the polished bronze. Placidia could make out the dark circles under her eyes, the sharp prominence of her cheekbones matching the increasingly skeletal look of her body. Despite Athaulf’s gifts, she was losing weight. They were all losing weight.
    She’d shared his bounty as best she could with her servants and Attalus, and gave out bits and morsels amongst the weakest beggars in the street. But she had to be careful, knowing if it got out the palace was hoarding food, they would be overrun, and possibly killed.
    Her mind flitted toward a memory of hazel eyes flecked with green. Passionate eyes. But she reminded herself she could not abandon her people and run to him. No, she had to stay in Rome, even die, if that was God’s will, if that was how hard Honorius’s heart remained, despite her pleas.
    “My lady?” Persis asked, as she and Elpidia entered, bringing in Placidia’s warmest night shift and blankets. “How were the gladiatorial contests? Did they amuse? Were the people happy to have something else to think about, beyond finding food?”
    Elpidia grumbled at this, and Placidia looked at her for a moment before raising her arms to be undressed. “It was a disaster, and yet the Senate wants to do it again next week.” She paused as Elpidia slipped the shift over her head. “I cannot abide such violence, but I was overruled by Attalus and the other senators. I closed my eyes to the blood.” Her voice broke and she swallowed hard, willing away the images of sodden, red sand, of bodies cut to pieces. “And, do you know, with each death the crowds chanted, ‘Food, food, food,’ and we tried to ignore them, pretending we didn’t understand what they were saying. By the end, though, it … it was horrible … they were howling, insisting the dead be handed over as part of the food rationing.”
    Persis recoiled. “No, they didn’t!”
    As Placidia’s eyes welled,