Chapter 36

 

Hebdomon Palace, April 447

 

“LADIES, HURRY! The Huns are but two days’ ride from the walls,” Pulcheria urged her retinue. Prefect Constantinus had performed a miracle with the Greens and Blues over the two months since the earthquake. They not only repaired the old walls but added a lower outer wall with defense towers and dug a moat. Constantinople was the best defended city in the empire. The suburbs and hinterlands were not.

At least Theo saw fit to send wagons and horses to bring her people inside the newly repaired city walls. Most wagons had been sent to the front to evacuate the sick and wounded from the disastrous battle of Utus. General Arnegisclus and thousands of Roman soldiers dead. The armies protecting their frontier shattered, leaving the western provinces ripe for ravishing. The only saving grace was the news that the Huns had also taken heavy losses and now suffered with a plague. It had slowed them down, but not defeated them. Word came yesterday Attila was on the march again. Pulcheria and her retinue joined the steady stream of people on the roads heading for safety in the city.

Her women and servants trooped obediently to the wagons and, as each filled, took off for the capital along the Via Egnatia. Pulcheria and Marina were last to leave, with a contingent of guards. Her chamberlain stowed a heavy money chest under the wagon seat and sat beside the driver. The sisters took their places in the enclosed carriage—not as fancy as their former imperial one, but it served them well. Pulcheria pushed back the curtains to see out.

Marina looked back at the stately Hebdomon palace, their home for the past several years, and sighed. “We just finished the repairs from the earthquake. Will the Huns burn it?”

“Probably not. They may loot it, if they get this far. In any case, it is but an earthly abode. We have other palaces in the city.” She turned toward the formidable city walls, horizontally striped with white stone and red brick. Her chest swelled with pride for her city and its people. “Prefect Constantinus did well. Attila will not enter Constantinople.”

They joined the spate of humanity taking shelter from the barbarians: people carrying bundles on their backs, wagons and carts piled high with worldly possessions. Normally they would use every other gate, as the military had priority for alternate gates and roads. Today, all were thrown open to civilians.

A piercing cry caught Pulcheria’s attention. A child sat along the road, clutching a ragged doll, tears streaming down its face. The hustling crowd ignored its piteous cries.

“Stop!” Pulcheria shouted to the wagon driver. She ordered a guard, “Bring the child to me.”

“Yes, Augusta.” The wagon pulled to the side of the road as best it could. A steady stream of people cursed the stalled wagon for blocking their way. The guard pushed against the surging crowd and eventually came to the child, lifted it to his shoulder, and made his way back. He passed the burden into Pulcheria’s waiting hands.

“Thank you. Driver, continue.” She settled the child in her lap, doing a quick check to make sure it wasn’t injured. The child was a girl, three, maybe four years of age, with dark curly hair and a rough tunic.

“Poor thing.” Marina cooed. “She must have fallen off a cart or been left behind accidentally.”

“What’s your name, child?” Pulcheria asked.

“Ria.” The girl stuffed her middle two fingers in her mouth, eyes growing round as sucked on them.

“Why, that’s my name!” Pulcheria smiled. “And your mother’s?”

She removed her fingers to whisper, “Mama,” then promptly popped them back in.

Pulcheria glanced at her sister. “Well, we’ll do our best to find your Mama. For now, you’re safe with us.”

Tears trembled in the child’s eyes. She clutched the doll tighter. Her mouth opened for another piercing shriek.

“Do you like sweets?” Marina asked

The girl nodded.

“I think I have something here.” Marina rummaged in her personal bag, shooting a guilty look at her sister. “Here it is.” She unwrapped a grape leaf to reveal a sticky date, stuffed with honey and walnuts, and handed it to the child. “I sometimes feel faint when I don’t have a little something to eat every couple of hours.”

Pulcheria knew the comment was for her benefit, not the child’s, and smiled. “I’ve known of your fondness for sweets since you were little, Sister. No need for embarrassment.”

Just then another commotion caught her attention. The crowd milled complaining as a man leading a donkey cart and a frantic woman, pulling two children by the hands, pushed against the flow.

“Ria!” the woman shouted. “Ria! Where are you?” She stopped an older woman hauling a bundle on her back. “My child! Have you seen a child in the road? A little girl, black hair, carrying a doll?”

The old woman shook her head, mumbling something Pulcheria couldn’t hear.

“We have her!” the driver shouted, waving at the family.

The woman left her other children with her husband and made her way to the wagon.

“Is she yours?” Pulcheria propped the girl up in the wagon door.

“Mama!” The child wriggled, putting out her arms.

“Oh, thank the Good Lord you found her!” Tears tracked the woman’s dusty cheeks. Pulcheria surrendered the child. “I can’t thank you enough. Her brother let go of her hand and…and…I didn’t know what to do. I feared her trampled.” The woman wiped her cheeks, leaving a muddy streak.

“We are glad to be of service and happy you found us.” Pulcheria smiled. “Little Ria seems none the worse for her adventure.”

The woman looked closely at Pulcheria and the guards in their imperial uniforms. Her eyes grew round. She dropped to her knees, hugging her child to her breast. “Augusta, please forgive me. I didn’t recognize you.”

“Rise and go with my blessings. Be safe.” She handed the woman a couple of coins. “If you have need of more money or shelter, come to my palace and tell the chamberlain you are Ria’s mother. I can’t let my namesake go hungry, can I?”

“God bless you, Augusta!” The woman bowed and hustled her child back to her family.

Marina watched the family trudging back up the road toward the city with a look of longing.

“Do you regret not having a family, Marina?” Pulcheria asked quietly.

“Yes…and no.” Her sister sighed. “If I could have had a normal life, yes, I would have liked a husband and children.” She looked directly at Pulcheria. “Imperial princesses are not normal women. I do not regret my vow. I’ve lived a good life, full of love and service.” Marina’s gaze shifted back to the teeming crowds headed for the gates. “I’ve helped thousands of children and will help thousands more.”

Pulcheria patted her sister’s knee. “I’m glad you are content. You and Arcadia have been my pillars during these years. I couldn’t have helped Theo rule without your steadfast support, but often wondered if I did you a disservice in leading you this direction.”

“I miss our sister terribly.” Tears trembled in Marina’s eyes. “When you were busy with the court or the church, she was my main companion.”

“I miss her, too.” Pulcheria quietly mourned all those she had lost in recent years. “Arcadia, then Bishop Proclus the next year. Bishop Flavian is a fine and holy man, but Proclus was a friend for nearly two decades. So many of my friends are gone. My only consolation is we will all be joined in Heaven when our time on this earthly plain is done.”

The hollow sound of hooves on wood told Pulcheria they were on the temporary bridge that crossed the new moat. A shadow from the outer wall gate briefly darkened the windows as they entered the area between the two walls. Pulcheria looked out between the driver and the chamberlain to see the magnificent Golden Gate—a former triumphal arch commemorating her grandfather’s victory over the Visigoths—incorporated into the walls. The brass doors fitted in the triple arches glittered like gold. A quadriga of four gilded bronze elephants, flanked by two statues of winged victory, graced the top. Two projecting towers offered defenders ample opportunity to fight off invaders with arrows, rocks, or hot oil.

They passed through the tallest central arch, pulled to the side, and came to a halt. Pulcheria frowned. “Why are we detained?”

“Maybe the streets are too clogged?” Marina peeked out of the window and squeaked, “Oh!” when a man’s face appeared.

“My apologies, Princess. I did not mean to give you a fright.” The captain of the guards bowed to Marina, then addressed Pulcheria. “Augusta, Constantinus, prefect of the East wishes to offer his regards.”

A tall, fair-haired man with a slightly crooked nose and shrewd gray eyes approached the carriage and bowed. “Augusta. My highest regards and good wishes. I am pleased you and your good ladies are safe within our walls.”

Pulcheria nodded. “You have done a miraculous job in repairing and augmenting the walls, Prefect. You have my gratitude and esteem.”

“Thank you, Augusta.”

She caught a satisfied gleam in his eyes before he ducked his head. Pulcheria had an impulse. “Prefect. I wish to see the top of the walls and inspect the preparations for defense.”

The smile on the prefect’s face changed to surprise, but he made a smooth transition. “Of course, Augusta, I am at your disposal.”

Her captain frowned but knew better than to counsel caution. He opened the door and offered a hand. She turned to her sister. “Marina?”

“There is much to do to open our palace and prepare for the coming days. I will continue on with the chamberlain and send the carriage back for you.”

“Of course.” Pulcheria gave her sister a proud smile. Marina had stepped into Arcadia’s place as manager of their households with grace and competence. Her younger sister would see that their empty palace was transformed into a comfortable home for her and their retinue. “I will return for our evening meal and prayers.”

“This way, Augusta.” Constantinus showed her to the bottom of a steep set of stairs leading to the top of the inner wall. He turned to a well-groomed young man overseeing several workers. “You there! Get a chair for the Augusta, and slaves to carry her to the top!”

“No need, Prefect.” Pulcheria put a restraining hand on his arm. “I am perfectly capable of climbing stairs.”

“B-But…”

“I will accept a steadying hand, since these stairs have no railing on the outside.” She smiled. The prefect took her elbow.

As she ascended, she heard the crowd of workers murmuring below. Soon they started shouting, “Look! It’s the Holy One, the Virgin Augusta! She comes to bless the walls and turn back the Huns!” The shouts coalesced into acclamations.

“Bless the Holy One, the Virgin Augusta!”

“The Holy Virgin will save us!”

At the top, Pulcheria took time to catch her breath. She turned to the workers and soldiers below and spread her arms until the crowd quieted. Love and certainty flowed through her. In her strongest voice, she shouted, “May the Good Lord bless these stout walls and the good men who built and defend them. Hold them fast against our enemies. Save our city from the pagan Huns. In the name of God, the Father, His Son Jesus Christ, and the Holy Ghost, Amen.”

The men erupted in ecstatic cheers.

“Thank you, Augusta.” The prefect shouted in her ear to be heard above the roar of the crowd. “You are a true inspiration to the people.”

 

*****

 

THE NEXT MORNING, Pulcheria busied herself at the hospital attached to the Great Church, preparing for the onslaught of wounded from a battle. She worked in the storeroom, inventorying medicines and bandages. She closed her eyes and sniffed. Lavender, feverfew, and poppy, she identified the herbs by their scents. Shouts and cheers outside startled her.

Marina rushed in to grab Pulcheria in a hug. “Remarkable news, Sister! The Huns have turned aside!”

“What?” Pulcheria pushed Marina back and grabbed her sister’s shoulders to look directly into her eyes. “Is this a jape?”

“I swear, it’s true, Ria!” Marina’s smile nearly cracked her face. “Word arrived just minutes ago. Criers are in the streets. Attila’s forces are weakened by a plague sent from God. They turn away from the strong walls of Constantinople and go West.”

“Thank the Good Lord!”

“There’s more.” Marina’s eyes twinkled with laughter. “It seems the Holy Virgin Mary herself blessed the walls and protects the city. She was seen walking the ramparts near the Golden Gate.”

“The Virgin—?” Pulcheria broke off as her sister doubled over with laughter. “What’s so funny about the Holy Virgin protecting us?”

“Oh, Ria. Don’t you see?” Marina struggled to get herself under control. “Forgive me. I am a bit mad with relief.” She took deep breaths while Pulcheria tapped her foot impatiently. “Did you not walk the ramparts by the Golden Gate yesterday? Did you not bless the walls? You told me the crowd acclaimed you.”

“Yes, but how could they confuse me with the Holy Virgin?”

“You are an impressive woman, Ria.” Marina turned sober. “I can easily understand how people at a distance see a commanding, compassionate figure giving blessings and hearing cries of ‘Holy Virgin’ might make a mistake. It’s not the first time you were mistaken for the Holy Mother. Remember when you saved Theo from that assassin?”

“How do you remember? You were little more than a baby!”

“Theo told that story to us so many times, I almost came to believe you were the Holy Virgin!”

“Well, I’m not, and it’s blasphemous to say so!”

“Sister.” Marina sat her down. “I know, and you know, that you are not the Holy Virgin. But it does no harm, and may do considerable good, that the people feel they are protected. Let them have their sense of peace.” She arched an eyebrow. “You can’t say the Holy Mother didn’t guide your actions yesterday.”

Pulcheria gave a skeptical snort, then thought, Maybe Marina was right. Perhaps Mary Theotokos did inspire my actions. In any case, I should leave the people with their hopes.

A sense of relief flooded her. The city was safe—for now.

“Augusta?” Sister Helena stuck her head in the storeroom. “I’m sorry to interrupt. We have a problem.”

“What is it?” Pulcheria took her arms from around her sister.

“The plague.” Helena’s usual calm face was pale and drawn. “A family just came in for help. They all show symptoms: fever, vomiting, and a rash. The father is covered with pus-filled boils.”

Pulcheria handed her inventory to Marina. “We’ll need more ginger, garlic, and honey.”

“I’ll see to it, Sister.”