Free Love, Eternally by Morgan O'Neill Page A

whiff of salt air, the sea beckoning him with enticing recollections of swimming at the shore.
    He flinched as a hated memory insinuated itself into his conscious mind, a loathsome time, a seaside holiday, when his father was besotted with his new wife, and Honorius had been thrust into the care of Cousin Serena. She wanted him out of the water and when he dallied, she waded in, took him by the hair and pushed his head under many times, nearly drowning him.
    “Miserable second son,” she hissed. “You will obey your betters when they give you a command!”
    He was only six when the abuse started, only six, but the memories of those years were fresh, as though it had happened yesterday. Second son, second son.
    “Well,” he muttered, “we are emperor now and all must obey our commands.”
    “O, brave Emperor Honorius, Venerabilis ,” a guard intoned, “the princess Galla Placidia.”
    Honorius submerged his bitter thoughts and forced a smile. His sister entered his chambers alone. This surprised him, for she usually traveled with an entourage. But then , he reminded himself, we have many things to discuss, personal things. We would imagine she has heard the gossips and knows why she was summoned.
    She curtseyed. “Greetings, Honorius, my dear brother.”
    He noticed her cheeks redden as her gaze strayed to the erotic frescoes adorning his walls.
    Honorius’s mood lightened and he chuckled. “Placidia, how well you look.” He studied her new sea-blue gown with satisfaction, recognizing the source of the silk. His steward had personally selected the bolt of fabric, straight off a ship from Alexandria.
    Ah! She wears it as a signal she is eager to please , he thought, confident she would appreciate his efforts at picking the best husband — not only for her, but more importantly for political and tactical needs, to preserve his grip on power.
    He kissed her hand, then led her to a couch and bade her recline.
    • • •
    Placidia hesitated, not wishing to appear rude, but Honorius motioned her on.
    “Little sister, you may take your ease before us,” he said affably. He busied himself before a table laden with exotic fruits and a golden wine service.
    “I would like to once again congratulate you on your new bride,” Placidia offered. “Is she to join us?”
    He shook his head, selecting fruit for their meal. Although this was his private balcony — and they were utterly alone — his lack of pretension here, in fact his dismissal of any pretentious behavior, took her by surprise. He was the emperor, after all, chosen by the Lord God to rule.
    Placidia looked out at the distant sea, so blue, so beautiful. She turned back to Honorius. “Well, Thermantia was the perfect choice, of course, and, er, she will certainly be a salve for your pain in losing Maria. You will be able to mourn her together, before moving on to start a family.”
    Honorius looked taken aback, then annoyed by her remark, but said nothing.
    “I … I’m sorry, dear brother,” Placidia said as he set down her plate, heaped with grapes, apricots, and a variety of sliced melons, all drizzled with honey. She popped a grape into her mouth, savoring its sweetness. “I shouldn’t have brought it up. The loss is still too recent, too painful.” She wondered at his little smile as he went back to the table. “Brother, I just received word from Constantinople, a very cordial letter from Theodosius and Pulcheria. They send their fondest regards and those of their sisters — ”
    “Do you even remember them?” Honorius asked. “We don’t care for any of the girls, especially Pulcheria. She is forever sticking her nose in everyone’s business.”
    “I remember her for her intelligence, Honorius. I think it will be a great asset, now that she has been named regent for her brother.”
    He shrugged and poured wine into two goblets. Placidia settled herself somewhat awkwardly, smoothed her new gown, and glanced about, wondering at the absence