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the formality of this place, which was almost as rigid as the royal court in Ravenna. How she longed for the freedom she’d enjoyed in the Visigoth camp.
    Her old nurse hobbled in and Placidia patted the seat beside her. “Dearest Elpidia,” she said. “Sit down beside me and enjoy the warmth from the brazier.”
    “How are your back pains?”
    “Much better. Thank you.”
    “It won’t be long before we’ve a little babe to fawn over,” Elpidia said, smiling. She moved slowly, lowering herself onto the bench.
    Placidia picked up the jar of scented cream her nurse commonly used to ease pain, then shifted, resettling her belly so she could reach the old woman. “Give me your poor hands.”
    “I won’t hear of it,” Elpidia replied, tucking her hands into her lap.
    Placidia smiled. “You have served me since before I can remember. It would be my honor to give you some moments of pleasure. I know your hands, knotted as they are, pain you more than you let on, so if I must, then I make it a command. Give me your hands.”
    Elpidia shook her head, but a smile belied her acquiescence. Stretching forth first one hand, and then the other, she closed her eyes and moaned with pleasure and relief as Placidia worked in the cream.
    Kneading each swollen knuckle, massaging the muscles, Placidia was happy to give comfort in some small way. Her nurse, who’d always seemed old to her, was truly elderly now. Living in tents with the Visigoths over the last four years, while traveling almost constantly, had taken its toll. Placidia was glad, however, that in the poor woman’s decline, she might yet have the delight of a new babe to love.
    “The Queen of the South and the King of the North have brought forth a princeling,” Elpidia whispered, her eyes still closed in bliss, “unifier of Rome and the Visigoths. That’s what they will be shouting all across the world.”
    Placidia chuckled. “Are you so sure it’s a boy?”
    Elpidia opened her eyes and nodded. “Of course. If it is God’s Will — and how is it not? — so it shall be! Now let go of my hands. It’s time for another drink.”
    “Yet another blackberry leaf tisane?” Placidia groaned. “I think I shall drown in the stuff before our little prince ever sees the light of day.”
    “Twice a day for the past week is not drowning. As I’ve told you, it relaxes the womb. Helps the babe to find his way out without so much of a struggle.” Elpidia got up and started ambling away. Over her shoulder she added, “And you’ll be thanking me for it, once he’s easily here and you still look pleasing to the king!”
    • • •
    The blessing of the Christmas season always gave Placidia great joy, because of its meaning and pageantry. She and Athaulf led the people of Barcino through the Forum, past the old Temple of Augustus, and toward the newer Catholic church, the Basilica of the Holy Cross and St. Eulalia.
    I’m as large as Hannibal’s elephant,
Placida thought as she waddled inside the great cathedral. Athaulf’s oldest daughter, Gaila, walked by her side, and his eldest son, Beremund, led the way with his father. They were children no longer, poised and growing tall, soon to be coming of age.
    Placidia took Gaila’s icy-cold hand. The girl had argued against wearing her heavy cloak and gloves that morning, and Placidia could not convince her to relent and bundle up against the cold. Ah, the travails of being a stepmother! Nevertheless, she felt a twinge of satisfaction, for the church was almost as chilly as it had been outside, and Gaila doubtless was regretting her decision, considering the glacial feel of her skin. Placidia guessed the girl would dress with greater care the next time she went outdoors in the dead of winter.
    Smiling, Placidia let go of Gaila’s hand and greeted Bishop Sigesar, who was himself clad only in his ceremonial robes. He also looked chilled, but would soon find relief, for the body heat of hundreds of worshippers would warm