another Sardinia. Someone spoke up: ‘These destinations are too distant and difficult to control. There is an island in the Tyrrhenian sea, bare and inhospitable, poor in every sense, close enough to the coast, yet sufficiently far away. There’s an old imperial villa still standing there, set on a completely inaccessible cliff. It is partially in ruins but still habitable.’ He got up and went to the wall on which a map of the empire was painted, pointing at a spot in the Gulf of Naples: ‘Capri.’
Odoacer did not reply immediately, evidently considering the various proposals. After a short while, he said: ‘This does seem the best destination. Isolated enough, but easy to reach if neccessary. The boy will be escorted by a hundred warriors, the best we have. I don’t want surprises. Make all the necessary preparations; I will let you know when the moment to leave has arrived.’
The destination decided upon, conversation roamed to other matters. Everyone was in a fine mood. There they were, in the bosom of supreme power, with reasonable expectations for a grand life ahead of them: property, servants, women, herds, villas and palaces. They were euphoric and inclined to drink beyond measure. When Odoacer turned them out, most were drunk and needed their servants’ assistance to find their quarters and take a little afternoon rest – a Latin custom which they had eagerly adopted.
Wulfila was still quite sober, thanks to his endless capacity to guzzle wine. Odoacer held him back.
‘Listen,’ Odoacer began. ‘I’ve decided to put you in charge of the boy because you’re the only man I can trust for this mission. You’ve already told me how you feel about the situation; now let me tell you how I feel. If anything happens to him, anything at all, you will be held responsible and your head would be worth less than the scraps I just fed to the dogs. Is that clear?’
‘Completely,’ responded Wulfila. ‘I think you’ll come to regret your decision about the boy. But you are in command here,’ he added, with a tone that clearly meant ‘for now’. Odoacer took in his words, but preferred to remain silent.
*
On the morning of their departure, Romulus’s door was opened and two maidservants entered to wake him and prepare him for the journey.
‘Where are they taking us?’ asked the boy.
The two girls exchanged a look, then said in a low voice to Ambrosinus, who had got up as well: ‘We don’t know for sure, but Antemius is certain that you’ll be headed south. From the quantity of provisions he’s been asked to prepare, he thinks about a week’s journey, maybe more. Gaeta, or Naples, perhaps, or maybe even Brindisi, but he thinks that’s less likely.’
‘And then?’ asked Ambrosinus.
‘That’s all,’ replied the maid. ‘Whatever your destination is, it will be forever.’
Ambrosinus lowered his head in an attempt to hide his emotions. The girls kissed Romulus’s hands, murmuring: ‘Farewell, Caesar, may God protect you.’
Shortly after, Romulus and Ambrosinus were escorted outside by Wulfila’s men, from the door facing the basilica. The basilica’s door was open and they could see a coffin covered with a pall at the end of the nave, surrounded by lit lamps. The solemn funeral rites of Flavia Serena were about to begin. Antemius, watched closely by one of Odoacer’s men, approached Romulus and greeted him with great deference, kissing his hand. He said: ‘Unfortunately, you will not be allowed to participate in your mother’s funeral, but perhaps it’s better this way. Have a safe journey, my lord, and may God assist you.’
‘Thank you, Antemius,’ said Ambrosinus with a nod of his head. He got into the carriage and held the door open for Romulus, but the boy took a few steps towards the basilica threshold.
‘Farewell, mother,’ he whispered.
5
T HE IMAGE BEGAN SLOWLY to take shape. At first a confused glimmer, a greenish reflection. Then the edges became more
Odoacer did not reply immediately, evidently considering the various proposals. After a short while, he said: ‘This does seem the best destination. Isolated enough, but easy to reach if neccessary. The boy will be escorted by a hundred warriors, the best we have. I don’t want surprises. Make all the necessary preparations; I will let you know when the moment to leave has arrived.’
The destination decided upon, conversation roamed to other matters. Everyone was in a fine mood. There they were, in the bosom of supreme power, with reasonable expectations for a grand life ahead of them: property, servants, women, herds, villas and palaces. They were euphoric and inclined to drink beyond measure. When Odoacer turned them out, most were drunk and needed their servants’ assistance to find their quarters and take a little afternoon rest – a Latin custom which they had eagerly adopted.
Wulfila was still quite sober, thanks to his endless capacity to guzzle wine. Odoacer held him back.
‘Listen,’ Odoacer began. ‘I’ve decided to put you in charge of the boy because you’re the only man I can trust for this mission. You’ve already told me how you feel about the situation; now let me tell you how I feel. If anything happens to him, anything at all, you will be held responsible and your head would be worth less than the scraps I just fed to the dogs. Is that clear?’
‘Completely,’ responded Wulfila. ‘I think you’ll come to regret your decision about the boy. But you are in command here,’ he added, with a tone that clearly meant ‘for now’. Odoacer took in his words, but preferred to remain silent.
*
On the morning of their departure, Romulus’s door was opened and two maidservants entered to wake him and prepare him for the journey.
‘Where are they taking us?’ asked the boy.
The two girls exchanged a look, then said in a low voice to Ambrosinus, who had got up as well: ‘We don’t know for sure, but Antemius is certain that you’ll be headed south. From the quantity of provisions he’s been asked to prepare, he thinks about a week’s journey, maybe more. Gaeta, or Naples, perhaps, or maybe even Brindisi, but he thinks that’s less likely.’
‘And then?’ asked Ambrosinus.
‘That’s all,’ replied the maid. ‘Whatever your destination is, it will be forever.’
Ambrosinus lowered his head in an attempt to hide his emotions. The girls kissed Romulus’s hands, murmuring: ‘Farewell, Caesar, may God protect you.’
Shortly after, Romulus and Ambrosinus were escorted outside by Wulfila’s men, from the door facing the basilica. The basilica’s door was open and they could see a coffin covered with a pall at the end of the nave, surrounded by lit lamps. The solemn funeral rites of Flavia Serena were about to begin. Antemius, watched closely by one of Odoacer’s men, approached Romulus and greeted him with great deference, kissing his hand. He said: ‘Unfortunately, you will not be allowed to participate in your mother’s funeral, but perhaps it’s better this way. Have a safe journey, my lord, and may God assist you.’
‘Thank you, Antemius,’ said Ambrosinus with a nod of his head. He got into the carriage and held the door open for Romulus, but the boy took a few steps towards the basilica threshold.
‘Farewell, mother,’ he whispered.
5
T HE IMAGE BEGAN SLOWLY to take shape. At first a confused glimmer, a greenish reflection. Then the edges became more
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