Lest Darkness Fall (18 page)

            But it made him a little sad
that he would never be one of those impetuous fellows — usually described as
tall and handsome — who take one look at a girl, know her to be their destined
mate, and sweep her into their arms. He let Dorothea do most of the talking as
they wandered back into the house to dinner with Cornelius Anicius and Anicius'
oratory. Padway, watching Dorothea as she preceded him, felt slightly disgusted
with himself for having let Julia invade his bed.

            They sat down — or rather
stretched themselves out on the couches, as Anicius insisted on eating in the
good old Roman style, to Padway's acute discomfort. Anicius had a look in his
eye that Padway found vaguely familiar.

            Padway learned that the look
was that of a man who is writing or is about to write a book. Anicius
explained: "Ah, the degenerate times we live in, excellent Martinus! The
lyre of Orpheus sounds but faintly; Calliope veils her face; blithe Thalia is
mute; the hymns of our Holy Church have drowned Euterpe's sweet strains. Yet a
few of us strive to hold high the torch of poetry while swimming the Hellespont
of barbarism and hoeing the garden of culture."

            "Quite a feat,"
said Padway, squirming in a vain effort to find a comfortable position.

            "Yes, we persist
despite Herculean discouragements. For instance, you will not consider me
forward in submitting to your publisher's eagle-bright scrutiny a little book
of verses." He produced a sheaf of papyrus. "Some of them are not
really bad, though I their unworthy author say so."

            "I should be very much
interested," said Padway, smiling with effort. "As for publication,
however, I should warn you that I'm contracted for three books by your
excellent colleagues already. And between the paper and my schoolbook, it will
be some weeks before I can print them."

            "Oh," said Anicius
with a drooping inflection. "The Illustrious Trajanus Herodius, the
Distinguished John Leontius, and the Respectable Felix Avitus. All epic poems.
Because of market conditions these gentlemen have undertaken the financial
responsibility of publication."

            "Meaning — ah?"

            "Meaning that they pay
cash in advance, and get the whole price of their books when sold, subject to
bookseller's discounts. Of course, distinguished sir, if the book is really
good, the author doesn't have to worry about getting back his cost of
publication."

            "Yes, yes, excellent
Martinus, I see. What chances do you think my little creation would have?"

            "I'd have to see it
first."

            "So you would. I'll
read some of it now, to give you the idea." Anicius sat up. He held the
papyrus in one hand and made noble gestures with the other:

-

"Mars
with his thunderous trumpet his lord acclaims,

The
youthful Jupiter, new to his throne ascended,

Above
the stars by all-wise Nature placed.

The
lesser deities their sire worship,

To
ancient sovereignty with pomp succeeding —"

-

            "Father,"
interrupted Dorethea, "your food's getting cold."

            "What? Oh, so it is,
child."

            "And," continued
Dorothea, "I think you ought to write some good Christian sentiment some
time, instead of all that pagan superstition."

            Anicius sighed. "If you
ever have a daughter, Martinus, marry her off early, before she develops the
critical faculty."

-

            In August Naples fell to
General Belisarius. Thiudahad had done nothing to help the town except seize
the families of the small Gothic garrison to insure their fidelity. The only
vigorous defense of the city was made by the Neapolitan Jews. These, having
heard of Justinian's religious complexes, knew what treatment to expect under
Imperial rule.

            Padway heard the news with a
sick feeling. There was so much that he could do for them if they'd only let
him alone. And it would take such a little accident to snuff him out — one of
the normal accidents of warfare, like that which happened to Archimedes. In
this age civilians who got in the way of belligerent armies would be given the
good old rough and ruthless treatment to which the military of his own
twentieth century, after a brief hundred and fifty years of relatively humane
forbearance, had seemed to be returning.

            Fritharik announced that a
party of Goths wanted to look Padway's place over. He added in his sepulchral
voice: "Thiudegiskel's with them. You know, the king's son. Watch out for
him, excellent boss. He makes trouble."

            There were six of them, all
young, and they tramped into the house wearing swords, which was not good
manners by the standards of the times. Thiudegiskel was a handsome, blond young
man who had inherited his father's high-pitched voice.

            He stared at Padway, like
something in a zoo, and said: "I've wanted to see your place ever since I
heard you and the old man were mumbling over manuscripts together. I'm a
curious chap, you know, active-minded. What the devil are all these silly
machines for?"

            Padway did some explaining,
while the prince's companions made remarks about his personal appearance in
Gothic, under the mistaken impression that he couldn't understand them.

            "Ah, yes," said
Thiudegiskel, interrupting one of the explanations. "I think that's all
I'm interested in here. Now, let's see that bookmaking machine."

            Padway showed him the
presses.

            "Oh, yes, I understand.
Really a simple thing, isn't it? I could have invented it myself. All very well
for those who like it. Though I can read and write and all that. Better than
most people, in fact. But I never cared for it. Dull business, not suited to a
healthy man like me."

            "No doubt, no doubt, my
lord," said Padway. He hoped that the red rage he was feeling didn't show
in his face.

            "Say, Willimer,"
said Thiudegiskel, "you remember that tradesman we had fun with last
winter? He looked something like this Martinus person. Same big nose."

            Willimer roared with
laughter. "Do I remember it!
Guths in himinam
! I'll never forget
the way he looked when we told him we were going to baptize him in the Tiber,
with rocks tied to him so the angels couldn't carry him off! But the funniest
thing was when some soldiers from the garrison arrested us for assault!"

            Thiudegiskel said to Padway,
between guffaws: "You ought to have been there, Martinus. You should have
seen old Liuderis' face when he found out who we were! We made him grovel, I
can tell you. I've always regretted that I missed the flogging of those
soldiers who pinched us. That's one thing about me; I can appreciate the humor
of things like that."

            "Would you like to see
anything more, my lord?" asked Padway, his face wooden.

            "Oh, I don't know — Say,
what are all those packing cases for?"

            "Some stuff just
arrived for our machines, my lord, and we haven't gotten around to burning the
cases," Padway lied.

            Thiudegiskel grinned
good-naturedly. "Trying to fool me, huh? I know what you're up to. You're
going to sneak your stuff out of Rome before Belisarius gets here, aren't you?
That's one thing about me; I can see through little tricks like that. Well,
can't say I blame you. Though it sounds as though you had inside information on
how the war will go." He examined a new brass telescope on a workbench.
"This is an interesting little device. I'll take it along, if you don't
mind."

            That was too much even for
Padway's monumental prudence. "No, my lord, I'm sorry, but I need that in
my business."

            Thiudegiskel's eyes were
round with astonishment. "Huh? You mean I can't have it?"

            "That, my lord, is
it."

            "Well... uh ... uh ...
if you're going to take that attitude, I'll pay for it."

            "It isn't for
sale."

            Thiudegiskel's neck turned
slowly pink with embarrassment and anger. His five friends moved up behind him,
their left hands resting on their sword hilts.

            The one called Willimer said
in a low tone: "I
think
, gentlemen, that our king's son has been
insulted."

            Thiudegiskel had laid the
telescope on the bench. He reached out for it; Padway snatched it up and
smacked the end of the tube meaningfully against his left palm. He knew that,
even if he got out of this situation in one piece, he'd curse himself for a
double-dyed knight-erranting idiot. But at the moment he was too furious to
care.

            The uncomfortable silence
was broken by the shuffle of feet behind Padway; he saw the Goths' eyes shift
from him. He glanced around. In the doorway was Fritharik, with his sword belt
hitched around so the scabbard was in front, and Nerva, holding a three-foot
length of bronze bar-stock. Behind them came the other workmen with an
assortment of blunt instruments.

            "It seems," said
Thiudegiskel, "that these people have no manners whatever. We should give
them a lesson. But I promised my old man to lay off fighting. That's one thing
about me; I always keep my promises. Come along boys." They went.

            "
Whew!
"
said Padway. "You boys certainly saved my bacon. Thanks."

            "Oh, it was nothing,"
said George Menandrus airily. "I'm rather sorry they didn't stay to fight
it out. I'd have enjoyed smacking their thick skulls."

            "You?
Honh!
"
snorted Fritharik. "Boss, the first thing I saw when I started to round
the men up was this fellow sneaking out the back door. You know how I changed
his mind? I said I'd hang him with a rope made of my own guts if he didn't
stick! And the others, I threatened to cut their heads off and stick them on
the fence pailings in front of the house." He contemplated infinite
calamities for a few seconds, then added: "But it won't do any good,
excellent Martinus. Those fellows will have it in for us, and they're pretty
influential, naturally. They can get away with anything. We'll all end in
nameless graves yet."

            Padway struggled mightily to
get the movable parts of his equipment packed for shipment to Florence. As far
as he could remember his Procopius, Florence had not been besieged or sacked in
Justinian's Gothic War, at least in the early part.

            But the job was not half
done when eight soldiers from the garrison descended on him and told him he was
under arrest. He was getting rather used to arrest by now, so he calmly gave
his foremen and editor orders about getting the equipment moved and set up, and
about seeing Thomasus and trying to get in touch with him. Then he went along.

            On the way he offered to
stand the Goths drinks. They accepted quickly. In the wineshop he got the
commander aside to suggest a little bribe to let him go. The Goth seemed to
accept, and pocketed a solidus. Then when Padway, his mind full of plans for
shaving his beard, getting a horse, and galloping off to Florence, broached the
subject of his release, the Goth looked at him with an air of pained surprise.

            "Why, most distinguished
Martinus, I couldn't think of letting you go! Our commander-in-chief, the noble
Liuderis, is a man of stern and rigid principles. If my men talked, he'd hear
about it, and he'd break me sure. Of course I appreciate your little
gift
,
and I'll try to put in a good word for you."

            Padway said nothing, but he
made a resolve that it would be a long day before he put in a good word for
this officer.