Lest Darkness Fall (27 page)

            Padway met her eyes, and was
aware that his heart had stepped up several beats per minute. "I hope you
find him, princess."

            "I may yet." She sat
up straight and looked at him directly, almost defiantly, quite unconcerned
with the inner confusion she was causing him. He noticed that sitting up
straight didn't make her look any less desirable. On the contrary.

            She continued: "That's
one reason I'm so grateful to you for saving me from the beast. Of all these
thick-headed ninnies he had the thickest head. What became of him, by the way?
Don't pretend innocence, Martinus. Everybody knows your guards took him into
the vestibule of the church, and then he apparently vanished."

            "He's safe, I hope,
both from our point of view and his."

            "You mean you hid him?
Death would have been safer yet."

            "I had reasons for not
wanting him killed."

            "You did? I give you
fair warning that if he ever falls into my hands, I shall not have such
reasons."

            "Aren't you a bit hard
on poor old Wittigis? He was merely trying, in his own muddle-headed way, to
defend the kingdom."

            "Perhaps. But after
that performance in the church I hate him." The gray eyes were cold as
ice. "And when I hate, I don't do it halfway."

            "So I see," said
Padway dryly, jarred out of the pink fog for the moment. But then Mathaswentha
smiled again, all curve-some and desirable woman. "You'll stay to dinner,
of course? There will only be a few people, and they'll leave early."

            "Why —" There were
piles of work to be done that evening. And he needed to catch up on his sleep —
a chronic condition with him. "Thank you, my lady, I shall be
delighted."

-

            By his third visit to
Mathaswentha, Padway was saying to himself: There's a real woman. Ravishing
good looks, forceful character, keen brain. The man who gets her will have one
in a million. Why shouldn't I be the one? She seems to like me. With her to
back me up, there's nothing I couldn't accomplish. Of course, she is a bit
bloodthirsty. You wouldn't exactly describe her as a "sweet" girl.
But that's the fault of the times, not of her. She'll settle down when she has
a man of her own to do her fighting for her.

            In other words, Padway was
as thoroughly in love as such a rational and prudent man can ever be.

            But how did one go about
marrying a Gothic princess? You certainly didn't take her out in an automobile
and kiss her lipstick off by way of a starter. Nor did you begin by knowing her
in high school, the way he had known Betty. She was an orphan, so you couldn't
approach her old man. He supposed that the only thing to do was to bring the
subject up a little at a time and see how she reacted.

            He asked:
"Mathaswentha, my dear, when you spoke of the kind of man you'd like to
marry, did you have any other specifications in mind?"

            She smiled at him, whereat
the room swam slightly. "Curious, Martinus? I didn't have many, aside from
those I mentioned. Of course he shouldn't be too much older than I, as Wittigis
was."

            "You wouldn't mind if
he wasn't much taller than you?"

            "No, unless he were a
mere shrimp."

            "You haven't any
objections to large noses?"

            She laughed a rich, throaty
laugh. "Martinus, you are the funniest man. I suppose it's that you and I
are different. I go directly for what I want, whether it's love, or revenge, or
anything else."

            "What do I do?"

            "You walk all around
it, and peer at it from every angle, and spend a week figuring out whether you
want it badly enough to risk taking it." She added quickly. "Don't
think I mind. I like you for it."

            "I'm glad of that. But
about noses —"

            "Of
course
I
don't mind! I think yours, for instance, is aristocratic-looking. Nor do I mind
little red beards or wavy brown hair or any of the other features of an amazing
young man named Martinus Paduei. That's what you were getting at, wasn't
it?"

            Padway knew a great relief.
This marvelous woman went out of her way to ease your difficulties!

            "As a matter of fact it
was, princess."

            "You needn't be so
frightfully respectful, Martinus. Anybody would know you are a foreigner, the
way you meticulously use all the proper titles and epithets."

            Padway grinned. "I
don't like to take chances, as you know. Well, you see, now, its this way. I — uh
— was wondering — uh — if you don't dislike these — uh — characteristics,
whether you couldn't learn to — uh — uh —"

            "You don't by any
chance mean love, do you?"

            "Yes!" said Padway
loudly.

            "With practice I
might."

            "
When!
"
said Padway mopping his forehead.

            "I'd need
teaching," said Mathaswentha. "I've lived a sheltered life, and know
little of the world."

            "I looked up the
law," said Padway quickly, "and while there's an ordinance against
marriage of Goths to Italians, there's nothing about Americans. So —"

            Mathaswentha interrupted:
"I could hear you better, dear Martinus, if you came closer."

            Padway went over and sat
down beside her. He began again: "The Edicts of Theoderik —"

            She said softly: "I
know the laws, Martinus. That is not what I need instruction in."

            Padway suppressed his
tendency to talk frantically of impersonal matters to cover emotional turmoil.
He said, "My love, your first lesson will be this." He kissed her
hand.

            Her eyes were half closed,
her mouth slightly open, and her breath was quick and shallow. She whispered:
"Do the Americans, then, practice the art of kissing as we do?"

            He gathered her in and
applied the second lesson.

            Mathaswentha opened her
eyes, blinked, and shook her head. "That was a foolish question, my dear
Martinus. The Americans are way ahead of us. What ideas you put in an innocent
girl's head!" She laughed joyfully. Padway laughed too.

            Padway said: "You've
made me very happy, princess."

            "You've made me happy,
too, my prince. I thought I should never find anyone like you." She swayed
into his arms again.

            Mathaswentha sat up and
straightened her hair. She said in a brisk, businesslike manner: "There
are a lot of questions to be settled before we decide anything finally.
Wittigis, for instance."

            "What about him?"
Padway's happiness suddenly wasn't quite so complete.

            "He'll have to be
killed, naturally."

            "Oh?"

            "Don't 'oh' me, my
dear. I warned you that I am no halfhearted hater. And Thiudahad, too."

            "Why him?"

            She straightened up,
frowning. "He murdered my mother, didn't he? What more reason do you want?
And eventually you will want to become king yourself —"

            "No, I won't,"
said Padway.

            "Not want to be king?
Why, Martinus!"

            "Not for me, my dear.
Anyhow, I'm not an Amaling."

            "As my husband you will
be considered one."

            "I still don't want
—"

            "Now, darling, you just
think you don't. You will change your mind. While we are about it, there is
that former serving-wench of yours, Julia I think her name is —"

            "What about — what do
you know about her?"

            "Enough. We women hear
everything sooner or later."

            The little cold spot in
Padway's stomach spread and spread. "But — but —"

            "Now, Martinus, it's a
small favor that your betrothed is asking. And don't think that a person like
me would be jealous of a mere house-servant. But it would be a humiliation to
me if she were living after our marriage. It needn't be a painful death — some
quick poison ..."

            Padway's face was as blank
as that of a renting agent at the mention of cockroaches. His mind was
whirling. There seemed to be no end to Mathaswentha's lethal little plans. His
underwear was damp with cold sweat.

            He knew now that he was not
in the least in love with Mathaswentha. Let some roaring Goth have this fierce
blond Valkyr! He preferred a girl with less direct ideas of getting what she
wanted. And no insurance man would give a policy on a member of the Amal clan,
considering their dark and bloody past.

            "Well?" said Mathaswentha.

            "I was thinking,"
replied Padway. He did not say that he was thinking, frantically, how to get
out of this fix.

            "I just
remembered," he said slowly, "I have a wife back in America."

            "Oh. This is a fine
time to think of
that
," she answered coldly.

            "I haven't seen her for
a long time."

            "Well, then, there's a
divorce, isn't there?"

            "Not in my religion. We
Congregationalists believe there's a special compartment in hell for frying
divorced persons."

            "Martinus!" Her
eyes were a pair of gray blow-torches. "You're afraid. You're trying to
back out. No man shall ever do that to me and live to tell —"

            "No, no, not at
all!" cried Padway. "Nothing of the sort, my dear! I'd wade through
rivers of blood to reach your side."

            "
Hmmm
. A very
pretty speech, Martinus Paduei. Do you use it on all the girls?"

            "I mean it. I'm mad
about you."

            "Then why don't you act
as if —"

            "I'm devoted to you. It
was stupid of me not to think of this obstacle sooner."

            "Do you really love
me?" She softened a little.

            "Of course I do! I've
never known anyone like you." The last sentence was truthful. "But
facts are facts."

            Mathaswentha rubbed her
forehead, obviously struggling with conflicting emotions. She asked: "If
you haven't seen her for so long, how do you know she's alive?"

            "I don't. But I don't
know that she isn't. You know how strict your laws are about bigamy. Edicts of
Athalarik, Paragraph Six. I looked it up."

            "You would," she
said with some bitterness. "Does anyone else in Italy know about this
American bitch of yours?"

            "N — no — but —"

            "Then aren't you being
a bit silly, Martinus? What difference does it make, if she's on the other side
of the earth?"