Lest Darkness Fall (30 page)

            "Yes," replied
Padway. "Among my people there's a legend about a crossbowman who offended
a government official, and was compelled as punishment to shoot an apple off
his son's head. He did so, without harming the boy."

            When he got back, Padway
learned that he had an appointment the next day with an envoy from the Franks.
The envoy, one Count Hlodovik, was a tall, lantern-jawed man. Like most Franks
he was clean-shaven except for the mustache. He was quite gorgeous in a red
silk tunic, gold chains and bracelets, and a jeweled baldric. Padway privately
thought that the knobby bare legs below his short pants detracted from his
impressiveness. Moreover, Hlodovik was rather obviously suffering from a
hangover.

            "Mother of God, I'm
thirsty," he said. "Will you please do something about that, friend
quaestor, before we discuss business?" So Padway had some wine sent in.
Hlodovik drank in deep gulps. "Ah! That's better. Now, friend quaestor, I
may say that I don't think I've been very well treated here. The king would
only see me for a wink of the eye; said you handle the business. Is that the
proper reception for the envoy of King Theudebert, King Hildebert, and King
Hlotokar? Not just
one
king, mind you;
three
."

            "That's a lot of
kings," said Padway, smiling pleasantly. "I am greatly impressed. But
you mustn't take offense, my lord count. Our king is an old man, and he finds
the press of public business hard to bear."

            "So,
hrrmp
.
We'll forget about it, then. But we shall not find the reason for my coming
hither so easy to forget. Briefly, what became of that hundred and fifty
thousand solidi that Wittigis promised my masters, King Theudebert, King
Hildebert, and King Hlotokar if they wouldn't attack him while he was involved
with the Greeks? Moreover, he ceded Provence to my masters, King Theudebert,
King Hildebert, and King Hlotokar. Yet your general Sisigis has not evacuated
Provence. When my masters sent a force to occupy it a few weeks ago, they were
driven back and several were killed. You should know that the Franks, who are
the bravest and proudest people on earth, will never submit to such treatment.
What are you going to do about it?"

            Padway answered:

            "You,

             my lord Hlodovik, should
know that the acts of an unsuccessful usurper cannot bind the legitimate
government. We intend to hold what we have. So you may inform your masters,
King Theudebert, King Hildebert, and King Hlotokar, that there will be no
payment and no evacuation."

            "Do you really mean
that?" Hlodovik seemed astonished. "Don't you know, young man, that
the armies of the Franks could sweep the length of Italy, burning and ravaging,
any time they wished? My masters, King Theudebert, King Hildebert, and King
Hlotokar, are showing great forbearance and humanity by offering you a way out.
Think carefully before you invite disaster."

            "I have thought, my
lord," replied Padway. "And I respectfully suggest that you and your
masters do the same. Especially about a little military device that we are
introducing. Would you like to see it demonstrated? The parade ground is only a
step from here."

            Padway had made the proper
preparations in advance. When they arrived at the parade ground, Hlodovik
weaving slightly all the way, they found Urias, Fritharik, the crossbow, and a
supply of bolts. Padway's idea was to have Fritharik take a few demonstration
shots at a target. But Fritharik and Urias had other ideas. The latter walked
off fifty feet, turned, and placed an apple on his head. Fritharik cocked the
crossbow, put a bolt in the groove, and raised the bow to his shoulder.

            Padway was frozen speechless
with horror. He didn't dare shout at the two idiots to desist for fear of
losing face before the Frank. And if Urias was killed, he hated to think of the
damage that would be done to his plans.

            The crossbow snapped. There
was a short
splush
, and fragments of apple flew about. Urias, grinning,
picked pieces of apple out of his hair and walked back.

            "Do you find the
demonstration impressive, my lord?" Padway asked.

            "Yes, quite," said
Hlodovik. "Let's see that device. Hm-m-m. Of course, the brave Franks
don't believe that any battle was ever won by a lot of silly arrows. But for
hunting, now, this mightn't be bad. How does it work? I see; you pull the
string back to here —"

            While Fritharik was
demonstrating the crossbow, Padway took Urias aside and told him, in a low
tone, just what he thought of such a fool stunt. Urias tried to look serious,
but couldn't help a faint, small-boy grin. Then there was another snap, and
something whizzed between them, not a foot from Padway's face. They jumped and
spun around. Hlodovik was holding the crossbow, a foolish look on his long
face. "I didn't know it went off so easily," he said.

            Fritharik lost his temper.
"What are you trying to do, you drunken fool? Kill somebody —"

            "What's that?
You
call me a fool? Why —" and the Frank's sword came halfway out of the
scabbard.

            Fritharik jumped back and
grabbed his own sword hilt. Padway and Urias pounced on the two and grabbed
their elbows.

            "Calm yourself, my
lord!" cried Padway. "It's nothing to start a fight over. I'll
apologize personally."

            The Frank merely got madder
and tried to shake off Padway. "I'll teach that low-born bastard! My honor
is insulted!" he shouted. Several Gothic soldiers loafing around the field
looked up and trotted over. Hlodovik saw them coming and put his sword back,
growling: "This is fine treatment for the representative of King
Theudebert, King Hildebert, and King Hlotokar. Just wait till they hear of this."

            Padway tried to mollify him,
but Hlodovik merely grumped, and soon left Ravenna. Padway dispatched a warning
to Sisigis to be on the lookout for a Frankish attack. His conscience bothered
him a good deal. In a way he thought he ought to have tried to appease the
Franks, as he hated the idea of being responsible for war. But he knew that
that fierce and treacherous tribe would only take each concession as a sign of
weakness. The time to stop the Franks was the first time.

-

            Then another envoy arrived,
this time from the Kutrigurs or Bulgarian Huns. The usher told Padway:
"He's very dignified; doesn't speak any Latin or Gothic, so he uses an
interpreter. Says he's a boyar, whatever that is."

            "Show him in."

            The Bulgarian envoy was a
stocky, bowlegged man with high cheek bones, a fiercely upswept mustache, and a
nose even bigger than Padway's. He wore a handsome furlined coat, baggy
trousers, and a silk turban wound about his shaven skull, from the rear of
which two black pigtails jutted absurdly. Despite the finery, Padway found
reason to suspect that the man had never had a bath in his life. The
interpreter was a small, nervous Thracian who hovered a pace to the Bulgar's
left and rear.

            The Bulgar clumped in, bowed
stiffly, and did not offer to shake hands. Probably not done among the Huns,
thought Padway. He bowed back and indicated a chair. He regretted having done
so a moment later, when the Bulgar hiked his boots up on the upholstery and sat
cross-legged. Then he began to speak, in a strangely musical tongue which
Padway surmised was related to Turkish. He stopped every three or four words
for the interpreter to translate. It ran something like this:

            Envoy: (Twitter, twitter.)

            Interpreter: I am the Boyar
Karojan —

            Envoy: ( Twitter, twitter.) \

            Interpreter: The son of
Chakir —

            Envoy: (Twitter, twitter.)

            Interpreter. Who was the son
of Tardu —

            Envoy: (Twitter, twitter.)

            Interpreter: Envoy of Kardam
—

            Envoy: (Twitter, twitter.)

            Interpreter: The son of
Kapagan —

            Envoy: (Twitter, twitter.)

            Interpreter: And Great Khan
of the Kutrigurs.

-

            It was distracting to listen
to, but not without a certain poetic grandeur. The Bulgar paused impassively at
that point. Padway identified himself, and the duo began again:

            "My master, the Great
Khan —"

            "Has received an offer
from Justinian, Emperor of the Romans —"

            "Of fifty thousand
solidi —"

            "To refrain from
invading his dominions."

            "If Thiudahad, King of
the Goths —"

            "Will make us a better
offer —"

            "We will ravage Thrace
—"

            "And leave the Gothic
realm alone."

            "If he does not —"

            "We will take
Justinian's gold —"

            'And invade the Gothic
territories —"

            "Of Pannonia and
Noricum."

            Padway cleared his throat
and began his reply, pausing for translation. This method had its advantages,
he found. It gave him time to think.

            "My master, Thiudahad,
King of the Goths and Italians —"

            "Authorizes me to say
—"

            "That he has better use
for his money —"

            "Than to bribe people
not to attack him —"

            "And that if the
Kutrigurs think —"

            "That they can invade
our territory —"

            "They are welcome to
try —"

            "But that we cannot
guarantee them —"

            "A very hospitable
reception."

            The envoy replied:

            "Think man, on what you
say."

            "For the armies of the
Kutrigurs —"

            "Cover the Sarmatian
steppe like locusts."

            "The hoofbeats of their
horses —"

            "Are a mighty
thunder."

            "The flight of their
arrows —"

            "Darkens the sun."

            "Where they have passed
—"

            "Not even grass will
grow."

            Padway replied:

            "Most excellent Karojan
—"

            "What you say may be
true."

            "But in spite of their
thundering and sun-darkening —"

            "The last time the
Kutrigurs —"

            "Assailed our land, a
few years ago —"

            "They got the pants
beat off them."

            As this was translated, the
Bulgar looked puzzled for a moment. Then he turned red. Padway thought he was
angry, but it soon appeared that he was trying to keep from laughing. He said
between sputters: