Lest Darkness Fall (34 page)

            The next day Thomasus the
Syrian arrived. He came in wheezing. "How are you, Martinus? I didn't want
to miss all the excitement, so I came up from Rome. Brought my family
along."

            That meant something, Padway
knew, for Thomasus' family consisted not only of his wife and four children,
but an aged uncle, a nephew, two nieces, and his black house slave Ajax and his
wife and children.

            He answered: "I'm fine,
thanks. Or I shall be when I catch up on my sleep. How are you?"

            "Fine, thanks. Business
has been good for a change."

            "And how is your friend
God?" Padway asked with a straight face.

            "He's fine too — why,
you blasphemous young scoundrel! That will cost you an extra interest on your
next loan. How's the election?"

            Padway told him. "It
won't be as easy as I thought. Thiudegiskel has developed a lot of support
among the conservative Goths, who don't care for self-made men like Wittigis
and Urias. The upper crust prefer an Amaling by birth —"

            "Upper crust? Oh, I
see! Ha, ha, ha! I hope God listens to you. It might put Him in a good humor
the next time He considers sending a plague or a quake."

            Padway continued: "And
Thiudegiskel is not as stupid as one might expect. He'd hardly arrived before
he'd sent out friends to tear down my posters and put up some of his own. His
weren't much to look at, but I was surprised that he thought of using any.
There were fist-fights and one stabbing, not fatal, fortunately. So — you know
Dagalaif Nevitta's son?"

            "The marshal? By name
only."

            "He's not eligible to
vote. Well, the town watch is too scared of the Goths to keep order, and I
don't dare use my own guards for fear of rousing all the Goths against the
'foreigners.' I blackmailed the city fathers into hiring Dagalaif to deputize
the other marshals who are not electors as election police. As Nevitta is on
our side, I don't know how impartial my friend Dagalaif will be. But it'll save
us from a pitched battle, I hope."

            "Wonderful, wonderful,
Martinus. Don't over-reach yourself; some of the Goths call your electioneering
methods newfangled and undignified. I'll ask God to keep a special watch over
you and your candidate."

-

            The day before the election,
Thiudegiskel showed his political astuteness by throwing a barbecue even bigger
than Padway's. Padway, having some mercy on Urias' modest purse, had limited
his party to the electors. Thiudegiskel, with the wealth of Thiudahad's immense
Tuscan estates to draw upon, shot the works. He invited all the electors and
their families and friends also.

            Padway and Urias and
Thomasus, with the former's ward-heelers, the latter's family, and a sizable
guard, arrived at the field outside Florence after the festivities had begun.
The field was covered with thousands of Goths of all ages, sizes, and sexes,
and was noisy with East-German gutturals, the clank of scabbards, and the
flop-flop of leather pants.

            A Goth bustled up to them
with beer suds in his whiskers. "Here, here, what are you people doing?
You weren't invited."

            "
Ni ogs, frijond
,"
said Padway.

            "What? You're telling
me
not to be afraid?" The Goth bristled.

            "We aren't even trying
to come to your party. We're just having a little picnic of our own. There's no
law against picnics, is there?"

            "Well — then why all
the armament? Looks to me as though you were planning a kidnapping."

            "There, there,"
soothed Padway. "You're wearing a sword, aren't you?"

            "But I'm official. I'm
one of Willimer's men."

            "So are these people
our men. Don't worry about us. We'll stay on the other side of the road, if
it'll make you happy. Now run along and enjoy your beer."

            "Well, don't try
anything. We'll be ready for you if you do." The Goth departed, muttering
over Padway's logic.

            Padway's party made
themselves comfortable across the road, ignoring the hostile glares from
Thiudegiskel's partisans. Padway himself sprawled on the grass, eating little
and watching the barbecue through narrowed eyes.

            Thomasus said: "Most
excellent General Urias, that look tells me our friend Martinus is planning
something particularly hellish."

            Thiudegiskel and some of his
gang mounted the speakers' stand. Willimer introduced the candidate with
commendable brevity. Then Thiudegiskel began to speak. Padway hushed his own
party and strained his ears. Even so, with so many people, few of them
completely silent, between him and the speaker, he missed a lot of
Thiudegiskel's shrill Gothic. Thiudegiskel appeared to be bragging as usual
about his own wonderful character. But, to Padway's consternation, his audience
ate it up. And they howled with laughter at the speaker's rough and ready
humor.

            "— and did you know,
friends, that General Urias was twelve years old before his poor mother could
train him not to wet his bed? It's a fact. That's one thing about me; I never
exaggerate. Of course you
couldn't
exaggerate Urias' peculiarities. For
instance, the first time he called on a girl —"

            Urias was seldom angry, but
Padway could see the young general was rapidly approaching incandescence. He'd
have to think of something quickly, or there would be a battle.

            His eye fell on Ajax and
Ajax's family. The slave's eldest child was a chocolate-colored, frizzy-haired
boy of ten.

            Padway asked: "Does
anybody know whether Thiudegiskel's married?"

            "Yes," replied
Urias. "The swine was married just before he left for Calabria. Nice girl,
too; a cousin of Willimer."

            "
Hm-m-m
, Say,
Ajax, does that oldest boy of yours speak any Gothic?"

            "Why no, my lord, why
should he?"

            "What's his name?"

            "Priam."

            "Priam, would you like
to earn a couple of sesterces, all your own?"

            The boy jumped up and bowed.
Padway found such a servile gesture in a child vaguely repulsive. Must do
something about slavery some day, he thought. "Yes, my lord,"
squeaked the boy.

            " 'Can you say the word
'atta'
? That's Gothic for 'father.' "

            Priam dutifully said: "
Atta
.
Now where are my sesterces, my lord?"

            "Not so fast, Priam.
That's just the beginning of the job. You practice saying
'atta'
for a
while."

            Padway stood up and peered
at the field. He called softly: "
Hai
, Dagalaif!"

            The marshal detached himself
from the crowd and came over. "
Hails
, Martinus! what can I do for
you?"

            Padway whispered his
instructions.

            Then he said to Priam:
"You see the man in the red cloak on the stand, the one who is talking?
Well, you're to go over there and climb up on the stand, and say
'atta'
to him. Loudly, so everybody can hear. Say it a lot of times, until something
happens. Then you run back here."

            Priam frowned in
concentration. "But the man isn't my father! This is my father!" He
pointed to Ajax.

            "I know. But you do as
I say if you want your money. Can you remember your instructions?"

            So Priam trailed off through
the crowd of Goths with Dagalaif at his heels. They were lost to Padway's sight
for a few minutes, while Thiudegiskel shrilled on. Then the little Negro's form
appeared on the stand, boosted up by Dagalaif's strong arms. Padway clearly
heard the childish cry of "
Atta!
"

            Thiudegiskel stopped in the
middle of a sentence. Priam repeated: "
Atta! Atta!
"

            "He seems to know
you!" shouted a voice down front.

            Thiudegiskel stood silent,
scowling and turning red. A low mutter of laughter ran through the Goths and
swelled to a roar.

            Priam called "
Atta!
"
once more, louder.

            Thiudegiskel grabbed his
sword hilt and started for the boy. Padway's heart missed a beat.

            But Priam leaped off the
stand into Dagalaif's arms, leaving Thiudegiskel to shout and wave his sword.
He was apparently yelling, "It's a lie!" over and over. Padway could
see his mouth move, but his words were lost in the thunder of the Gothic
nation's Wagnerian laughter.

            Dagalaif and Priam appeared,
running toward them. The Goth was staggering slightly and holding his midriff.
Padway was alarmed until he saw Dagalaif was suffering from a laughing and
coughing spell.

            He slapped him on the back
until the coughs and gasps moderated. Then he said: "If we hang around
here, Thiudegiskel will recover his wits, and he'll be angry enough to set his
partisans on us with cold steel. In my country we had a word 'scram' that is, I
think, applicable. Let's go."

            "Hey, my lord,"
squealed Priam, "where's my two sesterces? Oh, thank you, my lord. Do you
want me to call anybody else 'father,' my lord?"

-

            PADWAY TOLD URIAS : "It
looks like a sure thing now. Thiudegiskel will never live this afternoon's
episode down. We Americans have some methods for making elections come out the
right way, such as stuffing ballot boxes, and the use of floaters. But I don't
think it'll be necessary to use any of them."

            "What on earth is a
floater, Martinus? You mean a float such as one uses in fishing?"

            "No; I'll explain
sometime. I don't want to corrupt the Gothic electoral system more than is
absolutely necessary."

            "Look here, if anybody
investigates, they'll learn that Thiudegiskel was the innocent victim of a joke
this afternoon. Then won't the effect be lost?"

            'No, my dear Urias, that's
not how the minds of electors work. Even if he's proved innocent, he's been
made such an utter fool of that nobody will take him seriously, regardless of
his personal merits, if any."

            Just then a ward-heeler came
in breathless. He gasped: "Thiu — Thiudegiskel —"

            Padway complained: "I
am going to make it a rule that people who want to see me have to wait outside
until they get their breath. What is it, Roderik?"

            Roderik finally got it out.
"Thiudegiskel has left Florence, distinguished Martinus. Nobody knows
whither. Willimer and some of his other friends went with him."

            Padway immediately sent out
over the telegraph Urias' order depriving Thiudegiskel of his colonel's rank — or
its rough equivalent in the vague and amorphous Gothic system of command. Then
he sat and stewed and waited for news.

            It came the next morning
during the voting. But it did not concern Thiudegiskel. It was that a large
Imperialist army had crossed over from Sicily and landed, not a Scylla on the
toe of the Italian boot where one would expect, but up the coast of Bruttium at
Vibo.