Burning Shadows (9 page)

“I thank you for the horse and the meal, but I will have to continue on until sunset.” He slapped at his paragaudion, coughing a little as dust sprayed from it. “Anything would be better than what I’ve been eating.”

“Then I will have a new horse saddled for you; it will be waiting when you finish your meal.” He turned to Mangueinic. “Is there anything you want to ask this brave man before he restores himself?”

“No; I will want to talk with him before he departs,” said Mangueinic, taking the parchment from the courier. “I want to find out more about those foreigners. I’ll catch him at the gates.”

Sanctu-Germainios rubbed his jaw. “We will have to summon all the men in the town before the day is over. We will call them to the forum, at the third quarter of the afternoon.”

“And not only from the town, but outlying holdings.” Mangueinic scrutinized the parchment, frowning. “You were wise not to remain at your estate, but to come to your villa at the middle of the town.”

“As regional foreign guardian, it is my duty to do so. As you and I must together organize our men for defense.” Noticing that Mangueinic was having difficulty making out the scrawl on the parchment, and was holding it upside-down, he said, “Would you like me to have a try at it?”

Discomfited at being recognized as unable to read, Mangueinic gave the sheet to Sanctu-Germainios, saying as he did, “You merchants are always better at reading than we builders are. You have clerks and we have laborers and slaves.”

“Skills follow necessity,” said Sanctu-Germainios, using the old aphorism learned on his first visit to Roma, almost five centuries before. Perusing the hasty writing, he said, “This informs us that the Huns were coming from east-by-north, in three groups of mounted soldiers, the smallest of the groups numbered more than one hundred twenty men, the largest was more than three hundred. The middle group took up the attack on Porolissum, shouting that it belonged to Attila now, and would become his city, and for that reason they would not raze it. The smallest group turned south, the largest continued west-by-south so long as the shepherds and goatherds could see them. The writer is Bishop Perrus, and he fears that these Huns are truly bent on occupying the land they over-run. He says his people are terrified of what may become of them.”

“Nonsense,” Mangueinic scoffed, scratching the edge of his beard. “Everyone knows those eastern barbarians are raiders, after plunder, not conquerors, bent on claiming land for their people. We Dacians and Gepidae and Goths do that—we take l and—but such barbarians as the Huns do not.”

“This says this new leader, Attila, isn’t like the others. He wants to keep the lands he occupies, not graze them and move on, as the Hunnic people have done for … for uncounted years.” Sanctu-Germainios let Mangueinic have a little time to think about the implication of such intelligence, then added, “The Huns have raided in the past, but not like this. They always moved on after taking what they wanted. Now they remain and expand.” He began to fold the parchment.

“The Huns are mercenaries for Constantinople,” said Mangueinic sulkily. “They have been for more than fifty years. Whole Byzantine garrisons are manned by Huns. Let the Emperor in Constantinople give them land.”

“But Attila was not their leader when those men were hired, and they will not be easily appeased,” said Sanctu-Germainios. “Attila has taken a lesson from the Romans, and that is why we find ourselves having to defend our lands and our towns.”

Mangueinic scowled. “Do you believe that this is true? Or could it be that these barbarians aren’t Huns at all, but some other band from the east? What about the company of foreigners the courier saw?”

“They were fleeing the Huns, at least the courier seems convinced of that. And thirty people with flocks of goats and carts are not fifty mounted warriors.” He hesitated, musing. “Attila is splitting his men into smaller companies: he is trying to conquer a large area quickly.”

“Those foreigners: do you think they could be scouts, or spies?” 

“Too many and too obvious to be spies, too slow to be scouts,” said Sanctu-Germainios. “For now, I will suppose they are what they claim to be.”

After taking a moment to mull this over, Mangueinic said, “I’ll tell my Watch to be on the lookout for them. They could help us defend the town in exchange for our protection. Or, if they seem treacherous, we can keep them outside Apulum Inferior, to draw away the Huns.”

“Whatever the case where these foreigners are concerned, we will have to do our utmost to be ready to face the Huns,” Sanctu-Germainios said, concealing his dislike of Mangueinic’s insensibility toward the unknown travelers; this was no time to argue with him about the fate of strangers—not when his town was in peril. “I will arm my servants and send them to you for posting. As captain of the Watch, it is for you to arrange our defense; I will not interfere with your task. I will do what I can to organize the town, and warn the outlying farms and villages, which is my province.” He gave a fleeting smile as he thrust the fan-folded parchment through his belt and looked around the reception-room. “I will want to call all my servants together by mid-afternoon, and will assign to you such of them as come under your purview. Then I will want to speak to the clergy and the foreign merchants in the town.”

“If you decide to close the gates before sundown, inform me. I think we had best keep the gates open for the outlying villagers and farmers, and to find out about the foreigners on the road. Otherwise they’re apt to be killed, and that will not help us fight the Huns.” Mangueinic looked out at the blustery brightness. “Are you going to send your messengers—”

“Shortly,” said Sanctu-Germainios. “I’ll use my personal courier to go to the chapels, churches, and monasteries, and the town’s messengers for the rest. They should be gone from here before midafternoon, and not return until tomorrow morning, if then. I am going to instruct them to stay away from here if there is fighting. I’ll make sure they have bows and arrows as well as smoked pork, in case they may encounter trouble on the way. If all goes well, half of them should return by midnight.” He clapped his hands, wishing that Rugierus were with him and not on the road to Constantinople; he reminded himself that wishing was not useful, and gave his full attention to his approaching crisis.

“Funny,” said Mangueinic, “we’ve had a lot of warning since spring, but I never thought it would really happen—that the Huns would actually attack Apulum Inferior. I was sure they’d be stopped before … But then, I thought we would have more soldiers here if there were any real threat, I always supposed they’d head for Apulum, and we would have time to make a retreat.”

“That could still happen,” said Sanctu-Germainios, more to reassure Mangueinic than because he was convinced of it.

As the house-keeper appeared at the inner door he ducked his head to the guardian. “Dom Sanctu-Germainios.” His conduct was completely contained, but there was a wildness in his tawny eyes that revealed his fear.

“Urridien,” Sanctu-Germainios said. “Summon the household to this room at mid-afternoon, and send Estaphanos Stobi, and Samnor of Porolissum, Polynices Ridion, and Vilca Troed to me as soon as possible. I will see the messengers in my office as soon as they can get there. Then send word to the stable to have Atlas saddled.”

Urridien ducked his head. “Yes, Dom Sanctu-Germainios,” he said, and hurried away, grateful to have something to do.

As soon as he was gone, Mangueinic asked, “How many men will you be able to provide me?”

“I will know in little more than an hour, and will send the men to you with my report; I reckon between twenty-five and thirty.” He paused, then added, “My clerk will give you the report.”

Mangueinic gave a single, curt nod, raised his hand in a gesture that was not quite a salute but more than a simple wave of farewell. “I’ll send a messenger if there are any changes.”

“Thank you,” Sanctu-Germainios acknowledged this, then strode off toward the room designated as his office, where he spent a short while writing out his dispatches on leather squares with an Egyptian stylus and fixed ink. When that was done, he made a list of his servants. By the time he had dispatched his courier and the town messengers, the afternoon was half-gone, and the town was filled with barely contained panic; as Sanctu-Germainios went out to issue his orders to his household servants, he was keenly aware of the terror that was welling as lava rose in the mouths of volcanoes. Everyone was afraid, and that fear was feeding on itself.

Urridien stood at the head of the household servants in the reception hall. Fifty-three men and women and six youngsters waited silently, apprehension in every aspect of their presence. “I brought the gardeners as well as the rest, and the grooms from the stable,” the house-keeper announced, his voice cracking from his increasing edginess.

“Very good. We will need their help, too,” said Sanctu-Germainios , and turned to address the gathering. “No doubt you have heard that there is a possibility that a mounted company of Huns is coming this way. Whether it is true or not, we must be prepared for that eventuality.” He paused to give the servants a little time to think about this. “I will ask all able-bodied men—no matter what your function in the household—to report to the captain of the town Watch for assignment to a fighting post. Glamode, that does not include you. I want you to go into the cellars and make sure our foodstuffs, water, wine, and cloth are kept safe. And Bacoem, you will have tasks to do here.”

Glamode, who was almost forty and leaned on a stick to walk, and who guarded the kitchen pantry at night, ducked his head. “Very kind, Dom Sanctu-Germainios.”

“And what will I do?” Bacoem, the poultry-keeper, asked; he had lost his lower left arm in a construction accident, and though strong and capable, could not wield a weapon.

“In a moment, Bacoem. The youths will go to the Watch barracks, and help the Watchmen to arm themselves. The girls will remain here, in the weavery, where they can make bandages from the selvage on the looms.” For the first time he was relieved that he had taken the time to provide brass-and-leather loricae for the men of the town; most of the townsmen could not afford to buy armor for themselves. “While you are there, you are to assist the monks in tending to any wounded,” Sanctu-Germainios said, and saw the assuagement in all of the servants. “If you have to leave the barracks, go to the town chapel, and remain in the crypts under the sanctuary until it is safe to emerge.” He considered adding another place of retreat, then changed his mind; if the chapel crypt was unsafe, the whole town would be lost. “The women will remain here. Set up an infirmary for anyone wounded. Bacoem will help you arrange the beds. Make sure you have sufficient blankets; if you believe you need more, let me know and I will have them brought in from my estate.” He could sense that having something to do was reassuring to most of the servants, and that served to restore him as well. “Tonight when the household dines, I will ask the cooks to make extra cauldrons of stew and set them in the root-cellar, covered, and ready to be warmed tomorrow. The same with bread. And bring in four large wheels of white cheese from the creamery. If there is fighting tomorrow it might not be possible to stop long enough for a meal. This way the cooks need only light a fire to heat the stew, and it can be served in a bowl.”

Urridien clapped his hands twice. “There. The Dom is providing for us. We would do well to follow his orders.” He was about to disperse the servants when a single question stopped him. He looked at Sanctu-Germainios. “Have you made any provision for those of us who die?”

“I have asked Patras Anso to place himself at the town’s service,” said Sanctu-Germainios. “You will have his help and consolation until the fighting is over, and beyond if need be.”

The senior footman who had asked now took a deep breath. “Will he be sufficient?”

“We must trust he will be. Patras Nestor and Patras Iob will have to attend to the chapel.” Sanctu-Germainios held up his hand to command full attention again. “Do your duties in order of importance: the most important first, then those less necessary, and the last, those that may be left undone without undue hazard.” He paused. “If the Huns do not arrive until tomorrow, use the night to sleep when you are not on Watch. You will need all the rest you can accumulate.”

“And how will we keep guard in the house?” Urridien asked nervously. “Where shall we be safe?”

“We have women here, and they have eyes and ears. They will sleep in three shifts, and then, if there is a battle, they will divide their guard duties with caring for any wounded brought here, and so will do one third of the full day asleep, one third on guard, and one nursing.”

“Women?” Hovas, the master gardener, asked in disbelief. “Keep guard?”

“And why not?” Sanctu-Germainios asked. “Keeping guard is easier than cleaning wounds. Surely if they can tend your hurts they can guard the villa.”

There was an uneasy silence, and then Urridien said, “Be about your work.”

The servants left the reception-room uncomfortably; only Sanctu-Germainios and Urridien remained behind. When they were quite alone, the house-keeper asked, “Can this town stand against the Huns, do you think?”

“I wish I knew,” said Sanctu-Germainios quietly. “I fear we may find out.”

“What will happen—if we can drive them off? Will they come back again?”