Part 9 (1/2)
”Oh, but they have.”
”What?” Padway's yell made a couple of workmen from the machine shop look in.
”Why, yes, John the Bookseller took the first hundred copies out just a minute ago.”
John the Bookseller got the scare of his life when Padway, still dirty from days of travel, galloped down the street after him, dove off his horse, and grabbed his arm. Somebody set up a cry of ”Thieves! Robbers! Help! Murder!” Padway found himself trying to explain to forty truculent citizens that everything was all right.
A Gothic soldier pushed through the crowd and asked what was going on here. A citizen pointed at Padway and shouted: ”It's the fellow with the boots! I heard him say he'd cut the other man's throat if he didn't hand over his money!” So the Goth arrested Padway.
Padway kept his clutch on John the Bookseller, who was too frightened to speak. He went along quietly with the Goth until they were out of earshot of the crowd. Then he asked the soldier into a wineshop, treated him and John, and explained. The Goth was noncommittal, despite John's corroboration, until Padway tipped him liberally. Padway got his freedom and his precious papers.
Then all he had to worry about was the fact that somebody had stolen his horse while he was in the Goth's custody.
Padway trudged back to his house with the papers under his arm. His household was properly sympathetic about the loss of the horse. Fritharik said: ”There, ill.u.s.trious boss, that piece of crow, bait wasn't worth much anyhow.”
Padway felt much better when he learned that the first leg of the telegraph ought to be completed in a week or ten days. He poured himself a stiff drink before dinner. After his strenuous day it made his head swim a little. He got Fritharik to join him in one of the latter's barbarian warsongs: ”The black earth shakes As the heroes ride, And the ravens Mood-Red sun will hide! The lances dip In a glittering wave, And the coward turns His gore to save ...”
When Julia was late with the food, Padway gave her a playful spank. He was a little surprised at himself.
After dinner he was sleepy. He said to h.e.l.l with the accounts and went upstairs to bed, leaving Fritharik already snoring on his mattress in front of the door. Padway would not have laid any long bets on Fritharik's ability to wake up when a burglar entered.
He had just started to undress when a knock startled him. He could not imagine . ..
”Fritharik?” he called.
”No. It's me.”
He frowned and opened the door. The lamplight showed Julia from Apulia. She walked in with a swaying motion.
”What do you want, Julia?” asked Padway.
The stocky, black-haired girl looked at him in some surprise. ”Why-uh-my lord wouldn't want me to say right out loud? That wouldn't be nice!”
”Huh?”
She giggled.
”Sorry,” said Padway. ”Wrong station. Off you go.”
She looked baffled. ”My-my master doesn't want me?”
”That's right. Not for that anyway.”
Her mouth turned down. Two large tears appeared. ”You don't like me? You don't think I'm nice?”
”I think you're a fine cook and a nice girl. Now out with you. Good night.”
She stood solidly and began to sniffle. Then she sobbed. Her voice rose to a shrill wail: ”Just because I'm from the country -you never looked at me-you never asked for me all this time-then tonight you were nice-I thought-I thought- boo-oo-oo...”
”Now, now . . . for heaven's sake stop crying! Here, sit down. I'll get you a drink.”
She smacked her lips over the first swallow of diluted brandy. She wiped off the remaining tears.
”Nice,” she said. Everything was nice-bonus, bona, or bonum, as the case might be. ”You are nice. Love is nice. Every man should have some love. Love-ah!” She made a serpentine movement remarkable in a person of her build.
Padway gulped. ”Give me that drink,” he said. ”I need some too.”
After a while. ”Now,” she said, ”we make love?”
”Well-pretty soon. Yes, I guess we do.” Padway hiccupped.
Padway frowned at Julia's large bare feet. ”Just-hic-just a minute, my bounding hamadryad. Let's see those feet.” The soles were black. ”That won't do. Oh, it absolutely won't do, my l.u.s.ty Amazon. The feet present an insur-insurmountable psychological obstacle.”
”Huh?”
”They interpose a psychic barrier to the-hic-appropriately devout wors.h.i.+p of Ashtaroth. We must lave the pedal extremities-”
”I don't understand.”
”Skip it; neither do I. What I mean is that we're going to wash your feet first.”
”Is that a religion?”
”You might put it that way. d.a.m.n!” He knocked the ewer off its base, miraculously catching it on the way down. ”Here we go, my Tritoness from the wine-dark, fish-swarming sea ...”
She giggled. ”You are the nicest man. You are a real gentleman. No man ever did that for me before ...”
Padway blinked his eyes open. It all came back to him quickly enough. He tightened his muscles seriatim. He felt fine. He prodded his conscience experimentally. It reacted not at all.
He moved carefully, for Julia was taking up two-thirds of his none-too-wide bed. He heaved himself on one elbow and looked at her. The movement uncovered her large b.r.e.a.s.t.s. Between them was a bit of iron, tied around her neck. This, she had told him, was a nail from the cross of St. Andrew. And she would not put it off. He smiled. To the list of mechanical inventions he meant to introduce he added a couple of items.
But for the present, should he ...
A small gray thing with six legs, not much larger than a pin-head, emerged from the hair under her armpit. Pale against her olive-brown skin, it crept with glacial slowness ...
Padway shot out of bed. Face writhing with revulsion, he pulled his clothes on without taking time to wash. The room smelled. Rome must have blunted his sense of smell, or he'd have noticed it before.
Julia awoke as he was finis.h.i.+ng. He threw a muttered good morning at her and tramped out.
He spent two hours in the public baths that day. The next night Julia's knock brought a harsh order to get away from his room and stay away. She began to wail. Padway s.n.a.t.c.hed the door open. ”One more squawk and you're fired!” he snapped, and slammed the door.
She was obedient but sulky. During the next few days he caught venomous glances from her; she was no actress.
The following Sunday he returned from the Ulpian Library to find a small crowd of men in front of his house. They were just standing and looking. Padway looked at the house and could see nothing out of order.
He asked a man: ”What's funny about my house, stranger?”
The man looked at him silently. They all looked at him silently. They moved off in twos and threes. They began to walk fast, sometimes glancing back.
Monday morning two of the workmen failed to report. Nerva came to Padway and, after much clearing of the throat, said: ”I thought you'd like to know, lordly Martinus. I went to ma.s.s at the Church of the Angel Gabriel yesterday as usual.”