The Italian immediately lost some of his top-loftiness. "But," he cried in honest amazement, "didn't you bring any money?"
Of course, Padway thought, he should have known that the man hadn't meant what he'd said. "What's your schedule of rates?"
The usher, quite seriously, began counting on his fingers. "Well, for twenty solidi I could give you your audience tomorrow. For the day after tomorrow, ten solidi is my usual rate; but that's Sunday, so I'm offering interviews on Monday at seven and a half. For one week in advance, two solidi. For two weeks—"
Padway interrupted to offer a five-solidus bribe for a Monday interview, and finally got it at that price plus a small bottle of brandy. The usher said: "You'll be expected to have a present for the king, too, you know."
"I know," said Padway wearily. He showed the usher a small leather case. "I'll present it personally."
Thiudahad Tharasmund's son, King of the Ostrogoths and Italians; Commander in Chief of the Armies of Italy, Illyria, and Southern Gaul; Premier Prince of the Amal Clan; Count of Tuscany; Illustrious Patrician; ex-officio President of the Circus; et cetera, et cetera, was about Padway's height, thin to gauntness, and had a small gray beard. He peered at his caller with watery gray eyes, and said in a reedy voice: "Come in, come in, my good man. What's your business? Oh, yes, Martinus Paduei. You're the publisher chap aren't you? Eh?" He spoke upper-class Latin without a trace of accent.
Padway bowed ceremoniously. "I am, my lord king. Before we discuss the business, I have—"
"Great thing, that book-making machine of yours. I've heard of it. Great thing for scholarship. You must see my man Cassiodorus. I'm sure he'd like you to publish his Gothic History, Great work. Deserves a wide circulation."
Padway waited patiently. "I have a small gift for you, my lord. A rather unusual—"
"Eh? Gift? By all means. Let's see it."
Padway took out the case and opened it.
Thiudahad piped: "Eh? What the devil is that?"
Padway explained the function of a magnifying glass. He didn't dwell on Thiudahad's notorious nearsightedness.
Thiudahad picked up a book and tried the glass on it. He squealed with delight. "Fine, my good Martinus. Shall I be able to read all I want without getting headaches?"
"I hope so, my lord. At least it should help. Now, about my business here—"
"Oh, yes, you want to see me about publishing Cassiodorus. I'll fetch him for you."
"No, my lord. It's about something else." He went on quickly before Thiudahad could interrupt again, telling him of his difficulty with Liuderis.
"Eh? I never bother my local military commanders. They know their business."
"But, my lord—" and Padway gave the king a little sales talk on the importance of the telegraph company.
"Eh? A money-making scheme, you say? If it's as good as all that, why wasn't I let in on it at the start?"
That rather jarred Padway. He said something vague about there not having been time. King Thiudahad wagged his head. "Still, that wasn't considerate of you, Martinus. It wasn't loyal. And if people aren't loyal to their king, where are we? If you deprive your king of an opportunity to make a little honest profit, I don't see why I should interfere with Liuderis on your account."
"Well, ahem, my lord, I did have an idea—"
"Not considerate at all. What were you saying? Come to the point, my good man, come to the point."
Padway resisted an impulse to strangle this exasperating little man. He beckoned Fritharik, who was standing statuesquely in the background. Fritharik produced a telescope, and Padway explained its functions. . . .
"Yes, Yes? Very interesting, I'm sure. Thank you, Martinus. I will say that you bring your king original presents."
Padway gasped; he hadn't intended giving Thiudahad his best telescope. But it was too late now. He said: "I thought that if my lord king saw fit to . . . ah . . . ease matters with your excellent Liuderis, I could insure your undying fame in the world of scholarship."
"Eh? What's that? What do you know about scholarship? Oh, I forgot; you're a publisher. Something about Cassiodorus?"
Padway repressed a sigh. "No, my lord. Not Cassiodorus. How would you like the credit for revolutionizing men's idea about the solar system?"
"I don't believe in interfering with my local commanders, Martinus. Liuderis is an excellent man. Eh? What were you saying. Something about the solar system? What's that got to do with Liuderis?"
"Nothing, my lord." Padway repeated what he had said.
"Well, maybe I'd consider it. What is this theory of yours?"
Little by little Padway wormed from Thiudahad a promise of a free hand for the telegraph company, in return for bits of information about the Copernican hypothesis, instructions for the use of the telescope to see the moons of Jupiter, and a promise to publish a treatise on astronomy in Thiudahad's name.
At the end of an hour he grinned and said, "Well, my lord, we seem to be in agreement. There's just one more thing. This telescope would be a valuable instrument of warfare. If you wanted to equip your officers with them—"
"Eh? Warfare? You'll have to see Wittigis about that. He's my head general."
"Where's he?"
"Where? Oh, dear me, I don't know. Somewhere up north, I think. There's been a little invasion by the Allemans or somebody."
"When will he be back?"
"How should I know, my good Martinus? When he's driven out these Allemans or Burgunds or whoever they are."
"But, most excellent lord, if you'll pardon me, the war with the Imperialists is definitely on. I think it's important to get these telescopes into the hands of the army as soon as possible. We'd be prepared to supply them at a reasonable—"
"Now? Martinus," snapped the king peevishly, "don't try to tell me how to run my kingdom. You're as bad as my Royal Council. Always 'Why don't you do this?', "Why don't you do that?' I trust my commanders; don't bother myself with details. I say you'll have to see Wittigis, and that settles it."
Thiudahad was obviously prepared to be mulish, so Padway said a few polite nothings, bowed, and withdrew.
CHAPTER VII
When Padway got back to Rome, his primary concern was to see how his paper was coming. The first issue that had been put out since his departure was all right. About the second, which had just been printed, Menandrus was mysteriously elated, hinting that he had a splendid surprise for his employer. He had. Padway glanced at a proof sheet, and his heart almost stopped. On the front page was a detailed account of the bribe which the new Pope, Silverius, had paid King Thiudahad to secure his election.
"Hell's bells!" cried Padway. "Haven't you any better sense than to print this, George?"
"Why?" asked Menandrus, crestfallen. "It's true, isn't it?"
"Of course, it's true! But you don't want us all hanged or burned at the stake, do you? The Church is already suspicious of us. Even if you find that a bishop is keeping twenty concubines, you're not to print a word of it."
Menandrus sniffled a little; he wiped away a tear and blew his nose on his tunic. "I'm sorry, excellent boss. I tried to please you; you have no idea how much trouble I went to to get the facts about that bribe. There is a bishop, too—not twenty concubines, but—"
"But we don't consider that news, for reasons of health. Thank heaven, no copies of this issue have gone out yet."
"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."