Padway asked him: "As you can learn easily enough, we shall soon have a powerful state here. Have you changed your mind about joining us?"
"No, my lord quaestor, I have not. An oath is an oath."
"Have you ever broken an oath in your life?"
"Not to my knowledge."
"If for any reason you should swear an oath to me, I suppose, you'd consider yourself as firmly bound by it as by the others, wouldn't you?"
"Naturally. But that's a ridiculous supposition."
"Perhaps. How would it be if I offered you parole and transportation back to Constantinople, on condition that you would never again bear arms against the kingdom of the Goths and Italians?"
"You're a crafty and resourceful man, Martinus. I thank you for the offer, but I couldn't square it with my oath to Justinian. Therefore I must decline."
Padway repeated his offer to the other generals. Constantianus, Perianus, and Bessas accepted at once. Padway's reasoning was as follows: These three were just fair-to-middling commanders. Justinian could get plenty more of that kind, so there was not much point in keeping them. Of course they'd violate their oaths as soon as they were out of his reach. But Belisarius was a real military genius; he mustn't be allowed to fight against the kingdom again. Either he'd have to come over, or give his parole—which he alone would keep—or be kept in detention.
On the other hand, Justinian's clever but slightly warped mind was unreasonably jealous of Belisarius' success and his somewhat stuffy virtue. When he learned that Belisarius had stayed behind in Rome rather than give a parole that he'd be expected to break, the emperor might be sufficiently annoyed to do something interesting.
Padway wrote:
King Thiudahad to the Emperor Justinian, Greetings.
Your serene highness: We send you with this letter the persons of your generals Constantianus, Perianus, and Bessas, under parole not to bear arms against us again. A similar parole was offered your general Belisarius, but he declined to accept it on grounds of his personal honor.
As continuation of this war seems unlikely to achieve any constructive result, we take the opportunity of stating the terms that we should consider reasonable for the establishment of enduring peace between us.
1. Imperial troops shall evacuate Sicily and Dalmatia forthwith.
2. An indemnity of one hundred thousand solidi in gold shall be paid us for damages done by your invading armies.
3 We shall agree never again to make war, one upon the other, without mutual consultation in advance. Details can be settled in due course.
4 We shall agree not to assist any third parties, by men, money, or munitions, which hereafter shall make war upon either of us.
5 We shall agree upon a commercial treaty to facilitate the exchange of goods between our respective realms.
This is of course a very rough outline, details of which would have to be settled by conference between our representatives. We think you will agree that these terms, or others very similar in intent, are the least that we could reasonably ask under the circumstances.
We shall anticipate the gracious favor of a reply at your serenity's earliest convenience.
When he saw who his visitor was, Thomasus got up with a grunt and waddled toward him, good eye sparkling and hand outstretched. "Martinus! It's good to see you again. How does it feel to be important?"
"Wearisome," said Padway, shaking hands vigorously. "What's the news?"
"News? News? Listen to that! He's been making most of the news in Italy for the past two months, and he wants to know what the news is!"
"I mean about our little bird in a cage."
"Huh? Oh, you mean"—Thomasus looked around cautiously—"ex-King Wittigis? He was doing fine at last reports, though nobody's been able to get a civil word out of him. Listen, Martinus, of all the lousy tricks I ever heard of, springing the job of hiding him on me without warning was the worst. I'm sure God agrees with me, too. Those soldiers dragged me out of bed, and then I had them and their prisoner around the house for several days."
"I'm sorry, Thomasus. But you were the only man in Rome I felt I could trust absolutely."
"Oh, well, if you put it that way. But Wittigis was the worst grouch I ever saw. Nothing suited him."
"How's the telegraph company coming?"
"That's another thing. The Naples line is working regularly. But the lines to Ravenna and Florence won't be finished for a month, and until they are there's no chance of a profit. And the minority stockholders have discovered that they're a minority. You should have heard them howl! They're after your blood. At first Count Honorius was with them. He threatened to jail Vardan and Ebenezer and me if we didn't sell him—give him, practically—a controlling interest. But we learned he needed money worse than he needed the stock, and bought his from him. So the other patricians have to be satisfied with snubbing us when they pass us in the street."
"I'm going to start another paper as soon as I get time," said Padway. "There'll be two, one in Rome and one in Florence."
"Why one in Florence?"
"That's where our new capital's going to be."
"What?"
"Yes. It's better located than Rome with regard to roads and such, and it has a much better climate than Ravenna. In fact I can't think of a place that hasn't a better climate than Ravenna, hell included. I sold the idea to Cassiodorus, and between us we got Thiudahad to agree to move the administrative offices thither. If Thiudahad wants to hold court in the City of Fogs, Bogs and Frogs, that's his lookout. I'll be just as glad not to have him in my hair."
"In your hair? Oh, ho-ho-ho, you are the funniest fellow, Martinus. I wish I could say things the way you do. But all this activity takes my breath away. What else of revolutionary nature are you planning?"
"I'm going to try to start a school. We have a flock of teachers on the public payroll now, but all they know is grammar and rhetoric. I'm going to try to have things taught that really matter: mathematics, and the sciences, and medicine. I see where I shall have to write all the textbooks myself."
"Just one question, Martinus. When do you find time to sleep?"
Padway grinned wanly. "Mostly I don't. But if I can ever get out of all this political and military activity I hope to catch up. I don't really like it, but it's a necessary means to an end. The end is things like the telegraph and the presses. My politicking and soldiering may not make any difference a hundred years from now, but the other things will, I hope."
Padway started to go, then said: "Is Julia from Apulia still working for Ebenezer the Jew?"
"The last I heard she was. Why? Do you want her back?"
"God forbid. She's got to disappear from Rome."
"Why?"
"For her own safety. I can't tell you about it yet."
"But I thought you disliked her—"
"That doesn't mean I want her murdered. And my own hide may be in danger, too, unless we get her out of town."
"Oh, God, why didst Thou let me get involved with a politician? I don't know, Martinus; she's a free citizen . . ."
"How about your cousin in Naples, Antiochus? I'd make it worth his while to hire her at higher wages."
"Well, I—"
"Have her go to work for Antiochus under another name. Fix it up quietly, old man. If the news leaks out, we'll all be in the soup."
"Soup? Ha, ha. Very funny. I'll do what I can. Now, about that old six-month note of yours . . ."
Oh, dear, thought Padway, now it would begin again. Thomasus was easy enough to get on with most of the time. But he could not or would not conduct the simplest financial transactions without three hours of frantic haggling. Perhaps he enjoyed it. Padway did not.