Bradford nodded to Audley '—there was this historical analysis from a history professor at Harvard, plus all the reviews from the papers, you see.'
'A professor from Harvard? Big deal!' Audley's sniff of derision would have done credit to Jilly. 'So what did he say?'
'Oh, he said the history was good. Like . . . well, it seems she really was beautiful, this Galla Placidia lady— beautiful and mean, like Scarlett O'Hara and Lucrezia Borgia rolled into one, with her pretty fingers in a lot of pies.'
'Yes?' Audley prodded him.
'Well ... it was one hell of a time, with your barbarians flooding into the West, but the Romans still in there pitching
—Theodoric the Gothic king . . . and this guy Constantius, the Roman general, who forced the barbarians to settle down beside the Romans—he was big time as well. And after him there was an even bigger man, with an unpronounceable name—'
'Aetius,' murmured Audley. ' The last of the Romans—yes, I think you could call him 'big time', Bradford.'
'Right—and all the time the Huns are knocking on the door, ready to destroy everything if the Romans didn't line up with the Goths somehow. And all the while Galla Placidia was playing both ends against the middle—I tell you, it's one hell of a time, and one hell of a story.'
'I don't think she was as bad as that,' said Lexy. 'She had a dummy5
lot to put up with—the way the Goths—the
Bradford laughed. 'Yeah—the purple passages!'
'Who is Simplicius? I've never heard of him.' Audley rotated on his stool.
'He's the one who tells the story. And 'Simplicius' is a joke-name, because he's a real crafty son-of-a-bitch— he's really the guy who pulls the strings, in fact.'
'But not historical, eh?'
'Maybe not. But he comes over like a real person. For my money he's the best thing in the book. He ends up a bishop, but he's really another pagan bastard just using the Christians as his intelligence service.'
Jilly held out her glass to be filled. 'But. . . where do you come into all this, Mike?' She lifted the glass towards the bottle. 'That's enough—I want to stay sober to hear about Mike's 'intelligence' assignment.'
'Fill 'em all up, Lexy,' ordered Audley. 'And then open another bottle.'
'Yeah . . . well, Antonia Palfrey is my assignment.' Bradford paused for a moment to watch the last of the bottle's contents descend into his glass. 'And Miss Antonia Palfrey's small print is my problem.'
'In her book, you mean?' said Jilly.
'The purple passages, eh?' Stein chuckled wickedly. 'The dummy5
Hays Office doesn't mind the barbarians murdering and looting, but they're drawing the line at rape?'
'She's just a simple little old spinster lady . . .' Bradford sighed and shook his head at no one in particular.
'They're always the worst ones,' said Stein mildly. 'They should have known better—your Hollywood friends.'
'Damn right!' Bradford looked up suddenly. 'Not the book though . . . though they should have read the damn thing more carefully—they should have figured anyone who dreamed up a character like Sidonius Simplicius would be tricky . . . but no, not the book.' He grimaced. 'Or not really the book.'
'What then?' asked Jilly.
'The contract, of course!' Stein sat back.
Bradford nodded wordlessly.
'Oh—bloody good show!' The shadows on the Israeli's face creased into a delighted grin. 'The little old spinster lady took the studio lawyers for a ride—did she?'
'It isn't so goddamn funny, Davey.'
“I think it's hilarious, old boy!'
“Not with two million bucks riding on it, it isn't!'
“Which
“If they make the movie she does.'
“And if they don't?'
'She's already got half a million.'
dummy5
Stein laughed. 'What's she objecting to, Mike?'
The American grunted morosely. 'Ostensibly ... to some minor changes in the plot—'
'You mean, you want to change the history from the way it really happened?' Stein pointed accusingly.
'And she can do that?' Jilly looked from one to the other of them. 'I didn't think Hollywood let authors call the tune like that?'
'Especially little old spinster ladies,' agreed Stein mockingly.
