“Among the People of the Dawn, treaties are marked by blood and marriage. I am contemplating the latter and want proof of the former. Emperor after emperor has sent the Hunuguri their sons and daughters. The general Aetius lived with us when I was a boy, and I used to wrestle with him in the dirt.” He grinned. “He was older, but I beat him, too.”
The assembly laughed.
Now Attila pointed abruptly at Bigilas. “You, alone among the Romans who have come to us, have a son. Is this not true?”
Bigilas stood in seeming confusion. “Yes, my lord.”
“This boy will be a hostage of your good faith in these negotiations while we talk, no? He will be evidence that you trust Attila as he trusts you.”
“Kagan, my son is still in Constan—”
“You will go back to fetch him while your companions learn the ways of the Hun. It is only when your boy gets here that our negotiations can conclude, because only then will I know you are men of your word: so faithful that you trust your son to me. Understand?”
Bigilas looked at Maximinus. Reluctantly, the senator nodded.
“As you order, kagan.” Bigilas bowed. “If your riders could send word ahead . . .”
“Some will accompany you.” Attila nodded. “Now, I will sleep.”
It was his announcement that the evening was over. The guests abruptly stood as if on a string and began moving out of the hall, the Huns pushing their way first with no pretense at politeness. The banquet had ended abruptly, but our stay was obviously just beginning.
I glanced around. The intriguing woman had disappeared. Nor was Hun sexual hospitality about to be offered, it seemed. As for Bigilas, he did not look as downcast at this sudden demand as I’d expected. Did he want to return to Constantinople so badly? I saw him trade a glance with Edeco.
I also spied Skilla, watching me from the shadows at the far end of the hall. The young man smiled mockingly, as if knowing a great secret, and slipped through the door.
XI
I
A WOMAN NAMED
ILANA
Let
The German girl looked at Ilana with surprise. “
The maid of Axiopolis took the jar from the German and balanced it on her head. “So much more reason for me to do it now.” She smiled with false sweetness. “Maybe it will help quiet your whines.”
As she left Suecca’s house to walk to the Tisza, Guernna called after, “I know what you’re doing! You want to go past where the Romans are camped!”
It was late morning after the banquet, and the encampment was finally stirring. Ilana hoped the young Roman was awake. The bright reds and blues of the embassy tents were a vivid contrast to the browns and tans of barbarian habitation, making them easy to find, and the hues made her long for the colorful paints and bustling bazaars of civilization. It was astonishing what quiet passion the arrival of the Roman embassy had stirred in her. She’d been half dead, going through the motions of the days and half resigned to union with Skilla. Now she was seized with fresh hope, seeing an alternative. Somehow she had to convince these Romans to ransom her. The key was the embassy scribe and historian who’d followed her around the banquet room with his eyes.
A year before, the thought of such calculation would have horrified Ilana. Love was sacred, romance was pure, and she’d had a queue of suitors before settling on Tasio. But that was before her betrothed and her father had died, and before Skilla seemed determined to marry her and stick her forever in a yurt. If she acquiesced she’d spend the rest of her days wandering with his tribe from pasture to pasture, bearing Hun babies and watching these butchers bring on the end of the world. She was convinced that ordinary Romans had no idea of the peril they were facing. She believed this because until her own former life had ended, she’d had no idea as well.
Ilana had donned the Roman dress she’d been captured in for this occasion, and carefully washed and combed her hair.
A Hun belt of gold links helped emphasize her slender waist, a medallion the swell of her breasts, and Roman bracelets on the raised arm that balanced the jar caught the light of the sun and called attention to her errand. It was the first time since her capture that she’d really tried to look pretty. The jar was seated on a round felt cap on the crown of her head, the posture needed to bear it giving a seductive sway to her walk.
She spied the Roman to one side of their cluster of tents, brushing a gray mare. He seemed handsome enough, curious, and, she hoped, necessarily innocent of female motive. She walked by his field of vision while staring straight ahead and for a moment feared he might ignore her, so intent he seemed on combing his damned horse. She’d have to try again when returning from the river! But, no, suddenly he straightened abruptly and just as he did so she deliberately stumbled and caught the jar as it toppled from her head. “Oh!”
“Let me help you!” he called in Latin.
“It’s nothing,” she replied in the same tongue, trying to feign surprise. “I didn’t see you standing there.” She clutched the clay jar to her breasts like a lover.
He walked over. “I thought you might be Roman from your look and manner.”
He seemed almost too kind, not yet hardened by life’s cruelties, and for a moment she doubted her plan. She needed someone strong. But at least he would take pity!
“I saw you serving at the banquet,” he went on. “What’s your name?”
“Ilana.”
“That’s pretty. I am Jonas Alabanda, of Constantinople.
Where are you from?”
She cast her eyes down, purposely demure. “Axiopolis, near the Black Sea. The city the Greeks called Heracleia.”
“I’ve heard of it. You were captured?”
“Edeco conquered it.”
“Edeco! He’s the one we rode here with from Constantinople.”
“The warrior Skilla caught me and brought me here on his horse.”
“I know Skilla as well!”
“Then we have even more in common than our empire.”
She smiled sadly.
He held out his arms. “Here, let me help carry that.”
“It’s woman’s work. Besides, it’s not heavy until full.”
“Then let me escort you to the river.” He grinned. “You look like more enjoyable company than Edeco or Skilla.”
This was going better than she’d hoped. They walked together, the quick companionship giving a sheen to the pleasant day, the grass suddenly greener and the sky bluer.
“You’re young to be on such an important mission,” she said. “You must be wise beyond your years.”
“I merely speak Hunnish and enjoy letters. I hope to write a history.”
“You must come from a good family.” She hoped he was rich enough to buy her.
“We’ve had some misfortune. I’m hoping this journey turns it around.”
That was disappointing. They reached the grassy riverbank, the Tisza lolling lazily, dried mud showing how much it had fallen since spring. She stooped to dip water, making her movements deliberately slow. “The journey has let us meet each other, at least,” she said.
“What house do you belong to here?”
“Suecca, wife of Edeco.”
He watched her stand and balance. “I will ask him about you, I think.”
Her heart soared. “If you could ransom me, I would serve the embassy on your way home,” she said, her words coming more quickly than she’d planned. “I can cook, and sew. . . .”
She saw the amused concern on his face and stopped. “I just mean I wouldn’t be any trouble.” The jar
