The minister sipped from his cup. “Do you know, Edeco, that a man of your standing and talents could eat like this every day?”
Here the barbarian finally paused. “Every day?”
“If you lived here with us.”
“But I live with Attila.”
“Yes, I know, but have you ever thought of living in Constantinople?”
The Hun snorted. “Where would I keep my horses?” Chrysaphius smiled. “What need have we of horses? We have nowhere we need to go. The entire world comes to us, and brings the best of its goods with it. The brightest wits and best artists and the holiest priests all come to Nova Roma. The Empire’s most beautiful women are here, as you can see from my own slaves and bath girls. Why do you need a horse?” Edeco, realizing that some kind of offer was being prepared, shifted more upright on his dining couch as if to focus his half-drunken attention. “I’m not a Roman.”
“But you could be.”
The barbarian glanced around warily, as if everything might be taken away from him in an instant. “I have no house here.”
“But you could have, general. A man of your military experience would be invaluable to our armies. A man of your station could have a palace exactly like this one. A man like you who gave his services to the emperor could be first among our nobles. Our palaces, our games, our goods, and our women could all be yours.”
The Hun’s eyes narrowed. “You mean if I leave my people and join you.”
“I mean if you are willing to save your people as well as ours, Edeco. If you take your rightful place in history.”
“My place is by Attila.”
“So far. But must we next meet across the battlefield? We both know that is what Attila wants. Your ruler is insatiable. No victory satisfies him. No amount of tribute is ever enough. No loyalist is above his suspicion. While he is alive, no Hun and no Roman is safe. If he’s not stopped, he will destroy us all.”
Edeco had stopped eating, looking dubious. “What is it you want?”
Chrysaphius put his slim, soft hand over the Hun’s hard one, grasping it warmly. “I want you to kill Attila, my friend.”
“Kill him! I would be flayed alive.”
“Not if it was done in secret, away from his guards, in quiet parley with Roman ambassadors with you as the key Hun negotiator. He would die, you would leave the discussion chamber, and chaos would erupt only later when his death was discovered. By the time the Huns decide who among them is in charge and who might be guilty, you could be back here, a hero to the world. You could have a house like this one and women like these and gold enough to strain your back.”
He made no effort to hide his look of avarice. “How much gold?”
The minister smiled. “Fifty pounds.”
The Hun sucked in his breath.
“That is simply an initial payment. We will give you enough gold to make you one of this city’s richest men, Edeco. Enough honor to let you live in peace and luxury the rest of your days. You are one of the few trusted enough by Attila to be alone with him. You can do what no other man dares.”
The Hun wet his lips. “Fifty pounds? And more?”
“Would not Attila kill you for the same prize?”
Edeco shrugged, as if to concede the point. “Where is this gold?”
Chrysaphius snapped his fingers. A male slave, a tall German, came in bearing a heavy chest, its weight displaying the man’s powerful musculature. He set it down with a thump and flipped back the lid, revealing a yellow hoard. The minister let the Hun take a good long look at the coins and then, with his nod, the lid snapped shut. “This is your opportunity, Edeco, to live like me.”
The Hun slowly shook his head. “If I ride back with that on my saddle Attila will know in an instant what I’ve promised. I’ll be crucified on the Hunuguri Plain.”
“I know this. So here is my plan. Let’s pretend we could not reach agreement. Let me send a Roman ambassador back with you to Attila. Let me send Bigilas here