The Scourge of God by William Dietrich Read Free Book Online Page B

charms too abundant—to tie herself to a future as uncertain as mine. What had happened to undying love and sweet exchange of feelings? Disposed of like stripped kitchen bones, it seemed. Discarded like an old sandal. I wasn’t just crushed, I was baffled. I’d been flattered by relatives and teachers that I was handsome, strong, bright, and well-spoken. Apparently such attributes don’t matter to women, compared to career prospects and accumulated riches. When I saw Olivia in the company of my rival Decio—a youth so shallow that you could not float a feather in his depth of character and so undeservedly rich that he could not waste his fortune as fast as his family made it—I felt the wounds of unfair fate might be truly mortal. Certainly I brooded about various means of suicide, revenge, or martyrdom to make Olivia and the world regret their ill-treatment of me. I polished my self-pity until it glowed like an idol.
    Then my father summoned me with better news.
    “Your curious preoccupation with languages has finally borne fruit,” he told me, not bothering to conceal his relief and surprise. I had taken to learning the way my brother had taken to athletics, and so spoke Greek, Latin, German, and— with the help of a former Hun captive named Rusticius who had enrolled in the same school—some Hunnish. I enjoyed the strange, gravelly sound of the hard consonants and frequent vowels of that tongue, even though there had been little opportunity to put the language into practice. The Huns did not trade, travel casually, or write; and all I knew of them was exotic rumor. They were like a great and mysterious shadow somewhere beyond our walls, many Byzantines whispering that Attila might be the Antichrist of prophecy.
    My father had never seen a practical value in learning barbarian jargon, of course; and, in truth, Olivia’s Tutiline family had been put off by it as well. She viewed my interest in obscure scholarly pursuits as somewhat peculiar, and despite my infatuation I’d been frustrated that she seemed bored by my fascination with the campaigns of Xenophon, my meticulous record of seasonal bird migrations, or my attempts to reconcile the movement of the stars with politics and destiny. “Jonas, you think about such silly things!” But now, unexpectedly, my aptitudes might pay off.
    “There’s an embassy going to parley with Attila and the scholar they selected as scribe has taken sick,” my father explained. “Your acquaintance Rusticius heard of your unemployment and got word to an aide of Chrysaphius. You’ll never be the soldier your brother is, but we all know you’re good with letters. They need a scribe and historian willing to be away for some months, and have nominated you. I have negotiated some pay in advance, enough to lease a ship and resuscitate our business.”
    “You’re spending my pay already?”
    “There’s nothing to buy in Hunuguri, Jonas, let me assure you, but much to see and learn. Rejoice at this opportunity, and put your mind to practical matters for a change. If you perform your duties and keep your head attached to your shoulders, you may catch the eye of the emperor or his chief minister. This could be the making of you, boy.”
    The thought of travel on a state mission was exciting. And the Huns were intriguing, if intimidating. “What am I to do?”
    “Write what you observe and stay out of the way.”
    My family had emigrated from our home city of Ephesus to the new city of Constantinople a hundred years ago. Through trade, marriage, and government service, my ancestors had scrabbled their way into the city’s upper classes. Capricious fortune, however, always prevented our entry into the highest ranks; the Cyprus storm being just the latest example. Now I had opportunity. I would be an aide to the respected Senator Maximinus, the ambassador, and would ride with three Huns and two translators: Rusticius and a man I’d never heard of named Bigilas. We seven men and