Free Burning Shadows by Chelsea Quinn Yarbro Page B

Mangueinic said, “I’ll tell my Watch to be on the lookout for them. They could help us defend the town in exchange for our protection. Or, if they seem treacherous, we can keep them outside Apulum Inferior, to draw away the Huns.”
“Whatever the case where these foreigners are concerned, we will have to do our utmost to be ready to face the Huns,” Sanctu-Germainios said, concealing his dislike of Mangueinic’s insensibility toward the unknown travelers; this was no time to argue with him about the fate of strangers—not when his town was in peril. “I will arm my servants and send them to you for posting. As captain of the Watch, it is for you to arrange our defense; I will not interfere with your task. I will do what I can to organize the town, and warn the outlying farms and villages, which is my province.” He gave a fleeting smile as he thrust the fan-folded parchment through his belt and looked around the reception-room. “I will want to call all my servants together by mid-afternoon, and will assign to you such of them as come under your purview. Then I will want to speak to the clergy and the foreign merchants in the town.”
“If you decide to close the gates before sundown, inform me. I think we had best keep the gates open for the outlying villagers and farmers, and to find out about the foreigners on the road. Otherwise they’re apt to be killed, and that will not help us fight the Huns.” Mangueinic looked out at the blustery brightness. “Are you going to send your messengers—”
“Shortly,” said Sanctu-Germainios. “I’ll use my personal courier to go to the chapels, churches, and monasteries, and the town’s messengers for the rest. They should be gone from here before midafternoon, and not return until tomorrow morning, if then. I am going to instruct them to stay away from here if there is fighting. I’ll make sure they have bows and arrows as well as smoked pork, in case they may encounter trouble on the way. If all goes well, half of them should return by midnight.” He clapped his hands, wishing that Rugierus were with him and not on the road to Constantinople; he reminded himself that wishing was not useful, and gave his full attention to his approaching crisis.
“Funny,” said Mangueinic, “we’ve had a lot of warning since spring, but I never thought it would really happen—that the Huns would actually attack Apulum Inferior. I was sure they’d be stopped before … But then, I thought we would have more soldiers here if there were any real threat, I always supposed they’d head for Apulum, and we would have time to make a retreat.”
“That could still happen,” said Sanctu-Germainios, more to reassure Mangueinic than because he was convinced of it.
As the house-keeper appeared at the inner door he ducked his head to the guardian. “Dom Sanctu-Germainios.” His conduct was completely contained, but there was a wildness in his tawny eyes that revealed his fear.
“Urridien,” Sanctu-Germainios said. “Summon the household to this room at mid-afternoon, and send Estaphanos Stobi, and Samnor of Porolissum, Polynices Ridion, and Vilca Troed to me as soon as possible. I will see the messengers in my office as soon as they can get there. Then send word to the stable to have Atlas saddled.”
Urridien ducked his head. “Yes, Dom Sanctu-Germainios,” he said, and hurried away, grateful to have something to do.
As soon as he was gone, Mangueinic asked, “How many men will you be able to provide me?”
“I will know in little more than an hour, and will send the men to you with my report; I reckon between twenty-five and thirty.” He paused, then added, “My clerk will give you the report.”
Mangueinic gave a single, curt nod, raised his hand in a gesture that was not quite a salute but more than a simple wave of farewell. “I’ll send a messenger if there are any changes.”
“Thank you,” Sanctu-Germainios acknowledged this, then strode off toward the room