Read Online The Fourth Rome by David Drake, Janet Morris - Free Book Online Page A

daughter—that’s her at the window—”
    Rebecca glanced toward the street. Sure enough, a moonfaced girl whose braids were woven on top of her head watched the events
     from the street.
    “—tells the soldiers it’s free ale for the whole company whose men bring me all your heads. I don’t even think they’ll wait
     till dark to finish the business, Istvan.”
    Hannes turned to the bodyguards. “Go on, then,” he snarled. “You act like pigs, you can sleep like pigs in the street tonight.
     Go on!”
    “Hey, that’s not right,” said the thug who’d been sure Hilderic was stabbed. He looked in puzzlement from his employer to
     Hilderic standing in the doorway. “We got a right to a roof. What if it rains?”
    “Find a roof, then!” Hannes said. He shook three gold coins from his purse and tossed them at the man. “Go on, get out!”
    The guards moved toward the door with a good deal of mumbling and groping for the coins—enough to pay the wages of all of
     them for a week. Rebecca suspected they’d wind up sleeping in the street anyway after getting pig drunk on the unexpected
     windfall.
    “Master Istvan,” she said to the blond Russian in Latin. “Our master Gaius Clovis sent us to see what stock you had on hand.
     He’ll be returning to Rome in a few weeks and thought he’d take some slaves back with him if the price was right.”
    “What?” said Istvan. His Latin was slightly better than his German, but the revisionists’ accents probably had the locals
     wondering if they came from Hyperborea. “We don’t have any slaves. We won’t have slaves till the governor puts down the barbarians
     who are causing trouble.”
    Hannes turned his attention to the discussion also, but he didn’t seem unduly concerned. Both Russians had taken their hands
     away from the weapons that were apparently hung from their belts.
    “Well, till later, then,” Rebecca said. “You’ll accompany Varus tomorrow, then?”
    “Yes,” Hannes said curtly. “Come, Istvan, our goods are in the loft.”
    “Have a drink with us, masters?” Rebecca offered. Gerd was manipulating the sensor concealed in his left palm. It was her
     job to give the analyst time to gather as much information as possible. “Wine, perhaps?”
    The Russians ignored her. Istvan preceded his companion up the ladder.
    Lothar and his wife looked at Rebecca without warmth. The innkeeper didn’t know exactly what had happened, but it was clear
     Rebecca was somehow involved in it. Now that the adrenaline rush had worn off, the strain Lothar had put on age-stiffened
     muscles was probably making itself felt.
    “Rebecca,” Gerd said in Latin, “our master won’t be back from dinner with the governor for many hours yet. I’m glad we’ll
     have the opportunity to eat and drink here in this inn.”
    Rebecca looked at him. The analyst was dead serious. He really was happy for the chance to eat on the economy in this horizon.
     It was an experience he never would have had if the operation had been a quick in and out by transport capsule as the team
     had intended.
    “Sure, Gerd,” she said, looking at the cauldron that was probably pork being boiled flavorless. God only knew what the beer
     would taste like. Still, they needed to eat somewhere and close to the revisionists might be a good choice. Their immune-system
     boosters were going to get a workout. “We sure are fortunate.”
    “A meal for each of us and a mug of your house ale,” the analyst said to Lothar, beaming.
    Rebecca sighed.
If you told Gerd you had to amputate his leg without anesthetic, he’d probably look forward to that experience, too…
    “You’ll have to wait here,” the majordomo said to Pauli Weigand in the dark reception room. “Someone will come to collect
     you, I’m sure.”
    It said something about Varus’ attitudes that he’d changed the orientation of the governor’s residence from an outward-facing
     villa to a town house with blank outer walls. The