Come Twilight

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Book: Read Come Twilight for Free Online
Authors: Chelsea Quinn Yarbro
Tags: Fiction
planning. This speaks well of him, on that you and I can agree, I am certain.
    In that Sanct’ Germain has granted lifetime residence to Viridia, a high-ranking whore of the city, you and I may deplore his decision, but it is as binding as any of his other donations, and to question his gen erosity would result in all his gifts being diminished; this is provided in the terms of the grant he has left in my keeping. He has stated that she has been good to him, and as such, deserves a sign of his friendship. As I have no desire to deprive my people of the beneficence of this for eigner, I will not endanger the good he is doing by questioning this one lapse in judgment, for that way lies many losses. So I will see that his wishes are carried out in regard to this woman and I will advise you to acquiesce in this, or face the prospect of having your donations cut in half, a result you cannot want.
    I have taken the liberty, which has been granted to me by Sanct’ Germain, to make a contribution toward the repair of the Roman Gate and the public cistern. This will not diminish the donation made to your Church, but it may decrease the money to be given to the beggars of the city, at least for this year. I judged that water and protection were more urgent needs of Toletum than tending to those who beg; there are other places charity can be found than from Sanct’ Germain’s purse. I do not mean that you should carry the burden wholly, only that I am convinced that it is appropriate to put the welfare of the city ahead of the welfare of its beggars. If I have failed to do as Sanct’ Germain would have done, I
will tender him an apology upon his return, and I ask you to record this letter in the archives of your seat, Sanctissimus Resurrexionem, so that his heirs might have the opportunity to read it, should the title to his holdings pass to them before he himself returns.
    May the God whom we both adore guide and protect you, your wife, and your children. May you suffer no ills of the world. May you never know the sting of ingratitude nor the pangs of doubt. May you always be worthy of your high office, and may God prepare a place for you in His Sight.
     
    Ithidroel ben Matthis
    Merchant and teacher
     
    the Red House, Roman Hill, Toletum, ten days after Christian Epiphany, in the Christian year 622
     
     

2
    Sunset lay behind them, reddened by the wind that chafed the plateau which rose from the eastern bank of the Iberus toward the mountains that were little more than a jagged line beneath the ominous clouds gathering ahead. A few stands of tattered oaks provided the only shelter from the wind, but the road ran straight between them, leading toward the old Roman town of Aeso and its grand estate, Aqua Alba in Iberus. Behind them on the western bank of the river sprawled Caesaraugusta, a Roman town around a ferry crossing that was the merchants’ gateway to the central Iberian Peninsula: Sanct’ Germain and his escort had passed three days there before the weather improved sufficiently to allow them to travel.
    “How much longer?” Rogerian had to yell although he rode only an arm’s-length from Sanct’ Germain.
    “I don’t know. We will need shelter soon. The wind is getting worse; it is almost dark.” He squinted at the five out-riders who led the train of mules and provided protection for them. “I think Wamba is ill. I have watched him and he is pale and sweating,” he remarked as he gave his attention to Rogerian once again. “Either he is ill, or he is carrying a skin of wine instead of water.”
    “Wamba is given to drink, as we saw in Caesaraugusta,” Rogerian agreed, struggling to hold his Mongolian mantel around him, the wool side turned in, to keep him warm. “I do not entirely trust him.”
    “I do not trust any of them, old friend.” Sanct’ Germain wore a hooded Roman paenula of black Persian lamb over a Byzantine paragaudion of heavy-strand embroidered black silk that had weathered far worse

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