The Last Wife of Attila the Hun

by Joan Schweighardt

  He was gone only twenty days. But during that time I lived like a prisoner again, and I was happy enough when the ordeal was over. Unlike the occasion of Attila’s return after the Roman siege, there was no celebration this time. And thus I hoped to learn that the battle had gone badly for Attila. But this was not the case. Though no one spoke of the attack on the evening of Attila’s return, on the one following, a messenger from Curidachus was ushered into the hall by Onegesius. He announced that he had come to thank Attila for cutting down the other chieftains and bringing peace again to their tribe. He said, too, that Curidachus would not fail to implement the terms of their agreement.

  Attila put his tray aside and got to his feet. He looked the messenger over for a long time before he spoke. Then he said, “If Curidachus is so grateful, then how is it that he did not come to thank Attila himself?” Though his query had been put forth mildly, I saw that his fingers were clenching the hilt of his sword, and I held my breath as I went among Attila’s guests with the wine jug.

  The messenger bowed his head low and responded, “It is difficult for a man to gaze upon a god, for if it be impossible to look upon the orb of the sun, how could one behold the greatest of gods without injury?” Whether this had been a part of Curidachus’ message or invented by the messenger on the spot to save his own skin, I could not guess.

  But Attila appeared to be well satisfied, for he smiled and nodded thoughtfully. Then his black eyes darted to Ellac. He put his sword aside and went to stand behind his eldest son, placing both hands on his shoulders. “Tell your master,” he said to the messenger, “that in my great love for him, I have decided to grant him an even greater boon. This fine young man, Ellac, my first born, will return with you. Onegesius will ride to install him beside Curidachus to help govern over your people. With Ellac ruling at his side, I have no doubt that your peace will be long lasting.”

  Ellac’s terrified expression and the snide look that Attila exchanged with Ernac assured me that this was no more a tribute for Ellac than it was for Curidachus. And when I saw that Ellac and Onegesius were not present the following evening, I knew that Attila had wasted no time in sending him off.

  The seasons changed again, and other than the fact that Aetius had sent Attila a new scribe, I learned no news—though Attila dined, more often than not now, with only his closest officers, and they conducted much of their conversation in whispers. Nor did the strangeness of seeing Edeco day after day and never having the opportunity to speak a word to him dissipate. He seemed not to notice me at all now, and I came to think that he had forgotten me altogether, along with the thoughts which I had once stirred in him. In fact, even Attila grew lax in his concern for me, for although I continued to be guarded over when I was in my hut, I was told by one of the other women that I might begin to make my way to the palace in the evenings by myself. And thus I went through the village alone each evening, happy enough to be free for a time, and always hoping that I would run into Edeco on my way, always planning what few words I would say to him before he rushed away—for though I continued to long for my own people, my darling daughter particularly, it was now a hopeless longing that I did not expect ever to be gratified. My life was in Pannonia now. And if I had ever truly believed that the time would come when I would find a way to cut Attila down and leave his wretched city, I did not believe it any longer. In fact, when I thought of it now, I laughed at myself, as people will laugh at the antics they devised as children.

  One evening Edeco was not present at dinner. As there were occasions when Attila’s chief officers did not appear, I made little of it. But I realized the following evening that Orestes, Attila’s Roman, was not about either. And when a few evenings more passed without either of them, I began to suspect that Attila had sent them off on some mission, perhaps to the Eastern Empire. I had once heard Attila tell his men that although the Eastern Empire had been prompt in paying its tributes, they had failed to return all of the Hun fugitives he had demanded, and they had not yet evacuated some lands south of the Danube which they had promised to him as a part of their treaty agreement. I decided that these were the matters that Edeco and Orestes had gone to negotiate. I missed Edeco’s presence sorely. I had no idea how far away Constantinople was, but I imagined it was a good distance, and I did not expect to see him again for some time.

  One afternoon during the summer, one of the Hun women came to tell me that I would not be needed in the palace for some days. When the woman saw my look of concern, she laughed and explained that Attila was only marching to a Hun village to the east of the City of Attila where he would take yet another wife, a woman called Eskam whom the soothsayers promised would bear him many sons. And thus, when I heard a horse galloping toward my hut some five evenings later, I assumed that Attila and his bride were back, and that with the other women rushing to prepare to serve (for it was already dark by then), this rider was a guard coming to tell me to get myself to the palace immediately. And I was pleased, for my five days alone in the hut had been as objectionable as any of the longer periods. I got to my feet, and running my comb hastily through my hair, I pulled back the curtain. Edeco was just dismounting. I dropped the comb and stepped back from the doorway.

  As if he had been riding hard for some time, Edeco was breathless, but he was smiling too, and looking at me with some pleasure in his eye. He stooped down to retrieve the comb and held it out to me. “I am back,” he announced.

  “Aye, I can see that for myself,” I mumbled.

  “Would you like to know where I have been and what I have been about?”

  I hesitated to answer. But as Edeco’s smile seemed genuine, I answered honestly, saying, “I suspect you went to Constantinople to negotiate on Attila’s behalf.”

  He pointed a finger at me. “You are a clever woman. That is it exactly. And while I was there, something out of the ordinary occurred. Would you like me to tell you about it?”

  “Do,” I urged, trying to conceal my delight in his presence.

  His eye fell on my wine jug. I sat down quickly and patted the spot across from me. Edeco sat, too, and took a deep swallow from the jug.

  “Well,” he said, wiping his mouth on his sleeve, “let me think where to begin. I went to Constantinople with a message for the Emperor, Theodosius. Orestes, who speaks the Roman tongue, went with me. And after we had passed Attila’s message on to Theodosius, a certain Roman noble called Bigilas, a man who speaks my language as well as others, called me aside. And so, leaving Orestes to fend for himself in the Emperor’s palace, I went with this Bigilas to the palace of Chrysaphius, another Roman noble, a eunuch much favored by Theodosius. The palace of this eunuch was splendid, immense and full of riches. And as I had not expected one of Theodosius’ men to have a palace comparable to his own, I suppose I exclaimed. And the look that I saw pass between Bigilas and Chrysaphius assured me that my exclamation was precisely the sign they had been hoping for.”

  “What sign?” I asked, confused.

  “Why, that I could be bribed.”

  “They bribed you?”

  “Aye. Let me get to the heart of it. They promised me that if I would kill Attila, I could return to Constantinople with my sons and live in a palace just like Chrysaphius’, and that my sons would be nobles. So you see, Ildico, the vision you foresaw so long ago was not a portent of my son’s future. It was merely a portent of the bribery I was to encounter. You must have misinterpreted.”

  “Ah,” I said, “I wondered myself whether I had misconstrued the meaning of that vision. What did you say to these Romans, Bigilas and Chrysaphius?”

  “I told them I would need fifty pounds of gold to pay the men I would need to help me carry out the deed.”

  I leaned toward him and looked deep into his bright Thuet eyes. “What happened next?” I asked.

  “Chrysaphius got up from his chair as if he would go and fetch the gold right then and there. But I told him t
hat Orestes was certainly already suspicious, and that if I returned with a sack of gold, he would only be made more so. Orestes, I assured them, was not to be trusted and would have to remain outside our conspiracy. Then we set about making our plans. I decided that Bigilas must be permitted to return with me to the City of Attila, ostensibly to translate Attila’s response to the letter Theodosius was preparing for him, but in fact, so that after I had a chance to talk to the men I would include in the conspiracy, that I could send Bigilas back with instructions on how best to deliver the gold at some later date.

  “Chrysaphius was well pleased, though it was clear that Bigilas had no desire to travel to the City of Attila. Still, he agreed to do so, and when we met the next day, Chrysaphius told me that he had spoken to Theodosius and that Theodosius thought we should also bring Maximus back with us—Maximus being a noble who is known to Attila—to carry Theodosius’ letter. This Maximus, and his advisor, who was also to come, would know nothing of our plot.

  “During the course of our travels I conspired further with Bigilas. One night I had him sneak to Maximus’ side while Maximus was asleep and steal Theodosius’ letter. It was unsealed, and Bigilas was able to read me its contents. He replaced it before morning with no one the wiser.

  “When we reached Pannonia, Orestes and I left the Romans pitching their tents on the plain and rode here. We learned that Attila had ridden to take a new bride. We rode to find him right away, to inform him of the arrival of the Romans. He was very angry at first. In his letter to Theodosius, he had been adamant that no one but the highest ranking ambassadors should come to Pannonia, and Maximus is not one of them. But when we told him that the Roman delegation included Bigilas, and that Bigilas had conspired against him on behalf of Theodosius, he was amused, and very pleased,” Edeco hesitated.

  I took a deep breath. “Why should this please Attila?” I asked. “I should have thought he would only be made more angry.”

  “Why, Ildico, he was pleased on several counts. I wonder that you fail to realize. First of all, this knowledge gives him yet more leverage with Theodosius. Surely, you see that now he can insist that his tributes be increased. And Bigilas and Chrysaphius will be made to pay Attila for their lives—indeed, if they are spared—from their own personal riches. And keep in mind, too, that Attila is a suspicious man. There is always the risk that one of his officers may be tempted to conspire against him. Certainly plenty of his lesser men have attempted it. This event gave Orestes and me the opportunity to prove our loyalty to Attila, for a thing as precarious as the pledge of loyalty must always be renewed. And that, Ildico, pleased him very much.”

  No, Edeco, I thought to myself, this event gave you the opportunity to prove your loyalty to Attila to me, and perhaps to yourself as well. “And in turn,” I said, “I suppose you will gain yourself from all this?”

  Edeco beamed. “I already have. While we were enroute, we stopped at a village called Sardica where Maximus knew some people. They put us up for the night and prepared a banquet in our honor. There was plenty of good wine, and there was much toasting among us. Orestes toasted to Attila. Then the Romans toasted Theodosius. But Bigilas, who was drunk, shouted out that a god, meaning Theodosius, should not be toasted in the same breath as a mere man, meaning Attila. Then Orestes drew his sword, and I did too, as Bigilas must have known we would. And the other Romans, afraid that we would cut down Bigilas on the spot, offered us pearls and silks to spare his life. Look here.”

  Edeco fumbled in the goatskin pouch that hung from his neck. Then he held his hand out beside the taper. The stones that glimmered in his palm, four white and one black, were made even more lustrous by the sight of the scarred skin beneath them. “Do you know where these come from, Ildico?”

  I shook my head.

  “From the bottom of the sea. They are very precious.”

  I picked up the black pearl and studied it while Edeco slipped the others back into his pouch. “I will have these set in gold and made into an arm ring. The black one is more rare than the others. You may keep it.”

  I looked up at Edeco then, wondering why he should want to give me a gift now, when the last time I had spoken to him, he had threatened to have me killed. He returned my look with a tenacious stare, and all at once I realized that this was no gift at all. I was to pay for the pearl with my unspoken pledge never again to speak to Edeco from my heart on matters concerning Attila. I bowed my head and thanked him for his gift with the Hunnish words that he had taught me.

  He smiled and relaxed. “After we told Attila about the plot, we told him how I had gotten Bigilas to read Theodosius’ letter and what it said.” He laughed. “You should have seen how pleased Attila was to see how cunningly I had played poor Bigilas. He told us to ride back to the Romans and tell them that he had no need to meet with them since he already knew the contents of Theodosius’ letter. We could hardly keep from laughing when we saw the expression that came over Bigilas’ face then. He could not decide whether we had betrayed him or not. And Maximus’ face! Ho! That was something, for he knew of course that there was a traitor in the group. And while they were all exchanging looks, we told them that they might spend the night on the plain, but that in the morning they were to leave. Then we left them to quarrel amongst themselves and to consider what new offering they might make to gain Attila’s ear. In the morning, we sent Scotta out to them to tell them to be gone. And as we had hoped, they promised more gold, more silks, more pearls, if only Attila would hear them. Scotta, who already had his orders, rode out of their sight, waited a time, and then returned to say that he had pleaded with Attila on their behalf and that Attila had agreed to grant them an audience as soon as he had married Eskam and returned to the City of Attila. He marries her tomorrow. I have got to ride back tonight so as to be in attendance at the wedding. Then we will all return together, Attila and Eskam and the Romans.”

  “What will Attila do to Bigilas?” I asked.

  Edeco shrugged. “Only Attila knows that. But keep your eyes and ears open when you come to the palace to serve, and you will see how a great man makes the most of a perverse situation.”

  “I have already seen that,” I said looking up into Edeco’s eyes.

  He acknowledged my compliment with a modest smile. “I must be off now,” he mumbled, but he continued to stare at me motionlessly. Then he took my hand, wherein the pearl was yet enclosed and said, “I thought about you often while I was away, and I came to understand that when a woman is left alone, with no companions and no freedom to wander, her imagination is bound to turn on her. I hold myself responsible for the treasonous thoughts you once held. I should have pressed Attila to take you into service sooner, for once I saw you in his hall, working diligently and getting on so well with the other women, it was clear to me that you were yourself again, no more than a poor, lonely woman who came to the City of Attila to bring a god a gift, and perhaps to find a little adventure. My trust in you is restored.”

  “You are a wise man,” I whispered.

  And thus, on this deceit, our friendship was renewed.

  11

  ATTILA’S RETURN with Eskam seemed as much a celebration as had his return from the Eastern Empire. Girls sang and tossed flowers. Women carried canopies over the heads of the girls and sang too. All the men who were not marching were prostrate. This time I was well to the back of the crowd in the courtyard and able to lift my head high as Attila and his entourage went by. Eskam, I noted, was a mere child, not even as old as my young Hunnish friend. She rode behind Attila with her head lowered and most of her face covered by her long, black locks. I saw Onegesius among the officers who rode behind her, and I concluded that he had just returned from installing Ellac to rule beside Curidachus.

  As the servants were supposed to come in just after Attila—if they were not in already—I scrambled to my feet and fought my way through the crowd when I saw that he had entered. But Attila had invited
a great many guests that evening, and there was already a throng at the entrance when I got there. “What do you think of Attila’s new wife?” a voice behind me asked while I waited my turn to enter.

  Startled to think that Edeco would speak to me so casually in public and with his fellow officers all about, I answered in a whisper, barely turning my head, “She is too young to appreciate her new status.”

  “Perhaps you are jealous,” Edeco said.

  I turned my astonished face toward him then. “That she should marry Attila?”

  “No, of the girl’s youth.”

  I turned away again, saying, “Aye, you may be right. My own is behind me. As near as I can figure, I have just turned twenty-three.”

  Edeco came up so close behind me that I could feel his breath on my ear. “Why did you fail to tell me? I would have brought you a gift.”

  “You did,” I whispered.

  He grumbled. “A loose pearl? That is no gift. I will take it back tonight and have it set on a gold chain that you can wear around your neck.”

  “No more,” I cautioned, for we were almost to the door now, and I could see Attila’s feet crossed at the end of his couch between the few heads still before us.

  But Edeco only laughed and whispered, “Do not worry. My bond with him is stronger than ever.”

  I smiled. I had thought of myself as a servant for so long now that I had forgotten that in truth I was the daughter of a king. I was about to step into the hall when someone cut into the line in front of me, almost knocking me down. To my surprise, it was Ellac. “He fell from his horse and broke his wrist,” Edeco whispered as Ellac went in. “Onegesius had to bring him back.” And he began to laugh anew.