"You'd better not," she said. "You will forgive me, dear boy, for getting a little upset just now. I am but an innocent young girl, with no knowledge of the world and no will of her own."
At least, thought Padway, he was not the only liar present. He stood up and pulled her to her feet. "I must go now. I'll send the messenger off the first thing. And tomorrow I leave for Rome."
"Oh, Martinus! You surely don't have to go. You just think you do—"
"No, really. State business, you know. I'll think of you all the way." He kissed her again. "Be brave, my dear. Smile, now."
She smiled a trifle tearfully and squeezed the breath out of him.
When Padway got back to his quarters, he hauled his orderly, an Armenian cuirassier, out of bed. "Put on your right boot," he ordered.
The man rubbed his eyes. "My right boot? Do I understand you, noble sir?"
"You do. Quickly, now." When the yellow rawhide boot was on, Padway turned his back to the orderly and bent over. He said over his shoulder, "You will give me a swift kick in the fundament, my good Tirdat."
Tirdat's mouth fell open. "Kick my commander?"
"You heard me the first time. Go ahead. Now."