Belisarius I Thunder at Dawn

by David Drake

  The general's quizzical gaze transferred itself to the bishop.

  "I am not a soldier, of course, but it seemed to me that there were two aspects of the enemy's strength which were paramount in your vision. The great numbers of his army, and his strange and mysterious weapons."

  Belisarius thought back to his vision, nodded.

  "It would seem, therefore, that—"

  "We must seek to lessen his numbers, increase our own, and above all, discover the secret of the weapons," concluded Belisarius.

  The bishop nodded. Belisarius scratched his chin.

  "Let us begin with the last point," he said. "The weapons. They bear some resemblance, it seems to me, to the naphtha weapons used by our navy. Vastly more powerful, of course, and different. But there is still a likeness. Perhaps that is where we should begin."

  He spread his hands in a rueful gesture. "But I am a soldier, not a sailor. I have seen the naphtha weapons, but never used them. They are much too clumsy and awkward for use in a land battle. And—" Oddly, he stopped speaking.

  Antonina began to say something, but Belisarius made an urgent gesture which stilled her. His eyes were unfocused, his thoughts obviously turned inward.

  "The jewel?" asked Cassian. Again, Belisarius made a stilling gesture. All fell silent, watching the general.

  "Almost," he whispered. "But I can't quite make out what—" He hissed.

  Subterranean, underground images. Impossible to discern clearly—not from the absence of light, but because the visions were so bizarre. Vision: three men in a room, below a building, watching some sort of giant, intricate machine. A sense of danger and anticipation. Vision: the same men, wearing strange eyepieces, staring through a slit; fear, suspense; a sudden blinding flash of light; exhilaration; terror; awe. Vision: other men, laboring underground on some sort of gigantic—pipe? Vision: the pipe flashing through the sky. Vision: weird buildings in an odd city suddenly destroyed, leveled as if from the blow of a giant. Vision: a different man, young, bearded, sitting in a log hut in a forest, showing indecipherable marks on a page to four other men—mathematics? Vision: the same bearded young man, wearing the same eyepieces as the men in the first vision, staring through a similar slit. Again, that incredible blinding light. Again: exhilaration; terror; awe.

  The images vanished as suddenly as they came. Belisarius shook his head, took a deep breath. He described the visions, as best he could, to the others in the room.

  "They make no sense," said Antonina. Belisarius stroked his chin and said, slowly:

  "I think they do. Not in themselves, no. I have no idea what was happening, in those visions. But—there was a logic, underneath. In every case, there was a sense of men working together to discover a secret, and then create machines which could implement that secret. They were—projects—deliberate, planned, coordinated efforts. Not the haphazard fiddling of artisans and craftsmen."

  He sat up straight. "Yes! That's what we need. We need to launch such a project, to ferret out the secret of the Malwa weapons."

  "How?" asked Antonina.

  Belisarius pursed his lips. "Two things, it seems to me, are paramount. We need to find a man who can lead such an effort, and we need to set up a place where he can work."

  Cassian cleared his throat. "I may have a solution. The beginnings of one, at least. Are you acquainted with John of Rhodes?"

  "The former naval officer?" Belisarius shook his head. "I know of his reputation as an officer. And that he resigned under a cloud of disgrace, of some sort. Other than that, no. I have never met him."

  "He resides in Aleppo, now," said Cassian. "As it happens, I am his confessor. He is at loose ends, at the moment, and quite unsatisfied with his situation. The problem is not material in nature. He is rather wealthy, and has no need to fret over mundane things. But he is very bored. He is a quick-thinking man, with an active spirit, and he chafes at his current idleness. I believe he might very well be willing to assist us in this project."

  "What if he is recalled to service?"

  Anthony coughed. "That is, under the circumstances, quite unlikely." Another cough. "He has—well, you understand I may not betray the confidentiality of confession, but let us simply say that he has offended too many powerful figures on too many occasions for there to be much chance of him ever regaining his position in the navy."

  "Moral turpitude?" demanded Michael.

  Anthony looked down, examining the tiles of the floor with a keen attention which the plain, utilitarian objects did not seem to warrant. "Well, I suppose," he muttered. "Again, I must remind you of the confid—"

  "Yes, yes," said Michael impatiently, waving his hand in a manner which suggested that he regarded the confidentiality of confession with as much esteem as he regarded manure.

  "Let me simply say that—" Anthony hesitated, unhappy. "Well, John of Rhodes' naval career would have progressed more smoothly, and not ground ashore on a reef, had he been a eunuch. He is a raffish character, even now, in his forties. He finds women quite irresistible and, alas, the converse is all too often true."

  "Marvelous," growled Michael. "A libertine." The raptor examined a particularly distasteful morsel of decayed rodent. "I despise libertines."

  Belisarius shrugged. "We must work with what we have. And with what little time we have. I cannot stay here long. I expect a conflict with Persia will be erupting again, soon, and I have much to do to prepare my army. I will have to leave for Daras within a week. So, whatever it is we are going to do, if it involves me, will need to be started immediately."

  He looked to Cassian.

  "I think your suggestion is an excellent one. Approach this John of Rhodes and feel him out. We need to examine the problem of these strange weapons, and he seems as good a place as any to start."

  "What if he agrees?" asked Cassian. "What, precisely, are we asking him to do?"

  Belisarius stroked his chin. "We will need to create a workshop, somewhere. An armory, of sorts. A—weapons project. And, if we have any success in uncovering the secret of these weapons, we will need to recruit and train men who can use them."

  "A question," interrupted Antonina. "Should we tell this John about the jewel?"

  The four people in the room looked at each other. Belisarius was the first to speak.

  "No," he said firmly. "At least, not until we are certain he can be trusted. But, for the moment, I think we must keep the knowledge to ourselves. If word begins to spread too quickly, there'll be an uproar about witchcraft."

  "I think we must tell Sittas, also," added Antonina.

  "Yes," agreed Belisarius. "Sittas must be brought fully into our confidence, as soon as possible." He picked up the jewel. "Fully."

  Michael frowned, but Cassian nodded. "I agree. For many reasons. The war we are about to launch will be waged on many fronts, not all of them military. There are many enemies within the ranks of Rome, also. Some, within the Church. Some, within the nobility and the aristocracy." He took a deep breath. "And, finally, there—"

  "Is Justinian." Belisarius voice was like iron. "I will not be false to my oath, Cassian."

  The bishop smiled. "I am not asking you to be, Belisarius. But you have to deal with some realities, also. Justinian is the Emperor. And, whether for good or ill, is enormously capable. He's no fool to be led around by the nose, and no indolent layabout to be safely ignored. And he's also, well, how shall I put it?"

  Antonina answered. "Treacherous, suspicious, envious, jealous. A conspirator who sees conspiracy everywhere, and who is firmly convinced that all the world seeks to do him harm."

  Cassian nodded. "Ironically, we are not seeking to do him harm. Rather the contrary. We are seeking to preserve his empire, among other things. But, in order to do so, we will need to conspire behind his back."

  "Do we?" asked Belisarius.

  Cassian was firm. "Yes. I know the man well, Belisarius—much better than you, actually, even though you share Thracian ancestry. I have spent many hours with him in
private conversation. He attends every council of the Church, you know, and participates fully. Both in the formal discussions and then, in private, with many of the leading theologians of the Church. Though I rank only middling high in the hierarchy of the Church, I rank very high in the esteem of theologians. And Justinian, as you may know, thinks he is quite the theologian himself."

  He stroked his beard. "Actually, he is quite good at it. Justinian's own theological inclinations are excellent, in truth. In his heart, he leans toward a compromise with heresy and a tolerant policy. But his cold, ambitious mind leans toward a close tie to severe orthodoxy, given his ambitions in the west."

  "What ambitions?" demanded Belisarius.

  Anthony was surprised. "You don't know? You, one of his favorite generals?"

  There was a rare bitterness in the general's crooked smile, now.

  "Being one of Justinian's favored generals does not make him a confidant, Anthony. Rather the reverse. He is shrewd enough to want capable generals, and then suspects the use that capability would be put to. So he tells his generals nothing until the last moment."

  Belisarius waved his hand. "But we are getting side-tracked. Later, I would be interested in hearing more from you regarding Justinian's western ambitions. But not now. And you are mistaking my question. I was not asking if we needed to keep our conspiracy secret from Justinian. Obviously, if we conspire, we must do so. The question is: do we need to conspire at all? Can we not simply bring him into our confidence? For all Justinian's obvious faults, he is one of the most capable men who ever sat upon the imperial throne."

  Antonina drew in a sharp breath. Cassian glanced at her and shook his head.

  "No. Absolutely not. Justinian must know nothing. At least, not until it is too late for him to do more than simply acquiesce in what we have done." He made a rueful grimace. "And, then, we will have to hope he doesn't remove our heads."

  Belisarius seemed still unconvinced. Cassian pressed on.

  "Belisarius, have no delusions. Suppose we told Justinian. Suppose, further, that he accepted all that we told him. Suppose, even—and here I tread on fantastical ground—he did not suspect our motives. What then?"

  Belisarius hesitated. Antonina answered.

  "He would insist on placing himself at the head of our struggle. With all of his competence. And with all of his pigheaded stubbornness, his petty vanities, his constant intrigues, his overweening pride, his endless petty meddling and fussing, his distrust of anyone else's competence as well as loyalty, his—"

  "Enough!" cried Belisarius, chuckling. "I am convinced." He laced his fingers together and leaned forward, his elbows on his knees, staring down at the floor. Again, the simple tiles received an unaccustomed scrutiny.

  Cassian's voice broke into his thoughts.

  "Are you familiar, Belisarius, with India? Or you, Antonina?"

  Antonina shook her head. Belisarius, still gazing absently at the floor, shrugged and said:

  "I know a bit about that distant land, from hearsay, but I have never even met—"

  He stopped in midsentence, gasping. His head snapped erect.

  "What am I saying? I know an enormous amount about India. From my vision! I spent thirty years in an unending struggle against India. Against the Malwa tyranny, I should say. And I always had the shrewd advice of Raghunath Rao to fall back on." His face grew pale. "God in Heaven. Anthony, you are right. We must conspire, and bury the conspiracy deep. I only hope it is not too late already."

  "What are you talking about?" asked Antonina.

  Belisarius looked at her. "One thing I remember now, from my vision, is that the Malwa Empire has the most extensive and developed espionage service in the world. An enormous apparatus, and highly skilled." His eyes lost their focus for a moment. "It was one of the deadly blows they inflicted on us, I remember. By the time we finally awoke to the full scope of the danger, the Roman Empire was riddled with Indian spies and intriguers."

  He focused on Cassian. "Do you think—"

  The bishop waved his hand. "I do not think we need concern ourselves, Belisarius. I am quite certain Michael was not seen coming here. And I am a frequent guest, so my presence will not be noteworthy. We will have to be careful when Michael leaves, of course, but that is not difficult."

  The bishop stroked his beard vigorously. "In the future, however, the problem will quickly become severe. But let us come back to that problem. For the moment—I can provide us with a place to establish our initial base. Where we can create an arms foundry—a 'weapons project,' as you called it. And, if we can uncover the secret of the Malwa weapons, begin to forge an army to wield them. Recently, as it happens, a wealthy widow bequeathed her entire inheritance to the Church, with the specific stipulation that I was to have control of its disposition. She died three months ago. Among her many possessions was a large estate not far from Daras. Near the Persian border.

  "The villa at the estate is quite large, with more than enough buildings to serve our purpose. And the peasants who till the land are borderers. Syrians and Monophysites, down to the newborn babes."

  Belisarius nodded. "I know the breed well, Anthony. Yes, that would be splendid. If we can gain their trust and confidence, they will be impossible to infiltrate." He frowned pensively. "And might very well make—let me think on that."

  "All right," said Antonina. "But what will we tell these peasants? And John of Rhodes? And we will need to engage the services of a number of artisans. And then, if we meet with any success, we will need to recruit men who can learn to use the new weapons. If we do not tell these people about the jewel, how will we explain to them the source of the knowledge we give them?"

  "I think the solution to the problem is obvious," said Cassian. The bishop shrugged. "We simply tell them nothing. Everyone knows Belisarius—and Sittas—are among Justinian's favorite generals. And you, Antonina, are known to be a close friend of the Empress. If we simply act mysterious, but emphasize the imperative necessity of maintaining complete secrecy, then John of Rhodes and all the others will assume they are involved in a project which has the highest imperial authority." He smiled. "And my own frequent presence will assure them that the work has the blessing of the Church, as well."

  Michael spoke up. "I will also speak to the peasants. I have some small authority among them."

  Cassian laughed gaily. "Small authority? That's a bit like Moses saying he had some tentative suggestions to make."

  Michael glared at him, but the bishop was not abashed. "That will do wonders, actually. In truth, Michael's word will carry greater weight with Syrian common folk than anyone else's. If he gives the work his blessing, and bids them maintain silence, be assured they will do so."

  "That still does not solve the problem of keeping our work secret from the world at large," said Antonina. "Even if all who are engaged in the work at the estate keep silent, it will be noticed by others that there is a constant traffic of outsiders coming to and fro. We cannot do this work in isolation, Cassian. Not for long."

  Cassian glanced at Belisarius. The general's thoughts seemed far away. The bishop spoke:

  "No, but it will help. As for the rest—"

  "It is the simplest thing in the world," said Belisarius. His voice seemed cold, cold.

  The general rose to his feet and walked about, accompanying his words with stiff little gestures.

  "It will work as follows. Michael will quietly rally the common folk to our side. Cassian, you will serve as our intriguer within the church. Sittas, once he is brought into our conspiracy, will serve as our intriguer within the imperial court and the nobility. Unlike me, he is of the most impeccable aristocratic lineage. I will, as I must in any event, maintain my military responsibilities."

  He stopped, gazed down at Antonina.

  "And Antonina will be the center of it all. She will set up residence at this villa near Daras and stay there. She will no longer accompany me with the army. She will assemble and oversee the weapons work. She will, wh
en the time comes, take charge of training a new army."

  He waved down her developing protest. "I will help, I will help. But you are more than capable of all this, Antonina. You are at least as intelligent as any man I ever met. And these weapons are new to all of us. The methods of using them, as well. I will help, but I will not be surprised if your untrained intelligence does a better job of devising new forces and methods than my well-trained experience does. You will not have your eyes blinkered by old habits."

  He took a deep breath. "Finally, you are the perfect conduit through which all of our disparate efforts may be kept aligned and coordinated. Through you, we can all communicate, with no one suspecting our true purpose."

  Antonina's intelligence was every bit as high as her husband proclaimed it to be. Her back grew rigid as a board, her face as stiff as a sheet of iron.