by David Drake
Since arriving at Kausambi, the Romans and Ethiopians had been quartered in a mansion located in the imperial district of the capital. The imperial district stretched along the south bank of the Jamuna, just west of that river's junction with the mighty Ganges. The Emperor's Grand Palace anchored the eastern end of the district. The mansion lay toward the western end, not far from the flotilla of luxurious barges which served the Malwa elite as temporary residences during the summer. The waters of the Jamuna in which that fleet was anchored helped assuage the heat.
Stretching in a great arc just south of the imperial district was the heart of the Malwa weapons and munitions project, a great complex of cannon, rocket and gunpowder manufactories. The odors wafting from that complex were often obnoxious, but the Malwa elite tolerated the discomfort for the sake of security. The "Veda weapons" were the core of their power, and they kept them close at hand.
The mansion in which the foreigners had been lodged belonged to one of Skandagupta's innumerable second cousins, absent on imperial assignment in Bihar. The building was almost a small palace. There had been more than enough rooms to quarter the entire Kushan escort within its walls, in addition to the foreign envoys themselves. And, best of all, for Shakuntala and Eon, they had finally been able to spend a few nights alone.
Shakuntala, at least, had spent the nights alone in her bed. Dadaji glanced over at Tarabai, sitting on a cushion in the corner of Shakuntala's huge bedchamber. He restrained a smile. The Maratha woman had been almost inseparable from Eon since their arrival. Today, in fact, was the first day she had resumed her duties as an imperial lady-in-waiting.
If, at least, the activity of the day could be called the duty of a chambermaid. Holkar rather doubted it. Rarely—probably never—had an imperial lady-in-waiting spent an entire day helping her Empress count a fortune.
Holkar's eyes returned to the chest whose lid he had just closed. That chest was only one of many small chests which were strewn about Shakuntala's quarters. Those chests were much smaller than the chest which stood in the center of the room. That chest, that huge chest, dazzling in its intricate carvings and adorned with gold and rubies—the colors of the Malwa dynasty—was now completely empty.
Shakuntala shook her head. She almost seemed in a daze. When she spoke, her voice was half-filled with awe.
"I can't believe it," she whispered. "There was as much in that chest as—as—"
Dadaji smiled. "As the yearly income of a prince. A rich prince."
The scribe stroked his jaw. "Still, it's not really that much—for an imperial warchest."
Shakuntala was still shaking her head. "How will I ever repay Belisarius?" she mused.
Dadaji's smile broadened. "Have no fear, Your Majesty. The general does not expect to be repaid with coin, only with the blows you will deliver onto Malwa. Blows which this treasure will help to finance. How did he put it? 'An empress without money is a political and military cripple. A crippled ally will not be much use to Rome.' "
Shakuntala left off shaking her head. After taking a deep breath, she sat up straight.
"He is right, of course. But—how many men do you know would turn over such a fortune to a stranger? And it wasn't just the last Malwa bribe, either."
"How many men?" asked Holkar. "Very few, Your Majesty. Very, very few." The slave laughed aloud. "And I know of only one who would do so with such glee!"
Shakuntala grinned herself, remembering Belisarius' cheerful words the previous evening, when he presented her with the chest which Nanda Lal had just bestowed on him—and half the contents of the first, the one Skandagupta gave him at Ranapur.
I like to think of it as poetic justice, the Roman general had said, smiling crookedly. Let the Malwa bribes finance Andhra's rebellion.
It had taken the entire day for Shakuntala, her Maratha women, and Holkar to repackage the coins and gems into smaller units which could be more easily transported. Most of the treasure was packed away in the many small chests. But some of it had been placed in purses which Shakuntala had distributed to all the members of her party.
The Maratha women, poor in their origins, had been absolutely stunned by her act. Each of them now carried on her person more money than their entire extended families had earned in generations of toil. Holkar glanced shrewdly at the four young women sitting in the corner. They had recovered from the shock, he thought. But if there had been any lingering doubt or hesitation in their allegiance to Shakuntala, it had now vanished. The trust of their Empress had welded them to her completely.
When Holkar's eyes returned to Shakuntala, he immediately understood the question in her face.
"There is no need, Your Majesty," he said, shaking his head. "My allegiance is still to Belisarius, even though you are my sovereign. If he wishes me to have money, he will give it to me. I cannot take it from another. And besides—" he gestured mockingly at his loincloth "—where would I hide it?"
Shakuntala began to reply, but was interrupted by a knock on the door.
Tarabai opened the door. Valentinian stepped into the room, accompanied by Eon. They walked over to Shakuntala.
"We may as well plan for an early supper," said Eon. The Prince gestured at Valentinian. "The cataphracts just arrived from the palace. Belisarius dismissed them for the rest of the day. It seems he won't be returning until late this evening. He has some social event he must attend."
The cataphract scowled. "These imperial Malwa are even worse than Greek nobility, when it comes to hobnobbing with celebrities. Bad enough he's got to waste hours with every third-rate bureaucrat in the Palace. Now, they're insisting he has to meet with old women."
Shakuntala frowned. "Old women? In the palace?"
Valentinian shook his head. "No, worse. They're dragging him off to some barge in the river to meet with one of the Emperor's elderly relatives. A great-aunt, I think."
Shakuntala grew still. Utterly still.
"What is her name?" she hissed.
Valentinian squinted at her, startled by her tone of voice.
"She's called the Great Lady Holi. Why?"
Shakuntala shot to her feet.
"She is a witch! A sorceress!"
Valentinian and Eon gaped at her. Shakuntala stamped her foot angrily.
"It is true, you fools!"
With an effort, the girl restrained herself. These were the type of men, she knew, for whom any hint of hysterics would be counterproductive.
"Believe me, Valentinian. Eon." Her voice was low and calm, but deadly serious. "My father spoke of her several times to me. His spies did not know much—it was dangerous to get near her—but they did learn enough to know that she is very powerful among the Malwa. Do not let her age deceive you. She—is—a—witch."
Valentinian was the first to recover.
"I'll get the others," he said, spinning around to the door.
Less than a minute later he was back, followed by all the members of the Roman and Axumite missions. He brought Kungas also.
Eon took charge.
"We have an unexpected situation, which we need to assess."
Quickly, the Prince sketched the situation. Then, to Kungas:
"Bring Kanishka. And Kujulo, and your other two troop leaders."
Kungas disappeared. Eon waved everyone else into the room.
"All of you. Come in and sit."
In the short seconds that it took for everyone to take a seat—most of them on the floor—Kungas returned with his four chief subordinates in tow. The five Kushans entered the room but did not bother to sit.
Eon began at once.
"You've all heard—" He hesitated, casting a glance at Kungas.
"I've told them," grunted the Kushan commander.
"You've all heard about the situation," continued Eon. "It may be a false alarm. But there's enough reason to think otherwise." He took a breath. "As you know, we hoped to make our exit from India quietly. Just a peaceful diplomatic mission heading back for home. But Belisarius always
warned us that things could go wrong. That's why he insisted on obtaining those horses, and the elephants."
Another breath. A deep breath.
"Well, that time may be here. We have to assume that it is."
He scanned the room. Everyone's face was grim, but not distraught. Except, possibly, for Menander. The young cataphract's face was pale from fear. Not fear for himself, but for his general.
"Do you have a plan?" asked Anastasius.
Eon shrugged. "Belisarius discussed some possible alternatives. You heard them yourself. But none of those alternatives really apply, since Belisarius himself may not be able to join us. So we'll have to improvise."
He stared at Shakuntala.
"The first thing is to make sure she gets out safely. Kungas, you and your men will escort the Empress and her women."
The Kushans nodded.
Eon glanced around the room, examining the treasure chests. "Good. You're already prepared."
Anastasius interrupted. "They'll have to take the Kushan girls, too. If the general's in a trap, we'll need to make one hell of a diversion. We won't be able to do it with the girls in tow."
"That's not a problem," stated Kungas. "We can fit them in as camp followers. No one will think it odd."
Eon nodded his head. "All right. The rest of us—except Dadaji—will be the lure. Dadaji, you'll have to go with the Empress."
Eon drove down Holkar's protest.
"You are not thinking, man! Forget your obligation to Belisarius, and remember your obligation to his purpose. The only way to get Shakuntala out of here is by subterfuge. A young noblewoman would never travel through India unaccompanied. Someone has to pose as her husband. It can't be one of us. Only Valentinian looks enough like an Indian, and his accent is terrible. You're the only one who could pull it off."
Holkar opened his mouth, snapped it shut. Then, grudgingly, nodded. He even recaptured his sense of humor. "With your permission, Your Majesty."
Shakuntala nodded imperiously, but there was just a little trace of a smile on her lips.
"I'll need a change of clothes," murmured Holkar. "A loincloth simply won't do." He chuckled. "How fortunate that Belisarius made me buy those clothes! Is he a fortune-teller, do you think?"
Valentinian shook his head. "No. But he does like to plan for all eventualities. Cover all the angles."
"Such mechanistic nonsense," said Ousanas cheerfully. "The truth is quite otherwise. Belisarius is a witch himself. Fortunately, he is our witch."
Valentinian ignored the quip. "Anything else?" he demanded.
"Yes," said Kungas. "You will need a guide." He pointed to Kujulo. "Kujulo is very familiar with the Deccan, and his Marathi is fluent. Three or four other of my men are also. Take all of them with you. You will need the added manpower, anyway. Yours will be the bloody road."
Kujulo grinned. Eon frowned.
"We can't have any hint that Kushans are involved," he protested. "That could jeopardize the Empress."
Kungas waved the protest aside. "They can disguise themselves as Ye-tai. Kujulo does an excellent imitation."
Immediately, Kujulo stooped, thrust out his lower jaw, slumped his shoulders, allowed a vacant look to enter his gaze, grunted animal noises. A little laugh swept the room.
There was no time for hesitation. Eon nodded. Then said:
"Fine. That's it, then. Let's—"
"No."
The imperial tone froze everyone in the room. Eon began to glare at Shakuntala.
"We've already—"
"No."
Valentinian tried. "Your Majesty, our plans—"
"No."
Before anyone else could speak, Shakuntala said forcefully:
"You are not thinking clearly. None of you."
Eon: "The general—"
"You are especially not thinking like the general."
Valentinian, hotly: "Of course we're thinking of him! But there's nothing—" The cataphract stopped abruptly. Shakuntala's actual words penetrated.
Her piercing black eyes, fixed upon him, held Valentinian pinned.
"Yes," she said. "You are not thinking like Belisarius. If he were faced with a sudden change in his situation, he would alter the situation. Add a new angle."
"What angle?" demanded Eon.
Shakuntala grinned. "We need another diversion. A great one! Something which can serve to signal all of us—we will be separated, remember—that the escape is on. A diversion so great it will not only help cover our own escape, but make it possible—maybe—for Belisarius himself to escape."
"I'm for it!" announced Menander. With a shrug: "Whatever it is."
Shakuntala told him what it was. When she finished, the room erupted with protests from everyone except Menander.
"I'm for it," repeated the young cataphract stubbornly.
"Fool girl is mad," muttered Ousanas. "I say it again—royalty stupid by nature."
Shakuntala overrode all protests with the simplest of arguments.
I command.
Protest, protest, protest.
I command.
Protest, protest, protest.
I command.
On the way out, Kanishka complained bitterly to his commander.
"How are we supposed to be an imperial bodyguard if the damned Empress herself—"
Kungas looked at him. As always, his face showed nothing. But there might have been just a trace of humor in his words:
"You could always go back to work for Venandakatra. He never took any personal risks."
Kanishka shut up.
As he and Nanda Lal walked out of the palace that evening, Belisarius found that a palanquin had already been brought up to convey them to the Great Lady Holi's barge. The palanquin was festooned with the red and gold pennants of the dynasty. The pennants alone guaranteed that all would give way to the palanquin, wherever it went in the teeming capital. But they were hardly necessary. The forty Ye-tai bodyguards who rode before the palanquin would cheerfully trample anyone so foolish as to get in the way. And the palanquin itself, toted by no less than twelve slaves, looked solid and heavy enough to crush an elephant.
"Quite an entourage," he murmured. "Does she really insist on so many bodyguards?"
Nanda Lal shook his head.
"As it happens, the Great Lady is petrified by armed strangers anywhere in the vicinity of her barge. She maintains her own special security force. She does not even trust the imperial bodyguard." The spymaster pointed to the red-and-gold uniformed Ye-tai. "Only four of these men will be allowed to remain after we arrive."
The journey to the barge was quite brief. The wharves where the Malwa empire's highest nobility maintained their pleasure barges were less than half a mile from the Grand Palace. Once they climbed out of the palanquin, Belisarius found himself almost goggling at the Great Lady Holi's barge.
As Nanda Lal had said, it was truly splendid. In its basic size and shape the barge was no different from that of all the Malwa luxury barges. About ninety feet long and thirty feet wide, the barges had a rounded and big-bellied shape. The oddest thing, to the Roman's eyes, were the double sterns, looking not unlike the sterns of two ships joined. Each stern sported a huge figurehead in the form of an animal's head. Lions, in the case of Great Lady Holi's barge.
The splendor was in the trimmings. Everywhere, the red and gold colors of the dynasty: The huge lion's-head figurines were covered with beaten gold. All the oarlocks were trimmed with gold. Rubies inlaid into gold plaques formed the edging of the guard rails. And on and on and on. It was amazing the boat didn't sink from the sheer weight of its decoration.
Belisarius followed Nanda Lal up the ramp which connected the barge to the wharf. The ramp debouched in a covered walkway which encircled the main cabins. Once aboard the vessel, Nanda Lal entered through a door directly opposite the ramp. A moment later, Belisarius found himself in the plush interior of the barge.
Aide's thought came like a thunderclap.
Danger.
Belisarius almost stumbled.
Why?
Link is here. I can sense it.
The facets shivered with agitation. But the general simply smiled.
At last. My enemy.
Chapter 12
At the corner of the a lley, Kungas made a little motion with his hand. The Kushan soldiers following him immediately halted. Kungas edged to the corner and peeked out onto the main street.