An oblique approach b-1

by David Drake

  “You don’t agree?” asked Belisarius. The dawazz shrugged.

  “Have no idea. Hunter from savanna. Avoid sea like all sane persons. Boats unnatural creatures. But is well known Ethiopians and Arabs think they world’s best seamen.” A sly glance at the general. “Except Greeks.”

  “I’m not Greek,” came the immediate response. “I’m Thracian. I tend to agree with you, actually. I can’t stand boats.”

  “How are you feeling?” asked Garmat pleasantly.

  “I’d rather not think about it,” said Belisarius stiffly. “Please continue.”

  Garmat cleared his throat again. “Well, Eon is perhaps putting the matter too forcefully-”

  “It’s the simple truth!”

  “-but, on balance, I agree with him. The Indians are not, you know, famous for their abilities at sea.”

  “No, I do not know.”

  “Ah. Well, it is true. Ethiopians and Arabs ridicule them for it. North Indians, at least. Some of the southern nations of India are quite capable seamen, by all accounts, but we have little contact with them. Their trade is primarily with the distant East.” The adviser stroked his beard. “In its own impressive way, this great ship is evidence of my point. The design, as the prince says, is clumsy. And the workmanship is rather poor. Unusually so, for Indians.”

  Belisarius examined the ship.

  “It seems solidly made.”

  “Oh, it is! That’s the point. It’s much too solid.” Here Garmat launched into his own technical discourse, the gist of which, so far as Belisarius could tell, was that the Indians substituted brute strength for craftsmanship. And again, he was struck by the naval expertise of high-ranked Axumites.

  “A tub,” concluded Garmat.

  “Slow as a snail,” added Eon, “and just as awkward.”

  “Big as a monster,” chimed in Ousanas. “Run right over clever little Arab and Axumite boats.”

  “Nonsense!” exclaimed the Prince.

  “We find out soon,” commented Ousanas dryly. He pointed off the port bow.

  The small party of Ethiopians and Romans followed his pointing finger. The southern coast of Arabia was a reddish gloom in the rays of the setting sun. But, against that dark background, a multitude of sails was visible.

  “Oh, shit,” muttered Valentinian. The pentarch straightened up from his slouch against the rail a few feet distant. He nudged Anastasius next to him. The huge cataphract jerked awake from his doze.

  “Get our gear,” commanded Valentinian. “And drag Menander out here.”

  “The kid can’t hardly move,” protested Anastasius. “He says he doesn’t have any guts left.”

  “Get him! If he complains, tell him he’s about to find out what being gutted really means.”

  Startled, Anastasius followed Valentinian’s hard gaze.

  “Oh, shit,” he muttered. “Is that what I think it is?”

  “Arab pirates!” cried Ousanas. He grinned widely. “Not to worry! Very small boats. True, very many of them. Oh, very very very many. Each one loaded with very very many nasty vicious men bent on wickedness. But” — here he gestured grandly- “the great General Belisarius assures that size of army matters nothing.”

  “Yeah, I’ve heard him say that before,” grumbled Valentinian. “Just before all hell broke loose.”

  Anastasius was already entering the tent which the Romans had set up in the bow. Loud cries and shouts rang over the ship. The Indian crewmen had also seen the approaching fleet of galleys.

  Valentinian marched to the port side and leaned over the rail, gripping it in his lean, sinewy hands. The dark-eyed cataphract glared toward the approaching pirate vessels. His scarred, pock-marked face twisted into a grimace. “Just once,” he growled bitterly, “ just once, I’d like to outnumber the enemy for a change. Fuck skill. Fuck cunning. Fuck strategy. Fuck tactics. Give me numbers, dammit!” His voice trailed off into muttering.

  “What was that last?” asked Belisarius mildly. Valentinian was silent.

  “Sounded like ’fuck philosophical generals,’ ” said Ousanas brightly.

  Valentinian glowered at him. The dawazz spread his hands. “Maybe not. Ignorant worthless slave. Speak terrible Greek. Fierce cataphract maybe said ’fuck philandering genitals.’ Very ethical sentiment! Most inappropriate for occasion, but very moral. Very moral!”

  Belisarius’ attention was distracted by a commotion. Venandakatra had made his appearance on the deck. He emerged from his cabin amidships, followed by a gaggle of Mahaveda priests.

  The Byzantines and Ethiopians had seen almost nothing of him since they had embarked on the Indian vessel at Adulis. Venandakatra’s representatives had explained the Indian lord’s apparent rudeness as being due to seasickness.

  Watching the spry, if waddling, manner in which Venandakatra scurried about, Belisarius had his doubts.

  “Seasick!” snorted Eon.

  Venandakatra was shouting orders in his shrill, high-pitched voice. Within seconds, dozens of Ye-tai warriors scrambled out of their own tents and began lining the rail. They were bearing bows, swords, and shields, and quickly began donning helmets and half-armor.

  The Ye-tai were followed by a dozen warriors whom Belisarius recognized as Malwa kshatriyas. These emerged from the hatch located in the deck just forward of Venandakatra’s cabin. They were bearing no weapons beyond short swords, and wore only the lightest leather armor. But they were heavily burdened nonetheless. Divided into pairs, each pair was carrying a large trough made of some odd, lumpy wood which Belisarius had never seen before.

  “That’s bamboo,” explained Garmat. “It’s hollow on the inside, like a pipe. They’ve split it down the middle and carved out the internal partitions.”

  “This is what you were telling John of Rhodes about, isn’t it?”

  Garmat nodded. “Yes. I have never seen the Indian weapons myself, but these are quite as described by those of our traders who have seen them in action. From a distance only, however. I think we are about to get a firsthand view.”

  “Venandakatra’s not happy about that,” commented Eon.

  Belisarius gazed at the Indian lord. Venandakatra was consulting with his cluster of priests. All of them were casting unfriendly glances toward the Romans and Axumites standing in the bow. After a moment, one of the priests detached himself from the group and headed toward them.

  “I’ll handle this,” said Belisarius.

  When the priest reached them, Belisarius didn’t even give him the chance to speak.

  “No.”

  The priest opened his mouth.

  “Absolutely not.”

  “You must go below!”

  “Under no conditions will we do so.”

  At that moment Anastasius lumbered out of the tent, with Menander close behind. Both cataphracts were fully armed and armored, except for their lances. They were also bearing Belisarius and Valentinian’s weapons and armor. Their arrival distracted the priest, who began gobbling further protests. His protests became positively shrill when he spotted the two sarwen charging out of their own tent, likewise laden with weapons. An abundance of weapons-each sarwen was carrying a cluster of javelins as well as swords, shields, and huge-bladed spears.

  Within moments, all the Romans and Axumites were busily donning their armor and taking up their weapons. The priest was now practically gibbering.

  “Anastasius,” commanded the general. “Do something impressively unfriendly.”

  Anastasius immediately seized the priest by the scruff of the neck and his crotch and tossed him back toward the cluster of priests amidships. The priest managed to land on his feet, more or less, but he immediately stumbled out of control and hurtled into his cohorts, bowling two of them right over.

  Venandakatra screeched with fury. A small crowd of Ye-tai warriors surged forward.

  Without any orders from Belisarius, all three cataphracts immediately notched arrows and drew their bows. The two sarwen raised their javelins. Eon and Ga
rmat hefted their stabbing spears. Belisarius drew his sword. Ousanas lounged against the rail.

  “What are you playing at?” hissed Menander.

  Ousanas gaped. “Me? Miserable slave! Not fit for noble type foolishness.”

  “Ousanas!” commanded Eon.

  The dawazz sighed. “Most unreasonable prince.” He lazed forward. “Play old game?” he asked.

  Eon immediately gave Ousanas his great spear. The prince shed his baldric and sword and then began to walk, unarmed, toward the Malwa crowd. Behind him, Ousanas motioned the Ye-tai warriors to clear a lane. Puzzled, but hearing no countervailing orders from the priests, the Ye-tai did as the dawazz bade them.

  Eon walked right through the silent Malwa crowd until he reached the cabin which was built around the base of the mainmast. As soon as he reached the cabin, the prince turned and backed up against it. He crossed his arms and spread his legs about a foot apart. He was standing about twenty yards from the Axumites and Romans in the bow.

  Ousanas casually jabbed the stabbing spear into the deck of the ship. The huge blade sank a full inch into the hard wood and stood erect. Without a word, one of the sarwen handed him a javelin. The dawazz hefted the javelin lightly and then, with a motion whose speed and power stunned everyone watching, hurled the javelin across the length of the deck.

  The weapon sank into the wall of the cabin almost the full length of the blade. The shaft of the weapon quivered like a tuning fork. About two inches from the prince’s left ear.

  A moment later, another javelin was sailing across the deck. This one plunged into the wood about two inches from Eon’s right ear. Not seconds later, a third javelin thundered into the cabin wall right between the prince’s legs. About two inches below his crotch.

  “Mary, Mother of God,” whispered Valentinian.

  Anastasius drew a deep breath. “That’s incredible spear work. Amazing!”

  “Fuck the spear work,” growled Valentinian. “The kid never even blinked! That’s amazing. I may never fuck again, just from watching.”

  The prince suddenly laughed. He and his dawazz exchanged huge grins across the deck of the ship.

  “Very foolish prince,” mused Ousanas, shaking his head. “But got elephant heart. Been that way since boy.”

  Ousanas plucked the great stabbing spear out of the deck and sauntered toward Eon. The warriors and priests scuttled out of his way. The dawazz smiled upon them beatifically.

  “Intelligent persons!” he exclaimed. “Very most sane and logical Indian people!” He bestowed a particularly engaging grin upon Venandakatra.

  When Ousanas reached Eon, he and the prince assisted each other in withdrawing the javelins from the cabin walls. More than anything else, perhaps, it was the obvious effort being exerted by these two very strong men which drove home just how ferocious those javelin casts had been.

  Belisarius sheathed his sword and strode over to Venandakatra.

  “We are soldiers,” he told the Indian lord sternly, “not children. We will not be penned in the hold during an attack.”

  He matched Venandakatra’s glare with one of his own. After a moment, the Vile One looked away.

  “Besides,” added Belisarius, turning away and pointing to the approaching fleet of pirate vessels, “you may find you are glad to have us, soon enough.”

  Venandakatra scowled, but said nothing. Belisarius returned to the bow of the ship and began giving directions to the Roman and Axumite warriors. After a few moments, it became clear that the Indians had decided to leave the defense of the bow in the hands of their unwanted guests.

  Belisarius had never encountered Axumite warriors in battle, neither as friend nor foe. He hesitated for a moment, wondering how best to use their skills.

  What he could glean of the Ethiopian way of fighting was odd. They seemed singularly unconcerned about bodily protection, for one thing. The Axumites, when not constrained by Greek custom, never wore anything except a short-sleeved tunic, kilt, and sandals. Now, preparing for battle, they removed their tunics and stood bare from the waist up. Each of them, except Ousanas, took up a buffalo-hide shield. The shields were round and small-no wider than a forearm. Those little shields, apparently, constituted the entirety of their armor.

  Each Ethiopian carried a sword slung behind his back from a leather baldric which crossed the right shoulder diagonally. The haft of the sword stuck up right behind the shoulder blade, where it could be easily grasped. The swords were purely cutting implements. They were short, very wide and heavy, and ended in a square tip. They resembled a butcher’s cleaver more than anything else.

  The swords, however, were obviously secondary weapons. For their main armament, each Ethiopian carried javelins and those enormous spears. The Axumite stabbing spear was about seven feet long. The blade was almost a foot and a half long, shaped like a narrow leaf, heavy and razor sharp. The spear shaft was also heavy-as thick and solid as a cavalry lance. The last foot or so of the haft was sheathed with iron bands, and the very end of the haft bore a solid iron knob about two inches in diameter. The weapon could obviously double as a long mace.

  Garmat spoke quietly.

  “I suggest you use us as a reserve, Belisarius. As you can see, we do not match your cataphracts for sheer weight of armor and weapons. It is not the Axumite method. But I think you will find us very useful when the enemy presses.”

  “What about him?” asked the general, nodding toward Ousanas. The dawazz carried neither a shield nor a sword. He seemed content merely with his javelins and his spear-a spear which, in his case, was a foot longer and much heavier than those borne by the other Ethiopians.

  Garmat shrugged. “Ousanas is a law unto himself. But I think you will have no cause for complaint.”

  Belisarius smiled his crooked smile. “A miserable, ignorant slave, is he?”

  As often before, Ousanas surprised him with his acute hearing.

  “Most miserable!” cried the dawazz. “Especially now! With cruel pitiless Arabs approaching!” Ousanas cast a longing glance at the sea. “Would flee in abject shrieking terror except too ignorant to know how to swim.”

  “You swim like a fish!” snapped the Prince.

  The dawazz goggled. “Do I? Imagine such a wonder!” He shook his head sadly. “Slavery terrible condition. Make me forget everything.”

  Belisarius turned away and resumed his examination of the Indians. He saw that the bamboo troughs had now been set up along the port rail of the deck, facing northward. The troughs were spaced about ten feet apart. The Malwa kshatriyas then placed great bundles of hide at the ship-end of the troughs. The grey hides were tightly rolled into barrel-shapes which were about half the size of actual barrels.

  “That’s elephant hide,” commented Garmat quietly.

  Now, the kshatriyas began dipping buckets into the sea and hauling them up with ropes. As soon as the buckets were drawn aboard, the seawater was poured over the hide rolls. Once the hide rolls were completely waterlogged, the kshatriyas began pouring the seawater over every exposed surface of the ship. After a hurried consultation with Venandakatra, two of the kshatriyas advanced to the bow. Making clear with gestures and facial expressions that their intentions were pacific, the kshatriyas began soaking the bow of the ship with seawater also. The Romans and Ethiopians, at Belisarius’ command, stood aside and made no objection, even when the Malwa soaked the leather walls of their own tents.

  After the kshatriya left the bow, Belisarius whispered to Garmat: “For some reason, they seemed terrified of fire. Is that because of the Arabs, do you think?”

  Garmat shook his head. “Can’t be. Arab navies are known to use fire arrows, on occasion, but these are not naval forces. They are pirates. What would be the point of burning this ship? They want to capture it.”

  Belisarius nodded his head. “So-it must be due to their own weapons.”

  At that moment, more kshatriyas began emerging from the hold. They were bearing knobby, odd-looking, short-poles?

>   “Are those bamboo?” asked Belisarius.

  “Yes,” replied Garmat. “Each of those poles is simply a length of bamboo with some kind of bundle at one end. I think the bundle is just a wider length of bamboo jammed over the end of the pole and bound to it with leather. See? That’s the end they’re placing in the troughs to face outward. The other end has a-a tail, let’s call it. That’s just a short length of bamboo split length-wise.”

  “What are these things called?”

  Garmat shrugged. aim seized the moment. In a paroxysm of determination, it drove the facets toward a single point. A pure focus, a narrow salient in the barrier, a simple thrust. Had aim understood the human way of siegecraft, it would have called itself a battering ram guided toward the hinge of the gate. Perhaps-yes! Yes! Yes!

  “It’s called a-a rocket,” whispered Belisarius. “More,” he commanded. “More!”

  “What are you talking about?” demanded Garmat. The old adviser was gazing at the general as if Belisarius were demented. Belisarius grinned at him.

  “I’m not mad, Garmat, believe me. Just-I can’t explain, now. Something important is happening. I am-let’s say, I am understanding things.”

  Again aim drove the facets. Again, it regained the focus. Again, the battering ram. Again-the breach!

  “Yes,” whispered Belisarius. “I see it, yes! It could be turned around. Made its opposite. Expel its interior rather than be expelled by it. Yes!”

  He frowned, concentrating, concentrating. For a moment-for he was well acquainted with the human way of siegecraft-he even envisioned himself as a battering ram. And, with that vision, made his own breach in the wall.

  “Then it would be called a- cannon.”

  He sagged, almost staggered. Garmat steadied him with a hand.

  “Truly,” muttered the adviser, “truly I hope you have not gone mad. This is a poor time for it.” He shook the general’s arm. “Belisarius! Snap out of it! The pirates are almost within bow range.”

  Belisarius straightened, looked seaward, then glanced down at the Axumite. He shook his head, smiling.

  “You are exaggerating, Garmat. The Arabs will not be within bow range for two minutes. But-the pirates are within rocket range. Watch!”