by David Drake
“Tell her, Belisarius.”
Belisarius stared at Irene.
“I haven’t even told Maurice, Sittas.”
“Of course not! There’s no reason to, at this point. But we need Irene. Now.”
Belisarius remained silent, still examining Irene. Sittas’ back curved, his great shoulders hunched, his snout thrust forward. The wild, red-eyed boar spoke:
“Tell her.”
Belisarius transferred his gaze to Sittas. The boar was in full fury now, tusks glistening.
“Tell her!”
Belisarius’ calm eyes never wavered. He was a Thracian, reared in the countryside. He’d speared his first boar when he was twelve.
The red glare faded from Sittas’ eyes, replaced, suddenly, by a shrug. And then, a wide grin.
“Funny, that usually works. Damned Thracians! But you may as well tell her, Belisarius. She’ll winkle it out of me, anyway, unless I fire her. Which is the last thing I’d do now.”
Belisarius looked at Antonina. His wife nodded.
“Tell her, husband. I trust her.”
Chapter 10
When Belisarius was finished, Irene looked at her employer. The normal pink coloring had returned to Sittas’ hide, but his face still looked almost drawn beneath the jowls.
“Believe, Irene,” he said. “He only gave you the gist of it, but-” Sittas drew in a deep breath. “I held the jewel and saw- Never mind. Just believe it.”
“May I see it?” she asked. Belisarius reached into his coat and withdrew the jewel. Irene rose and walked over, stooped, examined the thing. After a moment, she returned to her seat.
“It makes sense,” she said, nodding. “Actually, it clarifies much that was obscure.” Seeing the questioning looks around her, she elaborated:
“I’ve been encountering occasional tips, obscure hints, that pointed toward India as the source of the current-disturbances. Much of it, at least. But I discounted the rumors. India is far away, and except for trade, far removed from the normal concerns of Rome. I assumed the converse must also be true. What interest could India possibly have in the machinations of the Byzantine court?”
“What do you know about India?” asked Antonina.
Irene shrugged. “Which India? Don’t forget, Antonina, India is a huge place. It’s larger than Europe, in area alone, and much more densely populated. It’s the biggest mistake Westerners make, actually. We try to imagine India as a single country, rather than a continent.”
She rose again and poured herself some wine. Then filled Sittas’ cup to the brim. This time, his hand was shaking. Slightly. She offered some wine to Belisarius and Antonina, but they declined. Irene resumed her seat and continued.
“India hasn’t been unified under one throne for over half a millenium, not since the Mauryan Empire collapsed. The Gupta Empire which eventually replaced it was confined to north India. The south remained under the control of independent monarchs.”
She hesitated again, her eyes slightly unfocused. It was obvious she was recalling information.
“Or, at least, that was true until recently. The Gupta Empire broke in half, a few decades ago, and the western half was invaded by the White Huns. The Ephthalites, as we call them. Also known as-”
“Ye-tai,” interjected Belisarius.
Irene nodded. “The White Huns-or Ye-tai-were apparently beaten back, and then some sort of accommodation was reached between them and the western dynasty, the Malwa. The Malwa dynasty, from what I’ve been able to glean, has since been expanding rapidly. They’ve finished reconquering most of north India, although they’re apparently plagued with rebellions. And now, according to a few informants, they’ve begun their conquest of the south. They are at war now with the greatest, and most northerly, of the southern realms. A place called-”
She hesitated, frowned, tried to dredge up the memory.
“Andhra,” stated Belisarius. “Ruled by the Satavahana dynasty.”
Irene nodded. “That’s about all I know. To be honest, I never pursued the matter. India, as I said, seemed much too remote to be a real danger to Rome and, in any event, they were obviously preoccupied with their own problems.”
She waved a hand, dismissively. “And then, too, most of the tales you hear about India are at least half fantastical. Especially tales about the Malwa. Gods that walk the earth, magic weapons-” She stopped, stared at Belisarius.
“Magic weapons, indeed,” grunted Belisarius. “We’ve had no luck duplicating them.”
Irene looked at the general’s wife.
“Belisarius is being too pessimistic,” said Antonina. “We’ve only just gotten started in that work. It’s only been a few months since we first encountered the jewel ourselves. It’s taken that long to get established on the estate which Cassian gave us. John of Rhodes has been in residence now for only three months, and the workshop has barely been set up.” She shook her head firmly. “So, under the circumstances, I think it’s much too early to make any clear assessment of our success in duplicating the Malwa weapons.”
“Has the jewel been of any help?” asked Sittas.
Belisarius shook his head. “No, not in that regard. I can sense that it’s trying, but-it is very difficult for the thing to communicate with me, except through visions. And those aren’t very useful when it comes to weaponry.” Strangely, he grinned. “As a rule, I should say. However-we must have a joust soon, Sittas!”
His enormous friend sneered. “Why? I’ll just knock you on your ass like I always do. Shrimp.”
Belisarius grinned evilly. “You’re in for a surprise, large one. The jewel has succeeded in giving me one simple new device. Simple, but I guarantee it will revolutionize the cavalry.”
Sittas looked skeptical. “What is it? A magic lance?”
“Oh, nothing that elaborate. Just a simple little gadget called stirrups.” He grinned again, very evilly. “By all means. A joust-and soon!”
Belisarius turned back to Irene. “Where does the Malwa conquest of south India stand now?”
Irene frowned. “I really don’t know. As of my last report, which was three months ago, the Malwa had just begun their siege of the Andhra capital.” She paused, estimating time factors. “Given that the report itself probably took months to get here, I would assume the siege began approximately a year ago. Apparently, it’s expected to be a long siege. The Andhra capital is reported to be well fortified. It’s located at a place called-” She hesitated, looked away, again trying to bring up the information.
“It is located at a place called Amavarati,” said Belisarius. The general continued, seeming for all the world, like a man possessed by a vision. “In a short while the palace will fall to the Malwa. Within the palace is a young princess named Shakuntala. She will be the only survivor of the dynasty. She will be captured and taken north to the palace of a high Malwa official, destined to be his concubine. A man will be lying in the reeds outside, wounded. His name is Raghunath Rao. When he recovers from his wounds, he will go north himself, tracking the princess and her captors. He will find her at the palace, but will be unable to rescue her in time. Before he can do so, the owner of the palace will return from some mission he was sent on by the Malwa emperor. He will die then, as will the princess.”
Belisarius clenched his teeth, remembering another man’s hatred.
“The Vile One, that official is called. Venandakatra. Venandakatra the Vile.”
Irene shot to her feet. “Venandakatra?” she demanded. “You are sure of that name?”
Belisarius stared at her. “Quite sure. It is a name burned into my memory. Why?”
“He’s here! In Constantinople!”
When the uproar which followed Irene’s announcement subsided, Belisarius resumed his seat.
“So that’s the mysterious mission Venandakatra was sent on,” murmured Belisarius.
“This doesn’t make sense,” complained Sittas. “I’ve met the fellow myself, by the way. At one of the endless receptions
at the Great Palace. A greasy sort, he struck me. But I spent no time with him. He presented himself as simply a modest envoy seeking to expand trading opportunities with Rome.” Sittas waved his hand airily. “Not my interest, that sort of thing.”
Irene snorted. “Just the money that comes from it.”
Sittas grinned. “Well, yes. I believe my family does have a small interest in the Indian trade.”
“They control at least a fourth of it,” retorted Irene. “If not more. Your family are no slouches themselves when it comes to keeping secrets.”
Again, the airy wave of the hand. “Yes, yes, no doubt. But I leave that business to my innumerable cousins. The point I was trying to make, before I was so rudely interrupted, is that this Venandakatra sounds like far too powerful an official to be sent on such a paltry mission. Are you sure we’re talking about the same man? The name Venandakatra, after all, might be quite common in India.”
Belisarius shook his head and began to speak. Irene interrupted him.
“Stick to your trade, Sittas. The whole thing makes perfect sense, if we assume that the jewel’s visions of the future are accurate. Which”-a glance at Belisarius-“they obviously are. Venandakatra doesn’t give a fig for trade. That’s just a story to explain his presence. He’s actually here to scout the territory, so to speak, and to lay the groundwork for the future attack on Rome.”
She stopped, concentrated, continued:
“His cover, however, makes him vulnerable. He doesn’t have a large retinue with him. He couldn’t, not posing as a simple trading envoy. It wouldn’t be difficult at all to have him assassinated.”
“No.”
Irene looked at Belisarius, startled.
“Why in the world not? I didn’t get the impression you were any too fond of the man.”
Belisarius tightened his jaws. “You cannot begin to imagine how much I despise him. But it’s not for us to cut his throat.”
He rose and began pacing, working off nervous energy. He reached a hand into his cloak, pulled out a sheathed dagger, stared down at it. Slowly, he drew the dagger from its sheath.
“I carry this with me always, now. It’s been like a compulsion. Or a charm.”
He straightened up. “But I think it’s time to return the dagger to its rightful owner. I must go to India and find Raghunath Rao.”
Antonina was pale, her hand at her throat.
“You can’t be serious,” stated Sittas forcefully. “You’re needed here, Belisarius! Not gallivanting around India. Good Lord! Irene’s right, you know-India’s immense, and you don’t know anything about the place. Even if this man’s still alive, how will you find him?”
Belisarius smiled his crooked smile.
“So long as Venandakatra is alive, I will know where to find Rao. Lurking nearby, like a panther waiting to strike, if he can see even the slightest opening. I will go to India, and I will find that man, and I will give him back his dagger and, somehow, I will give him his opening.”
He turned to Irene. “ That’s why Venandakatra can’t be assassinated. It is essential that we forge an alliance with Raghunath Rao. And through him, with the surviving heir of the Satavahana dynasty. To do so, we must find him-and to find him, we need Venandakatra alive.”
Antonina cleared her throat. “But, husband, such a trip-”
“Will take at least a year,” finished Belisarius. “I know, love. But it must be done.”
“I think it’s an excellent idea,” said Irene firmly. She paused for a moment, allowing her statement to register on Antonina and Sittas. The two were obviously surprised to hear the spymaster side with Belisarius in what seemed to them a half-baked, impulsive scheme. Once Irene saw that she had their full attention, she continued.
“Like Sittas, I do not understand why Belisarius thinks this man Rao is so important. Or this Princess Shakuntala. Although-” She stared at the general, gauging. “I will gladly accept his judgment. So should you, Sittas. Didn’t you once tell me Belisarius is the most brilliant Roman general since Scipio Africanus? I suspect that same general is working on some grand strategy.”
Irene spread her hands in a gesture of finality. “But it doesn’t matter, because Belisarius should go to India in any event. For one thing, we must obtain the best possible information concerning India. Especially its military capacity, and its new weapons. Who better to do that than Rome’s best general?”
Sittas began to speak. Irene drove him down.
“Nonsense, yourself! You said he was needed here. For what? The Persian defeat will keep the Medes licking their wounds for at least a year. Several years, I estimate. So there won’t be any danger from that quarter for a time.”
She drove over his protest again. “And even if the Persians do start making trouble before Belisarius gets back, I say again: so what? He may be Rome’s best general, but he’s not the only good one. You yourself are currently unemployed, except for those parade ground duties that bore you to death.”
She paused. A particularly garish tapestry hanging on the wall opposite caught her eye. Even in the seriousness of the moment, she found it difficult not to laugh. Her employer had obviously been the model for the heroic figure portrayed in the tapestry. A mounted cataphract in full armor, slaying some kind of monstrous beast with a lance.
“Is that a lion?” she asked lightly.
Sittas glared at the tapestry.
“It’s a dragon,” he growled.
“I didn’t realize dragons were furry,” commented Antonina idly. She and Irene exchanged a quick, amused glance. Sittas began to snarl something, but Belisarius cut him off.
“Let’s get back to the point,” he said firmly. “I think Irene’s suggestion is a good one. We might be able to get Sittas assigned to replace me in command of the army in Syria. That would put him close to the estate where Antonina’s doing her work. With Sittas nearby, she’d still have access to expert military expertise when she needed it.”
Irene drove over Antonina’s gathering protest.
“ You are not thinking, woman! You’re worrying over Belisarius’ safety and fretting over his prolonged absence.” The spymaster was suddenly as cold as ice. “You are being a fool, Antonina. The worst danger to Belisarius isn’t in India. It’s right here in Constantinople. Better he should be gone for a year or so in India, than gone forever in a grave.”
Startled, Antonina stared at her husband. Belisarius nodded.
“She’s right, love. That’s part of my thinking. Justinian.”
Antonina now looked at the spymaster. Irene grimaced.
“At the moment,” she said, “the greatest danger to Belisarius does come from Justinian. There’s nothing the Emperor dreads so much as a great general. Especially one as popular as Belisarius is today, after his victory over the Persians.”
“An expedition to India would be perfect, from that point of view,” chimed in Belisarius. “Get me out of Constantinople, away from the Emperor’s suspicions and fears.”
Irene brushed back her hair, thinking.
“Actually, if the whole thing’s presented properly, Justinian will probably jump at it. He’s not insane, you know. If he can avoid it, he’d much rather keep Belisarius alive. You never know when he might need a great general again, after all. But sending him to India, off and away for at least a year-oh, yes, I think he’d like that idea immensely. Get Belisarius completely out of the picture for a time, until the current hero worship dies down.”
Antonina’s face was pinched. “How soon?” she whispered.
“Not for at least six months,” said Belisarius. “Probably seven.”
Antonina looked relieved, but puzzled.
“Why so long?” she asked.
“The trade with India,” replied her husband, “depends on the monsoon seasons. The monsoon winds blow one way part of the year, the other way during the other part. You travel from India to the west from November through April. You go the other way-my way, that is-from July through October
.”
He held up his hand, fingers outspread, and began counting off.
“We’re in the beginning of October. It’s too late to catch the eastward monsoon for this year. It’s almost over, and it would take at least a month or two to reach the Erythrean Sea. That means I can’t leave for India until the beginning of July, next year. Mind you, that refers to the part of the trip beginning at the south end of the Red Sea. Figure another month-no, two-to get from here through the Red Sea.”
He began to calculate; Irene cut him short.
“You won’t be leaving Constantinople for India until April, at the earliest. Probably May. Which, incidentally, is when Venandakatra has already announced he plans to return to his homeland.”
Antonina’s initial relief vanished.
“But-Irene, from what you’ve already said, now is the most dangerous time for Belisarius to be in Constantinople. Six months! Who knows what Justinian might do in six months?”
Irene brushed back her hair. “I know, I’ve been thinking about it while Belisarius was explaining the maritime facts of life. And I think I have a solution.”
She looked at Belisarius.
“Are you familiar with Axum?”
“The kingdom of the Ethiopians?” asked Belisarius. “No, not really. I’ve met a few Axumites, here and there. But-I’m a general, so there’s never been any occasion for me to encounter them professionally. Rome and Axum have gotten along just fine for centuries. Why?”
“I see a chance to kill two birds with one stone. As it happens, Venandakatra’s is not the only foreign mission in Constantinople at the moment. There’s also an Axumite embassy. They arrived two months ago. The embassy is officially headed by King Kaleb’s younger son, Eon Bisi Dakuen. He’s only nineteen years old. Barely more than a boy, although I’ve heard that he’s made a good impression. But I think the actual leader of the embassy is Eon’s chief adviser, a man named Garmat.”
“So?”
“So-this Garmat, by all accounts, is quite a canny fellow. And, I’ve heard, he’s been dropping hints here and there of the desire of the Axumites to forge closer ties to Rome.”
