Destiny's shield

She leaned over and whispered into Belisarius' ear:

'What's this about?'

His reply also came in a whisper:

'The usual, whenever the Persians have to find a new emperor. Khusrau's been the leading candidate ever since Kavad died-he's been officially proclaimed, actually-but his half-brother Ormazd is apparently not reconciled to the situation. Baresmanas was sent here by Khusrau to warn us not to muck around in the mess.'

Antonina made a little grimace.

'As if we would,' she muttered.

Belisarius smiled crookedly. 'Now, love, let's not be quite so self-righteous. It has happened, you know. Emperor Carus took advantage of the civil war between Bahram II and Hormizd to invade Persia. Even captured their capital of Ctesiphon.'

'That was over two hundred years ago,' she protested softly.

'So? Persians have long memories. So do we, for that matter. Carus' invasion was retribution for Ardashir's attack on us during our civil war after Alexander Severus was murdered.'

Antonina shrugged. 'The situation's different. We've got the Malwa to worry about, now.'

Belisarius started to make some response, but fell silent. The great double doors to the audience chamber were opening. A moment later, a worn-looking Persian officer was being ushered in by Irene Macrembolitissa, the chief of the Roman Empire's spy network.

'Speaking of which-' he muttered.

Antonina started. 'You think-?'

He shrugged. 'We'll know soon enough. But we've been expecting the Malwa to invade Mesopotamia, sooner or later. From the look of that Persian officer, I suspect 'sooner' has arrived.'

The Persian officer had reached Baresmanas. The ambassador was standing some fifteen feet away from Theodora. Although a chair had been provided for him, Baresmanas apparently felt that his stern message would carry more weight if delivered standing.

The ambassador stooped slightly to hear what the officer had to say. The newly arrived Persian whispered urgently into his ear.

Antonina could see an unmistakable look of surprise and apprehension come to the ambassador's face. But Baresmanas was an experienced diplomat. Within seconds, the ambassador had regained his composure. By the time the Persian officer finished imparting whatever report he had brought with him, Baresmanas' expression was impassive and opaque.

When the officer finished, Baresmanas nodded and whispered a few words of his own. Immediately, the man bowed to the Roman Empress and hastily backed out of the room.

Antonina glanced over at Irene. The spymaster, after ushering the officer into the audience chamber, had discreetly taken position against the wall next to the door.

Antonina's gaze met Irene's. To all outward appearance, the spymaster's own face seemed void of expression. But Antonina knew Irene very well, and could not miss her friend's suppressed excitement.

Behind Baresmanas' back, Irene gave Antonina a quick little gesture. Thumbs up.

Antonina sighed. 'You're right,' she whispered to her husband. 'Irene's like a shark smelling blood.'

'The woman does love a challenge,' murmured Belisarius. 'I think she'd rather be tortured in the Pit for eternity than go for a week without excitement.' A chuckle. 'Provided, of course, that Satan let her keep her books.'

Baresmanas cleared his throat, and addressed Theodora once again.

'Your Majesty, I have just received some important news. With your permission, I would like to leave now. I must discuss these matters with my own entourage.'

Theodora nodded graciously. Then:

'Would you like to schedule another meeting?'

Baresmanas' nod was abrupt, almost curt.

'Yes. Tomorrow, if possible.'

'Certainly,' replied Theodora.

Antonina ignored the rest of the interchange between the Empress and Baresmanas. Diplomatic formalities did not interest her.

What did interest her was Irene.

'What do you think?' she whispered to Belisarius. 'Is she going to be the first person in history to actually explode?'

Belisarius shook his head. He whispered in return:

'Nonsense. Spontaneous human eruption's impossible. Says so in the most scholarly volumes. Irene knows that perfectly well. She owns every one of those tomes, after all.'

'I don't know,' mused Antonina, keeping a covert eye on her friend against the wall. 'She's starting to tremble, now. Shiver, quiver and quake. Vibrating like a harp string.'

'Not possible,' repeated Belisarius. 'Precluded by all the best philosophers.'

Baresmanas was finally ushered out of the room.

Irene exploded.

'It's on! It's on! It's on! It's on! It's on!'

Bouncing like a ball. Spinning like a top.

'The Malwa invaded Mesopotamia! Attacked Persia!'

Quiver, shiver; quake and shake.

'My spies got their hands on the message! Khusrau's instructed Baresmanas to seek Roman help!'

Vibrating like a harp string; beating like a drum.

'See?' demanded Antonina.

Chapter 2

Three nights later, the imperial audience chamber was again the scene of a meeting. After concluding an initial round of discussions with Baresmanas, Theodora had summoned her top advisers and officials.

Theodora had a multitude of advisers, but the ten people in that room constituted the majority of what both she and Belisarius thought of as the 'inner circle.' Membership in that circle depended not on formal post or official position-although post and position generally accompanied them. Membership in the inner circle depended on two far more important things:

First, the personal trust of Belisarius and what passed for 'personal trust' from the perennially suspicious Theodora.

Second, knowledge of the great secret. Knowledge of the messenger from the future, the crystalline quasi- jewel which called itself Aide, who had attached itself to Belisarius and warned the Roman Empire's greatest general that his world had become the battleground for powerful and mysterious forces of the far distant future.

Theodora herself occupied a place in her circle of advisers, sitting below a great mosaic depicting Saint Peter. The seating arrangement was odd, for an imperial conference-the more so in that Theodora was not sitting on a throne, but a simple chair. ('Simple,' at least, by imperial standards.) Traditionally, when Roman sovereigns discussed affairs of state with their advisers, the advisers stood on their feet while the monarchs lounged in massive thrones.

But-

'Of course we should accept the Persian proposal,' came a harsh voice.

The Empress cocked her head and examined the speaker. He returned her gaze, with his scarred and empty eye-sockets.

Justinian was the cause of that peculiar seating arrangement. By custom, the former Emperor could no longer sit by her side. Officially, he was nothing now but one of her advisers. But Theodora had not been able to bear the thought of humiliating her husband further, and so she had gladly accepted Belisarius' suggestion that she solve the