for perhaps the thousandth time-Belisarius reflected on the stupidity of approaching war with any attitude other than craftsmanship. Why should a sane man care what some Persian peacock had to say about him? All the better, as far as Belisarius was concerned, that Firuz was filled with his own self-esteem and contempt for his enemy. It made defeating him all the easier. An arrogant foe was easily duped.
For the first half-hour of their trek back to the Roman fort at Mindouos, Belisarius simply relaxed and enjoyed the ride. It was early afternoon, and the heat was already intense, but at least he was not confined within a stifling tent. And, soon enough, a cooling breeze began to develop. The breeze came from the west, moreover, so it had the further advantage of blowing the dust of their travel behind them.
Yet, that same pleasant breeze brought Belisarius’ mind back to his current predicament. He had been giving that breeze much thought, these past days. Very reliable, it was, always arising in early afternoon, and always blowing from the west to the east. He treasured that reliability, caught as he was in a situation with so many variable factors.
As the three men rode back to the camp in silence, therefore, Belisarius began to consider his options. His natural inclination, given the circumstances, would have been to stall for time. For all Firuz’ vainglory, Belisarius did not think the Persian was actually ready to launch a war immediately. Stall, stall, stall-and then, perhaps, the Emperor Justinian and his advisers would come to their senses.
But the knowledge that Belisarius now possessed, from the jewel, made that option unworkable. He simply didn’t have the time to waste in this idiotic and unnecessary conflict between Byzantium and Persia. Not while the forces of Satan were gathering their strength in India.
I’ve got to bring this thing to a head, and quickly, and be done with it. The only way to do that is with a resounding victory. Soon.
Which, of course, is easier said than done. Especially with-
He glanced again at the brothers. Bouzes and Coutzes looked enough alike that Belisarius had taken them, at first, for twins. Average height, brown-haired, hazel-eyed, muscular, snub-nosed, andHe would have smiled if he hadn’t been so irritated. In truth, the Persian’s insult had cut close to the quick. If the brothers had any brains at all, Belisarius had seen precious little indication of them.
After three days of argument, he had managed to get the brothers to agree, grudgingly, to combine their forces. Three days! — to convince them of the obvious. There had been no hope, of course, of convincing them to place the combined force under his command. Belisarius had not even bothered to raise the matter. The brothers would have taken offense, and, in high dudgeon, retracted their agreement to combine forces.
Eventually, as they neared the fort at Mindouos, Belisarius decided on his course of action. He saw no alternative, even though he was not happy with the decision. It was a gamble, for one thing, which Belisarius generally avoided.
But, he thought, glancing at the brothers again, a gamble with rather good odds.
Now, if Maurice can manage-
He broke off the thought. They were almost at the fortress. The transition from the barren semidesert to the vivid green of the oasis where he had situated his fort was as startling as ever. In no more time than a few horse paces, they moved from a desolate emptiness to a populated fertility. Much of that population was soldiery, of course, but there were still a number of civilians inhabiting the oasis, despite the danger from the nearby Persians. Three grubby but healthy-looking bedouin children, standing under a palm tree nearby, watched the small group of Roman officers trot past. One of them shouted something in Arabic. Belisarius did not quite make out the words-his Arabic was passable but by no means fluent-but he sensed the cheerful greeting in the tone.
“Hell of job you did here, Belisarius,” remarked Bouzes admiringly, gazing up at the fortress. His brother concurred immediately, then added: “I don’t see how you did it, actually. In the time you had. Damned good fort, too. Nothing slap-dash about it.”
“I’ve got some good engineers among my Thracian retinue, for one thing.”
“Engineers? Among cataphracts? ”
Belisarius smiled. “Well, they’re not really cataphracts, not proper ones. A bunch of farmers, at bottom, who just picked up the skills.”
“Wish we had some real cataphracts,” muttered Bouzes. “Don’t much care for the snotty bastards, but they’re great in a fight.”
His brother returned to the subject. “Even with good engineers, I still don’t see how you got the work done so quickly.”
“The basic way I did it was by setting the cavalry to work and challenging them to match the infantry.”
The brothers gaped.
“You had cavalry doing that kind of shit work?” demanded Bouzes. He frowned. “Bad for morale, I would think.”
“Not the infantry’s,” rejoined Belisarius. “And, as for the cavalry’s morale, you might be surprised. They wailed like lost souls, at first. But, after a bit, they started rising to the challenge. Especially after they heard the infantry taunting them for a lot of weaklings. Then I announced prizes for the best day’s work, and the cavalry started pitching into it. They never were as good as the infantry, of course, but by the end they were giving them quite a run for their money. Won a few prizes, even.”
Bouzes was still frowning. “Still-even if it doesn’t affect their morale directly, it-still.”
“Saps their self-esteem, over time,” agreed his brother. “Bound to. It’s dog work.”
Belisarius decided he’d been polite long enough.
“ Dog work, is it? ” he demanded, feigning anger. “I would remind the two of you that the Roman empire was built by such dogs. By infantry, not cavalry. Infantry who knew the value of good fortifications, and knew how to put them up. Quickly, and well.”
He reined in his horse. They were now at the gate of the fortress. Belisarius pointed to the barrenness beyond the date palms, from which they had just come.
“Do you see that border with Persia? That border was placed there centuries ago. By infantrymen. How far has your precious cavalry pushed it since then?”
He glared at them. The brothers looked away.
“Not one mile, that’s how far.” The gate was opening. Belisarius set his horse back in motion.
“So let’s not hear so much boasting about cavalry,” he growled, passing through the gate.
Rather well done, he patted himself on the back. They’re not bad fellows, really. If they could just get that stupid crap out of their heads.
The interior of the fortress was not as imposing as its exterior. In truth, Belisarius had been pressed for time, even with the aid of the cavalrymen, and so he had concentrated all effort on the outside walls and fortifications. Within those walls, the fortress was still just an empty parade ground, although it was covered now with the tents of his soldiers. He had not even built a command post for himself, but continued to use his tent as a headquarters.
As soon as Belisarius dismounted and walked into his command tent, followed by the two brothers, Maurice made his appearance.
“We’ve got a prisoner,” the hecatontarch announced. “Just brought him in.”
“Where did you catch him?”
“Sunicas’ regiment had a skirmish this morning with a group of Persians. About three hundred of them, ten miles north of here. After Sunicas drove them off, they found one fellow lying on the ground. Stunned. Horse threw him.”
“Bring him here.”
Belisarius took a seat at the large table in the middle of the tent. Bouzes and Coutzes remained standing. A few minutes later, Maurice reappeared, along with Valentinian. Valentinian was pushing a Persian soldier ahead of him. The Persian’s wrists were bound behind his back. By his dress and accouterments, Belisarius thought the Persian to be a midlevel officer.
Valentinian forced the Mede into a chair. Exhibiting the usual Persian courage, the officer’s face remained still and composed. The Persian was expecting to be tortured, but would not give his enemy the satisfaction of seeing his fear.
His expectation was shared by Bouzes and Coutzes.
“We’ve got a first-rate torturer,” announced Coutzes cheerfully. “I can have him here inside the hour.”
