Keeps out competitors.”
The general scratched his chin. “It occurs to me, however, that this rampant disorder can serve our purpose. There is one little problem in our plan that’s been gnawing at me-”
He looked down at Ousanas, striding alongside.
“You are a miserable slave, are you not?”
The dawazz stooped and bent his head in a flamboyant gesture of cringing submissiveness. The pose went poorly with the great stabbing spear in his hand.
“Well, I am shocked,” grumbled Belisarius. “Absolutely shocked to see you lolling about without a care in the world. In my country, miserable slaves keep themselves busy.”
Ousanas cocked an eye upward. The pose was now threadbare.
“Oh, yes,” continued Belisarius, “very busy. Scurrying about all over the place-buying provisions, haggling over supplies, that sort of thing.” He scowled. “All a pose, of course. The lazy buggers are actually just keeping out of their master’s sight so they can lolligag. Out of everybody’s sight, in fact. Nobody ever sees a slave where he’s supposed to be. You get used to it.”
Ousanas looked back at the motley horde of camp followers.
“Ah,” he said. “Comprehension dawns. Although the great general might-just now and again-condescend to plain speaking. You want me to make myself scarce, so that when the time comes when I disappear altogether, no spy will even notice my absence.”
Belisarius smiled. “You have captured the Platonic Form of my concept.”
A moment later, Ousanas was drifting away, the very image of a dispirited, lackadaisical slave. Belisarius, watching, was struck by the uncanny manner of his movements. Ousanas was the only man the general had ever known who could shuffle silently.
A gleeful feminine squeal coming from ahead brought his attention forward. Belisarius and Garmat looked up at the howdah riding on the elephant in front of them. Curtains made it impossible to see within.
“At least he’s stopped complaining,” growled Belisarius.
Garmat shook his head. “You are being unfair, General. He is not promiscuous by nature. Not, at least, by the standards of royalty.” The adviser shrugged. “True, he is a prince, and a handsome and charming boy in his own right. He has never lacked the opportunity for copulation, and certainly has no aversion to the sport. But-he likes women, you see, and enjoys their conversation and their company. So he much prefers a more settled situation.”
After a moment, Belisarius smiled wryly. “Well, I can hardly disapprove of that. My own temperament, as it happens.” He gestured toward the howdah. “He seems to have settled in here.”
Garmat nodded. “He and Tarabai seem to be growing quite fond of each other. I notice that the other Maratha girls have stopped sharing his howdah lately, at night, except-”
He fell silent, glancing around quickly. There were no possible spies within hearing range.
“How is she doing?” asked Belisarius. “Have you heard? For obvious reasons, I stay away from the howdah.”
“I have not been inside myself. Eon says she has come to accept his presence, but he is not sure how she would react to another man. She no longer flinches from him, but she still doesn’t speak-not even to Tarabai. She is eating well, finally. Her physical wounds are all healed. Eon says he is always careful to keep away from her, as far as possible within the confines of the howdah. He thinks she no longer feels threatened by him. If for no other reason than-”
Another squeal came from the howdah.
“-Tarabai has his erotic impulses well under control,” chuckled Belisarius.
The general pointed to the mahout guiding the elephant.
“I trust Ezana is not disgruntled? Or Wahsi? Or Ousanas, for that matter?”
Garmat laughed. “Why should they be? True, they no longer enjoy Tarabai’s company, but there are still the other two Maratha women. And the Kushan girls have been willing to spread their affections, whenever your cataphracts are too tired to pester them. Besides, they are all soldiers. The best of soldiers. Not given to stupid jealousies, and well aware that we are following a battle plan.”
Another squeal. A low, masculine groan.
“In a manner of speaking.”
Belisarius grinned. Then:
“Well, Eon’s certainly carried out his part in the plan. He was absolutely perfect, the first day of the trip.”
“Wasn’t he marvelous?” agreed Garmat. “I thought Venandakatra was going to die of apoplexy, right there on the spot.”
The adviser patted his mount affectionately. “Poor Venandakatra. Here he presents us with the finest horses available, and the prince can’t stop whining that he needs a howdah, with plump cushions for his royal fanny.”
“A very large elephant to carry it,” said Belisarius, laughing, “one strong enough to bear up under the prince’s humping.”
Garmat was laughing himself, now. “And then-did you see the look on Venandakatra’s face after-”
“-his petty plot backfired?” Belisarius practically howled. “Priceless! What a complete idiot! He presents the largest, most unruly elephant he can find-”
“-to Africans!”
Belisarius and Garmat fell silent, savoring the memory.
“ This is your largest elephant?” Ezana had queried. “This midget? ”
“Look at those puny ears,” mourned Wahsi. “Maybe he’s still a baby.”
“Probably not elephant at all,” pronounced Ousanas. “Maybe him just fat, funny-looking gnu.”
Venandakatra’s glare had been part fury, part disbelief. The fury had remained. The disbelief had vanished, after Ezana and Wahsi rapidly demonstrated their skills as mahouts. After the sarwen reminisced over various Axumite military campaigns, in which African elephants figured prominently. After Ousanas extolled the virtues of the African elephant, not forgetting to develop his point by way of contrast with the Indian elephant. So-called elephant. But probably not elephant. Him probably just big tapir, with delusions of grandeur.
After they stopped laughing, Garmat remarked:
“We may have overdone it, actually. I notice that Venandakatra hasn’t invited us to share his dinner since this trip began.”
“He will,” said Belisarius confidently. “It’s only been two weeks since we left Bharakuccha. At the rate this- this matronly promenade-is going, we’ll be two months getting to his ’modest country estate.’ ” He snorted. “If I was one of those surveyors, I’d have died of boredom by now. I doubt we’re averaging more than ten miles a day. At best.”
“You are so sure, my friend? Your stratagem has still not gelled.”
“He will. In another two weeks or so, I estimate. Your average megalomaniac, of course, would only need a week to get over a petty snit. But even Venandakatra won’t take much more than a month. Whatever else he is, the man is not stupid, and I’ve given him enough hints. He’s developed his own plan, by now, which also hasn’t gelled. It can’t, until he talks to us further. To me, I should say. So-yes. Two weeks.”
And, sure enough, it was thirteen days later that the courier arrived from Venandakatra’s pavilion, shortly after the caravan had halted for the night. Bearing a message from the great lord himself, written in perfect Greek, politely inviting Belisarius to join him for his “modest evening meal.”
“I note that Eon and I are not invited,” remarked Garmat. The old adviser stared at Belisarius, and then bowed.
“I salute you, Belisarius. A great general, indeed. Until this moment, I confess, I was somewhat skeptical your plan would work.”
Belisarius shrugged. “Let’s not assume anything. As my old teacher Maurice always reminds me: ’Never expect the enemy to do what you expect him to.’ ”
Garmat shook his head. “Excellent advice. But it does not encompass all military wisdom. Every now and then, you know, the enemy does do what you expect him to. Then you must be prepared to strike ruthlessly.”
“Exactly what I keep telling Maurice!” said Belisarius gaily. He tossed the message into the camp fire which Ousanas was just starting. The dawazz straightened, looked over.
