They were too battlewise, first of all. And, secondly, they were completely preoccupied with watching the single combat on the crest between Sanga and Valentinian.
By the time Belisarius emerged from his tent, his arm splinted and bound to his chest, the Roman troops themselves had settled into the relaxation of watching the match. More accurately, they listened to the news brought by dispatch riders. Only Maurice, using Belisarius' telescope, was actually able to see much.
When Belisarius came up to Maurice, the chiliarch lowered the telescope.
'You heard?' he asked. Belisarius nodded.
'Craziest damned thing I've ever seen,' muttered Maurice.
His attitude did not surprise Belisarius. Nor Aide:
The custom of single combat between champions is no longer part of Graeco-Roman culture. Hasn't been, for over a millennium-not since the days of Homer. But it's still a living part of India's traditions, at least among Rajputs. Not even two decades of Malwa rule has broken that romantic notion of chivalry.
Belisarius' eyes studied the pass above. There seemed to be Rajputs covering every inch of the slopes which provided a view of the battle. Even the Rajput units standing guard, assigned to watch for a possible enemy counterattack, had their heads turned away from the Roman army.
If anything, added Aide, their time in the Malwa yoke is making them treasure this moment even more. There has been nothing like this in years, for Rajputana's warriors. Just the butchery of Ranapur, and Amaravati before that.
Maurice extended the telescope to its rightful owner.
Belisarius shook his head. 'One of two men I treasure is going to die, today. I have no desire to watch it.'
Aide's voice, soft: I am sorry for it, too.
Maurice brought the telescope back to his eye and resumed observing the battle. He had expected Belisarius' response. His offer of the telescope had been more in the way of a formality than anything else.
But he was still astonished by the Malwa commander.
'Craziest thing I've ever seen,' he repeated. 'What the hell is Damodara thinking?' He pulled the telescope a few inches from his eye and used it to point at the huge force of Rajputs covering the entire pass. 'All he has to do is give the order, and Valentinian is a pincushion. You couldn't see him, for all the arrows sticking out of his body.'
Belisarius shook his head. 'No Rajput would obey that order, and Damodara knows it. If he sent anyone else, the Rajputs would kill them. And Damodara himself, most likely, if they thought he'd given the command. Besides-'
Belisarius stared across the river, and up the slope. He was not trying to watch the battle between Sanga and Valentinian. He was simply searching, in his mind's eye, for Damodara.
Aide verbalized his thoughts. A man who rides a tiger long enough begins to think like a tiger himself.
'This is utter madness!' snarled the Malwa spymaster. He glared down at Damodara, and pointed to the enemy army across the river half a mile distant. 'While you waste time in this frivolity, the Romans are making their escape!'
The Malwa commander, squatting comfortably on a cushion, did not respond for a few seconds. His eyes remained fixed on the two men battling fiercely a few dozen yards away. When he did reply, his tone was mild.
'It's a moot point, Isanavarman.' Damodara glanced down the slope. 'Under no circumstances would I order my army to force the river against
His eyes moved to the spymaster. They were hard, cold eyes. 'Of whose existence I was not informed, by men whose duty it is to know such things.'
The spymaster did not flush. But he looked away. Behind him, his three top subordinates tried to make themselves as inconspicuous as possible.
'The best spies in the world,' muttered Isanavarman, 'cannot discover everything.'
The spymaster gave Narses a sour look. The eunuch was squatting on his own cushion next to Damodara. At Damodara's
'Not more than a few,' responded Damodara. The Malwa commander was back to watching the battle. 'Nothing like the horde of spies which Nanda Lal placed at your disposal.'
The spymaster gritted his teeth, but said nothing. What was there to say?
Nanda Lal was the chief spymaster for the entire Malwa Empire, and considered Isanavarman his best agent. Nanda Lal had assigned him to be the spymaster for Damodara's army for that very reason. By the simple nature of geography, Damodara was operating an independent command. His was the only army not under the immediate and watchful eye of Malwa's rulers. So Nanda Lal had sent Isanavarman-with many spies, if not quite a horde-as much to keep an eye on Damodara as his enemies.
So what was there to say?
Damodara found words. 'Make yourself useful for a change, Isanavarman. Interview the surviving Ye-tai. Find out as much as you can about the handcannons.'
Isanavarman began to say something, but Damodara cut him short. '
The Malwa lord lifted his finger in a little gesture at the troops surrounding them. Rajputs, all of them, except a few hundred kshatriyas-those whose proven valor had made them welcome. Most of the kshatriyas were in the camp, knowing full well the Rajputs would not permit their presence.
Isanavarman scanned the mass of soldiers. There were perhaps a thousand Ye-tai there also. But the spymaster did not fail to notice that the Ye-tai were scattered through the mass of Rajputs in small groups. Individuals, often enough, chatting amiably with their Rajput companions. Rajputs had a certain scorn for Ye-tai barbarity. But this was a day of manliness, and no one questioned Ye-tai courage.
'Do it,' repeated Damodara. Again, cold eyes went to the spymaster. 'Leave now, Isanavarman. This is not a place for you.'
The spymaster left, then, trailed by his three subordinates. Nanda Lal's agents did not flee, exactly, but neither did they amble. They were not oblivious to other hard, cold eyes upon them. The eyes of thousands of Rajput warriors, who had no love for Malwa spies at any time or place-and certainly not here, on this day of glory.
When they were gone, Damodara leaned toward Narses. The commander's eyes were still fixed on the combat between Valentinian and Rana Sanga, but his gaze seemed a bit unfocused. As if Damodara's thoughts were elsewhere.
'I trust he no longer has a horde of spies,' he murmured.
Narses' sneer, as always, was magnificent. 'He's got the three who came with him, and two others. The rest are on my payroll.'
Damodara nodded. 'Tonight, then. I think that would be best.'
'It'll be perfect,' agreed Narses. 'A pitched battle was fought today. A great victory for Malwa, of course, but not without its cost. The cunning Roman general sent a cavalry troop raiding into our camp. Terrible carnage. Great losses.'
Narses crooked his finger. Ajatasutra, squatting ten feet away, rose and came over.
'Tonight,' whispered Narses. 'Do it yourself, if possible.'
Ajatasutra did not sneer. He never did. That was one of the reasons, oddly, why Narses had grown so fond of him. But the assassin's thin smile had not a trace of humor in it.
'Those arrogant snobs haven't used a dagger in years,' he said softly. 'Years spent lounging in Kausambi, reading reports, while poor downtrodden agents like me were having hair-raising adventures with tired old eunuchs.'
Narses had a fine grin, to match his sneer. It was not an expression often seen on his reptilian face-and no more reassuring, come to it, that a cobra's yawning gape. But the grin stayed on his face, for minutes
