Fortune's stroke

seemed to fill the confines of the tent.

'Belisarius has never trusted mercenaries,' hissed Narses. The eunuch's eyes were fixed on Sanga like a serpent's on its prey. 'He never has. He is well known for it, in the Roman army-which, as you know, is traditionally an army which uses mercenaries all the time. But Belisarius never uses them except when he has no choice, and then he only uses mercenaries as auxiliaries. Hun light cavalry, for the most part.'

Narses jabbed at the map. 'So why would he bring two thousand Goth heavy cavalry with him, in a campaign like this one? There's nothing in this kind of campaign which would keep a mercenary's interest. No loot, no plunder. Nothing but weeks and weeks of arduous marches and countermarches, for nothing beyond a stipend.'

The eunuch laughed sarcastically. 'Belisarius never would have brought Goth mercenaries along with him for the good and simple reason, if no other, that he would have known they'd desert within two months. Which brings me-'

He held up a third finger.

'Point three. Why haven't those mercenaries deserted?' Another sarcastic, sneering laugh. 'Goths are about as stupid as the horses they ride, but even horses aren't that stupid.'

Narses planted both hands on the table and pushed himself against the back of his chair. For just an instant, in that posture, the small old eunuch seemed a more regal figure than the Malwa dynast and the Rajput king who faced him.

'So. Let's put it all together. We have one of history's most cunning generals-who always subordinates tactics to strategy-engaged in a campaign which, for all its tactical acumen, makes no sense at all strategically. In the course of this campaign, he drags along a bunch of mercenaries he has no use for, and which have no business being there on their own account. What does that all add up to?'

Silence.

Narses scowled. 'What it adds up to, Lord and King, is-Belisarius. He's up to something. Something we aren't seeing.'

'What?' demanded Damodara.

Narses shrugged. 'I don't know, Lord. At the moment, I only have questions. But I urge you'-for just an instant, the eunuch's sarcastic, sneering voice was filled with nothing beyond earnest and respectful pleading-'to take my questions seriously. Or we will find ourselves, in the end, like so many of Belisarius' opponents. Lying in the dirt, bleeding to death, from a blow we never saw coming.'

The silence which now filled the tent was not the silence of a breath, held in momentary suspense. It was a long, long silence. A thoughtful silence.

Damodara finally broke it.

'I think we should talk to him,' he announced. 'Arrange a parley.'

His two companions stared at him. Both men were frowning.

Narses was frowning from puzzlement. 'What do you hope to accomplish? He'll hardly tell you what he's planning!'

Damodara chuckled. 'I didn't imagine he would.' The Malwa lord shrugged. 'The truth? I would simply like to meet the man, after all this time. I think it would be fascinating.'

Damodara shifted his eyes to Rana Sanga. The Rajput king was still frowning.

Not from puzzlement, but-

'I am bound to your service by honor, Lord Damodara,' rasped Sanga. 'That same honor-'

Damodara raised a hand, forestalling the Rajput. 'Please, Rana Sanga! I am not a fool. Practical, yes. But practical in all things.' He chuckled. 'I would hardly plan a treacherous ambush, in violation of all codes of honor, using Rajputs as my assassins. Any Rajputs, much less you.'

Damodara straightened. 'We will find a meeting place where ambush is impossible. A farmhouse in open terrain, perhaps, which Belisarius' scouts can search for hidden troops.'

He nodded at Rana Sanga. 'And you, King of Rajputana, will serve as my only bodyguard at the parley itself. That should be enough, I think, to protect me against foul play-and will be enough, I am certain, to assure Belisarius that he has nothing to fear. Not once he has your word of honor, whatever he thinks of my own.'

The frown faded, somewhat, from Sanga's brow. But the quick glance which the Rajput king gave Narses still carried a lurking suspicion.

Damodara chuckled again. 'Have no fear, Rana Sanga. Narses won't be within miles of the place.'

'Not likely!' snorted the eunuch.

A week later, Damodara's dispatch rider returned with Belisarius' response.

'The Roman general wrote it out himself,' the Rajput said, as he handed over the sealed sheet. The man seemed a bit puzzled. Or, perhaps, a bit in awe. 'He didn't even hesitate, Lord Damodara. He wrote the reply as soon as he finished reading your message. I watched him do it.'

Damodara broke the seal and began reading. He was surprised, but not much, to see that Belisarius' message was written in perfect Hindi.

When he finished, Damodara laughed.

'What's so amusing?' asked Narses.

'Did he agree?' asked Rana Sanga.

Damodara waved the letter. 'Yes, he agreed. He says we can pick the location, and the time. As long as Rana Sanga is there, he says, he has no concerns about treachery.'

The Rajput's face was stiff as a board. Damodara smiled, knowing how deeply Sanga was hiding his surge of pride.

He transferred the smile to Narses.

'As for the amusement-Belisarius did add a stipulation, Narses. He insists that you must be at the parley also.'

The eunuch's face almost disappeared in a mass of wrinkles. Damodara's smile became an outright grin. The Roman traitor, in that moment, was not even trying to hide his own emotions. That great frown exuded suspicion, the way a glacier exudes chilliness.

'Why me?' demanded Narses.

Damodara shrugged. 'I have no idea. You can add that to your list of unanswered questions.'

Chapter 20

Adulis

Summer, 532 A.D.

Seated on his throne, in what had been the viceroy's audience hall at Sana, Eon stared down at the crowd. Other than the dozen or so sarwen standing guard against the walls, and his immediate advisers-Antonina, Garmat and Ousanas-the people who packed the large chamber were all Arabs. The Arabs were gathered in clusters. Each cluster consisted of several middle-aged or elderly men, a middle-aged woman serving as a chaperone, and-

'Christ in Heaven,' muttered Eon, 'there's a horde of them. Did every single Arab in Mecca bring his daughter?'

Garmat, standing at Eon's left hand, whispered, 'Don't exaggerate, King. That's not a horde of young women. Merely a large mob. As to your question-what did you expect? There are many tribes in the Hijaz, and each is comprised of several clans. They couldn't agree on a single choice, so every one of those clans sent its favorite daughter.'

Eon's jaw tightened. 'This is no time for humor, old man. How am I supposed to choose one? Without offending the others?'

Garmat hesitated. From Eon's other side, Ousanas whispered: 'Have Antonina make the choice. She is from