He decided upon the galley farthest to his right. That galley was heading for the opposite shore, and it would reach the shore farther upstream than any other.
He began swimming toward it. He maintained the same powerful breaststroke. It was a relatively slow method-Belisarius was an excellent swimmer, and was quite capable of moving more rapidly in water-but it would be fast enough. And the breaststroke had several advantages. It was almost silent; it kept his arms and legs from flashing above the surface of the water; and-with the knife in his teeth-it enabled him to breathe easily.
Fortunately, the angle was good, and so he was able to position himself where he needed to be a full half- minute before the galley swept through the area. Treading water, directly in the galley's path, he waited. As he had hoped, the Malwa soldiers aboard the galley were not holding lanterns over the bow. The lanterns were being held toward the stern. The soldiers on that galley, like all the Malwa, did not really think that Belisarius had gone anywhere but the near shore. It was that south bank of the river that the soldiers were watching, even as they headed in the opposite direction.
The galley was almost upon him. Belisarius took a deep breath and dove below the surface. For a moment, he feared that the bundle he was towing might act as a buoy, hauling him back toward the surface. But his clothing was now completely waterlogged. If anything, the bundle simply acted as a weight.
Now, swimming below the barge, down its starboard side, Belisarius encountered the first snag in his hastily-improvised plan.
He was blind as a bat. He couldn't see a thing.
He had expected visibility to be limited, of course, at night-time. But he had thought he would be able to see enough to guide himself. What he hadn't considered, unfortunately, was the nature of the Jamuna itself.
This was no mountain stream, with clear and limpid waters. This was a great, murky, slow-moving valley river. Heavy with silt and mud. It was like swimming through a liquid coal mine.
He guided himself by sound and touch. To his left, he used the splashing oars as a boundary. To his right, stretching out his fingers, he groped for the planks of the hull.
He misgauged. Driven, probably, by an unconscious fear of his sudden blindness, he swam too shallow. His head, not his fingers, found the hull.
The impact almost stunned him. For a moment, he floundered, before he brought himself under control. Quickly, he found the hull with his fingers.
The wood planks were racing by. He heard a sudden dimunition in the sound of the oars, as if they had passed him.
He took the knife from his teeth and thrust it upward, praying the little blade wouldn't break. The tip sank into the wood. Not far-half an inch-but enough.
Using the knife to hold himself against the hull, Belisarius desperately sought the surface. He was almost out of air.
Again, he had misgauged. He was still too far from the stern. The side of his face was pressed against the hull. He could feel the surface of the water ruffling through his hair, but could not reach it to breathe.
He jerked the knife out, let the current carry him for a split second, stabbed again. The thrust, this time, was even feebler.
It was enough, barely. The blade held. He let the current raise him up against the hull. His head broke water.
His lungs felt like they were about to burst, but he took the time for a quick upward glance before taking a breath.
Finally, something went as planned. As he had hoped, he was hidden beneath the overhang of the stern. He opened his mouth and took a slow, shuddering breath, careful to make as little sound as possible.
For a minute, he simply hung there, breathing, resting. Then he took stock of his situation.
The situation was precarious. The knife was barely holding him to the hull. It could slip out at any moment. If it did, the galley would sweep forward, leaving him cast behind in its wake. He was not worried so much at being spotted, then, but he could not afford to lose the shelter of the galley. The shelter-and the relaxation. He had no desire to make the long swim to the opposite shore on his own effort. He could make it, yes, but the effort would leave him exhausted. He could not afford exhaustion. He still had many, many hours of exertion before him. A day, at least, before he could even think to rest.
He studied the underside of the galley, looking for a solid plank to replant the knife. He did not have to worry about interfering with a rudder. The galley did not use a rudder. Few ships did, in his day, other than the craft built by north European barbarians. Instead, the galley was steered by an oar. The oar was on the opposite side of the stern from where Belisarius was hidden. Like Romans, the Malwa hung their steering oars off the port side of the stern. Belisarius had chosen to swim down the starboard side precisely in order not to become fouled in that oar.
He heard a sudden, distant explosion. Then another.
Another. Another.
Now, a veritable barrage was rumbling across the river. The sound of the explosions had an odd, muffled quality.
Cautiously, he turned his head, raised it a bit. He could now see the nature of the activity on the shore behind him. The Malwa were casting grenades into the river. He watched several plumes of water spout from the surface.
Those grenades, he thought, could be dangerous to him.
A thought from Aide surfaced. The facets had restored their identity.
Depth-charges. Very dangerous. Water transmits concussion much better than air.
He caught a quick, gruesome image of his own body, ruptured, bleeding from a thousand internal wounds.
He shook the image off. First things first. For his immediate needs, the thunderous sound of the grenade blasts was a blessing. He jerked the knife out of the hull-paused a split-second, timing the galley's passage-and drove it upward again. The knife sank solidly into the thick plank. It-and he-were securely anchored.
That powerful knife-thrust, striking the wood, had been far from silent. But the noise was completely drowned under the cacophony of the grenade blasts-the more so since many of those blasts, now, were nearby. The Malwa soldiers on the galleys racing across the river were tossing their own grenades.
It was an absurd exercise, thought Belisarius. He did not know much about the effects of underwater explosions. But, no matter how effective concussion was in water, he did not believe the Malwa had more than a small portion of the grenades necessary to saturate the entire, vast sweep of the Jamuna.
The real problem, he knew, would come later. He could not stay hidden beneath the galley for long. At daybreak, he was sure to be spotted. And he needed to make his escape onto shore long before daybreak, anyway. He would need the hours of darkness to make his way safely out of the city.
The fact that the Malwa grenades were no immediate danger to him, therefore, brought little consolation. If they maintained that barrage, he would be in danger the moment he left the galley and began swimming toward the far shore. Unless the galley actually docked at one of the wharves-which he doubted; none of the galleys on the opposite side were doing so-he would have to swim at least thirty yards to shore. The Malwa would be scanning the shore, by then. And, even if they did not spot him, they could kill him with one of the random grenades they were casting about.
He looked up at the sky. The cloud cover was advancing rapidly. He prayed for a downpour.
The galley continued its powerful sweeping progress across the Jamuna. It had reached the middle of the river.
Belisarius prayed for a downpour.
The galley began angling upstream, west by northwest. Now, it was a hundred yards from shore, and more than two hundred yards west of Great Lady Holi's barge on the opposite bank.
Belisarius prayed for a downpour.
Once the galley was fifty yards from the north bank, the officer in command shouted new orders. The galley began to travel almost parallel to the shore, heading west. The officer brought the galley within thirty yards of the shore, but no closer.
Soon, they were three hundred yards upstream from Great Lady Holi's barge. Four hundred yards.
