In the Heart of Darkness

touched on their life, at least. I didn't intervene in the purely military squabbles. There weren't many of those, anyway. The Syrian boys are happy enough to learn the real tricks of the trade, and they never argue with Maurice. They just don't want any part of the foolishness.'

Theodora watched a squad of grenadiers demonstrating another maneuver. Six men charged forward, followed by an equal number of women auxiliaries. The grenadiers quickly took cover behind a barricade and began slinging a barrage of grenades toward the distant shed which served as their target.

Soon enough, the shed was in splinters. But Theodora paid little attention to its destruction. She was much more interested in watching the grenadiers, especially the efficient way in which the female auxiliaries made ready the grenades and-always-cut and lit the fuses.

Watching the direction of her gaze, Antonina chuckled.

'That was my idea,' she murmured. 'The generals had a fit, of course. But I drove them down.' She snorted. 'Stupid men. They couldn't get it through their heads that the only people these peasants would entrust their lives to were their own women. No one else can cut the fuses that short, without ever blowing up their husbands.'

A new volley of grenades sailed toward the remnants of the shed, trailing sparks from the fuses.

'Watch,' said Antonina. 'Watch how perfectly the fuses are timed.'

The explosions came almost simultaneous with the arrival of the grenades. The last standing boards were shredded.

'It's an art,' she said. 'If the fuse is cut too short, the grenade blows up while still in the air. Too short, before the grenadier can even launch it. But if it's cut too long, the enemy will have time to toss it back.'

She exhaled satisfaction. 'The grenadiers' women are the masters of the art.' Chuckle. 'Even Sittas finally quit grumbling, and admitted as much, after he tried it himself.'

'What happened?'

Antonina smiled. 'At first, every grenade he sent got tossed back on his head. Fortunately, he was using practice grenades, which only make a loud pop when they burst. But he was still hopping about like a toad, trying to dodge. Finally, he got frustrated and cut the fuse too short.' Grin. 'Way too short.'

'Was he hurt?'

Big grin. 'Not much. But he had to drink with his left hand for a few days. Couldn't hold a wine cup in his right, for all the bandages.'

The exercises culminated in a grand maneuver, simulating a full scale battle. The entire regiment of Syrian peasants and their wives formed up at the center, in well spaced formation. Units of Hermogenes' infantry braced the gaps, acting as a shield for the grenadiers against close assault. Maurice and his cataphracts, in full armor atop their horses, guarded the flanks against cavalry.

Sittas gave the order. The grenadiers hurled a volley. Their sling-cast grenades tore up the soil of the empty terrain a hundred and fifty yards away. The infantry marched forward ten yards, shields and swords bristling. The grenadier squads matched the advance, their wives prepared the next volley, slung. Again the soil was churned into chaos. Again, the infantry strode forward. Again, the grenades.

On the flanks, the cataphracts spread out like the jaws of a shark.

Sittas turned in his saddle, beamed at the Empress.

'Looks marvelous,' murmured the Empress to Antonina. 'How will it do in an actual battle, though?'

Antonina shrugged.

'It'll be a mess, I imagine. Nothing like this tidy business. But I'm not worried about it, Theodora. The enemy won't be in any better shape.'

Theodora eyed her skeptically.

'Relax, Empress. My husband's a general, remember. I know all about the First Law of Battle. And the corollary.'

Theodora nodded. 'That's good.' Cold smile: 'Especially since you're now the new commander of this regiment. What are you going to call it, by the way?'

Antonina gaped.

'Come, come, woman. It's an elite unit. It's got to have a name.'

Antonina gasped like a fish out of water. 'What do you mean-commander? — I'm not a soldier! — I'm-' Wail: 'I'm a woman, for the sake of Christ! Who ever heard of a woman-'

The Empress pointed her finger to the grenadiers, like a scepter.

'They have,' she said. Theodora leaned back in the throne, very satisfied. 'Besides, Antonina, I wouldn't trust this new regiment in anyone else's hands. These new gunpowder weapons are too powerful. You'll be my last hope, my secret force, when all else fails. I won't place my life in the hands of a man. Never again.'

The Empress rose.

'I'll inform Sittas. He'll bleat, of course, like a lost lamb.'

Coldly, grimly: 'Let him. I'll shear him to the hide.'

Oddly, Sittas did not bleat. Not at all.

'I thought she'd do that,' he confided to Antonina. He was standing next to her, watching the reaction of the crowd to the announcement which the Empress had just made. 'Smart woman,' he said approvingly.

Antonina peered at him suspiciously.

'This is not like you,' she muttered. 'You're the most reactionary-'

'Nonsense!' he replied cheerfully. 'I'm not reactionary at all. I'm just lazy. The reason I hate new ideas is because they usually require me to do something. Whereas this-'

He beamed upon the peasant grenadiers. Uncertainly, some of them smiled back. Most of them, however, were staring at their new commander. At the few, full-figured inches of her. The men were wide-eyed. Their wives were practically goggling.

'Have fun, girl,' he murmured. 'I'd much rather lounge back in the ease of my normal assignment. I could lead cataphract charges in my sleep.'

He turned away, and leaned toward Theodora.

'I think we should call them the Theodoran Cohort,' he announced.

'Splendid idea,' agreed the Empress. 'Splendid.'

That night, clustered uneasily in the great hall of the villa, the village elders made clear that they did not think the situation was splendid.

Not at all. None of it.

It was not the name they objected to. The name, so far as they were concerned, was irrelevant.

What they objected to was everything else.

'Who will till the land when they are gone?' whined one of the elders. 'The villagers will starve.'

'They will not,' stated Theodora. She loomed over the small crowd of elders. At great effort, her throne had been moved into the villa.

'They will not starve at all. Quite the contrary. Every grenadier in the Theodoran Cohort will receive an annual stipend of twenty nomismata. I will also provide an additional ten nomismata a year for equipment and uniforms. Their wives-the auxiliaries-will receive half that amount.'

Standing behind the elders, the representatives of the young grenadiers and their wives murmured excitedly. An annual income of twenty nomismata-the Greek term for the solidus-was twice the income of a Syrian peasant household. A prosperous household. The extra ten nomismata were more than enough to cover a soldier's gear. With the wives' stipends included, each peasant family enrolling in the Cohort had just, in effect, tripled their average income.

The elders stroked their beards, calculating.

'What of the children?' asked one.

Antonina spoke.

'The children will accompany the Cohort itself. The Empress has also agreed to provide for the hire of whatever servants are necessary.'

That announcement brought another gratified hum from the grenadiers. And especially