but this was the first time that rumor had been confirmed by an authoritative voice. They glanced at Ousanas and Ezana, and saw by their stern and solemn faces that Antonina had spoken truly. The stir grew a bit, before it settled. The news, clearly enough, filled all the Marathas with satisfaction.
'Not yet,' said Antonina firmly, as if gainsaying her earlier skepticism about the possibility of mind reading. 'Axum needs time.' More forcefully: 'And so do
Although there was no expression on Shakuntala's face beyond respectful attentiveness, it was plain as day that Antonina's words encapsulated her own opinion. And Antonina, though she herself was not Belisarius, carried the penumbra of his reputation for strategic sagacity.
'Wait,' repeated Antonina. 'Train, prepare. Let the Axumites rest, and then begin training with them. Prepare.'
She sat up as straight as Shakuntala. 'The time will come, do not doubt it. But when it comes-when the truth has begun emerging from the mists-you will be ready for it.'
Whether or not Rao agreed with her was impossible to tell. The Panther of Majarashtra, when he so desired, could be as impenetrable as any man. But, clearly enough, he was ready to bring the thing to a close. He was facing Shakuntala now, not Antonina.
'This is your desire, Empress?'
'Yes.'
'So be it, then.' Rao bowed his head. There was nothing of the husband in that gesture, simply the servant. 'It shall be as you command.'
* * *
Later, as Rao and Shakuntala and Antonina relaxed in the empress' private chambers, Rao suddenly chuckled and said: 'That went quite well, I think. Even my hot-blooded Marathas are satisfied enough to settle for the rigors of training camp.'
Shakuntala gave her husband a skeptical lifted eyebrow.
'Preposterous!' he exclaimed. 'I was merely playing a part. Surely you don't think I-Raghunath Rao himself! — would have been so foolish as to advocate challenging Damodara on the morrow?'
'Tomorrow, no.' Shakuntala sniffed. 'The day after tomorrow. ' The eyebrow lifted and lifted.
'I am wounded to the heart,' groaned Rao, a hand clutching his chest. 'My own wife!'
The air of injured innocence went rather poorly with the sly smile. Not to mention Rao's own cocked eyebrow, aimed at Antonina.
'And you, woman of Rome? Are you still immersed in this role of yours? What did Ousanas call it-someone named Helen?'
Antonina's sniff matched Shakuntala's own in imperial dignity. 'Nonsense. I'm thinking, that's all.'
Before Rao could utter a word, she scowled at him and snapped: 'Don't say it! One Ousanas is bad enough.'
Chapter 36
Rajputana
The Ye-tai guarding Rana Sanga's family reacted to the attack as well as Malwa imperial troops could be expected to. No sooner had Kujulo and the Kushans charged out of ambush than the Ye-tai had their weapons cleared and were moving their horses out to intercept them. But, as Ajatasutra had foreseen, the anvaya-prapta sachivya commander of the escort had placed himself and all of his men at the front of the little caravan. So, since the Kushans were attacking from the front, within seconds the ornately carved and heavily decorated wagon which carried Rana Sanga's wife and children was left isolated.
'Now!' cried Ajatasutra. A moment later, pounding out from their own hiding place in a small grove of trees which was now to the caravan's right rear, the assassin and the two cataphracts raced their horses toward the wagon and the three carts following it.
Seeing them come, five of the six men guiding the supply carts-already on the verge of bolting after seeing the Kushans spring from ambush-sprang off the carts and began running toward a nearby ravine. The sixth man, a Rajput from his clothing, snatched up a bow and began frantically groping for one of the arrows in a quiver attached to the side of the cart.
He never got as far as notching an arrow to the bowstring. Before he could do so, Valentinian's first arrow took him in the chest. The arrow, driven at less than forty yards range from a powerful cataphract bow, punched right through the man's light armor and drove him off the cart entirely. He was dead before he hit the ground.
Anastasius' first arrow and Valentinian's second did the same for the two Rajput guards riding on Lady Sanga's wagon, except that Anastasius' man was not killed outright. Anastasius had neither Valentinian's accuracy with a bow nor his speed. His arrow took the man in the shoulder. On the other hand, Anastasius used such a powerful bow that the wound was terrible. For all practical purposes, the Rajput's shoulder was destroyed. The man slumped off the wagon, unconscious from shock.
By now, the battle between the seventeen Kushans and twelve Ye-tai was in full melee. Three of the Ye-tai- the commander not being one of them-spotted the three enemy bandits attacking the wagon and tried to come to the rescue. But the Kushans, taking advantage of their sudden distraction, killed two of them within seconds. Only the third Ye-tai was able to break free from the small battle and return to the wagon. He came on, galloping his horse and waving his sword and bellowing curses.
'I'll deal with it,' rumbled Anastasius. 'You see to the wagon.' The giant trotted his horse forward a few paces, drew the mount to a halt, and notched another arrow. When the Ye-tai was less than ten yards away, he drew and fired. At that range, not even Anastasius could miss. The arrow drove right through the Ye-tai's chest armor, his sternum, his heart, and severed the spine before it emerged. The bloody blade and eighteen inches of the shaft protruded from the man's back armor. When he fell off the horse, the arrow dug into the ground, holding the corpse up as if it were on display.
Ajatasutra and Valentinian, meanwhile, had left their horses and clambered into the small balcony at the rear of the great wagon which provided Lady Sanga and her children with a place where fresh air could be obtained, partially sheltered from the dust thrown up by their escort. The door leading to the interior was shut. Locked, too, as Ajatasutra immediately discovered when he tried the latch.
'Stand back!' he ordered. Valentinian drew off to the side, holding his spatha in one hand and a knife in the other. He had left his shield behind on the horse. Ajatasutra had not even bothered to bring his sword. He was armed only with a dagger.
The assassin stepped back the one pace the balcony allowed, lifted his knee to his chest, and kicked in the door. No sooner had the door flown open than a man charged out of the wagon's interior. His head was lowered, allowing no glimpse of his face beneath the turban. He was unarmored, wearing nothing but regular clothing, and carrying a short sword.
Valentinian's blade began the swing which would have decapitated the man, but Ajatasutra's sudden cry-
Valentinian bit off the curse with which he had been about to condemn Ajatasutra's recklessness. That was the face of an old man. A relative, perhaps. More likely, from the plainness of the clothing, an old and faithful retainer. Ajatasutra's quick action in sparing the man's life-maybe; those head blows had been ferocious-might save them trouble later.
