Destiny's shield

The brothers grimaced. Belisarius smiled.

'Tell them to look on the bright side. They'll have to dismantle the interior of the villa. Be all sorts of loose odds and ends lying around. Have to be picked up, of course, so nobody gets hurt falling all over them.'

Bouzes and Coutzes cheered up immediately. Belisarius continued.

'Don't make the fortifications look too solid, but make sure you have the grenade screens ready to be erected at a moment's notice. And make sure there's plenty of portals for a quick sally.'

The brothers nodded, then looked at each other. After a moment's unspoken discussion-using facial gestures that meant nothing to anyone else-Bouzes reined his horse around and trotted off.

'All right, then,' said Belisarius. 'Coutzes, I want you to take the Syrian cavalry-and all of the Arab skirmishers except the few we need for scouts-and get them ready for a sally first thing tomorrow morning. It'll be a Hunnish sort of sally, you understand?'

Coutzes nodded. A moment later, he too was trotting away. Only Agathius was left, of the command group, along with his chief tribune Cyril.

Belisarius studied them for a moment.

'I want you and your Constantinople unit to get well rested, tonight. Set a regular camp, not far from the villa. Make sure it's on the eastern grounds of the park, where the terrain is open. I want you between the Malwa and the villa itself. You understand?'

Agathius nodded. Belisarius continued:

'Build campfires-big ones. Allow the men a double ration of wine, and let them enjoy themselves loudly. Encourage them to sing, if they've a taste for it. Just don't let them get drunk.'

Cyril frowned. 'You're not worried the enemy will see-'

'I'm hoping the enemy will scout you out.'

Agathius chuckled. 'So they won't go snooping through the woods on the north, where they might stumble on the Thracians and Illyrians. Or sniff around the villa itself, where they could see how the Syrians are fortifying it.'

The burly officer stroked his beard.

'It'll probably work,' he mused. 'If their skirmishers are as bad as Abbu says, they'll be satisfied with spotting us. Easy, that'll be. They can get back to their army without spending all night creeping through a forest that might have God knows what lurking in it.'

Belisarius nodded. Agathius eyed him. His gaze was shrewd-and a bit cold.

'You're going to hammer the shit out of us, aren't you?'

Again, Belisarius nodded.

'Yes, Agathius. Your men are probably going to have the worst of it. In the beginning, at least. I'm hoping the Syrian cavalrymen can draw them into a running battle, lead them back here. If they do-'

'You want us to sally. A big, straight-up, heavy cavalry lance charge. Kind of thing minstrels like to sing about.'

'Yes. But you've got to be disciplined about it. That charge has to be solid, but I want you to disengage before you get cut to pieces. Can you do that? I want an honest answer. In my experience, cataphracts tend to think they're invincible. They get so caught up in the-'

Agathius barked a harsh laugh. 'For the sake of Christ, general! Do we look like a bunch of aristocrats to you?'

'Right good at disengaging, we are,' added Cyril, chuckling. 'If you'll forgive me saying so, sir.'

Belisarius grinned. 'If it'll make you feel any better, I'll be joining you in the charge. I'm rather good at disengaging myself. If you'll forgive me saying so.'

The two Greeks laughed-and gaily now. But when their humor died away, there was still a residue of coldness lurking in the back of their eyes.

Belisarius understood immediately. 'You've had no experience under my command,' he said softly. 'I ask you to trust me in this matter. Don't worry about the booty. Tell your men they'll get their fair share-after the battle's won.'

Cyril glanced toward the villa. The Syrian infantrymen were already pouring into the lavish structure. Even at the distance-a hundred yards-the glee in their voices was evident.

Agathius' eyes remained on the general. The suspicion in those eyes was open, now.

Belisarius smiled crookedly. 'Those Syrians do have experience under my command. They know the penalty for private looting. Don't forget, Agathius, my bucellarii won't be anywhere near that villa, either. You didn't see Maurice complain, did you? That's because he's not worried about it. Anybody holds out on my Thracians, there'll be hell to pay.'

Agathius couldn't help wincing.

All whimsy left Belisarius' face. When he spoke, his tone was low and earnest.

'In my army, we all share in the spoils. Fairly apportioned after the battle. Except for what we set aside to care for the disabled and the families of the men who died, each soldier will get his share. Regardless of where he was or what he was doing.'

Agathius and Cyril stared at him. Then Agathius nodded his head. It was not a gesture of assent. It was more in the nature of a bow of fealty. A moment later, Cyril copied him.

When their heads lifted, the familiar crooked smile was back on the general's face.

'And now, if you don't mind, I'd like to discuss the tactics of this-what'd you call it, Agathius- minstrel charge?' He chuckled. 'I like the sound of that! Especially if the minstrel can sing a cheerful tune-every hero survived, after all.'

Agathius grinned. 'I've always preferred cheerful tunes, myself.'

'Me too,' added Cyril. 'Loathe dirges. Detest the damn things.'

An hour after sunset, the Persian cavalry showed up at the hunting park. Belisarius met them a mile away from the villa, and explained his plans for the coming battle.

To his relief, Kurush immediately agreed. The young nobleman did cast a sour glance in the direction of the villa, but he made no inquiry as to its condition.

Belisarius himself, with the aid of several Thracian cataphracts sent by Maurice, guided the Persians to the spot in the northeast woods where his bucellarii and the Illyrians had made their camp.

Their progress was slow. The woods were dense-no local woodcutter would dare hew down an imperial tree-and the only illumination came from the last glimmer of twilight. Belisarius took advantage of the time to explain his plans in great detail. He was particularly concerned with impressing upon Kurush the need to let his katyushas open the attack. The rocket chariots had never been used in a battle before. Belisarius wanted to find out how effective they would be.

In the course of their conversation, Kurush filled in some further information on the enemy. The Persians had spent the day scouting the left flank of the approaching Malwa army. Like his own scouts, they had found the enemy's skirmish line to be ragged and ineffective. But-unlike his small group of lightly-armed Arabs-the heavy Persian cavalrymen had been willing to hammer the advance guards and press very close to the Malwa main army before disengaging.

They had seen more of that army, thus, and Kurush was able to add further speficics to the information Belisarius had already obtained.

The Malwa army was large-very large, for what was in essence a cavalry raid. Kurush estimated the main body of regular troops numbered twelve thousand. They were not as heavily armed as Persian lancers or Roman cataphracts, but they were not light cavalry either. There was a force of light cavalry serving the Malwa-about five hundred Arabs wearing the colors of the Lakhmid dynasty.

Interspersed among the regular troops were battalions of Ye-tai horsemen. Their exact numbers had been difficult to determine, but Kurush thought there were two thousand of the barbarians. Possibly more.

In addition, riding at the center of the Malwa army, the Persians had seen hundreds of Malwa kshatriya and several dozen Mahaveda priests. The priests, unlike the kshatriya, were not on horseback. They were riding in large wagons drawn by mules. The contents of those wagons were hidden under canvas, but Kurush assumed that the wagons contained their gunpowder weapons and devices.

None of this information caused the Roman general any particular distress. The force structure was about