Destiny's shield

Only Valentinian and Anastasius were left, in the immediate vicinity.

'What now, general?' asked Anastasius.

Belisarius clucked his horse into motion, trotting back toward the villa. 'We'll make sure the Kushans are completely boxed in. After that-' He looked up, gauging the sun. 'That'll probably take the rest of the day. Till late afternoon, for sure. The Kushans may try to break out. We've probably still got some fighting ahead of us.'

'Not much,' rumbled Anastasius. 'The Kushans are no fools. They won't waste much effort trying to find an escape route. Not on foot, knowing we've got cavalry.' The giant sighed. 'Not Kushans. They'll be working like beavers, instead, doing what they can to turn the barns and corrals into a fortress. Ready to bleed us when we come in after them tomorrow.'

'I hope to avoid that problem,' said Belisarius.

'You think you can talk them into surrendering?' asked Valentinian skeptically. 'After they'll have spent half a day listening to the rest of their army being massacred?'

'That's my plan.' Oddly, the general's voice lost none of its confident good cheer.

Neither did Valentinian's its skepticism. 'Be like walking into a lion's den, trying to talk them out of their meat.'

'Not so hard, that,' replied Belisarius. 'Not, at least, if you can speak lion.'

He eyed Valentinian. Smiled crookedly. 'I speak Kushan fluently, you know.'

The smile grew very crooked. Anastasius scowled. Valentinian hissed.

'Now that I think about it, both of you speak Kushan too. Not as well as I do, perhaps. But-well enough. Well enough.'

He cocked his ear toward Valentinian.

'What? No muttering?'

The cataphract eyed Belisarius with a weasel's glare.

'Words fail me,' he muttered.

That evening, just as the sun was setting on the horizon, Belisarius approached the forted Kushans for a parley. He was unarmed, accompanied only by Valentinian and Anastasius.

Anastasius, also, was unarmed.

Valentinian-well, he swore the same. Swore it on all the saints and his mother's grave. Belisarius didn't believe him, not for a minute, but he didn't push the matter. Whatever weapons Valentinian carried would be well- hidden. And besides-

He'd rather try to talk lions into surrendering than talk a weasel out of its teeth. An entirely safer proposition.

In the end, talking the Kushan lions out of their determination to fight to the last man proved to be one of the easiest things the general had ever done. And the doing of it brought him great satisfaction.

Once again, a reputation proved worth its weight in gold.

Not a reputation for mercy, this time. Kushans had seen precious little of mercy, in their harsh lives, and would have disbelieved any such tales of a foreign general.

But, as it turned out, they were quite familiar with the name of Belisarius. It was a name of honor, their commander had been told, by one of the few men not of Kushan blood that he trusted.

'Rana Sanga told me himself,' the man stated. He drew himself up proudly. 'I visited Rajputana's greatest king in his palace, at his own invitation, before he left with Lord Damodara for the Hindu Kush.'

The man leaned over, pouring a small libation into Belisarius' drinking cup before doing the same in the one before him. The vessels were plain, utilitarian pieces of pottery, like the bottle from which the wine was poured. After Belisarius had taken his seat, sitting cross-legged like his Kushan counterpart on a thin layer of straw spread in a corner of the stable, the Kushan soldiers gathered around had produced the jug and two cups out of a field kit.

Belisarius took advantage of the momentary pause to study the Kushan commander more closely. The man's name, he had already learned, was Vasudeva.

In appearance, Vasudeva was much like any other Kushan soldier. Short, stocky, thick-chested. Sturdy legs and shoulders. His complexion had a yellowish Asiatic cast, as did his flat nose and narrow eyes. Like most Kushans, the man's hair was drawn up into a topknot. His beard was more in the way of a goatee than the thicker cut favored by Romans or Persians.

And, like most Kushans, his face seemed carved from stone. His expression, almost impossible to read. The Kushan Belisarius knew best-the former Malwa vassal named Kungas, who was now commander of Empress Shakuntala's personal bodyguard-had had a face so hard it had been like a mask.

An iron mask-but a mask, nonetheless, disguising a very different soul.

Remembering Kungas, Belisarius felt his confidence growing.

'And how was Rana Sanga, when you saw him?' he asked politely.

The Kushan shrugged. 'Who is to know what that man feels? His wife, perhaps his children. No others.'

'Do you know why he asked you to visit him?'

Vasudeva gave Belisarius a long, lingering look. A cold look, at first. Then-

The look did not warm, so much as it grew merry. In a wintry sort of way.

'Yes. We had met before, during the war against Andhra. Worked well together. When he heard that I had been selected one of the Kushan commanders for the Mesopotamian campaign, he called me to visit before his own departure.' The Kushan barked a laugh. 'He wanted to warn me about a Roman general named Belisarius!'

Vasudeva's eyes lost their focus for a moment, as he remembered the conversation.

' 'Persians you know, of course,' Lord Sanga told me. 'But you have never encountered Romans. Certainly not such a Roman as Belisarius.' '

The Kushan commander's eyes refocussed, fixed on Belisarius.

'He told me you were as tricky and quick as a mongoose.' Another barking laugh. ' 'Expect only the unexpected, from that man,' he said. 'He adores feints and traps. If he makes an obvious threat, look for the blow to come from elsewhere. If he seems weak, be sure he is strong. Most of all-remember the fate of the arrogant cobra, faced with a mongoose.' '

He laughed again. All the Kushan soldiers standing around shared in that bitter laugh.

'I tried to tell Lord Kumara, when I realized we were facing Roman troops. I was almost sure you would be in command. Lord Kumara is-was-the commander of this expedition.'

'Lord Fishbait, now,' snarled one of the other Kushans. 'And good riddance.'

Vasudeva scowled. 'Of course, he refused to listen. Fell right into the trap.'

Belisarius took a sip from his cup. 'And what else did Rana Sanga say about me?'

Again, Vasudeva gave Belisarius that long, lingering look. Still cold. Gauging, assessing. 'He said that one thing only is predictable about the man Belisarius. He will be a man of honor. He, too, knows the meaning of vows.'

Belisarius waited. Vasudeva tugged the point of his goatee with his fingers. Looked away.

'It's difficult, difficult,' he murmured.

Belisarius waited.

Vasudeva sighed. 'We will not be broken up, sold as slaves to whichever bidder. We must be kept together.'

Belisarius nodded. 'Agreed.'

'Any labor will be acceptable, except the work of menials. Kushan soldiers are not domestic dogs.'

Belisarius nodded. 'Agreed.'

'No whippings. No beatings of any kind. Execution will be acceptable, in cases of disobedience. But it must be by the sword, or the ax. We are not criminals, to be hung or impaled.'

Belisarius nodded. 'Agreed.'

'Decent food. A bit of wine, now and again.'

Belisarius shook his head. 'That I cannot promise. I am on campaign, myself, and will be using you for a labor force. My own men may eat poorly, at times, and go without wine. I can only promise that you will eat no worse than they do. And enjoy some wine, if there is any to spare.'

From the little murmur which came from the surrounding soldiers, the general knew that his forthright answer had pleased them. He suspected, although he was not sure, that the last question had been Vasudeva's