Destiny's shield

point.

For a moment, as he had many times before, Kungas found himself bemused by that peculiarly Indian obsession with purity and pollution. Even his friend Dadaji could not entirely escape its clutches.

So blind, these Indians. When the truth is so obvious.

He turned away from the rail.

'Enough rain,' he announced. 'I'm going below. The action's going to start soon, anyway. I have to get ready, in case I'm needed.'

As he walked across the deck toward the hatch, Kungas' face was invisible to anyone. Now, finally, he allowed his grin to emerge.

Stay stubborn, Shakuntala. Dig in your heels, girl, refuse to discuss it. When the question of marriage is finally posed, you will know what to do. Then, you will know.

He shook his head, slightly.

So obvious!

An hour later, the fleet changed its course. The change was slow-erratic, confused, haphazard. Part of that fumbling was due to the simple fact that the troop commanders on every ship had a different estimate of the right moment to give the command. The only time-keeping devices available to them were hour-glasses and sundials. Sundials were useless in the pouring monsoon. Hourglasses, under these circumstances, just as much so. It would have been impossible to provide each commander with an identical hourglass, much less have them turned over simultaneously.

So, each commander simply gave the order when he thought the time was right.

Most of the confusion, however, was due to the fact that the crews and captains of the merchant ships were bitterly opposed to the change of course. They had been hired to transport the Empress and her people to Tamraparni. They were not, to put it mildly, pleased to hear that the destination had been changed- especially when they discovered the new one.

Suppara? Are you mad? The Malwa hold Suppara!

But the captains of the ships were not the commanders. The commanders were a very different breed altogether. Kushans and Maratha cavalrymen, in the main, who cheerfully accepted the berating abuse of the Keralan ship captains.

For about one minute. Then the steel was drawn.

Thereafter, Keralan captains and seamen scurried about their new-found task. Grumbling, to be sure. But they had no illusions that they could overpower the squads of soldiers placed on each ship. Not those soldiers.

One crew tried. Led by a particularly belligerent captain, the Keralan seamen dug out their own weapons and launched a mutiny. They outnumbered the soldiers two-to-one, after all. Perhaps they thought their numbers would make the difference.

They were sadly mistaken. Within two minutes, the four surviving seamen were huddled in the bow, nursing their wounds and casting fearful glances at the Kushan soldiers standing guard over them. Not one of those Kushans had even been scratched in the 'melee.'

Then, to add to their misery, they saw the prow of a ship looming out of the downpour. Within seconds, the ship had drawn alongside. The Keralan seamen recognized the craft. One of those swift, fearsome Ethiopian warships.

An Axumite officer leaned over the rail.

'Is problem?' he called out. 'We hear noise of-of-' He faltered, having reached the limit of his skill with Hindi.

The Kushan commander glared.

'Yes, there's a problem!' he grated, pointing an accusing finger at the four captives. The Keralan seamen hunched lower.

'There's only four of the bastards left. Not enough to run the ship.'

Another Ethiopian came to the rail. The Kushan commander immediately recognized him-Ezana, one of the Axumite soldiers' top leaders.

Ezana gave the situation a quick scrutiny. He was familiar with Kushans, and knew that they were not a sea-going folk. No hope they could run the ship themselves.

He turned his head and barked out a quick string of names. Within a minute, six Ethiopian soldiers were standing next to him. While they were mustering, Ezana took the opportunity to close with the merchant vessel. It was the work of but seconds for the Ethiopians to tie up alongside.

Lightly, Ezana sprang across onto the Keralan ship. He strode toward the bow where the Kushan commander was waiting, along with his men and the captives.

Once there, Ezana made a little gesture at the six Axumites who were making their own way across.

'These men will stay with you for the duration of the trip,' he explained, speaking in heavily accented but quite good Hindi. 'Along with the four surviving mutineers, that should be enough.'

He gave the ship a quick examination. Judging from his expression, he was not pleased with what he saw.

'Indian tub,' he sneered. 'Can run a good Axumite trader with six men. Five-even four-in an emergency.'

He transferred the sarcastic expression onto the four Keralan survivors. The seamen hunched lower still, dropping their heads. Doing everything in their power to fade out of sight.

No use. Ezana squatted down next to them.

'Look at me,' he commanded. Reluctantly, they raised their heads.

Ezana grinned.

'Don't look so unhappy, lads. Consider your good fortune! My men hate running crappy ships like this. I'd have my own mutiny if I pitched you overboard and appointed four replacements.'

Hearing this happy news, the expression on the faces of the Keralans brightened.

A bit, no more-and that little bit immediately vanished under Ezana's ensuing scowl.

'But they don't hate it as much as they hate mutineers,' he rumbled. 'I'd be on my best behavior from now on, if I were you.'

Four Keralan heads bobbed frantic agreement.

Ezana's scowl deepened. 'You're seamen. So I assume you're familiar with the Ethiopian treatment for mutineers?'

Four Keralan heads bobbed horrified agreement.

'Good,' he grunted.

He rose and turned to the Kushan commander.

'You won't have any more trouble,' he pronounced. As he made his way back to the rail, the Kushan accompanied him.

'What is the Ethiopian way with mutineers?' he asked.

Ezana climbed onto the rail. Just before making his leap, he bestowed a cheerful grin onto the Kushan commander.

'It involves fishing.'

He sprang across. Turned and called back.

'We're partial to shark meat!'

Two days later, Ezana came aboard the Empress' flagship. A council had been called for all the central leaders of the expedition. He, along with Wahsi and Garmat, were to be the Ethiopian representatives at the meeting.

Garmat was already aboard, waiting for him. As the two men fought their way across the deck in the face of a rain so heavy it seemed almost like a waterfall, Ezana grumbled. 'This has got to be the worst climate in the world.'

Garmat smiled. 'Oh, I don't know. At least it's not hot. The temperature's rather pleasant, actually. Whereas the Empty Quarter-'

Ezana shook his head firmly. 'No contest. At least you can breathe, in Arabia.'

He cast a fierce glower at the heavy sky. 'How much does it rain here, anyway?'