Destiny's shield

officers. Only their ability. But tell me-what is your own class origin?'

Agathius stared at the general.

'My father was a baker,' he replied. His voice was very soft; but his tone, hard as a rock.

Belisarius nodded, understanding.

In the eastern Roman Empire, unlike the western, men had never been forced by law to remain in their father's trades. Still, the trades tended to be hereditary. All tradesmen were organized into guilds, and were considered freemen. Yet, while some of those trades carried genuine prestige-metalworkers, for instance-none of them were acceptable occupations for members of the nobility.

And certainly not bakers, who were considered among the lowest of men, outside of those in outright slavery or servitude.

So. Agathius, like many before him, had sought escape from his father's wretched status through the principal avenue in the Roman Empire which was, relatively speaking, democratic and open to talent: the army.

Yet-Belisarius was still puzzled. He had encountered men-any number of them-who were obsessed with their official class ranking. But Agathius had never seemed to care, one way or another.

The general thrust speculation aside. Whatever might be the man's motives or past state of mind, the question seemed to be of importance to him now.

'This matters to you?' he asked.

Agathius nodded. 'Yes, sir. It does. It didn't used to, but-' His lips tightened. 'It does now,' he finished, softly. Almost through clenched teeth.

Belisarius abandoned his relaxed stance. He sat up straight in his chair.

'You understand that any rank I give you must be confirmed by the Emperor? And by the Senate, in the case of a senatorial rank?'

Agathius nodded. Finally, his rigid countenance seemed to break, just a bit.

'I don't need to be in any senatorial class, sir. Just-something.'

Belisarius nodded.

'In that case, I see no problem.' His crooked smile appeared. 'Certainly not with the Emperor!'

Agathius managed a little smile himself, now.

Belisarius scratched his chin. 'Let's keep it military, then, if the Senate doesn't matter to you. It is well within my authority to give you the rank of comes. How is that-Count Agathius?'

Agathius bowed his head stiffly.

'Thank you, sir.' Then, after a moment's hesitation, he asked, 'How does that compare to a Persian dehgan?'

'Depends how you look at it. Formally speaking, a Roman count is actually a higher rank than a dehgan. Equivalent'-he wobbled his hand back and forth-'to one of the lower grades of their vurzurgan class, more or less.'

Belisarius shrugged.

'But that's the way we Romans look at it. Officially, the Persians will accept the equivalence. In practice-in private-?' Again, he shrugged.

'They view our habit of connecting rank in the nobility with official position rather dimly. Bloodlines are far more important, to their way of thinking.'

Suddenly, to the general's surprise, Agathius' stiffness disappeared. The burly officer actually grinned.

'Not a problem, that. Not with-'

He fell silent. The grin faded. Agathius squared his shoulders.

'I thank you again, sir. It means much to me. But I would like to impose on you again, if I might.'

'Yes?'

'Would you do me the honor of joining me tomorrow afternoon? On a social occasion?'

Belisarius' eyes widened, just a bit. To the best of his knowledge, Agathius' idea of a 'social occasion' was a cheerful drinking session at a tavern. But he did not think-

Agathius rushed on.

'Lord Baresmanas will escort you, sir. I've already spoken to him and he agreed. The occasion is taking place at the governor's palace in the city.'

By now, Belisarius was quite bewildered. What in the world did Baresmanas have to do with-?

Enough, he told himself firmly. This is important to the man, whatever it is.

'I will be there, Agathius.'

The Greek officer nodded again, thanked him again, and left.

Odd. Very odd.

Baresmanas arrived early in the afternoon of the next day. Kurush was with him, as were all of the top commanders of his household troops with the exception of Merena.

None of the men wore armor, and only two were even carrying swords. Seeing the finery of their raiment, Belisarius congratulated himself for having decided to wear his own best clothing. Like the Persians, he was unarmored, carrying no weapon beyond a dagger.

On the ride into the city, the general tried to pry information out of Baresmanas regarding the mysterious 'social occasion.' But the sahrdaran gave no response beyond an enigmatic little smile.

When they arrived at the governor's palace, Belisarius took a moment to admire the structure. The outer walls were massive, due to the ancient Mesopotamian tradition of using rubble and gypsum mortar for heavy construction. The intrinsic crudity of the material was concealed by an outer layer of stucco painted in a variety of vivid designs. Most of the motifs, ironically, were borrowed from Graeco-Roman civilization-dentils, acanthus, leaf scrolls, even the Greek key. Still, the effect was quite distinct, as Persians had their own approach to color, in which brilliant black, red and yellow hues predominated.

The edifice was forty yards wide and approximately twice that in length. A complex pattern of recesses and projected mouldings added to the intricacy of the palace's outer walls. The palace was three stories tall, judging from its height. But Belisarius was familiar enough with Persian architecture to realize that most of the palace's interior would be made up of very tall one-story rooms. Only in the rear portions of the palace, given over to the governor's private residence, would there actually be chambers on the upper stories.

The front of the palace was dominated by a great aivan-the combined entrance hall/audience chamber which was unique to Persian architecture. In the case of this palace, the aivan was located on the narrower southern wall. Almost half of the wall's forty yards were taken up by a huge arch, which led into the barrel-vaulted aivan itself. The aivan was open to the elements, a feature which, in the Mesopotamian climate, was not only practical but pleasant. It was forty feet high, measuring from the marbled floor to the top of the arch, and its walls were decorated both with Roman-style mosaics as well as the traditional Mesopotamian stucco bas- reliefs.

Belisarius had assumed that, whatever the nature of the social occasion, it would be held in the aivan itself. But, after dismounting and following Baresmanas within, he discovered that the aivan was almost empty. The only people present were Agathius and a small group of his subordinates-Cyril, as well as the other three tribunes of the Constantinople unit.

The five Greek officers were standing in the much smaller arch at the rear of the aivan. Past that arch, Belisarius could see a short hallway-also barrel-vaulted-which opened into a room beyond. That room, from what little he could see of it, seemed to be packed with people.

As they walked through the aivan, Belisarius leaned over to Baresmanas. 'I thought-'

Baresmanas shook his head. The enigmatic smile was still on his face, but it was no longer quite so little. 'Ridiculous!' he proclaimed. 'The aivan is for public gatherings. Given the nature of this event, the governor naturally saw fit to offer the use of his own quarters. His private audience chamber, that is to say.'

The sahrdaran gestured ahead. 'As you can see, it is just beyond.'

Agathius stepped forward to meet them. His expres-sion was very stiff and formal, but Belisarius thought he detected a sense of relief in the man's eyes.

'Thank you for coming, sir,' he said softly. He turned on his heel and led the way through the arched corridor.

The room beyond was a large chamber, approx-imately sixty feet in width and length. The walls rose up thirty