Destiny's shield

stranded at Babylon without supplies.'

Vasudeva sneered. Waved his hand in a curt, dismissive little gesture. 'Bah! What Kushan would be so stupid as to bet on that?'

He refilled the cups, again. Brought his own to his lips; but, before, drinking, added with a little smile: 'No, no, Belisarius. We are betting on what you will do afterward.'

Belisarius managed to drain his cup without choking. Vasudeva's smile became a grin.

'Oh, yes,' murmured the Kushan commander. 'That's the real question.'

He drained his own cup.

Vasudeva held up the amphora, in a questioning gesture. Belisarius shook his head, placing his hand over his cup.

'No, thank you. I've had enough. Tomorrow will be a busy day.'

As he stoppered the wine jug, Vasudeva grimaced. 'Please! We will be doing most of the busy-ness. And in that miserable sun!'

Belisarius rose, stooping in the low shelter provided by the simple tent. Vasudeva rose with him. Much shorter, he did not need to stoop.

The Kushan's little smile returned. 'Still-that's the way it is. Really good jokes always take a lot of work.'

Outside the tent, in the quiet air of the Kushan encampment, Valentinian and Anastasius were waiting with the horses. Quickly, Belisarius mounted.

Vasudeva had come out of his tent to see the Roman general off. From other tents nearby, Belisarius could see other Kushans watching. For a moment, he and the Kushan commander stared at each other.

'Why did you come tonight, Belisarius?' asked Vasudeva suddenly. 'You asked me nothing.'

The general smiled, very crookedly. 'There was no need, Vasudeva. I simply wanted to know if Kushans still had their sense of humor.'

Vasudeva did not match that smile with one of his own. In the moonlit darkness, his hard face grew harder still.

'It is all that is left to us, Roman. When men have little, they keep what they have in a tight fist.'

Belisarius nodded. He clucked his horse into motion. Valentinian and Anastasius followed on their own mounts, trailing a few yards behind.

'Yes, they do,' he murmured softly to himself. 'Yes, they do. Until finally, when they have nothing left, they realize-' His words trailed into a mutter.

'What did he say?' whispered Anastasius, leaning over his saddle.

Valentinian's face was sour. 'He said that damned stupid business about only the soul mattering, in the end.'

'Quite right,' said Anastasius approvingly. Then, spotting Valentinian's expression, the giant added:

'You know, if you ever get tired of being a soldier, I'm sure you could make a good living as a miracle worker. Turning wine into vinegar.'

Valentinian began muttering, now, but Anastasius ignored him blithely.

'I thought it was a good joke,' he said.

Mutter, mutter, mutter.

'A sense of humor's very important, Valentinian.'

Mutter, mutter, mutter.

'Wine into vinegar. Yes, yes. And then-! The possibilities are endless! Turn fresh milk sour. Make puppies grim. Kittens, indolent. Oh, yes! Valentinian of Thrace, they'll be calling you. The miracle worker! Everybody'll avoid you like the plague, of course. Probably be entire villages chasing you with stones, even. But you'll be famous! I'll be able to say: 'I knew him when he was just a simple nasty ill-tempered disgruntled soldier.' Oh, yes! I'll be able-'

Mutter, mutter, mutter.

Early the next morning, construction began on the second phase of Belisarius' plan. The Roman soldiers played more of a role, now, than they had earlier. Undermining the old canal, except for the work of laying the charges, had been simple and uncomplicated work. Brutal work, of course-hauling an enormous quantity of stones out of a canal bed. But simple.

This new project was not.

Belisarius oversaw the work from a tower which his troops erected on the left bank of the Euphrates, just below the place where the Nehar Malka branched off to the east. The tower was sturdy, but otherwise crude- nothing more than a twenty-foot-high wooden framework, which supported a small platform at the top. The platform was six feet square, surrounded by a low railing, and sheltered from the sun by a canopy. Access to it was by means of a ladder built directly onto the framework.

There was only room on that platform to fit three or four men comfortably. Belisarius and Baresmanas, who occupied the platform alone that first day, had ample room.

The Roman general drew the sahrdaran's attention to the work below.

'They're about to place the first pontoon.'

Baresmanas leaned over the rail. Below, he could see Roman soldiers guiding a small barge down the Euphrates. The barge was the standard type of rivercraft used in Mesopotamia and throughout the region-what Egyptians called a skaphe. It was fifty feet long by sixteen feet wide, with a prow so blunt it was almost shaped like the stern. The craft could be either rowed or sailed. The only thing unusual about this barge was that the mast had been braced and the sails were made of wicker-useless for catching the wind, but excellent for securing the baskets of stones which would eventually be laid against them.

A squad of soldiers were on the barge itself, shouting orders to the mass of soldiers who were doing the actual work of placing the barge. Many of those soldiers were on the riverbank, holding onto the barge by means of long ropes. Others were on the two barges which were serving as tugs-one directly behind, helping to hold the barge against the sluggish current; the other in mid-river, counteracting with its own ropes the pull of the soldiers on land.

Surprisingly quickly, the barge was brought into location about thirty yards from the riverbank. The barge was facing upstream, its bow heading into the current. The craft was riding very low in the water. From their vantage point, Belisarius and Baresmanas could see the stones in the hull which weighted down the craft to the point where it was almost already submerged.

The soldier in charge looked up at Belisarius. The general waved his hand, indicating that he was satisfied with the positioning. Immediately, two of the soldiers on the barge clambered down into the hull. Belisarius and Baresmanas could hear the hammering sounds as the soldiers knocked loose the scuttling pins.

A minute or so later the soldiers reappeared. The entire squad, except for their commander, clambered aboard a small boat tied alongside the barge. They attached the boat to a rope from the tub directly astern, and then released the rest of the ropes coming from that tug. The barge was now settling below the river's surface.

The squad commander quickly climbed up a ladder to the top of the barge's mast. There he remained, watching carefully as the barge sank into the river, ready to issue commands if the current moved it out of location. Not until the water was lapping at his feet did the squad commander climb into the small boat alongside. A moment later, the only thing visible was the upper three feet of the mast. The barge was securely grounded on the riverbed.

'That's the first one,' announced Belisarius. 'Well done, that was.'

Already, another barge was being jockeyed into position next to the first. Baresmanas, watching, was struck by the speed with which the Romans scuttled that craft next to the first, further into the river's main course. And the next. And the next.

The sahrdaran said nothing, but he was deeply impressed. Persians had often matched Roman armies on the battlefield-outmatched them, as often as not. But no people on the face of the earth had that uncanny Roman skill with field fortifications and combat engineering.

'Will you have enough barges?' he asked, toward the end of the day. By then, eleven pontoons had been sunk.

Belisarius shrugged.

'I think so. The supplies are coming from Callinicum steadily now. Since there's nothing to send back on those