Destiny's shield

'— and practically foisted upon me.' The monk scowled. 'I have no idea what to do with them. As much as anything else, I offered to send them with Antonina to Egypt because they were demanding some holy task of me and I couldn't think of anything else to do with them.'

The general smiled. For all his incredible-even messianic-force of character, Michael of Macedonia was as ill- suited a man as Belisarius had ever met for the executive task of leading a coherent and disciplined religious movement.

'Someone must have brought them together,' he said. 'Organized them. It wasn't more than a month after you began your public sermons in the Forum of Constantine that bands of them began to appear in the streets spreading your message.'

The Macedonian snorted. 'Three of them, in fact. Their names are Mark of Athens, Zeno Symmachus, and Gaiseric. Zeno is an Egyptian, from the Fayum; Gaiseric, a Goth. Mark, of course, is Greek. Mark is orthodox, Zeno is a Monophysite, and Gaiseric is an Arian.'

'And they get along?' asked Belisarius lightly.

Michael began to smolder, then relaxed. 'Yes, Belisarius. They regard the issue of the Trinity as I do-a decoy of the Devil's, to distract men while Satan does his work.' He smiled. 'Not, mind you, that any room they jointly inhabit isn't occasionally filled with the sound of disputatious voices. But there is never any anger in it. They are each other's brothers, as they are mine.'

'And what position do you advance, in these occasional disputes?' queried Justinian.

'You know perfectly well my position,' snapped Michael.

The former emperor smiled. Justinian adored theological discussion. Other than Theodora's care, it had been the company of Michael and Patriarch Cassian which, more than anything, had enabled him to find his way through the darkness of the soul, in the months after his blinding.

'My opinion on the Trinity is orthodox, in the same way as Anthony's,' stated Michael. 'Though more plainly put.' He snorted. 'My friend Anthony Cassian is Greek, and is therefore not satisfied with simple truth until he can parse it with clever Greek syllogisms and make it dance to dialectical Greek tunes. But I am not Greek. I am Macedonian. True, we are a related people. But to the Greeks God gave his intellect, and to us he gave his common sense.'

Here, a wintry smile. 'This, of course, is why the great Philip of my ancestry lost his patience and decided to subdue the whole fractious lot of quarreling southron. And why his son, the Macedonian Alexander, conquered the world.'

'So the Greeks could inherit it,' quipped Justinian.

'Place them in charge of the order, then,' said Belisarius. 'And find women with similar talents. There must be some.'

Michael stroked his great beard. 'Yes,' he said, after a moment's thought. 'Two, in particular, come immediately to mind. Juliana Syagrius and Helen of Armenia.'

'Juliana Syagrius?' demanded Justinian. 'The widow of-?'

Michael nodded. 'The very same. Not all of my followers are common folk, Justinian. Any number of them are from the nobility-although usually from the equestrian order. Juliana is the only member of the senatorial classes who has responded to my teachings. She has even offered to place her entire fortune at my disposal.'

'Good Lord!' exclaimed Justinian. 'She's one of the richest people in the empire!'

Michael glared. 'I am well aware of that, thank you! And what am I supposed to do with it? I have lived on alms since I was a youth-a habit I have no intention of changing.'

The sour look on his face made plain the monk's attitude toward wealth. He began to mutter various phrases concerning camels and the eye of a needle. Unkind phrases. Very unkind phrases, in point of fact.

Belisarius interrupted the gathering storm.

'You will use that fortune to buy arms and armor, Michael. And the provisions needed to support your new order.'

'They will beg for their support, damn them!' snapped Michael. 'Just as I do!'

Belisarius shook his head. 'They will be too busy. Much too busy.' The general smiled-broadly, not crookedly. 'Yours will be a religious order of a new kind, Michael. A military order.'

A name flashed through the general's mind.

'We will call them the Knights Hospitaler,' he said, leaning forward in his chair.

Guided by Aide through the labyrinth of future history, Belisarius began to explain.

After Michael was gone, hurrying his way out of the Great Palace, Justinian sighed. 'It will not work, Belisarius. Oh, to be sure, at first-' The former emperor, veteran of intrigue and maneuver, shook his head sadly. 'Men are sinners. In time, your new monks will simply become another lot of ambitious schemers, grasping for anything in sight.'

Image. A magnificent palace. Through its corridors, adorned with expensive statuary and tapestries, moved men in secretive discourse. They wore tunics-still white, with a simple red cross. But the tunics were silk, now, and the hilts of the swords suspended from their scabbards were encrusted with gems.

'True,' replied Belisarius. His voice lost none of its good cheer. 'But they will not lapse until Malwa is done. After that-' Belisarius shrugged. 'I do not know much, Justinian, of the struggle in the far distant future in which we find ourselves ensnared. But I have always known we were on the right side, because our enemies-those who call themselves the 'new gods'-seek human perfection. There is no such thing, and never will be.' He rose from his chair.

'You know that as well as I. Do you really think that your new laws and your judgements will bring paradise on earth? An end to all injustice?'

Justinian grunted sarcastically.

'Why do it, then?' demanded Belisarius.

'Because it's worth doing,' growled Justinian.

The general nodded. 'God judges us by what we seek, not what we find.'

Belisarius began to leave. Justinian called him back.

'One other thing, Belisarius. Speaking of visions.' The former Emperor's face twisted into a half-smile. It was a skeptical sort of expression-almost sardonic.

'Have you had any further visions about your little protege in India? Is she making Malwa howl yet?'

Belisarius returned Justinian's smile with a shake of the head. 'Shakuntala? I don't know- I've certainly had no visions! Aide is not a magician, Justinian. He is no more clairvoyant than you or I.' The general smiled himself, now. There was nothing sardonic in that expression, though. And it was not in the least bit crooked. 'I imagine she's doing splendidly. She's probably already got a little army collected around her, by now.'

'Where is she?'

Belisarius shrugged. 'The plan was for her to seek exile in south India. Her grandfather's the King of Kerala. Whether she's there or not, however, I don't know. I've received no word. That's the very reason Irene is accompanying Antonina to Egypt. She'll try to re-establish contact with Shakuntala and Rao through the Ethiopians.'

'I can't say I'm happy about that, by the way,' grumbled Justinian. 'I didn't oppose the idea at the council, since you seemed so set upon it. But-Irene's a fiendishly capable spymaster. I'd be a lot happier if she were here at Theodora's side in the capital, keeping an eye on traitors.'

Skeptically:

'Do you really think this little rebellion you took so much time-and money-to foster is anything but wishful thinking?'

Belisarius studied the blind man for a moment, before replying. Justinian, for all his brilliance, was ill- equipped by temperament to gauge the power of a popular rebellion. The man thought like an emperor, still. Belisarius suspected that he always had, even when he was a peasant himself.

'I know the girl, Justinian. You don't. For all her youth, she has the potential to be a great ruler. And in Rao she has one of the finest generals in India.'