Belisarius gestured ahead, to the enormous procession which was snaking its way along the right bank of the Narmada.
The small Roman/Axumite contingent was located far back from the head of the caravan. The general and Garmat were riding next to each other, on horseback. Just behind them came Valentinian and Anastasius, and the slave scribe, also on horseback. The rest of their party were borne by the two elephants given them by the Malwa. Ezana and Wahsi served as mahouts for the great beasts. Eon and the Maratha women rode in the howdah atop one elephant. The Kushan women and Menander rode in the other. The young cataphract had protested the arrangement, insisting that he was quite capable of riding a horse. But Belisarius had insisted, and truth be told, the lad’s protest had been more a matter of form than content. Menander might not yet be well enough to ride a horse, but, in certain other respects, his health had improved dramatically. Judging, at least, from the cheerful and complacent look on his face, on those rare occasions when the curtains of his howdah were opened.
Ousanas, as always, insisted on traveling by foot. Nor was he hard-pressed by the chore. The caravan’s pace could barely be described as an ambling walk.
Belisarius smiled. “I accused Venandakatra, you may recall, of putting together this grandiose exhibition for purely egotistical motives.”
“So? He is an egotist. A flaming megalomaniac.”
Belisarius smiled. “True, true. But he’s also an intelligent megalomaniac. There’s a purpose to this spectacle, beyond gratifying his vanity. Are you aware that this is not the normal route from Bharakuccha to the Gangetic plain?”
“It isn’t?”
Belisarius shook his head. “No. We are traveling south of the Vindhyas.” He pointed to the mountain range on their left. The mountains were not high—not more than a few thousand feet—but they were heavily forested and looked to be quite rugged.
“At some point we shall have to cross those mountains, which, by all accounts, is not an easy task. Especially for a caravan like this one.”
“This isn’t a caravan,” grumbled Garmat. “It’s a small army!”
“Precisely. And that’s the point of the whole exercise. The normal route, according to my cataphracts—who got the information from their Kushan ladies—would take us north of the Vindhyas. Semidesert terrain, but well traveled and easily managed. But that route, you see, goes through Malwa territory.”
“So does this one.”
“Today, yes. But this is newly conquered land, Garmat. Until a year ago”—he gestured toward the surrounding countryside—”all this was part of the Andhra Empire.”
Comprehension dawned. “Ah,” muttered Garmat. “So this procession is designed to grind down the new subjects even further. Remind them of their status.” He examined the scenery. The great forest which seemed to carpet the interior of India had been cleared away, at one time. But the fields were untended, as were the thatched mud-walled huts of the peasantry scattered here and there. The area seemed almost uninhabited, despite the fact that it was obviously fertile land. A warrior himself, in his younger days, Garmat had no difficulty recognizing war-ravaged terrain.
The Ethiopian adviser then examined the spectacle ahead of them on the trail. The “caravan” was enormous. He could not even see the very front of it, but he could picture the scene.
The caravan was led by an elephant followed immediately by surveyors. The surveyors were measuring the route by means of long cords which one would carry forward, then the other leapfrog him, calling the count at each cord. A third surveyor recorded the count.
Garmat and Belisarius had spent the first day of the journey puzzling out the purpose of this exercise. The conclusion they came to fell in line with everything they had seen in Bharakuccha. A picture of the rising Malwa power was taking shape in their mind. A huge, sprawling empire, encompassing a vast multitude of different peoples and customs. Which, it was becoming clear, the Malwa were determined to hammer into a centralized, unified state.
The phenomenon, they realized, was new to India. True, great empires had existed here before: the Gupta Empire, the immediate predecessor of the Malwa; and the even larger Mauryan empire of ancient history, which had encompassed most of India. But those empires, for all their size and splendor, had rested lightly on the teeming populace below. The Guptan and Mauryan emperors had made no attempt to interfere with the daily lives of their subjects, or the power and privileges of provincial satraps and local potentates. They had been satisfied with tribute, respect, submission. Beyond that, they had occupied themselves with their feasts, their harems, their elaborate hunts, and their great architectural projects. Even the greatest of those ancient rulers, the legendary Ashoka, had never tried to meddle with Indian customs and traditions beyond his patronage and support for the new Buddhist faith.