Once they were back in the salon, seated on their couches, Sittas croaked:
“Tell her, Belisarius.”
Belisarius stared at Irene.
“I haven’t even told Maurice, Sittas.”
“Of course not! There’s no reason to, at this point. But we need Irene. Now.”
Belisarius remained silent, still examining Irene. Sittas’ back curved, his great shoulders hunched, his snout thrust forward. The wild, red-eyed boar spoke:
“Tell her.”
Belisarius transferred his gaze to Sittas. The boar was in full fury now, tusks glistening.
“Tell her!”
Belisarius’ calm eyes never wavered. He was a Thracian, reared in the countryside. He’d speared his first boar when he was twelve.
The red glare faded from Sittas’ eyes, replaced, suddenly, by a shrug. And then, a wide grin.
“Funny, that usually works. Damned Thracians! But you may as well tell her, Belisarius. She’ll winkle it out of me, anyway, unless I fire her. Which is the last thing I’d do now.”
Belisarius looked at Antonina. His wife nodded.
“Tell her, husband. I trust her.”
Chapter 10
When Belisarius was finished, Irene looked at her employer. The normal pink coloring had returned to Sittas’ hide, but his face still looked almost drawn beneath the jowls.
“Believe, Irene,” he said. “He only gave you the gist of it, but—” Sittas drew in a deep breath. “I held the jewel and saw— Never mind. Just believe it.”
“May I see it?” she asked. Belisarius reached into his coat and withdrew the jewel. Irene rose and walked over, stooped, examined the thing. After a moment, she returned to her seat.
“It makes sense,” she said, nodding. “Actually, it clarifies much that was obscure.” Seeing the questioning looks around her, she elaborated:
“I’ve been encountering occasional tips, obscure hints, that pointed toward India as the source of the current—disturbances. Much of it, at least. But I discounted the rumors. India is far away, and except for trade, far removed from the normal concerns of Rome. I assumed the converse must also be true. What interest could India possibly have in the machinations of the Byzantine court?”
“What do you know about India?” asked Antonina.
Irene shrugged. “Which India? Don’t forget, Antonina, India is a huge place. It’s larger than Europe, in area alone, and much more densely populated. It’s the biggest mistake Westerners make, actually. We try to imagine India as a single country, rather than a continent.”
She rose again and poured herself some wine. Then filled Sittas’ cup to the brim. This time, his hand was shaking. Slightly. She offered some wine to Belisarius and Antonina, but they declined. Irene resumed her seat and continued.
“India hasn’t been unified under one throne for over half a millenium, not since the Mauryan Empire collapsed. The Gupta Empire which eventually replaced it was confined to north India. The south remained under the control of independent monarchs.”
She hesitated again, her eyes slightly unfocused. It was obvious she was recalling information.
“Or, at least, that was true until recently. The Gupta Empire broke in half, a few decades ago, and the western half was invaded by the White Huns. The Ephthalites, as we call them. Also known as—”
“Ye-tai,” interjected Belisarius.
Irene nodded. “The White Huns—or Ye-tai—were apparently beaten back, and then some sort of accommodation was reached between them and the western dynasty, the Malwa. The Malwa dynasty, from what I’ve been able to glean, has since been expanding rapidly. They’ve finished reconquering most of north India, although they’re apparently plagued with rebellions. And now, according to a few informants, they’ve begun their conquest of the south. They are at war now with the greatest, and most northerly, of the southern realms. A place called—”
She hesitated, frowned, tried to dredge up the memory.
“Andhra,” stated Belisarius. “Ruled by the Satavahana dynasty.”
Irene nodded. “That’s about all I know. To be honest, I never pursued the matter. India, as I said, seemed much too remote to be a real danger to Rome and, in any event, they were obviously preoccupied with their own problems.”
She waved a hand, dismissively. “And then, too, most of the tales you hear about India are at least half fantastical. Especially tales about the Malwa. Gods that walk the earth, magic weapons—” She stopped, stared at Belisarius.