“Is that a lion?” she asked lightly.
Sittas glared at the tapestry.
“It’s a dragon,” he growled.
“I didn’t realize dragons were furry,” commented Antonina idly. She and Irene exchanged a quick, amused glance. Sittas began to snarl something, but Belisarius cut him off.
“Let’s get back to the point,” he said firmly. “I think Irene’s suggestion is a good one. We might be able to get Sittas assigned to replace me in command of the army in Syria. That would put him close to the estate where Antonina’s doing her work. With Sittas nearby, she’d still have access to expert military expertise when she needed it.”
Irene drove over Antonina’s gathering protest.
“You are not thinking, woman! You’re worrying over Belisarius’ safety and fretting over his prolonged absence.” The spymaster was suddenly as cold as ice. “You are being a fool, Antonina. The worst danger to Belisarius isn’t in India. It’s right here in Constantinople. Better he should be gone for a year or so in India, than gone forever in a grave.”
Startled, Antonina stared at her husband. Belisarius nodded.
“She’s right, love. That’s part of my thinking. Justinian.”
Antonina now looked at the spymaster. Irene grimaced.
“At the moment,” she said, “the greatest danger to Belisarius does come from Justinian. There’s nothing the Emperor dreads so much as a great general. Especially one as popular as Belisarius is today, after his victory over the Persians.”
“An expedition to India would be perfect, from that point of view,” chimed in Belisarius. “Get me out of Constantinople, away from the Emperor’s suspicions and fears.”
Irene brushed back her hair, thinking.
“Actually, if the whole thing’s presented properly, Justinian will probably jump at it. He’s not insane, you know. If he can avoid it, he’d much rather keep Belisarius alive. You never know when he might need a great general again, after all. But sending him to India, off and away for at least a year—oh, yes, I think he’d like that idea immensely. Get Belisarius completely out of the picture for a time, until the current hero worship dies down.”
Antonina’s face was pinched. “How soon?” she whispered.
“Not for at least six months,” said Belisarius. “Probably seven.”
Antonina looked relieved, but puzzled.
“Why so long?” she asked.
“The trade with India,” replied her husband, “depends on the monsoon seasons. The monsoon winds blow one way part of the year, the other way during the other part. You travel from India to the west from November through April. You go the other way—my way, that is—from July through October.”
He held up his hand, fingers outspread, and began counting off.
“We’re in the beginning of October. It’s too late to catch the eastward monsoon for this year. It’s almost over, and it would take at least a month or two to reach the Erythrean Sea. That means I can’t leave for India until the beginning of July, next year. Mind you, that refers to the part of the trip beginning at the south end of the Red Sea. Figure another month—no, two—to get from here through the Red Sea.”
He began to calculate; Irene cut him short.
“You won’t be leaving Constantinople for India until April, at the earliest. Probably May. Which, incidentally, is when Venandakatra has already announced he plans to return to his homeland.”
Antonina’s initial relief vanished.
“But—Irene, from what you’ve already said, now is the most dangerous time for Belisarius to be in Constantinople. Six months! Who knows what Justinian might do in six months?”
Irene brushed back her hair. “I know, I’ve been thinking about it while Belisarius was explaining the maritime facts of life. And I think I have a solution.”
She looked at Belisarius.
“Are you familiar with Axum?”
“The kingdom of the Ethiopians?” asked Belisarius. “No, not really. I’ve met a few Axumites, here and there. But—I’m a general, so there’s never been any occasion for me to encounter them professionally. Rome and Axum have gotten along just fine for centuries. Why?”
“I see a chance to kill two birds with one stone. As it happens, Venandakatra’s is not the only foreign mission in Constantinople at the moment. There’s also an Axumite embassy. They arrived two months ago. The embassy is officially headed by King Kaleb’s younger son, Eon Bisi Dakuen. He’s only nineteen years old. Barely more than a boy, although I’ve heard that he’s made a good impression. But I think the actual leader of the embassy is Eon’s chief adviser, a man named Garmat.”