“Bad idea, Belisarius. You never want to assassinate known spies and spymasters. They’ll simply be replaced with others you don’t know. Best to keep them under watch, and then—”
“And then what?”
She smiled and shrugged lightly, never casting so much as a glance in the direction of the Indians.
“Whatever,” she murmured. “The possibilities are endless.”
Antonina nudged Belisarius. “I think it’s time we made our acquaintance with the Axumites. I’ve been watching Theodora, and she’s starting to glare at us impatiently.”
“Onward,” spoke the general. Taking his wife by the arm, he led her across the room, weaving a path through the chattering throng. The Axumites were standing off to one side, at the edge of the crowd. Even to Belisarius, who was no connoisseur of such events, it was apparent that the Ethiopians were being studiously ignored.
The Axumites took note of them as Belisarius and Antonina approached. The older man he took to be the adviser Garmat showed no reaction. The eyes of the young prince, on the other hand, widened noticeably. It might almost he said that he stared, until the tall man behind him—the one Belisarius thought was a Nubian—nudged him. Thereupon the prince tore his eyes away and stared elsewhere, his back ramrod straight.
As he approached, Belisarius’ eyes met those of the Nubian. The tall black man immediately broke into a toothy grin, which just as immediately disappeared.
Belisarius was puzzled by the man. The identity of the adviser Garmat was obvious. And the other two members of the Axumite envoy were obviously soldiers. The prince’s personal retinue, men much like his own pentarchs Valentinian and Anastasius. Seasoned, experienced warriors in their late twenties or early thirties. Young enough to be as physically vigorous as any; old enough not to be rash and impetuous.
What then was the function and capacity of the Nubian? If Nubian he was—though, as Belisarius came up to the small group, he was almost certain he was right. The tall man’s face had none of the aquiline characteristics of the Axumites. His features were pure African.
He would know soon enough. He stopped a few feet from the group and bowed politely.
“I am Belisarius,” he announced. “I am—”
“Rome’s finest general!” said the older man. “Such a honor! I am Garmat, the adviser to Prince Eon Bisi Dakuen.” He motioned to the young man standing at his side.
Belisarius examined the young man. The prince, he thought, was most handsome in an exotic sort of way. The boy was not tall, but he was obviously well built. Beneath the heavy embroidered coat, Belisarius suspected, lay a very muscular frame.
The prince nodded, so slightly as to be almost impolite. Immediately, the tall man standing behind him nudged the prince again, none too gently, and uttered a few words in a language unknown to Belisarius. The two Axumite soldiers standing by his side grunted something, which Belisarius sensed were words of approval.
Something odd was happening. The language was unknown to the general, but—for a moment, strangely, Belisarius thought he almost understood the words. Odd.
Under the darkness of the skin, Belisarius thought he saw the prince flush with embarrassment. The young man stood even straighter and nodded again. This time, very deeply and respectfully. The tall man behind him flashed Belisarius his quick toothy grin and said, in heavily accented Greek:
“I said to him: ‘Show respect, fool boy! He is great general, tested in battle, and you but suckling babe.’ ” Again, the wide grin. “Of course, I spoke our language, so not to embarrass fool boy prince. And did not slap his head, for same reason. But now I find must translate, so as not to offend noble visitors.”
“And who are you, if I might ask?”
The tall man grinned even more widely. “Me? I am nothing, great general. A miserable slave, no more. The lowest creature on earth, debased beyond measure.”
Garmat interrupted. “Please! May we be introduced to your lovely wife?”
Belisarius apologized and made the introduction. Garmat was suave diplomacy itself, managing simultaneously to strew about fulsome praises of Antonina’s beauty and charm without, at the same time, doing so in a manner which suggested even the slightest lechery. The prince did not manage so well. He was very polite, but too obviously smitten by her beauty.