An Oblique Approach by David Drake and Eric Flint

“How are they different?” asked Antonina.

Again, the appraising stare. Longer, this time. Belisarius knew that an important decision was being made.

“Let us simply say, Antonina, that among the Axumites there would be no whispering about powerful women with questionable pasts. As there is even here, among sophisticated Greeks.”

Antonina grew still. Garmat’s smile grew twisted. “Nor would there be any basis for such whispering, among the Ethiopians. Prostitution is unknown among them—except in the port of Adulis, where it is only practiced upon foreign seamen. Who are mocked, thereafter, for paying good money for what they could have had for nothing. Nothing, that is, except charm and wit and good conversation.”

Ousanas spoke, grimacing fiercely. “A promiscuous folk, the Axumites. Is well known! I was shocked, when first heard the news, in my far distant little village in south. My own folk very moral people, of course.” His face grew lugubrious. “Oh, yes! Was shocked at such news! Immediately went to see for myself, that I might lay to rest wicked rumors.” The huge grin returned. “Alas, rumors proved true. I would have fled immediately, of course, but by the time I learned—”

“The day you arrived,” grunted one of the soldiers.

“— was too late. Had already been tested for the dawazz. What could I do?”

Antonina and Belisarius laughed. Garmat spread his hands.

“You see? Even our priests, I’m afraid, are lax by your standards. But we are happy with our customs. Even the negusa nagast does not fret himself overmuch concerning the paternity of his sons. What does their blood matter, anyway? Only the approval of the sarawit matters, in the end.”

The soldiers grunted agreement.

The adviser gazed at Belisarius, a shrewd glint in his eyes.

“You must really come to see Axum for yourself,” he said.

“Not without me to keep an eye on him!” exclaimed Antonina, giggling. Then, remembering their purpose, she gasped slightly and fell silent.

Garmat immediately detected the false note. Before he could speak, Belisarius cleared his throat.

“As a matter of fact, Garmat, that is—”

He was interrupted by a great fanfare. The Emperor’s heralds were blaring out on their cornicens.

Belisarius started. Cornicens were the instruments used by Roman generals to transmit orders on the battlefield. He was not accustomed to their peaceful use.

Justinian and Theodora’s thrones were being elevated to their extreme height. Silence began to fall over the throng. It was clear that an important announcement was at hand.

“I’m afraid I must apologize to you,” Belisarius whispered hastily to Garmat. “I became so engrossed in our conversation that I forgot the time. This announcement, well—”

Garmat laid a hand on his arm.

“Let us hear the announcement, General. Then we can discuss whatever needs to be discussed.”

When the announcement was finished, Belisarius noted three things.

First, he noted a marked change in the manner of the crowd toward both himself and the Axumites. Where before they had been ignored, they were now, it was obvious, on the verge of being mobbed by sudden well-wishers.

Second, he noted the very sour expression on the face of Venandakatra, obvious even at a distance. And the hurried whispering among the Malwa entourage.

Third, he noted the trifold reaction of the Axumites. Garmat, even with the long experience of a royal adviser, was finding it impossible not to look pleased. Eon, with the short experience of a young and vigorous prince, found it even more impossible not to express displeasure. And the dawazz, as always, did his job, under the watchful eyes of the sarwen.

“We were not even informed!” snapped the Prince.

Immediately, Ousanas slapped him atop the head.

“Imbecile suckling! When lion invite you to share lunch, accept. Or would you rather be lunch yourself? Babbling babe!”

The sarwen grunted approval.

Chapter 13

AMAVARATI

Winter, 528 ad

Her youngest brother died well. Foolishly, but well.

Shakuntala did not hold the foolishness against the boy. He had been fourteen years old and was bound to die anyway. Better he should be cut down quickly by a Ye-tai beast than have his last moments be filled with humiliation as well as pain.

Her brother’s hopeless charge against the Ye-tai made possible his revenge, too. The Ye-tai—an experienced warrior—had no difficulty side-stepping the boy’s clumsy sword swing. The barbarian grinned savagely as his own sword hewed into her brother’s neck, almost severing it completely. A moment later, the grin disappeared. Shakuntala’s spear-point took the Ye-tai under the armpit and penetrated right into his heart.

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