John frowned, thought for a moment.
“Nothing much, Belisarius. Some equipment, and a few more tools, but nothing fancy. Substances, of course. Elements. Chemicals. Some of those will be a bit expensive.”
Sittas’ eyes became slits.
“How expensive? And what kind of—elements?”
Very narrow slits.
“Are we talking gold here? Seems to me every time you alchemist types start anything you right off begin yapping about—”
John laughed. “Relax, Sittas! I have no use for gold, I assure you. Or silver. One of the reasons they’re precious metals is because they’re inert.”
A questioning glance. Sittas’ eyes practically disappeared in response.
“I know what inert means! You—”
“Enough,” said Belisarius. The room became instantly silent. Almost.
“My, he does that well,” remarked Irene softly. To Sittas, in the sort of whisper which can be heard by everyone: “Maybe you should try that, dear. Instead of that bellowing roar you so favor.”
“Enough.” Now, even Irene was silent.
Belisarius rose. “That’s it, then. Whatever you need, John, while I’m gone, you can either get from Antonina or”—here a sharp stare—”Sittas.”
Sittas grimaced, but did not protest his poverty. Belisarius continued:
“As for the rest of us, I think our course is clear. As clear, at least, as circumstances permit. When I return from India, hopefully, I’ll bring with me enough information to guide us further. Until then, we’ll just have to do our best.”
He looked at his wife. “And now—I would like to spend the rest of the day, and the evening, with my wife and my son.”
Once Photius drowsed off, early in the evening, Belisarius and Antonina were alone. They had never been separated for long, since the day they first met. Now, they would be separated for at least a year.
Future loss gave force to present passion. Belisarius got very little sleep that night.
Antonina did not sleep at all. Once her husband finally succumbed to slumber, from sheer exhaustion, she stayed awake through the few hours left in that night. That precious night. That—last night, she feared.
By the time the sun arose, Antonina was awash in grief. Bleak certainty. She would never see him again.
Her son rescued her from that bottomless pit. At daybreak, Photius wandered into the room, rubbing sleep from his eyes.
“Will Daddy be coming back?” he asked, timidly. His little face was scrunched with worry.
The boy had never called Belisarius by that name before. The sound of it drove all despair from her soul.
“Of course he will, Photius. He’s my husband. And he’s your father.”
* * *
At midmorning, Belisarius and his companions rode out of the villa. At the boundary of the estate, they took the road which led to Antioch and, beyond, to Seleuceia on the coast. At Seleuceia they would board ship for the voyage to Egypt and, beyond, to Adulis on the Red Sea. And beyond, to Axum in the Ethiopian highlands. And beyond, to India.
Belisarius rode at the head of the little party. Eon rode on his left, Garmat on his right. Behind them rode the two sarwen. Behind the sarwen, the three cataphracts.
Ousanas traveled on foot. The dawazz, it developed, had a pronounced distaste for all manner of animal transport. Belisarius thought his attitude was peculiar, but—the man himself was peculiar, when you came right down to it. The cataphracts thought he was probably mad. The sarwen, from long experience, were certain of it.
Early on in the journey, young Menander made so bold as to ask the dawazz himself.
“Who is mad, boy? I? Not think so. Madmen place lives on top great beasts with good reason wish men dead. I be horse or donkey or camel, boy, you be squashed melon right quick. I be elephant, you be squashed seeds.”
When Menander reported the conversation to his veteran seniors—not, be it said, without a certain concern, and a questioning glance at his own horse—Anastasius and Valentinian shrugged the matter off. They were far too deep into their own misery to fret over such outlandish notions.
“Perfect duty, it was,” whined Valentinian.
“Ideal,” rumbled Anastasius, with heartful agreement. “Best garrison post I ever saw.”
“A villa, no less.”