The Kushan commander huffed. Coming from someone else, the noise would have been interpreted as humor. Coming from Kungas, it was hard to tell.
“He is the commander of your bodyguard!” protested Dadaji.
Shakuntala waved her hand. “He is not needed in that capacity, anymore. Kanishka is more than capable of taking his place. Actually, his talents are being wasted there.”
Everyone in the room was staring at Kungas. The expression on the faces of most of the Indians was a mixture of skepticism and hesitation.
Shahji cleared his throat.
“If you will forgive me, Your Majesty, it seems to me that sending Kungas might be a bad idea. He is not of noble blood—neither brahmin nor kshatriya—and I fear the Roman general Belisarius might be offended if your ambassador were of such a low—”
The rest of the sentence was lost, buried beneath an eruption of laughter. Coming from the Ethiopians, mainly, but the Empress herself was participating and even Kungas emitted a chuckle or two.
Dadaji simply smiled. Then said, shaking his head, “You do not understand, Shahji. Romans in general—and Belisarius in particular—do not look at these things the way we Indians do. They are punctilious about the forms of nobility, but, as to its real content—” He shrugged. “So long as Kungas is the official envoy of the Empress, and carries with him a sufficiently resounding title, the Romans will be quite satisfied. Certainly Belisarius will.”
“Excellent point, Dadaji,” stated Shakuntala. She bestowed an imperial nod upon Kungas.
“I hereby appoint you my ambassador to Rome, and give you the titles of Mahadandanayaka and Bhatasvapati.”
Kungas’ incipient smile surfaced. Barely.
” ‘Great commandant’ and ‘lord of army and cavalry,’ ” he murmured. “My, how I’ve risen in the world!”
Catching a glimpse of Garmat’s face, Shakuntala turned toward him. The Ethiopian adviser’s gaiety had quite vanished, replaced by a frown.
“You disagree,” she stated. There was no accusation in the words, simply a question.
The old half-Arab stroked his beard.
“Yes, Empress, I do.” He made a dismissive gesture with his hand. “Not, of course, for the reasons advanced earlier. Kungas would be quite acceptable as an ambassador, from the Roman point of view. More than acceptable, as far as Belisarius is concerned. The general trusts and admires the man, deeply. I know—he told me so himself.”
The Indian officers in the cabin moved their eyes to Kungas. As ever, the Kushan commander’s face was impassive, like a mask. But they were reminded, again, that the unprepossessing Kushan—whom they tended, unconsciously, to regard as a lowborn half-barbarian—enjoyed a reputation among the greatest folk of their world which was far beyond their own.
“What is the problem, then?” asked Shakuntala.
Garmat pursed his lips. “The problem, Empress, is three-fold.”
He held up a thumb.
“First. You will be sending off your—one of your—most capable military commanders on the very eve of a decisive battle. Suppara can be taken, I believe, despite its guns. But doing so, as we’ve discussed before, will depend on the Kushans seizing the cannons by a surprise assault. Until they do so, you cannot think to land in Suppara itself with your Maratha cavalry. The ships would be destroyed before they reached the docks.”
He pointed at Kungas. “If I were you, that is the man I would want leading that attack. No other.”
Shakuntala was shaking her head. Garmat held up a hand, forestalling her words. “No, Empress. You cannot wait until after the battle to send Kungas away. There is no time to lose, if you want to get Roman help. I myself must leave this expedition tomorrow, to report back to the negusa nagast. Your ambassador—whoever it is—should accompany me on that ship.”
Shakuntala bowed her head, thinking. As always, the young Empress was quick to decide.
“I agree. We are pressed for time.”
She raised her eyes. “The other reasons?”
Garmat held up a finger alongside his thumb.
“Second. I think Kungas’ mission would be futile. How will he find Belisarius? In that chaos in Persia?”
The Ethiopian chuckled dryly. “It would be hard enough to find anyone, much less Belisarius. The general told me once that he considered the chaos of war to be his best friend. There is always an advantage to be found, he told me, if you seize it in a willing embrace. Do you understand what that means?”