“Have a seat, Baresmanas. You looked exhausted.”
The Persian nobleman, half-collapsing on the chair, heaved a sigh.
“I am exhausted. The city is a madhouse! People are carousing at every hour of the day and night!”
“Shamelessly and with wild abandon, I should imagine.” The general grinned. “You can’t get any sleep. You can’t hear yourself think. To your astonishment, you find yourself remembering your tent with fond memories.”
Baresmanas chuckled. “You anticipated this, I see.”
“I have no experience with Persian troops enjoying a celebration. Perhaps they’re a subdued lot—”
“Ha!”
“No?” Belisarius grinned. “But I do know what Roman soldiers are like. They’d drive the demons of the Pit to mad distraction, just from the noise alone.”
The general cocked his head. “There have been no serious problems, I trust?”
Baresmanas shook his head.
“No, no. A slew of complaints from indignant matrons, of course, outraged at the conduct of their wanton daughters. But even they seem more concerned with the unfortunate consequences nine months from now than with the impropriety of the moment. We Aryans frown on bastardy, you know.”
Belisarius smiled. “Every folk I know frowns on bastardy—and then, somehow, manages to cope with it.”
He scratched his chin. “A donation from the army, do you think? Discreet sort of thing, left in the proper hands after we depart. City notables, perhaps?”
Baresmanas considered the question.
“Better the priesthood, I think.” Then, shrugging:
“The problem may not be a major one, in any event. The matrons are more confused than angry. It seems any number of marriage proposals have been advanced—within a day of the army’s arrival, in some cases!—and they don’t know how to deal with them. As you may be aware, our customs in that respect are more involved than yours.”
As it happened, Belisarius was quite familiar with Persian marital traditions. Unlike the simple mono-gamy of Roman Christians, Persians recognized several different forms of marriage. The fundamental type—what they called patixsayih—corresponded quite closely to the Christian marriage, except that polygamy was permissible. But other marriages were also given legal status in Persia, including one which was “for a definite period only.”
Belisarius smiled. He was quite certain that his Syrian troops, with their long acquaintance with Medes, had passed on this happy knowledge to the other soldiers.
His smile, after a moment, faded to a more thoughtful expression.
“It occurs to me, Baresmanas—”
The sarhdaran interrupted. His own face bore a pensive little smile.
“Roman troops will be campaigning in Mesopotamia for quite some time. Years, possibly. Peroz-Shapur, because of its location, will be a central base—the central base, in all likelihood—for that military presence. Soldiers are men, not beasts. They will suffer from loneliness, many of them—a want in the heart, as much as a lust in the body.”
Belisarius was struck again, as he had been many times before, by the uncanny similarity between the workings of his mind and that of the man sitting across from him in the tent. He was reminded of the odd friendship which had developed between him and Rana Sanga, while he had been in India. There, also, differences in birth and breeding had been no barrier—even though Sanga was his sworn enemy.
For a moment, he wondered how the Rajput King was faring in his campaign in Bactria.
All too well, I suspect, came the rueful thought. Yet I cannot help wishing the man good fortune—in his life, at least, if not his purpose.
He brought his thoughts back to the matter at hand.
“I think we can make a suitable arrangement, Baresmanas. Talk to your priesthood, would you? If they are willing to be cooperative, I will encourage my soldiers to approach their romantic liaisons with a more—ah, what shall I call it . . . ?”
The sahrdaran grinned.
“Long-term approach,” he suggested. “Or, for those who are incorrigibly low-minded, guaranteed recreation.”
Baresmanas stroked his beard. The gesture positively exuded satisfaction. A well-groomed man by temperament, he had taken advantage of the stay in Peroz-Shapur to have the beard properly trimmed and shaped. But some of his pleasure, obviously, stemmed from the prospective solution of a problem. A minor problem, now—but small tensions, uncorrected, have a way of festering.