Again, Baresmanas waved his words aside. “Yes, yes—if it works as you hope. Not to mention the fact that a skeptical and untrusting Aryan cannot help but notice that you Romans will be in control of that part of the plan which would, as you put it, ‘revert back’ the situation. What if you decide otherwise?”
Belisarius returned the hard stare calmly. “And are you a ‘skeptical and untrusting Persian,’ Baresmanas?”
The sahrdaran looked away, tugging his beard thoughtfully.
“No,” came the reply. “I am not, myself. But others will be, especially once they realize that no Aryan commander will have authority over the final implementation of the complete plan.”
Belisarius began to shrug, but stopped the gesture before it started. This matter could not be shrugged off. It had to be faced squarely.
“There is no other way, sahrdaran. In order for it to work, my plan requires complete security—especially the final part. You know as well as I do that Persian forces, by now, will have been penetrated by Malwa agents.”
“And yours haven’t?” snapped Baresmanas.
“It is not likely. Not the troops who will be playing the key role, at least. Keep in mind that the Malwa spy network has been active in Persia longer than it was in Rome—and that we smashed the center of that network half a year ago.”
Baresmanas scowled. “That’s another thing I don’t like! Your scheme presupposes treachery on the part of Aryans!”
Belisarius said nothing. He simply gave the sahrdaran his own fish-eyed look.
After a moment, Baresmanas sighed. He even chuckled.
“I admit, I think your assessment is accurate. Much as I hate to admit it.”
Belisarius chuckled himself. “Don’t be so downcast about it. Treachery is probably more of a Roman than an Aryan vice. It’s not as if we didn’t find our own highest circles riddled with traitors, after all. At least Emperor Khusrau still has his eyes, which is more than Justinian can say.”
“Very good eyes,” grunted Baresmanas. The sahrdaran straightened in his chair.
“The matter must be put before the Emperor himself, Belisarius. Only he can make this decision. I cannot possibly make it in his stead.”
“I do not expect you to,” came the immediate response. “I know full well that only Khusrau Anushirvan has that authority. But he will ask you what you think. And the question boils down to this: Can we trust this man Belisarius?”
The two men in the tent stared at each other.
“I will give my oath, of course,” added Belisarius.
For the last time that day, Baresmanas waved the matter aside.
“An oath is only as good as the man who gives it. Your oath will not be necessary.”
Suddenly, Baresmanas laughed. “It occurs to me that Valentinian will be most gratified! His job just got much easier!”
Belisarius’ brows knit with puzzlement.
“But it’s obvious! Khusrau will only agree if he decides that the man Belisarius can be trusted. He will certainly not put his trust in any Roman general.”
Still frowning. Again, the sahdaran laughed.
“So blind! It’s so obvious! You will have to promise the Emperor that you will be alive—when the time comes to give the final order.”
Belisarius’ eyes widened.
“Oh, yes,” murmured Baresmanas. “Your days of leading cavalry charges are over, my friend. For quite some time.”
“I hadn’t thought of that,” admitted the general.
Aide spoke in his mind:
I did. Then, with great satisfaction:
And Valentinian isn’t the only one who will be most gratified. So will I.
So will I. Very much.
Upon his return to Peroz-Shapur, Belisarius sent couriers into the city, summoning his top commanders to a conference. It took several hours for all of those men to be tracked down. Many—most—were found in the obvious locales. Dens of iniquity, so to speak. Two or three were nabbed in more reputable spots. And one—the last to be found—in a very odd sort of place. For a man of his type.
“Sorry I’m late,” said Agathius, as he came into the command tent. Looking around, he winced a bit. He was the last one to enter.
“No matter, chiliarch,” said Belisarius pleasantly. “I realize this meeting was called with no warning. Please—take a chair.”