Absolutely marvelous! Did you see that, Aide?—and do you understand why it is so important?
Hesitantly: I am not sure. I think—
Hesitation faded. Yes. It is how humans—your kind of humans—facet each other. Strength grows from building other strength, not from trampling on weakness.
Exactly.
The officers in the tent were, once again, focussed on Belisarius. The general rose, preparing to speak on another subject. But, before he did so, he took the time for a private moment.
I am so proud of you—grandchild.
You are my old man.
In the next hour, Belisarius broached with his officers the delicate matter which he had discussed with Baresmanas.
“So,” he concluded, “I’m not telling anyone what to do. But I repeat: this war is not going to be settled in one battle. Not even in one campaign. We’re going to be locked against the Malwa for years, probably. Hopefully—eventually—we’ll be fighting the Malwa on their own soil. But for now, and probably for quite some time, we’ll be fighting here in Persia. Better that, when it comes down to it, than fighting on Roman territory.”
He took a little breath.
“I’ve said this before, many times, but I’ll say it again. We have to stay on good terms with the Persians. If they start feeling that their Roman allies aren’t much better than the Malwa, there’ll be the risk that they’ll try to back out of the way. Get out of Mesopotamia, retreat to the plateau, and let the Romans fight it out alone.”
He gave the gathered men a stern gaze.
“As I said, I’m not telling anyone what to do. But I ask you to try and set an example, at least, for your men. I don’t care what any Roman soldier does in taverns and whorehouses, as long as there’s no roughhousing. But if you or your men want to cast your net a little wider, so to speak—” he waited for the little chuckle to die down “—keep in mind that Persians have their own customs.”
He stopped speaking. Studied his officers, as they sat there staring at him.
Silent themselves, as he had expected. Though he noted, carefully—and with considerable amusement—their differing reactions.
The Syrian officers (as well as Celsus, the Calli-nicum commander) had little smiles on their faces. Long familiar with Persian customs—sharing many of those customs—the Syrians and Arabs obviously found the confusion elsewhere in the room quite entertaining.
His own Thracian bucellarii were also smiling, just a bit—even the dour Maurice. Not with quite the same smirk as the Syrians, true. The Thracians were familiar with Persians, but it could hardly be said that they shared any particular empathy for the haughty Aryans. No, their amusement came from elsewhere. They were very familiar with Belisarius. And so they found it entertaining to see neophytes scrambling to catch up with their general’s often odd way of looking at the world.
The Illyrian officers were examining Belisarius as if he were one of the fabled two-headed creatures reputed to live somewhere south of Nubia. Illyrians were even more rustic than Thracians, and their experience with “other folks” was restricted almost entirely to barbarians. They understood those barbarians, true. Barbarian blood flowed in their own veins, come down to it. But the idea of catering to the so-called “customs” of—of—of—
Belisarius looked away, to keep from laughing. His eyes settled on the Greeks.
They were the key, he knew. The Roman Empire was a Greek Empire, in all but name. A Thracian-Egyptian dynasty might sit on the throne, Egypt might be the richest and most populous province, and Thracians and Syrians might play a disproportionate role in the leadership of the army, but it was the Greeks who were the Empire’s heart and soul. Their language was the common language. Their nobility was the axis of the imperial elite. Their traders and merchants commanded the sinews of commerce.
And their soldiers, and officers, were the core of Roman strength.
Here, for the first time, Belisarius found a reaction he had not expected. Agathius’ distraction was back, with a vengeance. For all that Belisarius could determine, the man seemed lost in another world. The attitude of his subordinates was equally puzzling. Belisarius had expected the Greeks to react much as the Illyrians. With more sophistication, of course—but, still, he had expected them to be staring at him as if he were at least half-crazed.