“Odd, really. I can’t say I’ve been very impressed by the quality of the Malwa army. Not here in Mesopotamia, that’s for sure. Immense numbers and gunpowder are what make them powerful. It’s certainly not the skill of their commanders. But in the east, where they have little in the way of gunpowder weapons, their forces fight supremely well.”
“I’m not surprised, Emperor. Those forces are mainly Rajput, under the command of Rana Sanga. I know him personally. The Rajputs are among the world’s finest cavalry—Rana Sanga is certainly among the world’s finest generals. And the Malwa who is in overall command of that army, Lord Damodara, is also said to be their best.”
“Said? By whom?”
Belisarius smiled crookedly.
“By Rana Sanga, as it happens.”
“Ah.” The Persian Emperor gripped the armrests tightly. He took a deep breath.
“That explains much. It also illustrates my quandary. I can hold the Malwa here at Babylon, but only at the expense of giving up my freedom to maneuver. If I retreat from Babylon, there is nowhere else I can make a stand to prevent the Malwa from seizing all of Mesopotamia. But if I stay—”
“The Malwa will gut everything around you. And, eventually, take Fars and the entire plateau from the east.”
Khusrau nodded. Then, noticing that the goblet which Belisarius was toying with in his hands was empty, began to gesture toward the servants standing a few yards away. But Belisarius waved down the offer.
“No more, please.” He set the goblet down firmly on the small table next to his chair.
“I will send instructions to Rome, ordering that cannons be brought to Babylon. Along with a large supply of gunpowder. That much is in my authority. I will also—” here he blew out his cheeks “—strongly urge the Empress to give me permission to train your soldiers in their use.”
Khusrau stroked his beard.
“Do you think she will agree?”
“Possibly. She will insist, of course, that the cannons and gunpowder remain under the control of Roman troops. Still, they will be here. And then—”
Khusrau’s lips curled into a faint smile. “Under the control of Roman troops,” he murmured. “Yes, yes. That has a nice—ah, secure—sound to it.”
For a moment, a Persian Emperor and a Roman general stared at each other, in silent conspiracy.
Belisarius broke the silence with a little laugh. “She is not naive, Emperor. Far from it! She will understand the inevitable results, once lonely young Roman troops—” He broke off, gazing into the distance. “It’s amazing,” he mused, “how many beautiful women you Aryans seem to produce.”
Khusrau grinned. “We are a comely folk. It cannot be denied.” The grin faded. “But you think the Empress Regent will still agree?”
Belisarius nodded. “It will be enough, I think, if Theodora can tell her suspicions that she didn’t actually give the secrets outright. At least the damned Persians had to sweat for them.”
“In a manner of speaking,” chuckled Khusrau. He planted his hands on his knees and rose to his feet. As always, the movement was quick and energetic.
“Speaking of beautiful Persian girls,” he said, “I have ordered a reception tonight in my pavilion. In honor of Merena’s daughter, now married to one of your top commanders. She accompanied him here, I understand.”
Belisarius rose, nodding. “Yes, she did. She insisted on it, apparently, much to Agathius’ surprise.”
The Persian Emperor began leading the way toward the pavilion. He cocked his head.
“Was he angry? Did he really believe all those tales about obedient Persian wives?”
Belisarius laughed. “Actually, he was quite pleased. He’s very taken by the girl, I think. It was not simply a marriage of ambition.”
Khusrau smiled. “Good. That bodes well for the future. Most auspicious, that wedding—I would like to see more of them.”
“So would I,” agreed Belisarius.
As they walked slowly toward the pavilion, Khusrau’s smile turned a bit sly. “That’s part of the reason, of course—well, actually, it is the reason—that I commanded this little reception. Once my haughty nobles see the favor which their Emperor bestows on such marriages, they’ll find a daughter or two to marry off to some promising Roman officer. Oh, be sure of it—be sure of it! We Aryans like to talk about the purity of our bloodlines, but we are by no means immune to ambition ourselves.”