“Very proper folk,” said Theodosius approvingly, turning to the man seated to his right. “Very polite. Very noble. Don’t you think so, Ashot?”
A charitable interpretation, from a man of God.
Less charitable was an Armenian cataphract’s response.
“Scared shitless, that’s what they are.”
A king and his fears
“You are not thinking of marrying that woman?” demanded the negusa negast of Axum. The sovereign of Ethiopia leaned forward on his royal stool, his thick hands planted firmly on powerful knees, his massive jaw clamped shut. He frowned ferociously upon his youngest son.
Prince Eon bolted erect on his own stool. His jaw sagged. Dropped. Plummeted like a stone.
Standing behind him, Ousanas burst into laughter.
“Excellent idea, King of Kings!” cried the dawazz. “Certain to shrink overconfident fool boy’s head into a walnut!”
Eon finally caught his breath. Enough, at least, to choke out, “Marry—Irene?”
He goggled at his father. The father glowered back.
“You seem much taken by this woman,” accused the negusa nagast.
Eon’s eyes roamed about the royal chamber, as if seeking rhyme or reason lurking somewhere in the stone recesses of heavy Axumite architecture.
“I like her, yes,” he said. “Very much. I think she is incredibly capable and intelligent. And very witty. She often makes me laugh. A wonderful ally in our struggle. Even—” His eyes almost crossed, contemplating absurdity. “—yes, even attractive. In her way. But—but—marry her?”
He fell silent. Again, his jaw sagged.
Satisfied, the negusa nagast leaned back in his stool. He fixed Ousanas with a stern gaze.
“Good thing for you, dawazz. Any other answer and I would have you beaten.”
Ousanas looked smug. “Can’t. Dawazz not subject to royal authority. Only answers to Dakuen sarwe.”
The King of Kings snorted. “So? You think the regiment would hesitate? Just last night, the demon woman took half their monthly stipend, answering all their riddles. This morning, she took the rest. When they couldn’t answer any of hers, even after she gave them all night to think it over.” The negusa nagast glared. “Dawazz be a bloody pulp, Prince give any other answer. Be sure of it.”
The negusa nagast smacked his heavy thigh. “I am satisfied. The Prince is foolish as a rooster, true. Headstrong like a bull. Who else would get me in a war with Malwa? But at least you have kept him sane, dawazz. Sane enough. Delusions of grandeur can be tolerated, in a King, so long as they are merely political. Never delusions in a wife!”
His heavy shoulders twitched, as if a sudden shiver had run down his spine.
“God save us from that fate! Never marry a woman smarter than you. Too dangerous, especially for a King. That woman! Smarter than Satan.”
He turned his head, looking through the entryway to the room beyond. His library, that was.
“Best collection of books south of Alexandria,” he noted proudly. “I have instructed my slaves to make a precise count. They will count them again, before I allow that woman to leave for India.”
Eon cleared his throat. “We must leave soon, father.”
The negusa nagast nodded his head. The gesture was slow, but certain. As solid as the head which made it.
“Yes. You must. Important to follow up on Garmat’s successful mission, and quickly. Give all support to Empress Shakuntala and her cause. Give Malwa no time to think.”
Again, the little shiver in the shoulders.
“Essential to get that woman on the other side of an ocean.”
An empress and her marriage
“The time has come, Shakuntala,” stated Holkar firmly. The peshwa leaned forward and lifted a scroll lying on the carpet before his cushion.
“This was brought by courier ship this morning. From Tamraparni.”
Dadaji unrolled the scroll, scanning it in the quick manner with which a man reads over a document he had already committed to memory. An odd little smile came to his face.
“Out of illusion, truth,” he murmured.
He rolled the scroll back up and handed it to his Empress. Shakuntala stared at the harmless object as if it were a cobra.
“What is it?” she demanded.
Dadaji’s smile faded. “It is a letter from the King of Tamraparni. Offering us an alliance—a partial alliance, I should say—against Malwa.” He shrugged. “The offer is couched in caveats and riddled with qualifications. But, at the very least, he makes a firm promise of naval and logistical support. Possibly some troops.”