Kungas made his little version of a shrug, and strode off behind the diminishing figure of his Empress. Holkar remained behind, staring after him.
“Trust me in this, my friend,” he whispered. “Of five things in this world I am certain. Malwa will fall. My Empress will restore Andhra. Peshawar will rise again. Belisarius will not fail us. And I—”
His eyes teared. He could not speak the words.
I will find my wife and children. Wherever the Malwa beasts have scattered them, I will find them.
Chapter 6
“I will not take Maurice with me to Egypt, Belisarius. Absolutely not. So stop pestering me about it. And stop pestering me about Valentinian and Anastasius. I refuse to take them either.”
Belisarius stared at his wife for a moment, before blowing out his cheeks. He leaned back in his chair and glared at Antonina. “You do not understand the danger, woman! You need the best military adviser in the world. And the best bodyguards.”
Seeing the set and stubborn expression on his wife’s face, and the way she clasped her hands firmly on the table between them, Belisarius cast a furious glare about the salon. His hot eyes scanned the mosaics which decorated the walls of their small palace within the imperial complex, without really seeing them. The gaze did, however, linger for a moment on a small statue perched on a corner stand.
“Damn cherub,” he growled. “What’s that naked little wretch smirking about?”
Antonina tried to fight down a smile. Her struggle was unsuccessful, however, and the sight of her quirking lips only added to her husband’s outrage.
Belisarius grit his teeth and twisted in his chair, swiveling his head to the right. “Sit down, Maurice!” he commanded. “Damn you and your stiff ways! I promoted you, remember? You’re a general yourself, now. A chiliarch, no less!” Belisarius made a curt motion with his hand, as if to sweep Maurice forward. “So sit down!”
The commander of Belisarius’ personal retinue of bucellarii shrugged, stepped forward, and pulled up a chair. As soon as he took his seat at the table, Belisarius leaned toward him and said:
“Explain it to her, Maurice. She won’t listen to me, because she thinks I’m just being a fretful husband. But she’ll listen to you.”
Maurice shook his head. “No.”
Belisarius’ eyes widened. “No?” His eyes bulged. “No?” His next words were not, entirely, coherent.
Maurice grinned at Antonina.
“Never actually seen him gobble before. Have you?”
Antonina matched his grin. “Oh, any number of times.” The grin began a demure smirk. “Intimate circumstances, you understand?”
Maurice nodded sagely. “Of course. Dancing naked on his chest, that sort of thing.”
“Not to mention the whip and the iced—”
“Enough!” roared Belisarius. He slammed his fist on the table.
Antonina and Maurice peered at him with identical, quizzical expressions. Much like two owls might study a bellowing mouse.
“He usually does that much better, I seem to recall,” mused Antonina.
“Much better,” agreed Maurice. “The key is under-statement. The sense of steel under the soft voice.”
Belisarius began to roar again; but, seeing the widening grins, managed to bring himself under control.
“Why not?” he demanded, through clenched teeth.
Maurice’s grin faded. The grizzled veteran stroked his stiff, curly gray beard. “I won’t do it,” he replied, “because she’s right and you’re wrong. You are thinking like a fretful husband—instead of a general.”
He waved down Belisarius’ protest. “She doesn’t need me because she’s not going to be fighting pitched battles on the open field against vastly superior forces. You are.”
Antonina nodded.
Again, Belisarius began to protest; again, Maurice drove him down.
“Besides, she’ll have Ashot. That stubby little Armenian may not have quite as much battlefield experience as I do, but he’s not far short of the mark. You know that as well as I do. He’s certainly got the experience to handle whatever Antonina will run up against in Alexandria.”
“But—”
“Oh—be quiet, young man,” snapped Maurice. For just an instant, the chiliarch’s stony face reverted to an expression he had not worn in years. Not since the days he had taken under his wing a precocious teenage officer, fresh from his father’s little estate in Thrace, and taught him the trade of war.