“Have you already forgotten your own battle plan?”
Belisarius sat back. Maurice snorted.
“Thought so. Since when do you subordinate strategy to tactics, young man? Alexandria’s just a step on the road. Your whole strategy against the Malwa pivots on seapower. While you distract them in Persia, Antonina will lead a flanking attack against the enemy’s logistics, in alliance—we hope—with the Kingdom of Axum. The Ethiopians, with their naval power, are critical to that plan. For that matter, the Axumite navy will be essential for providing support to the rebellion in Majarashtra which you did everything in your power to foment, while you were in India. They’ll need cannons, gunpowder—everything you’ve talked about supplying them. That’s why you’ve always insisted on building our armaments industry in Alexandria. So we can provide logistical support for the Ethiopians and the Indian rebellion.”
The chiliarch took a deep breath. “For all those reasons, Ashot is far better suited to serve as her adviser than I am. The man’s a former seaman. What I know about boats—” He snapped his fingers. “Not to mention the Ethiopians,” he rolled on. “Ashot’s familiar with them—even speaks the language. I know exactly two words in Ge’ez. Beer, and the future subjunctive tense of the verb ‘to copulate.’ That’ll be useful, coordinating an allied naval campaign and a transoceanic logistics route!”
Belisarius slumped into his chair.
“All right,” he said sourly. “But I still insist that she take Valentinian and Anastasius! They’re the best fighters we’ve got. She’ll need the protection they can—”
“For what?” demanded Maurice. He planted his thick hands on his knees and leaned forward. For a moment, he and Belisarius matched glares. Then Maurice’s lips quirked. He cocked an eye at the little Egyptian woman sitting across the table.
“Are you planning to lead any cavalry charges, girl?”
Antonina giggled.
“Furious boarding parties, storming across the decks of ships?”
Giggle, giggle.
“Leading the troops scaling the walls of a town under siege?”
Giggle, giggle, giggle.
“Cut and thrust? Hack and hew?”
The giggles erupted into outright laughter.
“Actually,” choked Antonina, “I was thinking more along the lines of guiding from the rear. You know. Ladylike.”
She leaned back, arching her neck haughtily, and began pointing with an imperious finger. “You there! That way. And you—over there. Move smartly, d’you hear?”
Belisarius rubbed his face. “It’s not that simple, Maurice—and you know it, even if Antonina doesn’t.”
For a moment, the old crooked smile came back. A feeble travesty of it, rather.
“Aren’t you the one who taught me the law of battle? ‘Everything gets fucked up as soon as the enemy arrives. That’s why—’ ”
“—he’s called the enemy,” concluded Maurice. The veteran shook his head. “That’s not the point, Belisarius. It may well happen, despite all our plans, that Antonina finds herself swept up in the fray. So be it. She’ll still have hundreds of Thracian bucellarii protecting her, each and every one of whom—as you damn well know—will lay down his life for her, if need be. None of them may be quite as murderous as Valentinian or Anastasius, but they’re still the best soldiers in the world. In my humble opinion. If they can’t protect her, Valentinian and Anastasius won’t make the difference.
“Whereas,” he snarled, “the two of them might very well make the difference for you. Because unlike Antonina, you will be leading cavalry charges and hacking and hewing way more than any respectable general has any business doing.”
Glare.
“As you well know.”
Maurice stared at Belisarius in silence. The general slouched further down in his chair. Further. Further.
“Never actually seen him pout before,” mused the chiliarch. Again, he cocked his eye at Antonina. “Have you?”
“Oh, certainly!” piped the little woman. “Any number of times. Intimate circumstances, of course. When I have a headache and refuse to smear olive oil all over his—”
“Enough,” whined Belisarius.
Antonina and Maurice peered at him with identical, quizzical expressions. Much like two mice might study a whimpering piece of cheese.
Several hours later, Belisarius was in a more philosophical mood.
“I suppose it’ll work out all right, in the end,” he said, almost complacently.
Antonina levered herself up on her elbow and smiled down at her husband.