Again, he shook his head. “I’d been warned—” He nodded toward Baresmanas. “—by my uncle, in fact, that no one in the world uses more powerful bows than Roman cataphracts. I didn’t shrug off his warning—not that voice of experience—but I still hadn’t expected to see an arrow drive right through my mount’s armor.”
Then, with a frown:
“You’ve got a very slow rate of fire, though. Do you really think the trade-off is worth it?”
Belisarius had to fight down a laugh. The young Persian’s frown was not hostile. Not in the least. For all the world, it reminded the general of nothing so much as a young aesthete’s frown, contemplating the relative merits of two styles of lyric poetry.
Maurice shrugged. “I don’t think the question can be answered in purely military terms. There’s the matter of national temperament, too. You Persians have a flair for mounted archery that I don’t think Romans could ever match. So why make the attempt? Better to concentrate on what we do well, rather than become second-rate Persian imitations.”
Kurush nodded. “Well said.” The young officer sighed. “It’s probably all a moot point, anyway. These infernal new Malwa devices have changed everything.”
“Have you seen them in action?” asked Belisarius.
Kurush winced. “Oh, yes. Three times, in fact. I’ve been at all the pitched battles we fought against the invaders on the open field, until we finally decided to withdraw and take a defensive stance at Babylon.”
“Describe the invasion for me, if you would,” requested Belisarius. He gestured politely toward Baresmanas. “Your uncle has given me an excellent overall picture, but he was not a direct eyewitness. I would appreciate more detail.”
“Certainly.” Kurush drained his goblet and reached for one of the small amphorae on the table. He began speaking while in the process of pouring himself more wine.
“There were hundreds of ships in the Malwa invasion fleet. Gigantic vessels, many of them. I’m no seaman, but those of my staff with maritime experience tell me that their big sailing ships have a carrying capacity of at least a thousand tons.”
“More like two thousand,” interjected Belisarius, “if they’re the same ships I saw being built at Bharakuccha.”
Kurush eyed him with respectful surprise. “I did not realize you had experience with naval matters.”
Belisarius chuckled. “I don’t. Or very little, at least. But one of my companions in Bharakuccha was Garmat, the chief adviser for the King of Axum. That was his estimate, after seeing the ships. I think that estimate can be trusted. In my experience, all high-ranking Ethiopians are most definitely naval experts.”
“That’s my experience as well,” commented Baresmanas. He grimaced. “Two thousand tons. I don’t think any Persian ship has that big a carrying capacity.”
“Nor any of ours,” added Bouzes. “Except for a handful of the grain ships which sail out of Egypt.”
Belasarius nodded toward Kurush. “Please continue.”
“The fleet arrived with no warning—well—” He scowled. “No warning which was heeded. A few merchants gave the alarm, but they were ignored by the imperial authorities.” The scowl deepened. “Arrogant bastards.”
Belisarius was amused to see the stiff, diplomatically expressionless faces of Bouzes, Coutzes, and Maurice. It was the commonly held opinion of most Romans that all Persian officials were “arrogant bastards.” Belisarius did not share that opinion—Baresmanas and Kurush were not the first Persian nobles he had found likeable, even charming—but there was no denying that the charge had some basis in fact. Roman officials also, of course, could often be accused of “arrogant bastardom.” But there was nothing in the world quite like a Persian aristocrat—especially one who also occupied a post in the imperial hierarchy—when it came to sheer, unadulterated, icy haughtiness. Compared to such, Rajput nobility could almost be described as casual and warm-hearted. Even the Malwa dynastic clan, for all their unparalleled brutality and megalomania, did not—quite—exhibit that sense of unthinking superiority over all other men.
Apparently, Roman tact was insufficient. Either that, or Kurush was more perceptive than Belisarius had realized. The young Persian glanced around the table at the distant, polite expressions of the Romans. Then, with a little smile, added, “But perhaps no more so than others of their ilk.”