Maurice trotted his horse forward to meet them, while Belisarius ordered a halt in the march. After a brief consultation with the scouts, the chiliarch hastened back to Belisarius. By the time he arrived, Baresmanas and Kurush were already at the general’s side, along with Bouzes and Coutzes.
“There’s a mob of refugees pouring up the road from the east,” reported Maurice. “The scouts interviewed some of them. They say that a large Malwa cavalry force—” He shrugged. “You know how it is—according to the refugees, there’s probably a million Malwa. But it’s a large enough force, apparently, to have sacked a town called Thilutha.”
“Thilutha?” exclaimed Kurush. The young sahr-daran stared to the east.
“Thilutha’s not as big as Anatha,” he announced, “but it’s still a fortified garrison town. There’s no way a pure cavalry force should have been able to capture it.”
“They’ve got gunpowder,” Belisarius pointed out.
Maurice nodded. “The refugees are babbling tales about witchcraft used to shatter the town’s gates.”
Belisarius squinted into the distance. “What’s your guess, Maurice? And how far away are they?”
The chiliarch stroked his beard thoughtfully. “It’s a big force, general. Even allowing for refugee exaggeration, the Arab scouts think there must be at least ten thousand soldiers. Probably more.”
“A raiding party,” stated Bouzes. His snub-nosed face twisted into a rueful grimace. “A reconnaissance-in-force, probably.”
Belisarius nodded. “It’s good news, actually. It means Emperor Khusrau is still holding them at Babylon. So the Malwa have sent a large cavalry force around him, to ravage his rear and disrupt his supplies and communications.”
He paused for a moment, thinking. “I’m not sure Khusrau can hold Babylon forever, but the longer he does the better it is. We need to buy time. Time for Persia, time for Rome. Best way to do that, right now, is to teach the Malwa they can’t raid Mesopotamia with impunity.”
His tone hardened. “I want to destroy that force. Hammer them into splinters.” He stood in his stirrups, scanning the area around them. “We need a place to trap them.”
Kurush frowned. “Anatha is only a few hours behind us. We could return and—”
Belisarius shook his head. “Anatha’s much too strong, with us there to aid in the defense. The Malwa will take one look and go elsewhere. Then we’ll have to chase them, and fight a battle on ground of their choosing.”
A little smile came to Baresmanas’ face. “You want something feeble,” he announced. “Some pathetic little fortification that looks like nothing much, but has places to conceal your troops.” The smile widened. “Something like that wretched infantry camp you built at Mindouos.”
Belisarius’ lips twisted. “Yes, Baresmanas. That’s exactly what I want.”
Comprehension came to Kurush. The young Persian nobleman’s face grew pinched, for an instant. Then, suddenly, he laughed.
“You are a cold-blooded man, Belisarius!” he exclaimed. With a sad shake of his head:
“You’d never make a proper Aryan, I’m afraid. Rustam, dehgan of dehgans, would not approve.”
Belisarius shrugged. “With all due respect to the legendary national hero of the Aryans, and the fearsome power of his bull-headed mace—Rustam died, in the end.”
“Trapped in a pit by his enemies, while hunting,” agreed Kurush cheerfully. “Speaking of which—”
The sahrdaran looked to his uncle. “Isn’t there an imperial hunting park somewhere in this vicinity?”
Baresmanas pointed across the river, toward a large patch of greenery a few miles away.
“There,” he announced.
All the officers in the little group followed his pointing finger. At that moment, Agathius rode up, along with his chief tribune Cyril. Seconds later, the Illyrian commanders arrived also. The top leadership of the Allied army was now assembled. Quickly, the newcomers were informed of the situation and Belisarius’ plan.
“We’ll need to cross the Euphrates,” remarked Coutzes. “Is there a ford nearby?”
“Has to be,” replied Maurice. “The refugees are on that side of the river. Since the scouts talked to them, they must have found a way across.”
The chiliarch gestured toward the Arab cavalrymen, who had been waiting a short distance away. They trotted up to him and he began a quick consultation.
“It makes sense,” commented Kurush. “Thilutha is on the left bank. At this time of year, the river can be forded any number of places. The Malwa have probably been crossing back and forth, ravaging both sides.”