Chrysopolis frowned. “How are you going to enforce the appointment?”
For the first time since the meeting started, Theodora grinned. But there was not a trace of humor in the expression. “With a combination of the old and the new. You know of the religious order which Michael of Macedonia has founded? He’s offered to send several thousand of them to Egypt, to counter the existing monastic orders.”
“That’s fine against other monks in the streets, armed with cudgels,” grunted Hermogenes. “But the Army of Egypt—”
“Will be dealt with by the Theodoran Cohort,” stated Belisarius.
The announcement brought dead silence to the room. All eyes turned to Antonina.
The little Egyptian woman shrugged. “I’m all we’ve got, I’m afraid.”
“Not quite,” said Belisarius. He looked at Hermogenes. “I think we can spare one of your legions, to give Antonina’s grenadiers an infantry bulwark. And I’m going to give her five hundred of my cataphracts for a cavalry force.”
Hermogenes nodded. Frowning, Germanicus looked back and forth between Belisarius and Antonina.
“I would have thought you’d want to use the grenadiers in Persia,” he commented.
Before Belisarius could reply, Theodora spoke up. “Absolutely not. Other than Belisarius’ small unit of rocketeers, Antonina’s cohort is our only military force equipped with gunpowder weapons. They’ve never been in a real battle. I’m not going to risk them in Persia. Not this early in the war.”
Germanicus’ frown deepened. “Then who—?”
“Me,” said Belisarius. “Me, and whatever troops we can scrape up.” He scratched his chin. “I think we can spare five or six thousand men from the Army of Syria, along with my own bucellarii.”
“I can give you two thousand cataphracts,” interjected Sittas. He glanced at Germanicus.
The Illyrian army commander winced. “I can probably spare five hundred. No more than that, I’m afraid. There’s bound to be trouble with the northern barbarians within the next year. The Malwa will be spreading their gold with a lavish hand.”
Hermogenes finished counting on his fingers and looked up.
“That doesn’t give you much of an army, Belisarius. You’ve got, what—a thousand cataphracts, after you give five hundred to Antonina?”
Belisarius nodded.
Hermogenes blew out his cheeks. “Plus two thousand from Sittas and five hundred from Germanicus. That’s three and a half thousand heavy cavalry. The Army of Syria can probably give you three or four thousand infantry and a couple of thousand cavalry. But the cavalry will be light horse archers, not cataphract lancers.”
“Ten thousand men, at the most,” concluded Germanicus. “As he says, that’s not much of an army.”
Belisarius shrugged. “It’s what we’ve got.”
“I’m not happy at the idea of Belisarius personally leading this army,” stated Chrysopolis. “He’s the Empire’s strategos. He should really stay here in the capital.”
“Nonsense!” barked Justinian. For the first time since the meeting began, he too broke into a grin. And, like that of his wife’s, the expression was utterly humorless.
“You want an alliance with Persia, don’t you?” he demanded. “They won’t be happy at our counter-offer of ten thousand men. But Belisarius’ reputation will make up the difference.” Now, a bit of humor crept into that ravaged face. “Stop frowning, Chrysopolis. I can see your sour face as if I still had eyes.”
He leaned forward, gripping the armrests of his chair. His head scanned the entire circle of advisers. For just a fleeting moment, everyone would have sworn Justinian could actually see them.
“I made that man a general,” said the former emperor. “It’s one of the few decisions I made that I’ve never regretted.”
He leaned back in his seat. “The Persians will be delighted. Believe it.”
Chapter 3
The next morning, when the Empress Regent gave Baresmanas the Roman response to Persia’s proposal, he was delighted. He had hoped for a larger army, true. But neither he nor Emperor Khusrau had really expected the Romans to send them forty thousand troops.
The Roman generosity in not demanding territorial concessions in the borderlands also pleased him immensely. That was quite unexpected.
But, best of all—Belisarius.
Not every member of the Persian delegation shared his attitude—including his own wife, the Lady Maleka. As soon as Baresmanas returned to the small palace in which the Persians had been housed, right in the middle of the imperial complex, she strode into the main salon, scowling fiercely.