“Wouldn’t get it from the Malwa, anyway,” pointed out Maurice. He spoke mildly—as usual, when he was contradicting Belisarius in public—but firmly.
“From Malwa, no,” replied the general. “But what is Malwa, Maurice?”
He nodded toward the river. “You think those men are all Malwa? Or Ye-tai? Precious few of them, in truth. The priests and kshatriyas, most of the officers. Perhaps a thousand of the regulars. The rest? Biharis, Bengalis, Orissans—every subject nation of India is spilling its life blood into that river.”
He transferred his scrutiny to Agathius and Cyril. “In the end,” Belisarius told them, his voice as hard as steel, “we will not defeat Malwa on a great field of battle, somewhere here in Persia. Or in Anatolia, or Bactria, or the Indus plain. We will shatter them in the heart of India itself, when their subjects finally throw off the yoke.”
Uncertainty returned to the faces of the two Greeks. Now, however, it was not the bemused skepticism of men regarding a proclaimed saint. It was the simple doubt—the veteran questioning—of fighting men who were beginning to wonder if their commander might, after all, be that rarest of generals. A supreme strategist, as well as a wizard on the battlefield.
“I would spare all of them who tried to surrender, if I could,” mused Belisarius. “All, at least, except the Mahaveda priests. For the sake of the future, if nothing else.”
He shrugged heavily. “But—I can’t risk an idiot brawl with the Persians. Not today, when their blood’s a-boil.”
He clambered off the barrel. A moment later, he was back astride his horse. “Today, I can only deal with the Kushans.”
He pointed to the river. “Agathius—Cyril—I want you to give full support to the Persians. Back them to the hilt. As maddened as they are, they won’t be thinking clearly. There are still thousands of live and armed enemy troops packed against the river. They’ll fight like cornered rats, once they realize surrender’s not being offered. The Persians are likely to wade into them without thinking, get surrounded.”
Agathius and Cyril nodded.
“Take all your men,” Belisarius added, “except a hundred or so to guard over the wagons. Have those men bring the wagons back to the villa. But be careful—in fact, better wait until you have some of the katyusha men to help. They’re more familiar with handling gunpowder.”
The two Greek officers nodded again. They turned their horses and trotted off, shouting commands. Within a few seconds, two thousand Constantinople cataphracts were thundering toward the river, preparing to throw their weight into the butchery on the Euphrates.
Belisarius turned to Maurice and Gregory.
“You do the same, Maurice, with the Thracians and the Illyrians. Gregory, I want you to find Coutzes—and Abbu,” he added, chuckling—”if he managed to find a new horse. Get the Arab skirmishers and half the light cavalry across the river. Leave me the other half, to keep the Kushans cornered.”
“They’ll have to use the ford we found a few miles upstream,” remarked Gregory. “That’ll lose us several hours.”
“Yes, I know. It doesn’t matter. They’ll still be in time to harry whatever Malwa make their way across the Euphrates.”
His face and voice were cold, grim, ruthless.
“Harry them, Gregory. I want them pursued without mercy. For days, if that’s what it takes. I want this Malwa army destroyed. Not more than a handful of survivors, trickling back to their lines in Babylon. Let the enemy know he can’t hope to go around Emperor Khusrau.”
Gregory’s face twisted into his own crooked smile. “Might not even be a handful, general. Those few that get away from us will still have two hundred miles to go. With the desert on one side, and on the other—every peasant in the flood plain ready to hack them down. Whole villages will turn out, to join the pursuit. They’ve heard about Charax, too, you can bet on it.”
Belisarius nodded. Gregory spurred his horse, heading south. A moment later, going in the opposite direction, Maurice did the same.
Only Valentinian and Anastasius were left, in the immediate vicinity.
“What now, general?” asked Anastasius.
Belisarius clucked his horse into motion, trotting back toward the villa. “We’ll make sure the Kushans are completely boxed in. After that—” He looked up, gauging the sun. “That’ll probably take the rest of the day. Till late afternoon, for sure. The Kushans may try to break out. We’ve probably still got some fighting ahead of us.”