His gaze was fixed on that salutation, like a barnacle to a stone. Two words.
“Thank God, we’re done with these mountains,” stated Bouzes. “And those tough Rajput bastards!” agreed his brother happily.
Tears welled into Belisarius’ eyes. “This message means something much more precious to me,” he whispered. He caressed the thin sheet. “It means my wife is still alive.”
Seeing the sheer joy in Belisarius’ face, his commanders fell silent. Then, after clearing his throat, Cyril muttered: “Yes, sir. Very probably.”
Belisarius gave the Greek cataphract a shrewd glance. Cyril’s expression, he saw, was mirrored on the faces of the brothers and Vasudeva. Uncertainty; hope, for the sake of their general; but—but—
“Shit happens, in war,” stated Belisarius, verbalizing their unhappy thoughts. “Maybe Antonina’s dead. Maybe Ashot sent the message, telling us when the fleet would sail from Adulis.”
He looked at Maurice. The chiliarch was grinning, now, as hugely as Vasudeva had done earlier. There was not a trace of veteran pessimism in that cheerful expression.
Belisarius smiled. “Tell them, Maurice.”
Maurice cleared his throat. “Well, it’s like this, boys. I only told you the gist of the message itself. Ashot might have sent that, sure enough. Could have sent it, standing over Antonina’s bleeding corpse. But I really doubt the stubby bastard would have addressed the general as—and I quote—’dearest love.’ Even if he is an Armenian.”
The tent erupted with laughter. Belisarius joined in, freely, but his eyes were back on the scroll.
Dearest love. The two words poured through his soul like wine. Standing in a tent, in the rocky Zagros, he felt as if he were soaring through the heavens.
Dearest love.
* * *
They broke for the south two days later. Belisarius waited until the next cavalry encounter was over. Just a quick clash between thirty Romans and their equivalent number of Rajputs, in a nearby valley. No different from a dozen others—a hundred others—which had taken place over the past few months.
The encounter, as had usually been the case since the Battle of the Pass, was almost bloodless. Neither side was trying to hammer the other any longer. They were simply staying in touch, making sure that each army knew the location of its opponent.
No Roman was killed. Only one was seriously injured, but he swore he could make the march.
“It’s just my arm, general,” he said, holding up the heavily bandaged limb. “Just a flesh wound. Didn’t even lose much blood.”
Belisarius had his doubts. But, seeing the determination in the cataphract’s face, he decided to bring him along. The army had just been informed, at daybreak, of their new destination. The wounded cataphract wanted to stay with his comrades. At worst, the man would not lose his strength for several days. That was good enough.
The general straightened up from his crouch. “All right,” he said. He gave the cataphract a look which was not grim, simply stoic. “Worst comes to worst, you’ll be in Rajput hands.”
The cataphract shrugged. He was obviously not appalled by the prospect. Nor had he any reason to be. The conflict between the two armies, even before the battle in the pass, had been civilized. Thereafter, it had been downright chivalrous. The Rajputs would treat the man as well as Belisarius’ soldiers had treated their own Rajput captives.
Remembering those captives, Belisarius shrugged himself. “Comes to it,” he said, “I’ll just leave you behind with the prisoners. Far enough into the qanat that Damodara won’t find you until it’s too late, and with plenty of food. You won’t need water, of course.”
The cataphract grimaced, slightly, at the mention of water. The spring runoff was long over, but the qanat was still at least a foot deep. For all their eagerness to quit the mountains, none of the soldiers were looking forward to a long march through a tunnel. Walking along narrow ledges on the sides, lest their feet become soaked by the water pouring through the center passage.
Maurice came up. “Now,” he said. “Couldn’t ask for a better time.”
Belisarius nodded. It was only mid-morning of the day after the cavalry clash. The Rajput horsemen would have returned to their own army, bringing Damodara the news of the Roman whereabouts. They would not return for at least a day, probably two.