The obelisk had fallen, Eon explained, as it was being erected. Staring at it, Antonina could well believe the tale. It was difficult to judge, because of its position, but she thought the obelisk was far larger than any created even by the ancient Egyptians. Only a king possessed by delusions of grandeur could have thought of ordering mortal men to erect such a preposterous structure.
She shivered slightly, thinking of the men who must have been trapped by the obelisk in its ruin. When the thing fell, it crushed several of the tombs beneath it. The blood and mangled flesh of slaves, for a time, would have decorated the sepulchres where royal bones lay buried.
Eon misinterpreted the motion. “You are cold!” he exclaimed. “I have been thoughtless. I forgot that you are not accustomed—”
She waved down the apology. “No, no, Eon. I’m not really cold. I was just thinking—”
She stopped, shivering again. She was cold, she suddenly realized. She had always thought of Africa as the quintessential land of warmth. But the heartland of Axum lay in the Ethiopian highlands. True, the capital city was situated in the broad, fertile plain called Hatsebo, well below the mountains which towered all about in stark majesty. But it was still over a mile above sea level.
“Perhaps we should return to the Ta’akha Maryam,” she admitted. A bit hurriedly, to stave off another apology: “Your father will be growing impatient with our long absence.”
Actually, she knew, Eon’s father—the negusa nagast, “King of Kings,” as he was titled—would not be in the slightest bit impatient. She was quite certain that King Kaleb had welcomed her daylong absence from the royal compound. It gave him time to consult with his advisers, before making a response to the Roman Empire’s proposals.
Antonina and her entourage had arrived in the Ethiopian city of Axum a week earlier. Axum—the capital had given its name to the Ethiopian kingdom, just as had Rome—had never received such a high-level delegation from the Roman Empire. Since Ethiopia’s conversion to Christianity under the tutelage of the missionaries who were revered as the “Nine Saints,” the Axumites had maintained cordial relations with the great empire to their north. But, except for trade matters, there had been very little in the way of official diplomatic exchange. Until Antonina came, at the head of a small army, armed not only with the strange new gunpowder weapons but with a barrage of proposals from the Emperor of Rome.
As they began picking their way through the broken stones of ancient kings, Antonina found herself, once again, fighting down a smile. She could well understand how King Kaleb would have wanted a day—at least!—to mull over the Roman Empire’s proposals.
Those proposals were, after all, hardly what you’d call vague and meaningless diplomatic phrasery.
Rome accepts Axum’s offer of an alliance against the Malwa Empire. To further our joint aim of crushing that monstrous realm, we propose:
Rome will supply Axum with gunpowder weapons, and the technicians to train you in their use and manufacture.
Axum will provide the fleet necessary to keep the rebellion in southern India alive. Axumite ships will run the Malwa blockade of the Majarashtra coast, carrying arms and supplies provided by Rome.
Axum will also provide the fleet necessary to—
Her thoughts broke off. She and Eon were almost out of the ruins. As they picked their way around yet another half-crumbled structure, she caught sight of the figure lounging against one of the tombs at the very edge of the field of monuments.
Ousanas, for once, was not grinning. Indeed, he looked positively disgruntled.
Antonina made no attempt to fight down her smile, now. “What’s the matter, Ousanas?” she called out. “Has your philosophical composure abandoned you, for the moment? Shame, shame! What would the Stoics say?”
Ousanas shook his head. “The Stoics advocated serenity in the face of life’s tragedies and great misfortunes.” Scowling: “They did not intend their precious teachings to be wasted on petty annoyances. Such as having to waste half a day while a fool boy prince shows a frivolous woman with too much time on her hands the inevitable results of self-aggrandizement, a lesson which”—deep scowl—”any child learns the first time they sass their elders.”