All that remained was the fighting retreat of the soldiers holding the front lines. Under any circumstances in the world, other than the one in which he found himself, Belisarius would have overseen that retreat personally. His bodyguards would have been driven half-insane, from the risks he would have taken. But today—
Maurice did not even bother to discuss it with Belisarius. He simply carried out the task himself. The work was not beyond his capability, after all. In truth, Maurice probably led that retreat as well as Belisarius could have. And there was an added advantage, at least to the soldiers who served as Maurice’s bodyguards. The grizzled veteran had a proper understanding of the proper place of a proper commanding officer in the middle of a battle, thank you.
* * *
So, in one of history’s little ironies, the military genius who led what was arguably, up to that day, the most daring and brilliant campaign of all time, played no role in its dramatic conclusion. Never even noticed it, in truth. Instead, his eye glued to a telescope, the general found himself undergoing a brand-new experience.
He knew, abstractly, of the anguish Antonina had always undergone whenever he went off to war. And he had chuckled, hearing the tales from Maurice and Irene afterward, of the way Antonia spent the day after his departure.
He was chuckling no longer. Belisarius, watching his wife wage a battle at sea—right under his eyes, but beyond his reach or control—finally understood what it meant. To stare at a horse.
Chapter 38
“Stay down, Antonina,” grumbled Ousanas. The aqabe tsentsen looked to Matthew, and pointed at the woman forcing her head past his elbow. “Sit on her, if you have to.”
Matthew flushed. Then, gingerly, advanced his great paws toward Antonina’s shoulders.
Antonina gave him a quick glare. For a moment, Matthew retreated. But only for a moment. The inexorable clasp of unwanted protection returned.
“All right—all right!” snapped Antonina. She stepped back perhaps half an inch. Peevishly: “Now are you satisfied?”
“No!” came the immediate response. “I want you down, fool woman. Any minute now—”
A stretched-out shriek drew Ousanas’ eyes back to the front. Through a narrow slit in the flagship’s bow-shield, he could see the first volley of rockets heading their way from the line of Malwa galleys ahead.
“And now has come.” He stepped back two paces, pushing Antonina behind him. With a little wave, he gestured Gersem forward. Wahsi’s successor stepped up to the slit, where he could see well enough to guide the battle.
“Remember, Gersem,” said Ousanas. “All that matters is to destroy the galleys. Whatever the cost. If need be—even if ours are destroyed—we can find a place on Belisarius’ ships.”
The new Dakuen commander nodded.
A moment later, the sound of the first rocket volley came hissing by overhead. As soon as the missiles went past the bow-shield, Ousanas and Antonina craned their heads to watch their flight.
“Way too long,” muttered Ousanas. “But they’ve all been fitted with venturi. Let’s hope the shields stand up.”
He brought his eyes down to the short Roman woman standing next to him.
“I will not have you dead, when Belisarius comes aboard this ship,” Ousanas said. “Not that, whatever else.”
“We might all—”
Ousanas clapped his hands. An instant later, as helpless as a doll, Antonina was lowered onto the deck. Matthew and Leo each held an arm and a leg. Their grip on her was as delicate as possible, under the circumstances, but Antonina was not mollified. The entire process was accompanied by her own monologue.
“You’re dismissed! Discharged, d’you hear?” was the only one of her spluttering phrases which was not so vituperative, so vindictive, so intemperate and so utterly foul-mouthed that Ousanas howled with laughter, clasping his hands over his belly.
Once her butt had been firmly planted on the deck, Antonina broke off her tirade and glared up at Ousanas. “You think this is funny?” she demanded.
Still laughing, Ousanas nodded. An instant later—even in her outrage, Antonina was stunned by the speed with which Ousanas could move, without, seemingly, any warning or effort—the aqabe tsentsen was sitting right next to her. He beamed down upon her from a height which was now only measured in inches instead of feet.