But that was not the principal reason Mark had been given this new command. The young officer, during the course of the previous year’s campaign in Mesopotamia, had shown himself to be resourceful and reliable. He also—this was quite unusual for a cavalryman—had no objection to fighting on foot, and had proven to have a knack for the new gunpowder weapons.
Belisarius remembered the first time he met Mark, almost four years earlier. The general had just taken command of the army at Mindouos. His predecessor had let that army rot, and Belisarius had found it necessary to purge many of the existing officers. A number of men had been promoted from the ranks. Mark had been one of them, recommended by Belisarius’ cataphract, Gregory.
He saw two more figures scuttling up the trench.
“Speak of the devil,” he murmured. Gregory himself was arriving. He and Mark had become good friends, and had shown they could work together well in combat. That was one of the reasons that Belisarius had put Gregory in command of another new unit, the pikemen who served as a bulwark for the handcannon soldiers.
Call them “musketeers,” came Aide’s thought. Technically, it would be more accurate to call them arquebusiers, but—
“Arquebusiers” is ridiculous. Musketeers it is!
Belisarius broke into a smile. The new name was a minor triumph, true. Picayune, perhaps. But he was a firm believer in the axiom that large victories grow out of a multitude of small ones.
Gregory had arrived, now. He and Mark were eyeing their general quizzically, wondering why he was smiling. Almost grinning, in fact.
“I’ve got a new name for your men, Mark,” he announced. “From now on, we’ll call you musketeers.”
Mark and Gregory looked at each other. It was almost comical the way each began mouthing the word.
“I like it,” pronounced Gregory, after a moment’s experimentation. Mark nodded his head. “So do I!”
The third man came up, and now Belisarius did break into a grin.
“And what have we here?” he asked. “The three musketeers?”
Oh, that’s gross! There followed a mental, crystalline version of a raspberry. Low, low.
Gregory gave the new man, whose name was Felix Chalcenterus, an unkind look. The same little glare was transferred to Mark of Edessa.
“Give me a break, general,” he growled. “You won’t find me fighting with these new-fangled gadgets. Cold steel, that’s still my business.”
Mark and Felix matched Belisarius’ grin. “He’s hopeless, General,” stated Mark. “Set in his ways, like an old village woman.”
Belisarius chuckled at the quip, even though it was quite unfair. For the past year, Gregory had served as Belisarius’ chief artillery officer. In this campaign of fluid maneuver, Belisarius had left his cumbersome artillery behind, so Gregory had been free to take on another assignment. The main reason Belisarius had put the man in charge of the new unit of pikemen was that Gregory was one of those officers who seemed almost infinitely flexible. He was one of the very few Thracian cataphracts who didn’t squeal like a stuck pig when asked to fight on foot, with a pike instead of a lance. The pikemen were an elite unit, true, but Gregory had still been hard-pressed to find enough Thracians to volunteer. In the end, he had relied heavily on the new Isaurians who were enlisting into the general’s corps of bucellarii.
Belisarius got down to business. “Are you ready?” he asked. The question was directed at all three men simultaneously. Felix Chalcenterus served Mark as his executive officer.
“We’re set, general,” came Mark’s reply. Gregory and Felix nodded their agreement.
“Good. Remember—don’t start up the slope until I signal for you.” Belisarius made a little head toss toward the east. “You can be damned sure that Sanga will have some of his Pathan scouts perched on the nearby hilltops, watching everything we do. They’ll have some means of signaling Damodara—mirrors, if the sun’s right. If not, they’ll have something else. Banners, maybe smoke. It’s essential that they can’t see you until the time comes for your countercharge.”
Belisarius gave the three men a quick scrutiny. Satisfied that they understood the point, he added: “You’ll have to come up the hill in a hurry, mind. I won’t give the signal until the last minute. In a hurry—and in good formation. Can you do it?”