By the time all the Kushans filed in, even the huge pavilion was crowded. Then, when the cataphracts followed, Belisarius thought the pavilion might burst at the seams.
Shakuntala took charge.
“Sit,” she commanded. “All of you except Ousanas.”
She looked at Ousanas. “Search the woods. Make certain there are no spies.”
The dawazz grinned. The order was utterly redundant, of course. He had already seen to the task. But he knew Shakuntala was simply seeking to calm the Kushans. So he obeyed instantly and without complaint. On his way out of the pavilion, he whispered to Belisarius: “Envy me, Roman. I, at least, will be able to breathe.”
The Kushans were still standing, uncertain.
“Sit,” commanded Shakuntala. Within three seconds, all had obeyed. But, as they made to do so, She spoke again.
“Kungas—sit here.” Shakuntala pointed imperiously to one of two cushions placed not far from her own, diagonally to her right. Remembering the seating arrangement in the Malwa emperor’s pavilion, Belisarius realized this was the Indian way of honoring those close to the throne.
She pointed to the other cushion. “Kanishka—there.”
The Kushan commander and his lieutenant did as she bade them.
After all the Kushans were sitting on the carpeted floor of the pavilion, Shakuntala gazed upon them for a long moment without speaking. The warriors stared back at her. They knew her face well, of course. It had been they who had rescued Shakuntala from the Ye-tai savaging the royal palace during the sack of Amaravati. They who had brought her to Venandakatra’s palace at Gwalior, where she was destined to become the Malwa lord’s new concubine. They who had served as her captors and guardians during the long months they waited for Venandakatra’s return from his mission to Constantinople.
Yet, for all the familiarity of those months in her company, most of them were now gaping. Surprise, partly, at seeing her again in such unexpected circumstances. But, mostly, with surprise at how different she seemed. This was no captive girl—proud and defiant, true, but riddled with despair for all that. This was—what? Or who?
The moment was critical, Belisarius knew. There had been no time to discuss anything with her. He feared that, in her youthful uncertainty, she would make the mistake of explaining the situation. Of trying to convince the Kushans.
The Empress Shakuntala, heir of ancient Satavahana, rightful ruler of great Andhra, began to speak. And Belisarius realized he might as well have fretted over the sun rising.
“Soon I will return to Andhra,” announced Shakuntala. “My purpose here is almost finished. When I return, I shall rebuild the empire of my ancestors. I shall restore its glory. I shall cast down the Mahaveda abomination and erase from human memory their mahamimamsa curs. I shall rebuild the viharas and restore the stupas. Again, I shall make Andhra the blessed center of Hindu learning and Buddhist worship.”
She paused. The black-eyed Pearl of the Satavahanas, she was often called. Now, her eyes glowed like coals.
“But first, I must destroy the Malwa Empire. To this I devote my life and my sacred soul. This is my dharma, my duty, and my destiny. I will make Malwa howl.”
Again, a pause. The black fury in her eyes softened.
“Already, Raghunath Rao is making his way back to the Great Country. The Wind will roar across Majarashtra. He will raise a new army from the hills and the villages, and the great towns. He is the new commander of Andhra’s army.”
She allowed the Kushans time to digest her words. The men sitting before her were elite soldiers, hardened veterans. They knew Raghunath Rao. Like all Indians, they knew him by reputation. But, unlike most, their knowledge was more intimate. They had seen the carnage at the palace in Gwalior, after the Panther of Majarashtra had raged through it.
Shakuntala watched pride square their shoulders. She treasured that pride. She was counting on that pride. Yes, the Kushan soldiers knew Rao, and respected him deeply. But their pride came from the knowledge that he had respected them as well. For Rao had not tried to rescue the princess while they had guarded her. He had waited, until they had been replaced by—