“That’s all of it, Your Majesty,” said Holkar. He tied the drawstring of the bag tightly, and nestled it into a pocket of silk cloth in the small chest. Then he closed the lid of the chest and stood up. For a moment, he examined his handiwork admiringly, and then scanned the rest of the room.
Since arriving at Kausambi, the Romans and Ethiopians had been quartered in a mansion located in the imperial district of the capital. The imperial district stretched along the south bank of the Jamuna, just west of that river’s junction with the mighty Ganges. The Emperor’s Grand Palace anchored the eastern end of the district. The mansion lay toward the western end, not far from the flotilla of luxurious barges which served the Malwa elite as temporary residences during the summer. The waters of the Jamuna in which that fleet was anchored helped assuage the heat.
Stretching in a great arc just south of the imperial district was the heart of the Malwa weapons and munitions project, a great complex of cannon, rocket and gunpowder manufactories. The odors wafting from that complex were often obnoxious, but the Malwa elite tolerated the discomfort for the sake of security. The “Veda weapons” were the core of their power, and they kept them close at hand.
The mansion in which the foreigners had been lodged belonged to one of Skandagupta’s innumerable second cousins, absent on imperial assignment in Bihar. The building was almost a small palace. There had been more than enough rooms to quarter the entire Kushan escort within its walls, in addition to the foreign envoys themselves. And, best of all, for Shakuntala and Eon, they had finally been able to spend a few nights alone.
Shakuntala, at least, had spent the nights alone in her bed. Dadaji glanced over at Tarabai, sitting on a cushion in the corner of Shakuntala’s huge bedchamber. He restrained a smile. The Maratha woman had been almost inseparable from Eon since their arrival. Today, in fact, was the first day she had resumed her duties as an imperial lady-in-waiting.
If, at least, the activity of the day could be called the duty of a chambermaid. Holkar rather doubted it. Rarely—probably never—had an imperial lady-in-waiting spent an entire day helping her Empress count a fortune.
Holkar’s eyes returned to the chest whose lid he had just closed. That chest was only one of many small chests which were strewn about Shakuntala’s quarters. Those chests were much smaller than the chest which stood in the center of the room. That chest, that huge chest, dazzling in its intricate carvings and adorned with gold and rubies—the colors of the Malwa dynasty—was now completely empty.
Shakuntala shook her head. She almost seemed in a daze. When she spoke, her voice was half-filled with awe.
“I can’t believe it,” she whispered. “There was as much in that chest as—as—”
Dadaji smiled. “As the yearly income of a prince. A rich prince.”
The scribe stroked his jaw. “Still, it’s not really that much—for an imperial warchest.”
Shakuntala was still shaking her head. “How will I ever repay Belisarius?” she mused.
Dadaji’s smile broadened. “Have no fear, Your Majesty. The general does not expect to be repaid with coin, only with the blows you will deliver onto Malwa. Blows which this treasure will help to finance. How did he put it? ‘An empress without money is a political and military cripple. A crippled ally will not be much use to Rome.’ ”
Shakuntala left off shaking her head. After taking a deep breath, she sat up straight.
“He is right, of course. But—how many men do you know would turn over such a fortune to a stranger? And it wasn’t just the last Malwa bribe, either.”
“How many men?” asked Holkar. “Very few, Your Majesty. Very, very few.” The slave laughed aloud. “And I know of only one who would do so with such glee!”
Shakuntala grinned herself, remembering Belisarius’ cheerful words the previous evening, when he presented her with the chest which Nanda Lal had just bestowed on him—and half the contents of the first, the one Skandagupta gave him at Ranapur.
I like to think of it as poetic justice, the Roman general had said, smiling crookedly. Let the Malwa bribes finance Andhra’s rebellion.