Watching him fawn, Holkar felt enormous relief. He had been afraid he would have to murder them. And if he had been forced to order the Kushans to kill the men of the family, there would have been no choice but to slaughter the other members of the stablekeeper’s household. A wife, a daughter, two daughters-in-law, and three servants.
Holkar would have done it, if necessary. But the deed would have cut to his soul. The stablekeeper was no Malwa enemy. Just a man feeding his family, by caring for the horses and elephants of those richer than he.
But there was no need. It was obvious that the disguise had passed muster perfectly. True, it was odd for such a grandee to make his departure at night, rather than in daytime. But Holkar had explained the matter satisfactorily. Urgent news. His wife’s father on his death-bed.
“Fool woman,” he grumbled. “She insists on an immediate departure—in the middle of the night!—and then takes hours to prepare herself.”
The stablekeeper, daringly, essayed a moment of shared camaraderie.
“What can you do, lord? Women are impossible!”
For a moment, Holkar glared at the man’s presumption. But, after seeing the stablekeeper cringe properly, he relented. He had intimidated the man enough, he thought. A bit of kindness, now, would seal the disguise.
“I am most satisfied with you, stablekeeper,” he announced, pompously. “The elephants have been well cared for, and the howdahs which you constructed are quite to my satisfaction.”
The stablekeeper bowed and scraped effusively, but Holkar was amused to see that the man’s eyes never left off from watching Holkar’s hand. And when the stablekeeper saw that hand dip into the very large purse suspended from Holkar’s waist, his eyes positively gleamed.
“As I promised you, there would be a bonus for good work.”
Holkar, watching the man’s face as he deposited a small pile of coins in the stablekeeper’s outstretched hand, decided he had gauged the bonus correctly.
But, just to be sure, Holkar decided to unbend a bit.
“Yes, I am very satisfied. Might I make a request? Since my wife appears to be delayed, would you be so good as to feed my men? I have mentioned to them, from my previous visits, how excellent a cook your wife is.”
He dipped his hand into the purse again.
“I will pay, of course.”
Within seconds, the stablekeeper’s household was flurrying into action.
Watching the perfect unfolding of their plan, the scribe Dadaji Holkar smiled. Warriors, he knew, were prone to dark misgivings about any and all plans. Holkar did not sneer at those misgivings. He had been a warrior himself, in his youth. But he concluded, as he had years before, that soldiers were a gloomy lot.
One soldier, at that very moment, was not gloomy at all.
He had come to India for a number of reasons, and with several goals in mind. Many—most—of those goals he had already achieved. He had used the voyage to forge an alliance between Rome and Ethiopia. He had freed the Empress of Andhra from captivity, and thus laid the basis for another alliance with she and Raghunath Rao. (He had even, to his delight, managed to use Malwa bribes to fund the future Deccan rebellion.) He had been able to learn much concerning the new Malwa gunpowder weapons, knowledge which—combined with Aide’s help—would make possible the creation of a new Roman army capable of dealing with the Malwa juggernaut.
Mainly, however, Belisarius had come to India in order to know his enemy. He was a general, and he considered good intelligence to be the most useful of all military assets. Here, too, he had accomplished much. He had seen the Malwa army in action, as well as their Ye-tai, Rajput and Kushan auxiliaries. He had been able to study the workings of Malwa society at close hand. He had even been able, to some extent, to meet and gauge the Emperor himself and many of his top military and civilian advisers.
But the one thing he had not accomplished was to meet his ultimate enemy. Link. The—being? creature?—who was, in some way, the origin of the newly arisen menace threatening Rome and, he thought, all of mankind. Link.