“Without good lines of circumvallation,” Ashot elaborated, “the sudden appearance of Roman soldiers relieving the siege—seeming to, anyway—will pose an immediate threat. They’ll have to attack us. No choice.”
He cocked his head. “Which, I assume, is exactly what you want. We’re not really a relief column. We’re a decoy.”
“Exactly,” replied Belisarius. He paced back and forth again, just for a few steps. Stopped, jabbed a finger to the north, then swept it to the east. “If we can get you planted just south of the Malwa besieging Khusrau in Sukkur—”
He broke off and looked to Abbu. “Two questions: Are all of the Persians forted up in Sukkur? And is there any suitable terrain to the south where Ashot can set his lines?”
“Not all the Persians, General. After he broke the Malwa in the open field—maybe thirty miles northwest of Sukkur—and then heard the city had risen in rebellion, Khusrau sent a good part of his army back to Quetta. Almost all his infantry, except the gunners.”
For a moment, Belisarius’ face registered confusion. Then: “Of course. He was thinking ahead. His dehgans could hold the walls of Sukkur, with the populace in support. The biggest danger would be starvation, so the fewer soldiers the better. And his infantry can stabilize the supply lines back to Quetta—and Quetta itself, for that matter, which controls the pass into Persia.”
For the first time since he got the news of Khusrau’s seizure of Sukkur, Belisarius seemed to relax. He scratched his chin, chuckling softly. “Bold move, though. And he’s counting on me a lot. Because if we don’t relieve that siege . . .”
“And relieve it pretty soon!” barked Maurice. “Fewer soldiers be damned. He’s still got thousands of dehgans in that city, and dehgans mean warhorses. Each one of those great brutes will eat six to seven times as much as a man.”
Belisarius nodded, and cocked an eye at Abbu. “And the other question?”
The old Arab glowered. “Am I a be-damned gun-man?” The last term was almost spit out. Abbu was a ferocious traditionalist. He transferred the glare to Gregory. “Who knows what those newfangled devices need in the way of terrain?”
Gregory laughed. “Nothing special, Abbu. Something flat, with soft soil my gun crews and the engineers can mound up into berms.” He glanced at Felix Chalcenterus. The Syrian officer was the youngest member of the staff of superb officers which Belisarius had forged around him since the war began. Although Felix was primarily a commander of musketeers, both Belisarius and Gregory thought his knowledge of artillery tactics was good enough for this purpose. Which Felix immediately proved by chiming in confidently:
“Trees would be useful, for bracing. Beyond that, anything which allows the guns to control the approaches, at least a bit. And lets me station musketeers and pikemen to protect the guns from Malwa sallies. Rivers would be ideal, or canals. Marshes will do.”
“Bad for horses,” muttered Abbu, who was reputed to sleep with his own.
“That’s more or less the idea,” retorted Gregory. “The Malwa will have the cavalry, not Ashot. The more they have to slog to get at him—in the face of Felix’s guns—the better.”
Abbu ran fingers through his thick beard. “Yes. I will leave you the men who went with me to Sukkur, and many of my other scouts. They can find you such ground. There is a great bend in the Indus, just below Sukkur. Little creeks and rivers and loops—like Mesopotamia. Somewhere in there will be a place where your be-damned guns can strike at Malwa. While they—”
Good cheer returned. “While they feed themselves against your gunfire. Nowhere wide enough to extend their lines. No way to flank you without boats. Many boats.”
The fingers stroking the beard turned into a fist, tugging it. “Malwa don’t have so many boats.” Now he was practically bearding himself. “My Arabs—true bedouin!—will burn those boats they have. You watch.”
He turned to Belisarius and gave the general a little bow. “Your plan will work, General. So long as you get there in time.” Abbu’s eyes ranged the northeast like a hawk’s. Beyond those grasslands lay the edge of the great Thar desert. “It will be a difficult march. But if you can circle to the east—especially if you keep the Malwa from seeing you—”