Belisarius gazed at his most trusted subordinate. His expression was attentive and solemn, not sarcastic. No one but a fool would dismiss Maurice’s advice when it came to war.
But, when he spoke, his tone was as firm as ever. “What ‘original’ plan, Maurice? The original plan to attack Barbaricum weeks after we did? We’ve already scrapped that plan, and—you know it as well as I do—I’m improvising as I go along. I was planning to concentrate on Sukkur, but now . . . the more I think about it, I’ve come to the same conclusion Sittas obviously has. We’ll hit them at Sukkur, leave enough of a force to make them think we’re stopping there, but keep going up the Indus. By now, Malwa communications have got to be tattered. They have got to be confused. Their command structure has got to be rattled, maybe even cracking. And don’t forget that Link is still in Kausambi, not in the Punjab where it might rally them quickly.”
Belisarius leaned over the map and began making fierce little jabs with his finger. “If I didn’t have an army and officers I trusted, I wouldn’t dream of trying this. But . . .” Jab, jab, jab. “While Bouzes and Coutzes bring up the main forces, I want to move as fast as possible, hitting the Malwa again and again. Pin them in one place, force them to attack the forces I leave behind in good defensive positions, while I keep outflanking them by moving east by north.”
The jabbing turned into a more thoughtful drumming of the fingers. Belisarius’ eyes seemed slightly out of focus, as if he were trying to visualize enemy armies like a clairvoyant. “They’ll be doing the same thing I am, right now, except I’m willing to bet they’re less organized and not moving as quickly. And don’t have commanders as good as Bouzes and Coutzes. They’ll be bringing big forces down the river from the Punjab, just as I’m bringing them up from the lower valley. A race to see who gets to Sukkur first.”
The drumming ended in an sharp, emphatic slap of his hand on the map. “But I’m not going to play their game. I’ll let them get drawn into Sukkur while I move around them to the northeast. Then, if we can reach the fork of the Chenab and set up our own field fortifications, we’ll have broken into the Punjab.”
Maurice tugged at his beard fiercely, reluctance and eagerness obviously contesting within him. The grizzled veteran understood exactly what Belisarius was counting on. The chaos and fog of war. If the Romans could ride that chaos while the Malwa floundered in it . . .
“If we can end this campaign with a foothold in the Punjab,” said Belisarius, “we can avoid entirely the problem of fighting our way out of the Sind through that damn bottleneck at Sukkur. And you know what a bloodbath that would be! We’ll need some time to refit and recuperate after that, of course, but once we’re ready to resume the offensive we’ll be in a far better position to do it. We’ll be attacking the Malwa in the Punjab, which spreads out before us with five rivers to serve as supply lines and invasion routes. As good a terrain as you could ask for, even given that the Malwa will have the Punjab covered with fortresses and lines of fortification. And—and—by then Kungas might be threatening them from the northwest, which will force them to fight on two fronts.
“I know it’s a gamble, Maurice,” concluded Belisarius quietly. “But I think it’s not as risky as you do, and the payoff would be gigantic.”
A crooked little smile replaced the solemn expression. “I can also remember a veteran telling me, years ago when I was a sprat of an officer, that the stupidest thing you can do in war is let the enemy regain his balance once you’ve staggered him. ‘Knock ’em off their feet entirely, and kick ’em when they’re down,’ as I recall his words. And I recall them perfectly, because he repeated them, oh, maybe a thousand times.”
Maurice scowled. Belisarius continued.
“Moving up the assault on Barbaricum surprised the Malwa. Khusrau’s strike out of the Kacchi caught them completely off guard. Now they’re staggering, off balance, trying to restabilize the front lines. That’s why they’ll be so completely preoccupied with crushing Khusrau at Sukkur. If we can hammer them hard enough at Sukkur to keep them pinned, then make a lightning strike into the upper valley and establish a stronghold at the fork of the Chenab, we’ll force the Malwa—force them, Maurice, they won’t have any choice—to lift the siege at Sukkur and try to bring their entire southern army back into the Punjab. An army which will be caught between us and Khusrau, and forced to march along the Indus where we can control the river with our river fleet.” Shrugging: “They might be able to escape the pocket, but they’ll suffer big losses in the doing.”