Belisarius’ eyes ranged over the map. “Of course, we’ll probably encounter other Malwa armies on the way. But I’m willing to bet the Malwa forces converging from everywhere their commanders can scrape them up on short notice will be coming in ragged and disorganized. We’ve got a powerful and concentrated field army here, with a cohesive leadership. We can probably defeat them in detail and complete the march to the fork of the Chenab with enough of our army intact to hold it.”
“And then what? You’re sliding over the fact that we will also be caught between two armies,” countered Maurice. He set his feet like a wrestler beginning a match. “You can be certain that the Malwa will bring every soldier they’ve got in the upper valley to hit us at the Chenab—keep us pinned down—while they bring that army up from Sukkur to crush us. And they’ve got a huge army in the Punjab, all the spies say so. Leaving aside the fact that by the time we get to the Chenab our logistics train won’t be ‘fragile.’ It’ll be in complete tatters. They don’t even have to crush us. They can starve us out.”
As if they were one man, the eyes of Maurice, Belisarius and Sittas came to rest on the figure of Menander. Menander had left Eusebius behind in newly conquered Barbaricum and followed Belisarius’ flotilla up the Indus on the steam-powered warship named after its designer. He and the Justinian had caught up with Belisarius’ army in time for Menander to participate in this staff meeting. The young officer had been standing a few paces back from the table in Belisarius’ command tent where the argument between the general and his top staff had been occurring.
Belisarius was a bit amused—and very pleased—to see that the young Thracian managed to speak without any of the flushed embarrassment which had often characterized Menander in times past when he was called upon to give his opinion. The inexperienced cataphract who had accompanied Belisarius on his scouting expedition into the Malwa heartland had been transformed, during the four years which followed, into a self-confident officer. A commander in his own right. Uncertainty-covered-by-braggadocio had been replaced by relaxed assurance.
“I can do it, Maurice,” he said firmly. “Provided we move at once. We’re still catching the tail end of the monsoon winds. For a few more days—although it’ll be hit-or-miss any given day—we can use the wind to move the ships upriver and the current to bring us back down. But once rabi settles in—”
Without a second thought, Menander used the Indian term for the cool, dry season where the winds came out of the Himalayas. India was no longer an exotic and foreign place to him.
“—it’ll be a different story,” he continued. “After that, moving supplies upriver will be a matter of pure sweat. The sailing ships will be almost useless, unless we can tow them with oxen. Eusebius is already starting up the river with the Victrix, but that hurried reconversion he did to turn her into a steam-powered paddle wheeler isn’t . . . all you could ask for. So I doubt he’ll be able to tow more than one barge behind him. That means we’ll have to use galleys, for the most part, which aren’t anywhere near as good for supply ships because so much space has to be taken up by the rowers.”
“There’s always your ship,” said Belisarius. His smile was now more crooked than ever. “The Justinian.”
Menander was startled. Then, running fingers through his straw-colored hair: “Yes, I suppose. Wouldn’t even really require much in the way of refitting to enable it to tow several barges. And a courier vessel just brought word from Queen Rukaiya that the Justinian’s sister ship has left the shipyards at Adulis. So the Photius ought to be available to us also, before too long. Between the two of them—”
The young officer winced. “Jesus, when Justinian finds out . . .”
A little burst of laughter erupted in the tent. The new steam-powered warships were Justinian’s pride and joy. The former emperor had spent years overseeing a large team of artisans to build those engines and design the ships which they would drive.