Belisarius nodded. To his subordinates, the gesture carried that certain solid air about it which they had come to recognize and respect deeply even if they were not privy to its origin. Aide agrees with me.
“I doubt they stationed a large force there to begin with,” he stated firmly. His officers, recognizing the weight of Aide’s opinion which nestled inside that confident statement, nodded their acceptance. Even Maurice.
The chiliarch sighed. “All right, then. But we should take all the mitrailleuse with us. And all the sharpshooters.” He gave Mark of Edessa, standing well back in the tent, a glance of approval. “They’ve been trained as dragoons, so they’ll be able to keep up.”
Belisarius eyed him skeptically. Maurice snorted. “All of them, dammit. Ashot will be counter-besieging the Malwa at Sukkur, with a supply route as wide as the Indus—literally—and a fortified position guarded by our entire infantry once Bouzes and Coutzes arrive.”
Another look of approval came to Maurice’s face, as he thought of the twin brothers who, in the course of the Mesopotamian and Zagros campaigns, had hammered Belisarius’ infantry into shape. If there was one thing in the world that Maurice treasured, it was veteran troops. True, most of the soldiers in the gigantic Roman army which was now taking the war to the Malwa were recent recruits, pouring into military service in hopes of sharing the spoils which smaller armies of the famous Belisarius had gleaned from earlier campaigns. But every branch of that army had been built around a core of veterans, experienced against the Malwa.
Bouzes and Coutzes’ Syrian infantry and cavalry, Gregory’s artillerymen, Felix’s musketeers and pikemen, Mark of Edessa’s new force of sharpshooters, Belisarius’ own Thracian bucellarii directly commanded by Maurice himself—and, not least, the magnificent Greek cataphracts who had broken the Malwa at Anatha and the Dam, and held off Rana Sanga’s ferocious cavalry charges at the Battle of the Pass.
For a moment, Maurice exchanged glances with Cyril, the man who had succeeded to command of the Greek cataphracts after Agathius was crippled at the Battle of the Dam. The glance was full of mutual approval.
Sittas suddenly laughed. “And will you look at those two? As if I don’t know what they’re thinking!”
He bestowed another “hearty backslap,” this time on the shoulder of Cyril. The Greek cataphract, more sturdily built than Menander, did no more than flinch.
“Don’t worry, my lowborn comrade. I’ll see to it that my haughty noble cataphracts follow your lead.” Sittas frowned. “Even if I can’t say I’m too thrilled myself at the idea of fighting dismounted behind fortifications.”
His face lightened. “But—who knows? There’s bound to be the need for an occasional sally, now and then. History may still record that the last great charge of heavy lancers was led by Sittas the Stupendous.”
Again, laughter filled the tent. This time, not so much with humor as simple satisfaction. Whether Belisarius’ daring maneuver would lead to victory or defeat, no one could say. But all hesitation and doubt would now be set aside. If the plan could work, these men would see to it.
Chapter 26
INDIA
Autumn, 533 a.d.
Kungas studied Irene carefully. The sly humor which was normally to be found lurking somewhere in his eyes was totally absent.
“You are certain?” he demanded.
She nodded. Quite serenely, she thought. Such, at least, was her hope. “What is there to fear, Kungas? The fact that the Malwa put up only a token fight to hold Begram tells us that Belisarius must be hammering them in the south. They are apparently withdrawing all their troops into the Punjab.”
Kungas said nothing in response. Instead, he stepped over to the edge of the roof garden and planted his hands on the wide ledge which served it for a railing. From there, atop the palace that his men had seized to serve as the residence for the reborn Kushan monarchy, he gazed onto the streets of Begram. He swiveled his head slightly, studying the scene below. Listening to it, for the most part.
The city was awash in sound and moving color, almost rioting with celebration. After the Ye-tai had destroyed Peshawar long years before, Begram had become the major city of the Kushans. Four fifths of the population, approximately, was either Kushan or part-Kushan by descent. And the Pathans who formed most of the remaining population had no great allegiance to Malwa. None at all, truth be told. So if the Pathans were not exactly joining the Kushan festivities, they were not huddling in fear from it either. And there was certainly no indication that they were planning any sort of countermoves.