She cleared her own throat. Then, to her surprise, managed to speak with a voice filled with nothing but serenity.
“I will do it, Eon. I will see to the safety of your wife and child, and the dynasty. I will ensure that your death was not in vain. There will be no Diadochi seizing power in Axum and Adulis. Your heritage will not be destroyed by ambitious generals and scheming advisers.”
Her eyes moved from the dying king to the regimental commanders. Serenity, cool serenity, hardened into diamond. “You may be sure of it.”
“Sure of it,” echoed Ousanas. His great powerful arms were crossed over a chest no less powerful. He made no effort to shroud his own glare at the sarawit commanders with anything which even vaguely resembled serenity. Unless it be the serenity of a lion studying his prey.
“Sure of it,” repeated Ezana, his voice ringing as harshly as that of the aqabe tsentsen. Ezana did not even look at his fellow commanders. He kept his eyes fixed on those of his king. Eon, clearly enough, was about to lapse back into unconsciousness. Ezana almost rushed to speak the next words.
“The negusa nagast has appointed the Roman woman Antonina to oversee the transition of authority in Axum. I bear witness. Does any man challenge me?”
Silence. Ezana allowed the silence to stretch unbroken, second after second.
“Any man? Any commander of any sarwe?”
Silence. Stretching unbroken.
“So be it. It will be done.”
The negusa nagast seemed to nod, perhaps. Then his eyes closed and his labored breathing seemed to ease.
“The king needs rest,” pronounced Ousanas. “The audience is over.”
* * *
When all had gone except Antonina and Ousanas, she leaned weakly against the wall of the cabin. Slow tears leaked down her cheeks.
Through blurred vision, she met the sorrowing eyes of Ousanas.
“I married him, Ousanas. Found him his wife and gave him his son. How can I—?”
Almost angrily, Ousanas pinched away his own tears with thumb and forefinger.
“I would not have wished it on you, Antonina,” he said softly. “But Eon is right. The dynasty could shatter into pieces—will shatter, if there is not a strong mind and hand to lead us through. And no one but you can provide that mind and hand. All the rest of us—Ethiopian and Arab alike—are too close to the thing. The Ethiopians, fearful that Rukaiya’s relatives will grow too mighty, will seek to humble the Arabs. And then, in the humbling, squabble among themselves over which regiment and which clan will be paramount. The Arabs, newly hopeful of a better place, will fear reduction to vassalage and begin to plot rebellion.”
“You are neither Arab nor Ethiopian,” retorted Antonina. “You could—”
Ousanas’ old grin almost seemed to make an appearance. “Me? A savage from the lakes?”
“Stop it!” snapped Antonina. “No one thinks that—has not for years—not even you! And you know it!”
Ousanas shook his head. “No, not really. But it hardly matters, Antonina. If anything, my sophistication will make everyone all the more suspicious. What does that odd man really want? He reads philosophy, even!”
Now, the grin did appear, even if for only an instant. “Would you trust someone who could parse sophisms with Alcibiades?”
Antonina shrugged wearily. “You are not Alcibiades. Nor does anyone believe so.” She managed a semblance of a grin herself. “Assuming that hardheaded and practical sarwen knew who Alcibiades was in the first place. But if the name is unfamiliar, the breed is not. I do not believe there is one man or woman in all of Axum or Arabia who believes that Ousanas is a scheming, duplicitous adventurer seeking only his own gain.”
Ousanas shrugged. “That, no. I believe I am well enough trusted. But trust is not really the issue, Antonina. The problem is not one of treachery, to begin with. It is simply—confusion, uncertainty. In which fog every man begins to wonder about his own fate, and worry, and then—” He took a breath. “And then begin scheming, and lying, and seeking their own gain. Pressing to their own advantage. Not from treason, simply from fear.”
Antonina tried to protest, but could not. Ousanas was right, and she knew it.