The Tide of Victory by Eric Flint and David Drake

Antonina’s smile now went to the small group of soldiers standing just behind her husband. All three of the top Kushan commanders of Belisarius’ army—former commanders, as of this moment—were gathered there. Vasudeva was in the center, flanked by Vima and Huvishka.

“Surely you don’t agree with him,” stated Antonina.

Vasudeva’s smile, as always, was a thin and economic affair. “Wouldn’t surprise me,” he said. “Not a bad idea, in fact. Pagans are a silly superstitious lot, of course, but they’re not the least bit inclined toward exclusivity.” He stroked his wispy goatee. “Maybe.”

“Et tu, Brute?” muttered Antonina.

Vasudeva’s smile widened. “Antonina, be serious.” He nodded toward the wedding couple and the small crowd gathered about them. “Have I not myself—me and my officers—been the subject of just such a premeditated marital display this very morning?”

Antonina was a bit disconcerted by the Kushan general’s perspicacity. Belisarius had told her, but she was not very familiar with the man herself.

Shrewd indeed!

All three of the Kushan generals were now smiling. “And quite well done it was, too,” murmured Vima approvingly. “What ambitious general, daydreaming of his own possible lineage, would risk bringing the wrath of such empires down on his head? Wouldn’t do at all to overthrow the established dynasty, in the face of such universal approval.”

Belisarius was studying the faces of the three men. For once, there was no smile at all on his face.

“It’s been done, and often enough,” he said softly. His gaze came to rest on Vasudeva. Vasudeva’s smile was still in place.

“Not here,” said the Kushan. He glanced at Kungas. “All of us have spent time with him, Belisarius, since he arrived. We are satisfied. He will make a good emperor.” His two subordinates grunted their agreement. Vima added: “And where else could you find such a scheming empress?”

Vima studied Irene. “I suppose you could marry the widow, over the body of her dead husband. But—”

Huvishka shuddered. “Talk about sleeping with both eyes open!”

A little laugh swept the group. Belisarius nodded. In truth, he was not surprised at the easy way in which the Kushan generals had accepted Kungas as their new monarch-to-be. Belisarius had come to know all three Kushan soldiers well, in the past two years. They approached life with hard-headed practicality, and were not given in the least to idle fancies.

Still—

Kungas and Irene had brought fewer than three thousand Kushan soldiers with them from Majarashtra. There were over ten thousand serving under Vasudeva’s command in Belisarius’ army. Two thousand of those had been with Vasudeva when Belisarius defeated them at the battle of Anatha. The rest had come over after the Malwa disaster at Charax. When the Malwa commanders started their defeated army marching back to India, their Kushan troops had mutinied. The march would be a death march, and they knew it. And knew, as well, that Kushans would do a disproportionate share of the dying. The Ye-tai, not they, would receive what little extra rations could be smuggled off boats along the coast.

It was an awkward situation, thus. All of the Kushans serving under Belisarius had been released for service in their own cause. On the one hand, that gave Kungas a small but by no means laughable army. On the other, it meant Kungas and Irene would be marching across the Persian plateau in order to rebuild the shattered empire of the Kushans accompanied by an army most of whose soldiers owed them no allegiance at all. Everything would depend on the attitude of the officers those soldiers did know and trust. First and foremost, Vasudeva and Vima and Huvishka.

Just as Vasudeva had shrewdly surmised, the main purpose of the wedding which had just been held was to make the attitude of Rome and Persia and Ethiopia as clear as crystal. This man—and this woman—have our official seal of approval. So don’t get any wild ideas.

“Good enough,” murmured Belisarius. “Good enough.”

* * *

Later that morning, Irene and Kungas went to the Roman emperor’s chambers to receive his own official seal of approval. Which they got, needless to say, with considerably less reserve than from his elders and nominal subordinates. Irene was eventually forced to pry him loose.

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