With his finger, he traced on the map the Indus and Chenab rivers as they converged south of their own location. “Almost anywhere along here. So we have to leave enough of a striking force, centrally positioned, to stop any landing before it gets established.” Gloomily: “We can manage it for a while, sure. We’ve still got twelve thousand cataphracts, and we can use half of them for a quick reaction force against any amphibious attack. But . . .”
Gregory finished the thought for him. “But sooner or later, they’ll establish a beachhead. And when they do, the whole thing will start unraveling.”
“So let’s make sure it happens later than sooner,” said Belisarius firmly. “Because sooner or later, Menander and Eusebius are going to get here also. There’s been no indication at all that the Malwa have any real warships on these rivers. Once the Justinian and the Victrix arrive, we should be able to control the banks of the triangle well enough.”
* * *
At the moment, neither Menander nor Eusebius quite shared the general’s confidence. First, because they still had to run the fortress which the Malwa had built on the Indus below the Chenab fork. Secondly, because they had found themselves laden with a far greater cargo than they had expected. Instead of towing one barge behind the Justinian, the gunship was towing three and the fireship yet another. One of the three extra barges was loaded with all six of the twenty-four pounders which Ashot had possessed; the second with the artillerymen and engineers needed to set them up and keep them in operation; and the third with the powder and shot to get them in operation through pitched battles.
Ashot had insisted. Rigorously.
“I don’t need them anymore,” he’d told them. “After Calopodius broke that Malwa assault on the island—the one they must have been sure would succeed—the Malwa stopped all their attacks on the Roman positions. They must be getting a little desperate now. Their food is running low, and now that you’ve arrived—don’t think they didn’t spot you—they’ll know that they’re most likely going to be losing their water supplies. They don’t have any boats on the river which can stand up to either the Justinian or the Victrix, much less both combined.”
“You’d think they would!” protested Eusebius.
Ashot shook his head. “You’re thinking like an engineer instead of a military man, Eusebius. A year ago, the Malwa still thought they were conquering Mesopotamia. The last thing in their minds was building armed and armored gunships to defend the heartland of the Indus valley. And that’s not the kind of thing you can do overnight, as you well know.”
“You think they’re going to lift the siege of Sukkur?” asked Menander.
“Who knows?” shrugged Ashot. “If they had any sense, they would. Unless they can break into Sukkur, which there’s no sign they can after weeks of trying, they’ll start starving before too long. But I’m pretty sure the general was right: Link is still way off in Kausambi, not close enough to the scene to make informed decisions. So the Malwa commanders are probably operating based on the kind of ‘stand at all cost’ orders which seem reasonable to a commander a thousand miles away. And the Malwa high command has made crystal clear what the penalty is for disobeying orders.
“So take the twenty-four pounders,” he’d concluded. “That’ll still leave me the really big guns, in case of another Malwa assault. And Belisarius can use them up north. Those monsters can break down walls, if the Malwa start building lines of countervallation, which they will if he’s managed to take the triangle. His little three-pounder field artillery can’t.”
* * *
On their way up the Indus, Menander and Eusebius had picked up another load as well. A small one, however—just one man. When they came ashore on a boat to the island where Calopodius had made his stand, in order to pay him their regards, Calopodius pleaded with them to take him along.
Menander and Eusebius stared down at him. The young Greek officer was lying on a pallet in his tent. Nothing of his face above the mouth could be seen. The entire upper half of his head was swathed in bandages. Calopodius’ trickery had delayed a Malwa assault, but it had not prevented it. He had still managed, by his heroism and that of his men, to beat off that attack. But not without suffering a great price. His force had suffered terrible casualties, and Calopodius himself had been blinded by the shrapnel from a mortar shell.