When the cornicenes blew again, sounding the recall, the cataphracts trotted back to their camps. Full of fierce satisfaction, and arguing among themselves over what proper name to use to label yet another battlefield triumph.
In the end, although the town itself was no longer within Belisarius’ line of outer fortifications, they settled on the name of Sitpur. Perhaps because the name was short, and had a nice little ring to it. More likely, because the cataphracts had become rather fond of the chowpatti which had been baked there, and which gave them their strength. Even Maurice was now claiming to have developed a taste for the foreign bread.
* * *
“The Battle of Sitpur!” roared Sittas triumphantly, as he strode into Belisarius’ new command post many miles to the south. “You can add that one to your list, O mighty Belisarius!”
Belisarius smiled. Then, so infectious was Sittas’ enthusiasm, grinned outright. “Has a nice sound, doesn’t it?”
“Yes, it does,” proclaimed Sittas. The words came out in a bit of a mumble, because the cataphract general was already stuffing himself from the pile of chowpatti on a small table just inside the bunker entrance. “Great stuff,” he mumbled.
“Any problems?” asked Maurice. Like Belisarius himself, Maurice had retreated to the inner line of fortifications as soon as the charge began. Neither one of them had expected Sittas to fail, and they had the next stage of the siege to plan.
“Not much,” mumbled Sittas, waving what was left of the chowpatti. An instant later, that fragment joined its fellows in his maw. Once he finished swallowing, Sittas was able to speak more coherently.
“Only real problem was the organ guns. A few places, here and there, they managed to put together a little line of them. Firing at once, that makes for a pretty ferocious volley. Killed and injured probably more of my men than everything else put together.”
Despite the grim words, Sittas was still exuding good cheer. Which became still cheerier with the next words, which were downright savage:
“Of course, that ended soon enough. Once my cataphracts made clear that there’d be no quarter given to organ gun crews, the rest of them left the damned gadgets lying where they were and scampered off with all the others. Tried to, at least.”
Belisarius started to speak, but Sittas waved him silent. “Oh, do be still! Yes, we took as many prisoners as possible. We’re already starting to shepherd the sorry bastards to the south. Tame as sheep, they are. You’ll have plenty more men to add to your labor gangs. At least five thousand, I’d say.”
Belisarius nodded. Then, resuming his study of the map which depicted the complex details of his inner line of fortifications, he said: “We’ll need them. The civilians need a rest, as hard as they’ve been working. So do the prisoners we took earlier.”
Sittas laughed. “From what I’ve been told, those civilians of yours will need as many guards to keep them from working as you need to keep the prisoners at it.”
Maurice echoed the laugh. “Not far from the truth, that. Once they sized up the new situation, the Malwa civilians—”
“Punjabis,” interrupted Belisarius forcefully. “It’s a war of liberation now, Maurice. Those people are Punjabi—not Malwa.”
Maurice nodded cheerfully, accepting the correction without quarrel. “Punjabis, right. Anyway, once they saw what was happening, they became the fiercest Belisarius loyalists you could ask for. Their necks are on the chopping block along with ours, and they know it perfectly well—and know the Malwa ax better than we do.”
“What about the prisoners?” asked Sittas. The casual way in which he reached for another chowpatti suggested he was not too concerned with the answer. “Any trouble there?”
Gregory shrugged. “Since Abbu and his scouts aren’t much use in the siege warfare we’re starting, the general put them to work guarding the Malwa prisoners.”
Sittas choked humor, spitting pieces of chowpatti across the table. “Ha! Not much chance of any prisoner rebellion, then. Not with bedouin watching them!”
For all the cruel truth which lurked beneath those words, Belisarius couldn’t help but smile. Abbu and his Arabs had made as clear as possible to the Malwa under their guard that the penalty for rebellion—even insubordination—would be swift and sure. As much as anything, Abbu had explained to their officers, because bedouin hated to do any work beyond fighting and trading.