You really might want to pay attention to this, you know. Persians are Persians. The war goes on. And I personally think you need to squelch any idea about a submarine before it even gets started—hopeless, that is—but Justinian’s ideas about spar torpedoes strike me as having some promise. Let the Malwa fuss around with those clumsy ironclads! We can circumvent them entirely, the way Justinian’s thinking runs. With great satisfaction: Smart man, now that he’s not burdened with all that imperial crap.
Startled, Belisarius looked up. To his surprise, he saw that Justinian was grinning at him again.
“So, my favorite General. Are you still glad to see me?”
This time, Belisarius didn’t even have to think about it.
“Yes, I am.”
An empress and her grief
By the time Rukaiya was finally able to speak, Antonina felt her ribs might be on the verge of breaking. The sobbing Queen of Axum had been clutching her like a drowning kitten.
“Thank you,” Rukaiya whispered, wiping away her tears. “I have been so terrified since the news came—more for Wahsi than myself—that I was not even able to grieve properly. I was afraid that if anyone saw even a sign of weakness . . . Horrible enough that Eon is dead. To have his son murdered also . . .”
Antonina stroked the girl’s hair, nestling her head in her shoulder. “It won’t happen, Rukaiya. I promise. Between me and Ousanas and Ezana, you have nothing to fear. Wahsi is the negusa nagast, and there’s an end to it. There will be no struggle over the succession. No Ethiopian version of the Diadochi.”
Again, the young queen burst into tears. “I loved him so! I can’t believe he’s gone.”
Rukaiya said nothing further for quite a while. Antonina was glad of it, despite the additional stress on her ribcage. No widow that young should be faced with anything in such a time, other than her own grief. Just . . .
Weep, and weep, and weep.
A ruler and her decrees
“As long as she needs,” said Antonina firmly. “Weeks, months, whatever it takes. Grieving must be done properly.”
Seated on the imperial throne elevated on its great dais, she stared down at the crowd of notables assembled in the audience chamber. The large room was packed with such men, Ethiopian and Arab alike. Officials, military leaders, merchant princes—all of Axum’s elite was gathered there.
“As long as she needs,” Antonina repeated. She scanned the crowd with cold eyes, daring anyone to challenge her.
The crowd was mute. Clearly enough, from their expressions, any number of the notables would have liked to utter a protest. Of some kind. Trade will be disrupted! Decrees must be made! Legal disputes must be settled! Promotions to the officer ranks—now more than ever, with all the losses—must be made!
“I will rule in her stead,” decreed Antonina. “Until the queen is able to resume her responsibilities. Her new responsibilities, as the regent until the negusa nagast is old enough to rule on his own.”
She stared down the crowd, daring them to challenge her. That they wanted to, she didn’t doubt for a moment. But—
Ousanas was there, standing at her right. Ethiopia’s aqabe tsentsen. With the fly whisk of his office in one hand, as was normal during imperial sessions. Ousanas was grinning. Which, in itself, was also normal enough. But there was not a trace of humor in the thing. It was a great cat’s grin, a lion’s grin, contemplating its prey.
And, on her left, stood Garmat. The old half-Arab, half-Ethiopian adviser to two kings, Kaleb and Eon both, was famous throughout Axum for his sagacity and wisdom. Since Eon’s death, and until Antonina’s arrival, he had been keeping the kingdom from collapsing into turmoil. Providing his teenage queen, at a time when being queen was the last thing she wanted to think about, with his invaluable counsel and steady support. In its own way, Garmat’s solemn forehead was as much of a caution as Ousanas’ predator grin, to anyone who might harbor thoughts of contesting the succession.
It was a fearsome triumvirate, between the seated woman and the men standing on either side of her. In the end, however, whatever hesitations any of the notables still retained were dispelled by someone else. A man who, at that moment, reminded them of the ultimate nature of all power.