Sittas’ own scrutiny had also reached the army’s center. But, unlike Belisarius, his gaze was not one of pleasure and satisfaction.
“Silliest damned thing I’ve ever seen,” he grumbled.
“Thank God,” sighed Belisarius, apparently with great relief. “A complaint! I was beginning to wonder seriously about your health.”
Sittas snorted. “I just hope you’re right about this—this—what’s his name?”
“Gustavus Adolphus.” Belisarius turned back around and faced forward. He’d seen enough, and the position was awkward to maintain even with stirrups.
“Gustavus Adolphus,” he repeated. “With an army more or less designed like this one, he defeated almost every opponent he ever faced. Most of whom had armies which, more or less, resembled the Malwa forces.”
Sittas snorted again. ” ‘More or less, more or less,’ ” he echoed in a sing-song. “That does not precisely fill me with confidence. And didn’t he get himself killed in the end?”
Belisarius shrugged. “Leading one of his insanely reckless cavalry charges in his last battle—which his army won, by the way, even with their king dead on the field.”
Belisarius smiled crookedly. For a moment, he was tempted to turn around in the saddle and look at his bodyguards. He was quite certain that the faces of Isaac and Priscus, that very moment, were filled with solemn satisfaction at hearing such antics on the part of commanding generals described as “insane.”
But he resisted the impulse. For all that he enjoyed teasing Sittas for his inveterate conservatism—
Damned dinosaur, came Aide’s sarcastic thought.
—Belisarius also needed to have Sittas’ confidence. So:
“You’ve already agreed, Sittas—or do we have to go through this argument again—that armored cavalry can’t face unbroken gun-wielding infantry in the field.”
“I know I did. Doesn’t mean I have to like it.” He raised a thick hand, as a man forestalls an unwanted lecture. “And please don’t jabber at me again about Morgarten and Laupen and Morat and all those other heathen-sounding places where your precious Swiss pikemen of the future stood their ground against cavalry. I’m sick of hearing about it.”
Sittas’ voice slipped into an imitation of Belisarius’ baritone. ” ‘As long as the gunmen are braced with solid infantry to protect them while they reload, they’ll butcher any cavalry that comes against them.’ Fine, fine, fine. I won’t argue the point. Although I will point out”—here Sittas’ tone grew considerably more enthusiastic—”that’s only true as long as the infantry doesn’t break and run. Which damn few infantry don’t, when they see cataphracts thundering down on them.”
Aide’s voice came again. Stubborn as a mule. Best give him a stroke or two. Or he’ll sulk for the rest of the day.
Belisarius had reached the same conclusion. His next words were spoken perhaps a bit hastily. “I’m certainly not arguing that cavalry isn’t irreplaceable. Nothing like it for routing the enemy and completing their destruction—after their formations have been broken.”
So did Belisarius pass the next hour or so, with Aide grousing in his mind and Sittas grumbling in his ear, extolling the virtues of cavalry under the right circumstances. By the time Maurice and Agathius arrived with a supply problem which needed Belisarius’ immediate attention, Sittas seemed to be reasonably content.
Have to do it all over again tomorrow, concluded Aide sourly.
* * *
Sittas rode off less than a minute after Agathius began explaining the problem. The big Greek nobleman’s enthusiasm for logistics paralleled his enthusiasm for infantry tactics.
How did he ever win any campaigns, anyway? demanded Aide.
Belisarius was about to reply. But Maurice, as if he’d somehow been privy to the private mental exchange, did it for him.
The Thracian cataphract, born a peasant, gazed after the departing aristocratic general. Perhaps oddly, his face was filled with nothing more than approval. “Still trying to make him happy? Waste of time, lad, until Sittas has had a battle or two under his belt. But at least we won’t have to worry about him breaking under the lesson. Not Sittas. If there’s a more belligerent and ferocious general in the world, I don’t know who it is. Besides, who really knows the future anyway? Maybe Sittas will lead one of his beloved cavalry charges yet.”