“Think, for once,” she continued, after all were seated. “Think of the future, not the past. What we can control militarily—can hold against anyone, once we have built the needed fortifications—are the mountains. But those mountains cannot provide the wealth we need for a prosperous kingdom. That, in a nutshell, is the problem we face.”
She paused. Quickly, all the Kushans nodded their heads. Once she was sure they were following her logic, she went on.
“Only two avenues are open to us, to overcome that quandary. The first is to seize fertile areas in the lowlands, such as Marv . . .” She waited, just a moment, before adding: “And the Punjab, which I know many of you are assuming we will.”
Again, the Kushans began to stiffen. And, again, Irene’s lips twisted into an expression of scorn.
“Spare me! I know Peshawar is in the Punjab—just at the edge of it, at least. And one of the holiest cities of the Buddhist faith.” She pressed herself back into the chair, using her hands on the armrests as a brace. The motion brought some relief to the ache in her lower spine. “The Vale of Peshawar we can claim, easily enough. So long as we make no claims to the Punjab itself.”
She hesitated, thinking. “I am fairly certain that we can claim Mardan and its plain as well, with the Buddhist holy sites at Takht-i-Bahi and Jamal Garhi. Unless I am badly mistaken, Belisarius will allow the Persians to take the Sind. Once Malwa has fallen, therefore, it will be the Rajputs and—I suspect, at least—the Persians who will be our principal competitors for the wealth of the Punjab. Let them have it—so long as we control Peshawar and Mardan.”
“And the Kohat pass!” chimed in Kungas. Very energetically, the way a proper husband corrects a minor lapse on the part of his wife.
Irene nodded. Very demurely, the way a proper wife accepts her husband’s correction. “And the pass.” Then, with a sniff: “Let others squabble over the town of Kohat itself. A Pathan town! More grief than anything else.”
Vima, another of the top officers of the Kushan army, now spoke up. “In essence, what you propose is that we take just enough of the Punjab to protect the Khyber pass. Base our claim to Peshawar and Mardan on religious grounds, but make clear that we will not contest the Punjab itself. While, at the same time, locking our grip on the Hindu Kush.”
“Yes.”
Vima shook his head. “From a military point of view, Your Majesty, the logic is impeccable. But that small portion of the Punjab cannot possibly provide enough food for our kingdom. Not unless we are prepared to live like semi-barbarians, which I for one am not. A civilized nation needs agricultural area, and lots of it.” Semi-apologetically: “Such as the oasis of Marv would provide us.”
Irene sniffed. “Have no fear, Vima! I can assure you that I am even less inclined than you to live like a semi-barbarian.” She shuddered. “God, can you imagine it! Me? Spending half my life in a saddle?”
The Kushans all laughed. But Irene was pleased to see that the laughter contained not a trace of derision. She had made her way to Marv in a saddle, after all. Resolutely spurning each and every suggestion that she ride in a palanquin, or even one of the carts which the camp followers used.
A warrior nation, the more so when it was striking a lightning blow at their hated enemy, needed a warrior queen who would not delay them with her frailties. Her illustrious Roman pedigree had pleased the Kushans, for it brought a certain glamor and aura of legitimacy to their cause. But they did not need the reality of the weak flesh it came in. So, using her intelligence and iron will to stifle that flesh, Irene had submitted to the pain. And for all that they might jest about it, the Kushan soldiers understood and respected her for it.
Once the humor of the moment had settled in, Irene shook her head. “I said there were two alternatives, Vima. You have overlooked the other. A kingdom—a rich kingdom—can also base itself on trade. And, over time, the expansion which trade brings in its wake.”