Ousanas paused for a moment, staring at the fire cannon in front of him. Something in the deadly shape of the device seemed to concentrate his thoughts. His expression became sternly thoughtful.
“Eon and I have discussed this at length, many times now. And twice—I’m not sure you even know about this—I spent hours with Belisarius, questioning Aide through him.”
Antonina hadn’t known of those sessions, as it happened, but she wasn’t particularly surprised. Ousanas was one of the few people in the world, beyond Belisarius himself, who had “communed” directly with Aide. And so he understood, in a way that almost no one else would, just how encyclopedic was the crystal’s knowledge of human history—including the vast centuries and millennia that would have unfolded, had the “new gods” not brought Malwa into existence. Antonina realized that Ousanas, canny as always, would have taken advantage of that opportunity to provide himself with the knowledge he would need as the aqabe tsentsen of Axum.
Translated literally, the term meant “keeper of the fly whisks.” But the position was the highest in the Axumite realm, second only to that of the negusa nagast himself. His responsibility, in essence, was to guide the Ethiopian King of Kings in shaping the destiny of his people.
“Africa is the future of Ethiopia, Antonina. Not Rome, or any other realm of the Mediterranean or Asia.”
He spread his own hands, palms down, as if cupping the head of a child. “A vast continent, full of riches. Populated only—except for Ethiopia and the Mediterranean coast—with tribes of hunters and farmers. Many of whom, however, are also skilled ironworkers and miners. Organized and shaped by Ethiopian statecraft, there’s a great empire there to be built.”
Antonina’s eyes widened. “I’ve never pictured you—or Eon—as conquerors. Neither of you seems to have the, ah, temperament—”
“Not bloodthirsty enough?” he demanded, grinning. Then, with a chuckle: “Statecraft, I said.”
He shrugged. “I’m quite sure we will have our share of battles with barbarian tribes. But not all that many, truth to tell, and more in the nature of short wars and skirmishes than great campaigns of conquest and slaughter. Keep in mind, Antonina—I am Bantu myself—that Africa is not heavily populated. And there is no great Asian hinterland producing Huns and such to drive the other tribes forward. We expect most of the task to be one for missionaries and traders, not soldiers. Peaceful work, in the main.”
He broke off. Another Malwa volley was coming—and would strike home or come close, judging from the sound.
“Two rockets!” shouted the sailor at the viewslit. “One of them—”
An instant later, the shield shook under the impact of a missile. Antonina was a bit startled. Unconsciously, she had been expecting the same deep booming sound which she remembered from her experience in the battle outside Charax’s harbor the year before. But the Victrix’s bow shield was no primitive, jury-rigged thing of leather stretched over poles. This warship was not a hastily converted galley. The Victrix had been designed from the keel up for this kind of battle, and the shield was a solid thing of timber clad with metal sheathing. It shrugged off the rocket as easily as a warrior’s shield might shrug off a pebble thrown by a child.
“Ha!” shrilled Eusebius. “John was right! They need cannons—big ones, too, not piddly field guns—to break through this thing. And they don’t have any!”
The sailor at the viewslit next to him shook his head. Antonina couldn’t actually see the grin splitting his face, but she had no doubt it was there. “Not on this miserable priest-ship, anyway. Probably be a different story when we come up against the Malwa main fleet.”
He turned his head toward Eusebius, showing his profile to Antonina. He was grinning. “But that’s for a later day.”
The sailor’s grin faded. “Captain, I can handle this from here on. We’re only a hundred yards off. Better see to the cannon. You’re still the only one who can really use it very well.”
Eusebius nodded. Watching, Antonina was struck by the little exchange. A different commander might have taken umbrage at such a semi-order coming from a subordinate. But although Eusebius had, more or less, become comfortable in his new role as a ship captain, he still had the basic habits and instincts of an artisan accustomed to working with others.