Since Belisarius didn’t require much, if anything, in the way of face-saving or male solidarity, and Antonina cared not a fig why her proposal was adopted . . .
Antonina, exuding feminine modesty and poise, eased herself into her own chair. Belisarius remained standing in the center of the chamber. “Get to it, Khusrau,” he growled. Normally, the Roman general would not speak so abruptly to a Persian emperor, but his mood was getting fouler by the moment.
“Yes, do,” murmured Antonina. The sound was practically a coo.
Khusrau’s teeth flashed briefly through his beard. The smile, for all its brevity, was heartfelt and not a gesture. If there was anything the Emperor of Iran and non-Iran appreciated, it was negotiating partners who were smart enough not to require him to waste endless time in diplomatic folderol.
“Have either of you given much thought to the future?” he asked. “I am speaking of the more immediate political future after our triumph.” He paused for a moment. “Not of the philosophical profundities regarding human destiny which are raised by the existence of the Talisman of God in our midst.”
Again he paused, allowing Belisarius and Antonina time to absorb the fact that Khusrau was well aware of Aide’s existence. He did not expect that either of them would be much surprised by that, but Aide’s existence had only been revealed to a single Persian. And that one—
“Baresmanas said nothing to me,” he added, “until I made clear to him that I already knew the secret. You may rest assured of that, Belisarius.”
The Roman general nodded. “No, he wouldn’t.” Belisarius sighed and abruptly sat down on a chair next to him. “But there was no way to keep the Talisman a secret anyway. Nor, really, much reason to do so at this point.”
None at all, agreed Aide.
Belisarius touched the pouch which lay on his chest under the tunic. The pouch where, as always, Aide lay nestled. “Would you like to see him?”
Khusrau’s eyes widened slightly. ” ‘Him’?” he asked. “A mystical jewel has a sex?” Under the thick, short, square-cut beard, the Persian emperor’s teeth gleamed again. “Or is it simply—familiarity and ease? If so, I am a bit relieved.”
He shook his head. “Not now, Belisarius. Later—yes, very much. But we have this to deal with first.”
He waited. After a moment, Belisarius shrugged.
“You’ll have to be more precise, Emperor. I have given quite a bit of thought to the political future after the fall of Malwa. But I suspect you have something very specific in mind.”
Khusrau nodded. “At all costs, I wish to avoid a resumption of the ancient war between Rome and Persia. A war which, as things now stand, is almost certain to resume within a decade after Malwa is finished.”
This time, both Belisarius and Antonina were genuinely startled. Over the past two years, since Rome had answered Persia’s desperate plea for an alliance against the Malwa invaders, the relations between the two empires—for all that they had been frequently locked in warfare over a period measured in centuries—had been quite good.
Khusrau lifted his shoulders and spread his hands. “The problem lies with Iran, not Rome. Consider—which I think neither of you really has done—what the world will look like to the Aryans after this war is over. Especially to Iran’s nobility.”
He gave both of them a long, measured stare. “Rome emerges splendid and triumphant. Its lands untouched by the war, its populace unravaged, its military power and commercial might enlarged, its future bright and certain.” After a brief pause: “And Iran? A land half-ruined by the Malwa. And a land, moreover”—here his voice hardened—”whose emperor is bound and determined to transform its ancient customs. Specifically, is bound and determined to bridle the rambunctious Aryan nobility which is both the source of Iran’s traditional military power and, always, the shackle to its forward progress.”
He’s right, said Aide unhappily. I’ve been thinking about it myself, now and then. I didn’t want to raise it with you, because you have enough to worry about. But . . . he’s right. Persia will be a powderkeg after the war.
“You fear rebellion,” stated Belisarius. Seeing Khusrau’s impassive face, the Roman general’s lips quirked in a crooked smile. “No, not really. Not Khusrau Anushirvan. If it comes to it, you will lead that nobility into war against Rome in order to keep their allegiance.”