Antonina did not raise to the bait. She simply grinned back. For all that Ousanas often claimed to fear and loathe animals, she knew full well the man was an expert horseman as well as elephant mahout. And a superb camel driver as well, she suspected, although she had never seem him get close to one of the surly brutes.
Eon snorted his own skepticism. Then, his young face became serious. “We need to talk, Antonina. I am sorry to bother you now—I know you’d rather spend the day, ah . . .”
“Pining over a departed husband whom you’ve known for years, as if you were a silly lovestruck girl,” concluded Ousanas unkindly.
“I am a silly lovestruck girl,” protested Antonina. Not with any heat, however. Indeed, the ridiculous phrase brought her some comfort. Odd, perhaps. But her harsh childhood in the streets of Alexandria, followed by a long period in which she had been a courtesan—a time which had been, in some ways, even harsher—made her treasure the new life she had begun after Belisarius married her. She was catching up on things she had missed, the way she looked at it.
But—
She was married to Belisarius, after all. Belisarius, not some obscure small merchant or petty official. And, for all that she treasured the marriage, it did bring great responsibilities in its train.
She started to sigh, but suppressed it. “You want to plan the coming naval campaign. Immediately.”
Eon nodded. “The change in Belisarius’ tactics and timing makes it even more essential that our own expedition set forth as soon as possible. And since that expedition will now require”—the emphasis on that last word was perhaps a bit harsh, as if Eon expected an argument—”the involvement of the Roman fleet, we have no time to lose. Coordination between allies can be sometimes difficult. We need to, ah, establish clearly, ah—”
Eon trailed off into stumbling silence. Ousanas curled his lip, in a sneer which was as magnificent as his grin. “What the fool boy is fumbling at—supposed to be the King of Kings!—is who is going to command the thing. He or some Roman.”
Antonina couldn’t help bursting into laughter. “You’re no longer his dawazz, you know!” she exclaimed. “And he’s no longer a mere prince! Can’t slap him on the head any longer!”
It was Eon’s turn to grin, now. Ousanas scowled.
“Can’t help it,” he grumbled. “Being dawazz was easier than this silly fly whisk business. Polite! Respectful! Not my strength.”
Antonina waved her hand. “It’s not a problem. You will be in command, naturally. The only Roman ships which can be detached for the expedition are the half dozen new gunships which John designed. ‘Carvels,’ as he called them. Belisarius took the older ships with him for the assault on Barbaricum. You brought one hundred and eight war galleys. Each of them carries over two hundred men—approximately twenty thousand, all told, a far larger force than we Romans will provide. And since you refitted them all with cannons, you are even bringing a greater weight of guns to the expedition.”
She broke off, distracted by a side thought. “I’m still amazed you managed to assemble such a fleet so quickly. How did you do it?”
Eon looked smug. “You can thank my wife Rukaiya for that. If there’s anyone left in Ethiopia or Arabia who thinks a seventeen-year-old queen is still almost a child—that one, for sure—you could count them on your fingers.”
“The fingers of one hand,” amended Ousanas. “Huh,” he grunted. “A will of iron, that girl has. As any number of quarrelsome shipbuilders discovered, not to mention supply merchants.”
“And she’s smart, too,” continued Eon, not done with boasting about his wife. “It was Rukaiya’s idea to refit our existing galleys for cannons, rather than trying to build gunships like you Romans have. ‘Carvels,’ you’re calling them now?”
His expression grew somewhat apologetic. “We can build ships quickly, following the modifications which Rukaiya suggested, as long as we stick to our old methods. It would have taken us much longer to match John’s design. We just don’t have the same manufacturing base, especially not with metalworking.”
“Couldn’t have fitted carvels with the right guns, anyway,” said Ousanas. “Even your Roman armorers in Alexandria can barely produce enough of those for your own ships. But Rukaiya’s design only needs small guns—four-pounders—and only four to a ship, which Alexandria could make readily enough.”