“They’re blowing the whole harbor area itself, now.” Gregory grimaced. “I’d have thought they’d wait a bit. Most of the men destroying the guns must have been caught . . .” His words trailed off, as he shook his head.
Belisarius was a bit surprised himself. Malwa artillery was staffed exclusively by Malwa kshatriya, the warrior caste. As a rule, the Malwa tended to coddle that elite class. He had expected the Malwa commander of Barbaricum to try to include the kshatriya in the break-out.
There won’t be a break-out, said Aide suddenly. No way to be sure, but . . .
As with Gregory, faced with such incredible ruthlessness, Aide’s thoughts trailed into silence. Belisarius could almost picture the crystalline equivalent of a headshake.
Belisarius completed the thought, speaking aloud for the benefit of the men around him.
“At a guess, I’d say the Mahaveda have usurped command in Barbaricum. Probably had the actual military commander summarily executed. For incompetence, or dereliction of duty—whatever. The priests will be running the show entirely, from now on.”
Clearly enough, from the look of satisfaction which came over the faces of Maurice, Gregory, and his bodyguards, that thought caused them no great discomfort. None at all, truth be told.
“Good riddance,” muttered Isaac. “Let the bastards all burn in hell.”
Priscus rumbled a laugh, of sorts. “Nice. We can just sit out here and watch them fry.”
Gregory’s face was now creased with a frown. “Maybe not. If there are any Kushans in Barbaricum, I’d be surprised if they didn’t mutiny. Once they finally understood what the priests have in store for them.”
Belisarius began to speak, but fell silent once he saw Maurice shake his head. Unlike Gregory, who had been preoccupied with off-loading his troops’ equipment, Maurice had been present two nights before when Belisarius heard the report of the spies returned from Barbaricum.
“There aren’t any Kushans here,” announced Maurice. “In fact, according to our spies, the Malwa are pulling them out of the Indus entirely.” Again, he grinned like a wolf. “I’m willing to bet Kungas has been chewing his way through central Asia, and the word is spreading. Apparently, several thousand Kushans stationed in the upper valley mutinied. Last anyone saw, they were heading up the Jhelum, with the heads of Mahaveda priests and Malwa kshatriya—and not a few Ye-tai—perched on their pikes.”
Geography was not Gregory’s best subject. “What’s the Jhelum?”
“One of the tributaries of the Indus,” replied Belisarius. “It provides the easy access—relatively easy, that is—to the Hindu Kush. And Peshawar, where Kungas plans to rebuild the Kushan capital.”
“Oh.”
Priscus laughed. “Oh! The fucking Malwa empire is starting to come apart at the seams.”
Belisarius saw no reason to correct the cataphract’s overly optimistic assessment. In reality, he knew, the great Malwa empire—still the world’s most powerful—could hardly be described as “coming apart at the seams.”
True, the northwest Deccan was lost entirely, except for Bharakuccha and the lowlands along the Narmada river. But the Malwa conquest of the Andhra empire was only a few years in the past, and the region had never really been incorporated by the Malwa. Even the southern and eastern portions of conquered Andhra had been sullen and restive. The northwest—Majarashtra, the heartland of the Marathas—had never stopped fighting openly, even before Shakuntala escaped captivity and provided the rebels with a rallying point.
As for the Kushans . . .
They never fit very well into the Malwa scheme of things, said Aide. Not pampered and privileged like the Ye-tai, not locked in by custom and tradition like the Rajputs—a square peg in a round hole. Always were, at the best of times. They were bound to break away, given any chance at all.
After a moment’s silence, Aide continued his thoughts:
You can’t say the Malwa empire is “coming apart at the seams” until the heartland erupts in rebellion. The Ganges valley where the tens of millions of Malwa subjects are concentrated. And not just rebels in the forests of Bihar and Bengal, either. Peasants in the plain, and townsmen in the great cities. That’s what it will take. And they won’t risk rebellion—not after the massacre of Ranapur—unless they see a real chance of winning. Of which there is none, so long as the Malwa dynasty stays intact and commands the allegiance of the Ye-tai and Rajputs.