An Oblique Approach

"Just for the night," replied Hermogenes. "I'm leaving early in the morning. I really can't be absent from the army for long. Sittas seems to have finally gotten lance charges out of his system, and he's beginning to make noises about general maneuvers."

"Come again, when you can."

"I shall. Most certainly."

Moments later, he and Irene were alone in the room. Hermogenes and she stared at each other in silence, for some time.

He understood the meaning in her gaze. A question, really. Is this man staying at the table to seduce me? Or—

He smiled, then.

I've done some foolish things in my life. But I'm not dumb enough to try to seduce her. As my Uncle Theodosius always said: never chase women who are a lot smarter than you. You won't catch them, or, what's worse, you might.

"So, Irene. Tell me about it. As much as you can."

The next morning, Antonina arose early, to give her regards to Hermogenes before he left. As she walked out of the villa, the sun was just coming up. She found the young merarch already in the courtyard, holding his saddled horse. He was talking quietly with Irene.

Antonina was surprised to see the spymaster. As a rule, Irene viewed sunrise as a natural disaster to be avoided at all costs.

When she came up, Hermogenes smiled and bowed politely. Antonina and the merarch exchanged pleasantries, before he mounted his horse and rode off.

Antonina glanced at Irene. The spymaster yawned mightily.

"You're up early," she commented.

Irene grimaced. "No, I'm just up later than usual. I haven't slept."

She nodded toward the diminishing figure of Hermogenes, who was now passing through the gate. "He's quite a bright fellow, you know. He figured out much more than I would have expected, just from watching the people around him."

"Is that why he stayed at the table? I assumed it was because he had intentions toward you."

Irene shook her head, smiling. "Oh, no. His conduct was absolutely impeccable. Propriety incarnate. No, he wanted to join the conspiracy. Whatever it is. He doesn't care, really, as long as Belisarius is involved. A bad case of hero worship, he's got."

"What did you tell him?"

"Enough. Not too much. But enough to make him happy, and win his allegiance. I think quite highly of that young man, Antonina. He's everything Belisarius said, and more."

Antonina put her arm around her friend's waist and began to guide her back into the villa.

"Fill me in on the details later. You look absolutely exhausted, Irene. You need to get to bed."

Irene chuckled. "Back to bed, actually." Feeling Antonina's little start of surprise, Irene grinned wearily.

"I said I hadn't slept, Antonina. We didn't talk about conspiracies the whole damned night."

"But—"

Irene's grin widened. "I find handsome young men who are smart enough not to try to seduce me to be quite irresistible."

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Framed

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Chapter 21

GWALIOR

Autumn, 529 AD

"I believe I owe Venandakatra an apology," remarked Belisarius.

Garmat frowned. "Why in the world would you owe that swine an apology?" he demanded crossly.

"Oh, I have no intention of giving it to him. That's an obligation which wears very lightly on my shoulders. But I owe it to him nonetheless."

Belisarius gestured ahead, to the enormous procession which was snaking its way along the right bank of the Narmada.

The small Roman/Axumite contingent was located far back from the head of the caravan. The general and Garmat were riding next to each other, on horseback. Just behind them came Valentinian and Anastasius, and the slave scribe, also on horseback. The rest of their party were borne by the two elephants given them by the Malwa. Ezana and Wahsi served as mahouts for the great beasts. Eon and the Maratha women rode in the howdah atop one elephant. The Kushan women and Menander rode in the other. The young cataphract had protested the arrangement, insisting that he was quite capable of riding a horse. But Belisarius had insisted, and truth be told, the lad's protest had been more a matter of form than content. Menander might not yet be well enough to ride a horse, but, in certain other respects, his health had improved dramatically. Judging, at least, from the cheerful and complacent look on his face, on those rare occasions when the curtains of his howdah were opened.

Ousanas, as always, insisted on traveling by foot. Nor was he hard-pressed by the chore. The caravan's pace could barely be described as an ambling walk.

Belisarius smiled. "I accused Venandakatra, you may recall, of putting together this grandiose exhibition for purely egotistical motives."

"So? He is an egotist. A flaming megalomaniac."