An Oblique Approach

The raptor vanished, replaced by the friend. "Others see in you the gentleness of your spirit, and the wisdom of your mind. Those are there, true. I have always recognized them. But beneath lies the true Cassian. There is no strength so iron hard as gentleness, Anthony. No faith so pure as that which always doubts, no wisdom so deep as that which always questions."

The monk straightened his back. "Were this not true, I would reject God. I would spit in His face and join the legions of Lucifer, for the archangel would be right to rebel. I love God because I am His creation. I am not his creature."

The Macedonian was rigid. Then his face softened, and for just a fleeting moment, there was as much gentleness there as was always present in the face of the bishop. "Do not fear your doubt, Anthony. It is God's great gift to you. And that He placed that great doubt in your great mind, is his gift to us all."

The room was silent, for a time. Then Antonina spoke again.

"Was there nothing else in your vision, Anthony? No hope of any kind?"

The bishop raised his head and looked up at her.

"Yes—no. How can I explain? It is all very murky. In my vision itself, no, there was no hope of any kind. No more than there was in Belisarius' vision. All was at an end, save duty, and what personal grace might be found. But, there was a sense—a feeling, only—that it need not have been. I was seeing the future, I knew, and that future was crushing and inexorable. But I also sensed, somehow, that the future could have been otherwise."

"All is clear, then," pronounced Michael. "Clear as day."

Belisarius cocked a quizzical eyebrow. The Macedonian snorted.

"The message is from the Lord," pronounced the monk. The raptor resumed its perch. "None here can fail to see it, nor their duty. For our wickedness, we are doomed to damnation. But that wickedness can be fought, and overcome, and thus a new future created. It is obvious! Obvious!" The raptor's eyes fixed on Belisarius, as the hawk's on the hare. "Do your duty, General!"

Belisarius smiled his crooked smile. "I am quite good at doing my duty, Michael, thank you. But it is not clear to me what that duty is." He held up his hand firmly, quelling the monk's outburst. "Please! I am not questioning what you say. But I am neither a bishop nor a holy man. I am a soldier. Fine for you to say, overcome wickedness. At your service, prophet! But, would you mind explaining to me, somewhat more precisely, exactly how that wickedness is to be overcome?"

Michael snorted. "You wish a withered monk from the desert, whose limbs cannot even bear his own weight, to tell you how to combat Satan's host?"

Cassian spoke. "May I suggest, Belisarius, that you begin with your own vision?"

The general's quizzical gaze transferred itself to the bishop.

"I am not a soldier, of course, but it seemed to me that there were two aspects of the enemy's strength which were paramount in your vision. The great numbers of his army, and his strange and mysterious weapons."

Belisarius thought back to his vision, nodded.

"It would seem, therefore, that—"

"We must seek to lessen his numbers, increase our own, and above all, discover the secret of the weapons," concluded Belisarius.

The bishop nodded. Belisarius scratched his chin.

"Let us begin with the last point," he said. "The weapons. They bear some resemblance, it seems to me, to the naphtha weapons used by our navy. Vastly more powerful, of course, and different. But there is still a likeness. Perhaps that is where we should begin."

He spread his hands in a rueful gesture. "But I am a soldier, not a sailor. I have seen the naphtha weapons, but never used them. They are much too clumsy and awkward for use in a land battle. And—" Oddly, he stopped speaking.

Antonina began to say something, but Belisarius made an urgent gesture which stilled her. His eyes were unfocused, his thoughts obviously turned inward.

"The jewel?" asked Cassian. Again, Belisarius made a stilling gesture. All fell silent, watching the general.

"Almost," he whispered. "But I can't quite make out what—" He hissed.