An Oblique Approach

"Saps their self-esteem, over time," agreed his brother. "Bound to. It's dog work."

Belisarius decided he'd been polite long enough.

"Dog work, is it?" he demanded, feigning anger. "I would remind the two of you that the Roman empire was built by such dogs. By infantry, not cavalry. Infantry who knew the value of good fortifications, and knew how to put them up. Quickly, and well."

He reined in his horse. They were now at the gate of the fortress. Belisarius pointed to the barrenness beyond the date palms, from which they had just come.

"Do you see that border with Persia? That border was placed there centuries ago. By infantrymen. How far has your precious cavalry pushed it since then?"

He glared at them. The brothers looked away.

"Not one mile, that's how far." The gate was opening. Belisarius set his horse back in motion.

"So let's not hear so much boasting about cavalry," he growled, passing through the gate.

Rather well done, he patted himself on the back. They're not bad fellows, really. If they could just get that stupid crap out of their heads.

The interior of the fortress was not as imposing as its exterior. In truth, Belisarius had been pressed for time, even with the aid of the cavalrymen, and so he had concentrated all effort on the outside walls and fortifications. Within those walls, the fortress was still just an empty parade ground, although it was covered now with the tents of his soldiers. He had not even built a command post for himself, but continued to use his tent as a headquarters.

As soon as Belisarius dismounted and walked into his command tent, followed by the two brothers, Maurice made his appearance.

"We've got a prisoner," the hecatontarch announced. "Just brought him in."

"Where did you catch him?"

"Sunicas' regiment had a skirmish this morning with a group of Persians. About three hundred of them, ten miles north of here. After Sunicas drove them off, they found one fellow lying on the ground. Stunned. Horse threw him."

"Bring him here."

Belisarius took a seat at the large table in the middle of the tent. Bouzes and Coutzes remained standing. A few minutes later, Maurice reappeared, along with Valentinian. Valentinian was pushing a Persian soldier ahead of him. The Persian's wrists were bound behind his back. By his dress and accouterments, Belisarius thought the Persian to be a midlevel officer.

Valentinian forced the Mede into a chair. Exhibiting the usual Persian courage, the officer's face remained still and composed. The Persian was expecting to be tortured, but would not give his enemy the satisfaction of seeing his fear.

His expectation was shared by Bouzes and Coutzes.

"We've got a first-rate torturer," announced Coutzes cheerfully. "I can have him here inside the hour."

"No need," replied Belisarius curtly. The general stared at the Mede. The Persian met his eyes unflinchingly.

For a moment, Belisarius considered interrogating the officer in his own language. Belisarius was fluent in Pallavi, as he was in several languages. But he decided against it. Bouzes and Coutzes, he suspected, were ignorant of the Persian language, and it was important that they be able to follow the interrogation. By the richness of his garb, the Persian was obviously from the aristocracy. His Greek would therefore be fluent, since—in one of those little historical ironies—Greek was the court language of the Sassanid dynasty.

"How many men does Firuz have under his command?" he asked the Mede.

"Fifty-five thousand," came the instant reply. As Belisarius had suspected, the man's Greek was excellent. "That doesn't include the twenty thousand he left in Nisibis," added the Persian.

"What a lot of crap!" snarled Coutzes. "There aren't—"

Belisarius interrupted. "I will allow you four lies, Mede. You've already used up two of them. Firuz has twenty-five thousand men, and he took them all when he left Nisibis."

The muscles along the Persian's jaw tightened, and his eyes narrowed slightly. Other than that, he gave no indication of surprise at the accuracy of Belisarius' information.

"How many of those twenty-five thousand are cavalry?" asked Belisarius.

Again, the Mede's answer came with no hesitation:

"We have no more than four thousand infantry. And most of our cavalry are lancers."

"That's the third lie," said Belisarius, very mildly. "And the fourth. Firuz has ten thousand infantry. Of his fifteen thousand cavalry, no more than five are heavy lancers."

The Persian looked away, for a moment, but kept his face expressionless. Belisarius was impressed by the man's courage.

"I'm afraid you've used up all your lies." Without moving his gaze from the Persian, Belisarius asked the two Thracian brothers: "You say you have a good torturer?"

Bouzes nodded eagerly. "We can have him here in no time," said Coutzes.