An Oblique Approach

When night fell, the Kushans and Rajputs made camp. Guards were set up all around, within and without the camp perimeter. The Rajputs guarded the camp from outside attack. The Kushans guarded the camp from Shakuntala.

It was an odd sort of guard. The Kushans kept their distance from her. Regaled each other—in Hindi, which she could understand—with tales of startled Ye-tai. Girl-startled Ye-tai, with a spear-blade in their armpits and throats and legs and mouths; with a foot in their guts and their teeth and their necks. They particularly relished the tale of a Ye-tai nose.

Beyond, in the flickering light of the campfires, haughty Rajput beards were seen to move. Smiles, perhaps, brought on by charming tales.

That same night, in a pond not far from the palace at Amavarati, a frog croaked and jumped aside. As if startled by a sudden motion nearby.

An alert guard might have spotted the slow, crawling figure which eased its way out of the reeds and onto the bank. But there were no alert guards at Amavarati that night. The Malwa army had disintegrated completely in its triumph. There was nothing at Amavarati that night but a horde of drunken, butchering thieves and rapists, and what few of their victims still survived. And a cluster of mahamimamsa, overseen by priests, who, though sober and on duty, were much too preoccupied with the task of properly flaying a fourteen-year-old boy to be watching any ponds.

Once ashore, the man began to tear his tunic and bind up his wounds. They were many, those wounds, but none were either fatal or crippling. In time, they would become simply more scars added to an already extensive collection.

The wounds dressed, the man rested a bit. Then, still moving silently and almost invisibly, he faded away from the vicinity of the palace. Once in the forest, his pace quickened. Silent, still, and almost invisible. Like a wounded panther.

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Framed

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Chapter 14

DARAS

Spring, 529 AD

The good news, thought Belisarius, was that John of Rhodes was an extremely intelligent man.

That was also the bad news.

"Why are you lying to me?" demanded the retired naval officer. "How in the name of Christ do you expect me to accomplish whatever it is you want me to accomplish, when you are obviously keeping everything essential a secret from me?"

Belisarius gazed down at the man calmly.

John of Rhodes scowled. "Save the sphinx for someone else, Belisarius!" He stumped over to the worktable and made a disgusted gesture toward the various substances and implements strewn upon it.

"Look at this clutter! Trash and toys, that's all they are. I might as well be looking for the philosopher's stone, or the elixir of eternal life." His glare left the table and roamed about the room, encompassing the entire workshop in its condemnation.

Belisarius scratched his chin.

"Stop scratching your chin!" The naval officer flung himself into a nearby chair, exuding the quintessence of disgruntlement in his slumped posture. "Damn all mannerisms, anyway," he grumbled. He looked up, eyeing Belisarius balefully. "And there's another thing," he continued. "What's this nonsense you and your wife are trying to pull with me and that jackal Procopius?"

Before Belisarius could dredge up something suitable to put the man at ease, John of Rhodes was back on his feet, stumping about and gesticulating angrily.

"Don't bother! Please! Do I look like a cretin?"

Belisarius decided that, under the circumstances, straightforwardness was probably the only suitable tactic.

"Explain," he commanded. "And stop stumping about."

"I'm not stumping. I'm pacing, from vexation."

"Stop pacing from vexation. And explain."

John stood still. Somehow, despite his much shorter stature, the naval officer seemed to be glaring down at the general.

"Have you heard my reputation?" he demanded. "That I am a master of seduction?"

Belisarius nodded. John of Rhodes blew out his cheeks and then flung himself again into the chair.

"Well, the reputation's exaggerated. But not by much. The fact is, I've enjoyed considerable success with the ladies, over the years. Do you know my secret?"

Belisarius waited. For the first time since meeting John of Rhodes, not two hours earlier, the naval officer smiled.

"The secret to success in seduction, Belisarius, is the same as the secret to success in warfare. Never fight a battle you can't win."

"Your point?"

"My point's obvious. I hadn't spent more than an hour in Antonina's company before it was clear as day that she was quite unseducible. While you were off thrashing the Medes, she and I were often alone. At such times, she's all business and work. That's all. So why is it, the moment that foul creature Procopius hoves into view, that she suddenly acts as if she's smitten by me?"

Even sitting, he seemed to be glaring down at Belisarius. "What are you up to?"