Destiny's Shield

He sighed. "We made one attempt at a sally, early on. It was a foolish gesture. I cursed myself for it, then, and damn myself for it to this day. Our soldiers were butchered. As soon as they came within range, the Malwa fired on us with those great siege guns. Loaded, this time, not with great stone balls but a multitude of pebbles and pieces of iron."

"Cannister," said Belisarius.

"They stood no chance at all. The slaughter was horrible, even in the short time before I ordered the retreat."

He wiped his face, in a gesture combining sorrow with self-reproach. But Khusrau was not deflected from his purpose.

"I must break the siege—within a year, no more. And for that I need my own cannons. The Malwa siegeworks are not as strong as the walls of Babylon, of course, but they are still strong enough to repel a sally. Only cannons in the hands of my own troops could shatter them enough for a successful counter-attack."

Belisarius frowned.

"Why are you so certain that you must break the siege—within a year?"

He turned a bit in his chair, staring to the south.

"I do not think the Malwa will break into Babylon. Not unless they bring twice the force to bear. And as powerful as they are, the Malwa are not that powerful."

His eyes now scanned the flooded lowlands to the west. "It's true that you will begin suffering from disease, soon enough, especially with the marshes. But disease usually strikes the besieger worse than the besieged."

He turned back, glancing to the east—to the enormous spread of agricultural land within the walls of Babylon—before adding, "They will have to starve you out. And I think that would take many years. Even if you can't grow everything you need right here in Babylon, you can import the rest. The city is not surrounded, after all. We marched in from the north with no opposition. I'm quite sure you can bring barges down the river."

Khusrau waved his hand.

"I'm not worried about Babylon, general. I will hold Babylon, of that I have no doubt. But what good will that do me if I lose the rest of Persia?"

Again, he sighed. "They have me penned here, along with most of my army. While they send out raiding parties to ravage Mesopotamia—"

He broke off, for a moment, barking a laugh.

"One less, now—thanks to you! But, still, there are others, destroying everything they can. And what is worse—" He half-rose from his throne, stretching his arm and pointing to the northeast. "They have that damned army marching into eastern Persia. Defeating every force I send against them!"

Belisarius cocked his eyebrow. Khusrau fell back in his throne, nodding bitterly.

"Oh, yes. They win every battle we fight."

For a moment, he scowled. The expression was more one of puzzlement than anger.

"Odd, really. I can't say I've been very impressed by the quality of the Malwa army. Not here in Mesopotamia, that's for sure. Immense numbers and gunpowder are what make them powerful. It's certainly not the skill of their commanders. But in the east, where they have little in the way of gunpowder weapons, their forces fight supremely well."

"I'm not surprised, Emperor. Those forces are mainly Rajput, under the command of Rana Sanga. I know him personally. The Rajputs are among the world's finest cavalry—Rana Sanga is certainly among the world's finest generals. And the Malwa who is in overall command of that army, Lord Damodara, is also said to be their best."

"Said? By whom?"

Belisarius smiled crookedly.

"By Rana Sanga, as it happens."

"Ah." The Persian Emperor gripped the armrests tightly. He took a deep breath.

"That explains much. It also illustrates my quandary. I can hold the Malwa here at Babylon, but only at the expense of giving up my freedom to maneuver. If I retreat from Babylon, there is nowhere else I can make a stand to prevent the Malwa from seizing all of Mesopotamia. But if I stay—"

"The Malwa will gut everything around you. And, eventually, take Fars and the entire plateau from the east."

Khusrau nodded. Then, noticing that the goblet which Belisarius was toying with in his hands was empty, began to gesture toward the servants standing a few yards away. But Belisarius waved down the offer.

"No more, please." He set the goblet down firmly on the small table next to his chair.

"I will send instructions to Rome, ordering that cannons be brought to Babylon. Along with a large supply of gunpowder. That much is in my authority. I will also—" here he blew out his cheeks "—strongly urge the Empress to give me permission to train your soldiers in their use."

Khusrau stroked his beard.

"Do you think she will agree?"

"Possibly. She will insist, of course, that the cannons and gunpowder remain under the control of Roman troops. Still, they will be here. And then—"

Khusrau's lips curled into a faint smile. "Under the control of Roman troops," he murmured. "Yes, yes. That has a nice—ah, secure—sound to it."

For a moment, a Persian Emperor and a Roman general stared at each other, in silent conspiracy.