Destiny's Shield

"That's nonsense!" snapped Belisarius. He took his wife by the shoulders and held her away from him. Then, with none of his usual whimsy, said:

"Even if Theodora didn't have her foibles, I'd insist that you command the Theodoran Cohort. You're the best person for the job. It's that simple."

Antonina stared back at him for a moment, before lowering her eyes. "So long," she whispered. "A year and a half." Suddenly, unexpectedly, she smiled. "But at least we'll be able to stay in touch. I almost forgot—a present came from John of Rhodes yesterday."

She turned and summoned a servant standing nearby in the courtyard. The man advanced, bearing a package wrapped in heavy layers of wool.

Antonina took the package from him and unfolded the cloth. Within, carefully nestled, were two identical objects.

She held one of them out to her husband.

"Here they are. John's first telescopes. One for you and one for me."

Grinning delightedly, Belisarius immediately began looking through the telescope. He became so entranced with the marvelous contrivance that he momentarily forgot everything else, until Antonina's little cough brought him back.

"Wonderful," he said, wrapping the telescope back into the woolen cloths. "With these, and the new semaphore stations, we'll be able to communicate within days."

Antonina chuckled. "Once the stations are built, that is. And assuming John can produce enough of the telescopes."

"They will and he will," said her husband confidently. He stroked her cheek. "Count on it, love. Within a few months, you'll get your first message from me."

There was nothing more to be said. For a moment, husband and wife gazed at each other. Then, a last embrace; a last kiss. Belisarius mounted his horse and rode out of the courtyard, Maurice at his side. His two personal bodyguards, Anastasius and Valentinian, followed just behind.

At the gate, Belisarius turned in his saddle and waved. Antonina did not wave back. She simply held up the telescope.

"I'll be waiting for your message!" she shouted.

An hour later, Irene arrived, bearing her own cloth-wrapped gifts.

"Don't drop them!" she warned Antonina, as she passed the bundle over. "I stole them from Theodora's own wine cellar. Best vintage in the Roman Empire."

Antonina staggered a bit, from the weight.

"Mother of God, how many bottles did you bring?"

Irene propelled her little friend down the corridor. "As many as we need to get you through the day. Tradition, girl, tradition. The last time Belisarius went off on one of these quests, you and I got blind drunk. Well, you did. I was simply there to lend a comforting shoulder."

"Lying wench!" squawked Antonina. "You passed out before I did."

"A fable," stated Irene firmly. "I fell asleep, that's all."

Antonina snorted. "Sure. On the floor, flat on your belly."

"I've only got your word for that," came the dignified response. "Hearsay, pure hearsay."

Once in the salon, Antonina lined up the bottles on a side table. "Like so many soldiers," she murmured admiringly.

Irene seized the first bottle. "It'll be a massacre. Get the goblets."

Two hours later, well into the carnage, Antonina hiccuped.

"'Nough o' this maudlinnininess!" Another hiccup. "Le'ss look t'the future! Be leaving soon, we will. For Egypt. 'S'my homeland, y'know?" Hiccup. "Land o' my birt. Birth."

Studiously, she poured more wine into her goblet. "I'm still s'prised Theodora agreed t'let you go," she said. "Never thought she let her chief spy"—giggle—"spy-ess, should say, out of her zight. Sight."

Irene's shrug was a marvel—a simple gesture turned into a profound, philosophical statement.

"What else c'ld she do? Somebody has to go to India. Somebody 'as to rish—re-ish—" Deep breath; concentration. "Re-es-ta-blish contact with Shakuntala."

Irene levered herself up on the couch, assuming a proud and erect stance. The dignity of the moment, alas, was undermined by flatulence.

"How gross," she pronounced, as if she were discussing someone else's gaucherie. Then, breezed straight on to the matter at hand. Again, a pronouncement:

"I am the obvious person for the job. My qualifications are immense. Legion, I dare say."

"Ha!" barked Antonina. "You're a woman, that's it. Who else would Theodora trust for that kind of—of—of—" She groped for the words.

"Subtle statecraft," offered Irene. "Deft diplomacy."

Antonina sneered. "I was thinking more along the lines of—of—"

"Sophisticated stratagems. Sagacious subterfuges."

"—of—of—"

"Dirty rotten sneaky—"

" 'At's it! 'At's it!"

Both women dissolved into uproarious laughter. This went on for a bit. Quite a bit. A sober observer might have drawn unkind conclusions.

Eventually, however, they settled down. Another bottle was immediately brought to the execution block. Half the bottle gone, Antonina peered at Irene solemnly.