The Dance of Time

He seemed to be speaking to himself, more than to the emperor. "And what else are we, really, than memories? It took me all afternoon to understand. He came here so that he could have memories also. And, having gained them—fought for them, and won them—he left them behind for me. For all of us."

"I will have a monument erected to the Talisman of God," said Damodara.

"Make it a small one. Not ostentatious. A place for quiet meditation, not pomp and parades. I know a good place for it. A sal grove between the Ganges and the Yamuna, where an Armenian soldier already rests. He and Aide would both like that, I think."

He smiled, finally. "And make sure it's well kept-up, please. He disliked messiness."

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Framed

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Chapter 42

Kausambi

Summer, 534 A.D.

Thankfully, all things considered, the next few weeks were so hectic that Belisarius never had much chance to brood on Aide's death. While he could rely on Antonina and Anna and Bindusara to organize the peace conference in Bharakuccha, he—along with Damodara, of course—had the more pressing task of ensuring that the cease-fire was not violated.

Not too badly, at least. There were some incidents, inevitably. The worst was a clash between the Amaravati garrison and Deccan irregulars that almost assumed the proportions of a running battle. That happened in the course of the garrison's march back to the Ganges plain. The garrison was big, its supply train was poorly organized, its commander was another of the many imperial cousins who'd been selected by Skandagupta for his political connections rather than his military skill, and the soldiers of the garrison were still accustomed to the old Malwa ways of handling local populations.

None of the Andhran peoples—certainly not the Marathas—were in any mood to tolerate Malwa atrocities any longer, even on a small scale. So, after a few episodes, the countryside erupted. Within days, the retreating garrison was being subjected to daily ambushes. Rao announced he would intercept them with the regular Andhran army; and, in a perhaps indelicate phrase—transmitted by both radio and telegraph—predicted that the Deccan's carrion-eaters would soon be too fat to run or fly.

Coming from someone else, that might have been taken for mere bluster. But the day after making the announcement, Rao led his army out of their camps on a march up the Narmada. No leisurely march, this; at the pace he maintained, he would indeed intercept the Amaravati garrison long before they could reach the safety of the Vindhyas.

Between them, Belisarius and Damodara managed to defuse the situation before it could become a full-blown crisis. Belisarius, by cajoling Shakuntala over the telegraph lines—not hesitating to use the low tactic of reminding her how much Andhra owed him personally—and Damodara by the still simpler expedient of ordering the garrison to alter its route of march and return via the east coast.

That took the garrison out of Andhran territory altogether, which Rao grudgingly allowed was an acceptable solution. He also, however, predicted that the garrison would continue its depredations as it marched.

Which it did. Indeed, it behaved more badly still. The garrison was in Orissa now, whose population lacked the ferocity and martial traditions of the Marathas. With a commander who sullenly ignored most of Damodara's commands—erratically transmitted, in any event, since the telegraph network in Orissa was primitive—and a soldiery taking out its anger at Maratha harassment on defenseless Orissans, the march degenerated into an orgy of plunder and rapine.

It all came to an end in Bhubaneshwar. When the garrison reached the ancient city, the former capital of both the Kalinga and Chedi dynasties, they discovered that both Rana Sanga and Toramana had already arrived.

With ten thousand Rajputs, as many Ye-tai, and an artillery train. After hesitating for a day, the garrison's commander decided that obeying Sanga's instructions that he relinquish command was a wise idea.

It wasn't, although the outcome would have been no different if he'd tried to put up a fight.

Damodara had decided that an object lesson was needed. So, following his explicit instructions, after the garrison surrendered—no other term could really be used—Sanga and Toramana executed the commander of the garrison and every officer on his staff. Then, they executed every third surviving officer, chosen at random. Then, lined up the entire garrison—now disarmed, of course—and executed one soldier out of ten.

Then—Damodara was in a rare fury—conscripted every man who survived into forced labor battalions. In a few years, the emperor announced, he might—or might not—grant them their liberty.