The Dance of Time

He got that suggestion, along with the decimation, from Valentinian. An unsolicited suggestion, to boot, which made the courtiers quite indignant. They did not, however, voice their opinion aloud. They were discovering that while being in Damodara's service was generally far less risky than Skandagupta's had been, it did not lack its own moments of anxiety.

The dynasty might be new, but it was still Malwa.

* * *

That was the worst incident, by far. Fortunately, the cease fire in the Punjab, where all the truly great armies were assembled and tensely facing each other, remained peaceful. Maurice had his soldiers under tight discipline; so did Irene, until Kungas returned, when the discipline became tighter still; and Samudra was too intimidated to even think about violating the ceasefire. Besides, he had an epidemic on his hands.

The real risk of a cease-fire violation came from the Persians. Their armies, still half-feudal in nature, were never as tightly disciplined as Roman ones were. To make things worse, by now the grandees were sorely vexed at the outcome of the war.

That produced the single worst eruption of violence since the cease-fire went into effect. But since all the parties involved were Aryans, and the fighting never spilled beyond the territory it had been agreed was theirs, everyone else ignored it.

A rebellion, apparently, conspiratorially organized and led by the Karin sahrdaran. Triggered off, it seemed, by an assassination attempt on Khusrau.

After studying the available reports, Belisarius' lips twisted into something that was still not the crooked smile of old. But at least it bore some resemblance to it.

"'Apparently' and 'it seems,' I think, are the only words in this report I'd give much credence to."

Damodara cocked his head. "You think Khusrau himself instigated the affair?"

Belisarius shrugged. "Who knows? And you can be sure and certain we'll never know. I do find a number of things odd, in the reports. First, that the assassins never got within four hundred yards of the emperor. Second, that not one of them survived. Third, that when the 'rebellion' broke out—truly odd, this item—the conspirators somehow managed to start the affair when they were themselves surrounded by imperial loyalists. And, somehow, didn't manage to suborn even a single artillery unit."

He stacked the reports neatly and slid them back across the huge desk toward Damodara. Belisarius was, as usual in their many private meetings, sitting across from Damodara in a chair that was almost as large, ornately-designed, and heavily-bejeweled as the emperor's.

That, too, outraged the courtiers. First, because they were excluded; second, because Belisarius got to sit in the royal presence when they never did; and, third, because under the circumstances they couldn't possibly substitute fakes for the jewels on his chair and sell them on the black market.

That third reason only applied to a few of the courtiers, however. The rest were smarter men. They'd already figured out that Damodara's rule, while far more tolerant in most respects than Skandagupta's, was going to be a nightmare for swindlers and influence-peddlers. Outright thievery would be sheer madness.

"So, at a guess," Belisarius continued, "I think Khusrau himself engineered the thing. Whether he did or not, it certainly worked to his advantage. He's now got the grandees completely cowed."

Damodara chuckled, very dryly. "There's this, too. The punishments he leveled afterward have made my treatment of the Amaravati garrison seem downright mild."

The emperor, who'd been slouched in his chair, levered himself upright. "Well, it's none of our concern. Not for this decade, at any rate. In the long run, I suspect a Persia run along well-organized imperial lines will pose more of a problem for us—you, too—than the old one did. But by the time we find out, I might hopefully be old enough to retire and hand the throne over to my successor. Not that I wish any grief on my oldest son, you understand. He's a good boy, by and large."

It was Belisarius' turn to cock his head. "You've decided, then, to adopt your father's suggestion?"

Damodara barked a laugh. "Hardly a 'suggestion'! More in the way of slapped-together excuse he came up with, to explain the awkwardness of how I happened to be the emperor instead of him. But since he did it, I find that the notion appeals to me. Didn't some Roman emperor do the same?"

"Yes. Diocletian." Belisarius cleared his throat. "Mind you, that didn't work out too well. On the other hand..."

He thought about it, for a moment, then shrugged again. "Who knows? Part of the problem was that we Romans were using adopted heirs, at the time. It might work more smoothly if the retired emperor is directly related to his successor."

"Might not, too. My son isn't a sadhu, after all. Neither am I, for that matter. Speaking of which..."