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Chapter 4
The Iron Triangle, in the Punjab
Winter, 533 A.D.
"You can describe it better than that," rasped Justinian. The former Emperor of the Roman Empire was now its Grand Justiciar, since his blinding at the hands of traitors and Malwa agents had made him ineligible for the throne under Roman law. But he'd lost very little of his peremptory habits.
No reason he should, really. Although Belisarius' son Photius was officially the new Emperor, Justinian's wife Theodora was the Empress Regent and the real power in Constantinople. Still, it was exasperating for the premier general of the Roman empire to be addressed like an errant schoolboy. Tightening his jaws a bit, Belisarius brought the telescope back to his eye.
"At an estimate-best I can do, since they haven't finished it yet-the tower will be at least three hundred feet tall. From the looks of the-"
"Never mind, never mind," interrupted Justinian. "It doesn't really matter. With a tower that tall, they're obviously pla
The former emperor's badly-scarred eye sockets were riveted on the distant Malwa tower, as if he could still see. Or glare.
"In God's name, why? " he demanded. "For military purposes, directional broadcasting would make a lot more sense and require a lot less massive construction. That's what we're doing."
Justinian waved a hand toward the south, where the Roman army was erecting its own "ante
Only the tips of the ante
Folding up the telescope, Belisarius shrugged. "Maybe for the same reason we're having Antonina and Ousanas build exactly such a tower in Axum. It'll give us general relaying capability we wouldn't have otherwise."
"That's nonsense," Justinian grumbled. "I could understand them building a tower like that in their capital city of Kausambi. But why build one here, on the front lines? We're not, after all."
Belisarius said nothing.
After an uncomfortable moment, Justinian chuckled harshly. "Fine, fine. Presumably they don't have quite our motivation. At least, I think it's safe to assume that monster from the future doesn't have a peevish wife like I do."
Belisarius smiled crookedly. Although they had never discussed it quite openly, both he and Justinian knew perfectly well-and knew each other knew-that one of the main reasons they'd tacitly agreed not to build a general AM tower in the Iron Triangle was so that the Empress Regent could not easily bombard them with instructions.
More easily bombard them, it might be better to say. As it was, just using the telegraph, Theodora averaged at least two messages a day to the Iron Triangle.
One of which, almost every day, was either a peremptory demand that Justinian stop playing soldier and get back to a position of safety far to the south in Barbaricum, or a pleading request for the same, or a threat of dire consequences if he didn't-or, often enough, all three rolled into one.
"Is there something we're overlooking?" Justinian demanded.
The question wasn't aimed at Belisarius so much as it was at the "jewel" that hung in a pouch suspended from the Roman general's muscular neck. Inside that pouch rested Aide, the crystalline being from the future who had come back into the human past to thwart-hopefully-the intervention of the so-called "new gods" of the future.
Aide's response came only into Belisarius' mind. No, the crystal being said, rather curtly. We're not overlooking anything. Tell that nasty old man to stop being so paranoid. And tell him to stop being so nasty, while you're at it.
Since Justinian couldn't see the expression, Belisarius gri
Justinian probably found it unsettling also. Belisarius certainly did, often enough. But if the former emperor was "nasty" and "paranoid"-terms which Belisarius would allow were fair enough, even if "old" was a bit off the mark-he was also just about as tough-minded as any human being who'd ever lived. So he seemed to tolerate the problem well enough-and, on the other hand, got the benefit of the direct contact with Aide which had enabled Justinian, in a very short time, to become the Roman Empire's master artisan.
Or designer for artisans, it might be better to say. Blind as he was, it was difficult for Justinian to do the work himself.
Although Aide tolerated that extensive contact for the sake of their mutual project, he didn't like it at all. He didn't like Justinian.
And why should he, really? Most people didn't like Justinian.
His peeve apparently satisfied by the remarks, Aide added uncertainly: I don't really know why they're doing it. But I'm sure it's not some clever trick we're missing.
Belisarius gave Aide the mental equivalent of a nod. Then, said to Justinian: "Aide doesn't think so, although he doesn't know why they're doing it. What I think is that-"
"Oh, it's obvious enough," interrupted Justinian, as if he hasn't been the one to demand an answer in the first place. "Morale, that's all."
Again, he waved toward the south. "That mass of wires we've got struck all over down there is just something that a
Again, Belisarius gri
So be it. Wars were fought with the armies available. Whatever weaknesses and limitations the Roman army possessed, Belisarius knew it was far superior to that of the enemy. Man for man, certainly, on average. The Roman Empire, whatever its many flaws and failures, was still a society in which a determined and capable man could rise based on his own merits. The Malwa, on the other hand, with their rigid adherence to a caste system, had to rely primarily on the sheer mass of the army that northern India's teeming population could produce.
That had been, from the very begi