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Rao could live with that. More importantly, his son-and his son, and his son-could live with it too. The Deccan could live with it. There would always be a great empire in northern India, that southern India would have to deal with. That being so, better to deal with an empire founded by such as Damodara.
"Done. It would take me two months anyway-at least-to march on Amaravati. But I warn you that I will, if you fail."
"If I fail, what do I care? And if I don't, it won't be necessary." Damodara smiled. "Or do you think that the garrison at Amaravati will suddenly get ambitious? With me above them, and you at the gates?"
Rao returned the smile. It would be pleasant, in the years to come, to deal with this man. Not easy, of course. But…
Yes, pleasant.
He nodded, and started to walk away.
Damodara called him back. "Rao-one thing more."
"Yes?"
"If I succeed, I would like your sadhu to visit Kausambi."
"Bindusara? Why?"
The new emperor seemed to shiver a little. "It is not enough to cut the throats of the mahaveda. For generations, now, they have been a poison in India. I think we need to consider an antidote."
It was the only thing that happened that day that surprised Rao. He had never-not once-considered the possibility that the new emperor of Malwa might actually be wise.
"I have no objection. But I can't speak for Bindusara. He's a sadhu, you know. Stubborn, as the real ones always are."
"Yes. Why I want him."
Rao nodded, again, and walked away.
Much more than simply pleasant, then.
Of course, that would also make it less easy. But Rao had never expected the universe to be easy. In truth, he didn't want it to be. With too much ease, came softness; and with softness, came rot.
It took him a while, to return. First, because he had to settle down some eager and jittery units of his own army. It was always hard for soldiers to restrain themselves, seeing what appeared to be an enemy in confusion.
That was accomplished easily enough. A few shouts and gestures did the trick. Rao's position was unquestioned, after all.
It took longer to collect the weapons and armor he'd discarded. Nor was he tempted to ignore the business. In truth, he didn't even think of doing so. Legend or not, consort of an empress or not, Raghunath Rao was Maratha born and bred. Like all hill people the world over, they were a thrifty lot.
Eventually, though, he made his way back to the howdah and looked up at his beloved wife.
"See?" he demanded.
"I never doubted you once, husband," she lied.
Chapter 19
The Iron Triangle
There was no reception for A
She was a bit surprised. Not disgruntled, simply…
Surprised.
Menander seemed to understand. "We do this as quickly as possible these days," he explained apologetically. "The Malwa have spotters hidden in the reeds, and they often fire rocket volleys at us whenever a convoy arrives."
As if his words were the cue, A
After a moment, startled, she realized how far away they were. "I didn't know they were so big."
"They have to be. Those are fired from the Malwa lines, miles to the north. At first, the spotters would fire small ones from the reeds. But that's just pure suicide for them. Even the Malwa, after a while, gave it up."
Too uncertain to know whether she should be worried or not, A
"They're headed our way, girl," Illus said gruffly. He pointed toward the low bunker toward which they were being towed. The roof of the bunker was just tall enough for the Victrix to pass underneath. "I'd feel better if you moved into the bow. That'll reach the shelter first."
"Yes. I suppose." A
Glancing back, she saw that Menander had remained in his place. He was still watching the rockets. From his apparent lack of concern, she realized they must be veering off.
"Keep moving, girl," Illus growled. "Yes, the damn things are completely inaccurate. But they don't always miss-and any rocket that big is going to have a monster of a warhead."
She didn't argue the point. Illus was usually co-operative with her, after all, and this was his business.
Still, most of her mind was concentrated on the sound of the coming rockets. Between that, the deep gloom of the approaching bunker, and the need to watch her feet moving across the cluttered deck, she was caught completely by surprise when the fanfare erupted.
That happened as soon as the bow passed under the overhang of the ship bunker.
Cornicens, a lot of them, and some big drums. She wasn't very familiar with cornicens. They were almost entirely a military instrument.
"Oh," she said. "Oh."
Illus was gri
By the time the fanfare ended and the bow of the ship bumped gently against the wharf inside the bunker, A
The cheers of the soldiers even seemed dim, in her ears. They couldn't be, of course. Not with that many soldiers. Especially when they started banging the hilts of their swords on their shields as well.
She was startled by that martial salute almost as much as she'd been by the cornicens.
She glanced at Illus. He had a peculiar look on his face. A sort of fierce satisfaction.
"Do they always do that?" she asked, almost shouting the words.
He shook his head. That gesture, too, had the air of satisfaction. "No, girl. They almost never do that."
When she saw the first man who came up the gangplank, after it was laid, A
She'd read all of Macrembolitissa's work, so she knew a great deal about the general. Despite that knowledge-or perhaps because of it-she'd imagined some sort of modern Nestor. Wise, in a grim sort of way; not old, certainly-abstractly, she knew he was a young man-but still somehow middle-aged. Perhaps a bit of gray in his hair.
She'd certainly never thought he would be so handsome. And so very young, to have done all that he had.
Finally, as he neared, she found an anchor. Something that matched the writings.
The general's smile was crooked. She'd always thought that was just Macrembolitissa, indulging herself in poetic license.
She said as much.
Belisarius smiled more crookedly still. "So I'm told. Welcome to the Iron Triangle, Lady Saronites."
The general escorted her off the Victrix. A