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Now that the harsh pace the Roman general had set his Rajput army had brought them to the Yamuna thirty miles north of Mathura the hostility seemed to have vanished. Belisarius had led an army of twenty thousand men on a march of well over two hundred miles in nine days-something Rajputs would boast about for generations. But he didn't think it was that feat alone that accounted for the change, much less the inspiring speeches he'd given along the way. Jaimal and Udai Singh were both well-educated. Their praise of his rhetoric had the flavor of aesthetes, not soldiers.
The march had been ruthless as well as harsh. Ruthless toward everyone. Lamed horses were left behind, injured men were left behind-and the fields they passed through plundered and stripped of anything edible to either man or horse. The villages too, since at this time of year most of the foodstuffs were stored.
There had been no atrocities, as such, committed upon the peasantry. But that hardly mattered. Those poor folk lived close to the edge of existence. Stripped of the stored foodstuffs they depended upon until the next harvest, many of them would die. If not of starvation in their little villages, of disease and exposure after they desperately took to the roads to find refuge elsewhere.
If the war was won quickly, Belisarius would urge Damodara to send relief to the area. But there was no way to know if that would ever happen. Despite that uncertainty, Belisarius had ordered it done. In a life that had seen many cruel acts, including the slaughter of the Nika revolt, he thought this was perhaps the cruelest thing he'd ever done.
And… Jaimal and Udai Singh's veiled anger had faded with each day they witnessed it.
He thought he understood, finally. The two were among Rana Sanga's closest aides. They would surely have been with Sanga when he pursued Belisarius across India after his escape from Kausambi.
Three years ago, that had been.
"So," he said to them, "have you finally forgiven me for the butchered couriers?"
Both Rajputs seemed to flush. After a moment, Jaimal said softly: "Yes, General. I thought at the time it was just savagery."
"It was savagery," said Belisarius. "The couriers-even more, the soldiers at the station-were just common folk. Boys, two of them. I remember. The memory plagues me, still, especially when I see children."
He swept his head in a little half-circle. "Complete i
He drew his sword and pointed forward with it, in a gesture that did not seem histrionic at all. Neither to him nor to the two men he rode beside.
"Three years ago, I behaved like a beast to escape a monster. Today-finally-I do so to kill the thing."
Both Jaimal and Udai Singh tightened their jaws. Not in anger, but simply in determination.
"Here, do you think?" asked Jaimal. "Or on the Ganges?"
"Somewhere between here and the Ganges, most likely. The monster would not have crossed to the headwaters of the Yamuna, I don't think. With the Rajputs begi
That brought some good cheer. All three turned in the saddle and looked behind them. There was nothing to see except an ocean of horsemen and dust, of course.
"Mathura," gloated Udai Singh. "Which is behind us. The Malwa beast will have to face us with what it has."
"It was a great march, General Belisarius," added Jaimal.
So it had been. Great enough, even, to wash away great sins.
"It is unseemly for a woman to lead warriors!" That came from one of the five Pathan chiefs sitting across from Irene in the throne room and glaring at her. He was the oldest, she thought. It was hard to know. They all looked liked ancient prunes to her, dried too long in the sun.
"Unthinkable!" she agreed. The vigorous headshake that followed caused her veil to ripple in reverse synchrony to her ponytail. "The thought is impossible to even contemplate. No, no. I was thinking that you should lead the armies when they march out. You and the rest of the clan chiefs."
The five chiefs continued to glare at her.
First, because they suspected her of mockery. "Armies" was a ridiculous term-even to them-to apply to separate columns of Pathan horsemen, not one of which would number more than six or seven hundred men. Clan rivalries and disputes made it difficult for Pathans to combine their forces closely.
Second, because she'd boxed them, and they knew it. The young clansmen were becoming more boisterous and insistent with every passing day. Lately, even disrespectful.
Their Great King-another term to cause old chiefs to scowl-was adding to his glory and where were the Pathan warriors?
Were they to hide in their villages?
It would not be long, the five old chiefs knew, before the ultimate insult was spoken aloud.
Old women! Our chiefs-so-called-are nothing but old women!
"We have no mortars," grumbled one of the chiefs. "How are we to fight Malwa armies without mortars?"
"Of course you do," Irene disagreed, in a cheerful tone of voice. "The new mortars of the Pathans have become famous."
That wasn't… exactly true. They were indeed famous, in a way, simply because the Kushans were astonished that illiterate and ignorant Pathans had managed to built mortars at all. But no Kushan soldier in his right mind would trust one enough to fire the thing.
Irene found it rather amazing. When it came to anything else, Pathans were as hostile to i
Before the old chiefs could take further umbrage, she added: "What you lack is ammunition. Which I can supply you."
Boxed again. The glares darkened.
"Oh, yes, lots of ammunition." She pointed her finger out the palace window, toward the new arsenal. "It's made over there. By old women. Many old women."
Boxed again.
After they stalked out of the palace, Irene summoned her aides. "Send a telegraph message to the station at Margalla Pass. Tell them to send couriers after Kungas."
"Yes, Your Majesty. And the message to be taken to the king?"
By now, Irene had taken off her veil. The smile thus displayed was a gleaming thing. "Tell the king that I have persuaded the Pathans to provide us with troops to help guard the passes. They say ten thousand, but let's figure seven. Two thousand will go to Margalla Pass, the rest to Kohat Pass. If there's any threat, it's more likely to come from the south."
One of the aides frowned. "They won't stay in the passes, Your Majesty. They'll set off to raid the lowlands."
"Of course they will. Better yet. We'll have a screen all over the northern Punjab of thousands of cavalrymen, who'll warn us of any large approaching enemy force. They'll scamper back to the passes when we need them, rather than face Malwa regulars in the open. Pathans are ignorant beyond belief, but they're not actually stupid. Not when it comes to war, anyway."
She leaned back in her chair, basking in self-admiration. Not so much because she'd just relieved her husband of a great worry, but simply because-once again-she'd outfoxed clan chiefs.