Belisarius - Destiny's Shield Part 55

Craftsmen at their trade.

EPILOGUE.

A throng and its thoughts

From her position on the dais against the east wall, Antonina surveyed the scene with satisfaction. The great audience chamber of the Prefectural Palace was literally packed with people. Servants carrying platters of food and drink were forced to wriggle their way through the throng like so many eels. The noise produced by the mult.i.tude of conversations was almost deafening.

"Very gratifying," p.r.o.nounced Patriarch Theodosius, seated on a chair next to her.

"Isn't it?" Antonina beamed upon the mob below them. "I think the entire Greek aristocracy of Alexandria showed up tonight. As well as most of the n.o.bility from all the major Delta towns. Even some from the valley. The Fayum, at least, and Antin-oopolis."

A slight frown came.

"Actually, I'm a bit puzzled. Hadn't really expected such a ma.s.sive turnout. I thought for sure that a good half of the n.o.bility would boycott the affair."

Theodosius' eyes widened. "Boycott? A public celebration in honor of the Emperor's ninth birthday? G.o.d forbid!" The Patriarch smiled slyly. "Actually, Antonina, I am not surprised. Left to their own devices, I'm quite sure that half of Egypt's Greek n.o.blemen would never have come. But their wives and daughters gave them no choice."

He nodded toward the middle of the great room, where the crowd was thickest. At the very center of that incredible population density, a cup of wine in one hand, stood a handsome young Roman officer.

"Egypt's most eligible bachelor," stated the Patriarch. "The merarch of the Army of Egypt. Newly elected to the Senate-and already quite rich on his own account, due to his share of the spoils from Mindouos."

Antonina stared at Hermogenes. A bit of sadness came to her, for a brief moment, thinking about Irene. The host of women who surrounded Hermogenes were all younger than Irene, and-with perhaps one or two exceptions-considerably prettier.

"Put all their brains together," she muttered, "and they could maybe match Irene. When she's pa.s.sed out drunk. Maybe."

"What was that, Antonina?" asked Theodosius.

Antonina shook her head.

"Never mind, Patriarch. I was just thinking about a dear friend." Sigh. "Who will never, I fear, find a husband."

"Too pious?" asked Theodosius.

Antonina bit off a laugh. "No, no. Just too-much."

She rose from her seat. "I will take my leave, now. The event is clearly a roaring success. I think we can safely conclude that Alexandria and Egypt have been returned to the imperial fold. But I'm tired, and I don't think that crowd will object to my absence."

Theodosius suppressed his own humor, now, until after Antonina had walked out. Then he did laugh, seeing the mob below heave a great collective sigh of relief.

The Patriarch was quite certain he could read their minds, at that moment.

Thank G.o.d! She's gone!

No real woman has t.i.ts that big.

Satan's sp.a.w.n, that's what she is.

The Wh.o.r.e From h.e.l.l. Ba'alzebub's b.i.t.c.h.

But they kept those thoughts to themselves. Oh, yes. Discreet, they were. Reserved.

"Very proper folk," said Theodosius approvingly, turning to the man seated to his right. "Very polite. Very n.o.ble. Don't you think so, Ashot?"

A charitable interpretation, from a man of G.o.d.

Less charitable was an Armenian cataphract's response.

"Scared s.h.i.tless, that's what they are."

A king and his fears

"You are not thinking of marrying that woman?" demanded the negusa negast of Axum. The sovereign of Ethiopia leaned forward on his royal stool, his thick hands planted firmly on powerful knees, his ma.s.sive jaw clamped shut. He frowned ferociously upon his youngest son.

Prince Eon bolted erect on his own stool. His jaw sagged. Dropped. Plummeted like a stone.

Standing behind him, Ousanas burst into laughter.

"Excellent idea, King of Kings!" cried the dawazz. "Certain to shrink overconfident fool boy's head into a walnut!"

Eon finally caught his breath. Enough, at least, to choke out, "Marry-Irene?"

He goggled at his father. The father glowered back.

"You seem much taken by this woman," accused the negusa nagast.

Eon's eyes roamed about the royal chamber, as if seeking rhyme or reason lurking somewhere in the stone recesses of heavy Axumite architecture.

"I like her, yes," he said. "Very much. I think she is incredibly capable and intelligent. And very witty. She often makes me laugh. A wonderful ally in our struggle. Even-" His eyes almost crossed, contemplating absurdity. "-yes, even attractive. In her way. But-but-marry her?"

He fell silent. Again, his jaw sagged.

Satisfied, the negusa nagast leaned back in his stool. He fixed Ousanas with a stern gaze.

"Good thing for you, dawazz. Any other answer and I would have you beaten."

Ousanas looked smug. "Can't. Dawazz not subject to royal authority. Only answers to Dakuen sarwe."

The King of Kings snorted. "So? You think the regiment would hesitate? Just last night, the demon woman took half their monthly stipend, answering all their riddles. This morning, she took the rest. When they couldn't answer any of hers, even after she gave them all night to think it over." The negusa nagast glared. "Dawazz be a b.l.o.o.d.y pulp, Prince give any other answer. Be sure of it."

The negusa nagast smacked his heavy thigh. "I am satisfied. The Prince is foolish as a rooster, true. Headstrong like a bull. Who else would get me in a war with Malwa? But at least you have kept him sane, dawazz. Sane enough. Delusions of grandeur can be tolerated, in a King, so long as they are merely political. Never delusions in a wife!"

His heavy shoulders twitched, as if a sudden shiver had run down his spine.

"G.o.d save us from that fate! Never marry a woman smarter than you. Too dangerous, especially for a King. That woman! Smarter than Satan."

He turned his head, looking through the entryway to the room beyond. His library, that was.

"Best collection of books south of Alexandria," he noted proudly. "I have instructed my slaves to make a precise count. They will count them again, before I allow that woman to leave for India."

Eon cleared his throat. "We must leave soon, father."

The negusa nagast nodded his head. The gesture was slow, but certain. As solid as the head which made it.

"Yes. You must. Important to follow up on Garmat's successful mission, and quickly. Give all support to Empress Shakuntala and her cause. Give Malwa no time to think."

Again, the little shiver in the shoulders.

"Essential to get that woman on the other side of an ocean."

An empress and her marriage

"The time has come, Shakuntala," stated Holkar firmly. The peshwa leaned forward and lifted a scroll lying on the carpet before his cushion.

"This was brought by courier ship this morning. From Tamraparni."

Dadaji unrolled the scroll, scanning it in the quick manner with which a man reads over a doc.u.ment he had already committed to memory. An odd little smile came to his face.

"Out of illusion, truth," he murmured.

He rolled the scroll back up and handed it to his Empress. Shakuntala stared at the harmless object as if it were a cobra.

"What is it?" she demanded.

Dadaji's smile faded. "It is a letter from the King of Tamraparni. Offering us an alliance-a partial alliance, I should say-against Malwa." He shrugged. "The offer is couched in caveats and riddled with qualifications. But, at the very least, he makes a firm promise of naval and logistical support. Possibly some troops."

He paused, taking a deep breath. Shakuntala eyed him suspiciously.

"And what else?"

"The offer-this is not said in so many words, but the meaning is obvious-is conditional upon your marriage to one of his sons." A wry smile. "His youngest son, needless to say. The King of Tamraparni is willing to risk something, to keep the Malwa at bay. But only so much. Not the heir."

He stopped, studying the young woman who was Andhra's Empress. Shakuntala was sitting very erect, her back as stiff as a board. Her face, if possible, was even stiffer.

Holkar tapped the scroll with a finger. "The King makes allusion to the false way in which we bandied his name about, in Muziris. But he does not complain, not formally. It is quite clear that your seizure of Suppara has changed the situation drastically. You are no longer an 'Empress-in-exile.' You have reestablished yourself on Andhra soil. With a port, here, and one of Majarashtra's largest cities-Deogiri-under the control of your forces. That gives you something far beyond formal legitimacy, which you already had. It gives you power."

He chuckled dryly. "Not much, not much, but some. Enough, at least, that the ruler of Tamraparni is willing to use you to keep Malwa as distant from his island as possible."

He paused. Shakuntala's face was still expressionless.

Dadaji suppressed a sigh.

"Empress, we must consider this offer very seriously. A dynastic marriage with one of south India's most powerful kingdoms would greatly strengthen your position. It might well make the difference between Andhra's survival and its downfall."

Still expressionless.

Now, Holkar did sigh. "Girl," he said softly, "I know that this matter pains you. But you have a duty, and an obligation, to your people."

The peshwa rose and strode to an open window, overlooking the harbor. From below, the sounds of celebration wafted into the palace. The governor's palace, once. The Malwa official languished in prison, now. Shakuntala had taken the building for her own.

Watching the festive scene below, Holkar smiled. Suppara was still celebrating, two weeks after its liberation from the Malwa heel. Dadaji knew his countrymen well. The Marathas would have celebrated even if the city were in ruins. As it was, they could also celebrate an almost bloodless victory. Once the cannons which Kungas had seized opened fire, the Malwa warships had been turned into wrecks within an hour. By the time Shakuntala and her cavalrymen disembarked on the docks, the Malwa garrison had fled the city.

Celebrate, celebrate, celebrate.

Malwa is gone. Andhra has returned.

The Empress herself is here.

Shakuntala! Shakuntala! Shakuntala!

Holkar pointed down to the city. "If you fall, girl, those people will fall with you. You brought them to their feet. You cannot betray that trust."

Behind him, Shakuntala's face finally broke. Just a bit. Just a flash of pain, a slight lowering of the head. A slow, shuddering breath.

But it was all very quick. Within seconds, she had raised her head. "You are correct, Dadaji. Draft a letter to the King of Tamraparni, telling him that I accept-"

A new voice cut in.

"I think this is quite premature."

Startled, Holkar turned from the window. "Premature? Why, Kungas?"

The Kushan was seated on his own cushion, to Shakuntala's right. He had said nothing, thus far, in this meeting of Shakuntala's closest advisers.

"Because," he rasped, "I do not think we should jump at the first offer." He spread his hand. "There will be others. The Cholas, for a certainty, now that Shakuntala has shown she is a force to be reckoned with. And I think their offer will have fewer caveats and qualifications."

He flipped his hand dismissively, almost contemptuously. "Tamraparni is an island. The Cholas share the mainland with the Malwa beast. They have less room to quibble. Their offer will be more substantial."