Lightly, Ezana sprang across onto the Keralan ship. He strode toward the bow where the Kushan commander was waiting, along with his men and the captives.
Once there, Ezana made a little gesture at the six Axumites who were making their own way across.
"These men will stay with you for the duration of the trip," he explained, speaking in heavily accented but quite good Hindi. "Along with the four surviving mutineers, that should be enough."
He gave the ship a quick examination. Judging from his expression, he was not pleased with what he saw.
"Indian tub," he sneered. "Can run a good Axumite trader with six men. Five—even four—in an emergency."
He transferred the sarcastic expression onto the four Keralan survivors. The seamen hunched lower still, dropping their heads. Doing everything in their power to fade out of sight.
No use. Ezana squatted down next to them.
"Look at me," he commanded. Reluctantly, they raised their heads.
Ezana grinned.
"Don't look so unhappy, lads. Consider your good fortune! My men hate running crappy ships like this. I'd have my own mutiny if I pitched you overboard and appointed four replacements."
Hearing this happy news, the expression on the faces of the Keralans brightened.
A bit, no more—and that little bit immediately vanished under Ezana's ensuing scowl.
"But they don't hate it as much as they hate mutineers," he rumbled. "I'd be on my best behavior from now on, if I were you."
Four Keralan heads bobbed frantic agreement.
Ezana's scowl deepened. "You're seamen. So I assume you're familiar with the Ethiopian treatment for mutineers?"
Four Keralan heads bobbed horrified agreement.
"Good," he grunted.
He rose and turned to the Kushan commander.
"You won't have any more trouble," he pronounced. As he made his way back to the rail, the Kushan accompanied him.
"What is the Ethiopian way with mutineers?" he asked.
Ezana climbed onto the rail. Just before making his leap, he bestowed a cheerful grin onto the Kushan commander.
"It involves fishing."
He sprang across. Turned and called back.
"We're partial to shark meat!"
Two days later, Ezana came aboard the Empress' flagship. A council had been called for all the central leaders of the expedition. He, along with Wahsi and Garmat, were to be the Ethiopian representatives at the meeting.
Garmat was already aboard, waiting for him. As the two men fought their way across the deck in the face of a rain so heavy it seemed almost like a waterfall, Ezana grumbled. "This has got to be the worst climate in the world."
Garmat smiled. "Oh, I don't know. At least it's not hot. The temperature's rather pleasant, actually. Whereas the Empty Quarter—"
Ezana shook his head firmly. "No contest. At least you can breathe, in Arabia."
He cast a fierce glower at the heavy sky. "How much does it rain here, anyway?"
They were at the small shed which provided an entryway into the large cabin amidship. Both men made an effort to wring out their clothes—mere kilts, fortunately—before entering.
Garmat frowned in thought. "I'm not sure, actually. I think I heard somewhere that southwest India during the monsoon season gets—"
He gave a figure in the Ethiopian way of measuring such things. Ezana's eyes widened. The figure was the equivalent of thirteen feet of water in five months.
"Mother of God!"
Garmat nodded toward the east, toward the invisible coast of India.
"Cheer up. If all goes well, soon enough we'll be crossing the mountains into Majarashtra. It's dry, I hear, on that side of the Western Ghats."
"Can't be soon enough," grumbled Ezana. He led the way into the cabin.
The cabin which served as Shakuntala's "imperial quarters" was a bit grotesque, to Ezana's eyes. He was an Ethiopian, brought up in the Axumite traditions of royal regalia. Those traditions leaned toward a style of ornamentation which was massive, but austere. And always practical. When traveling by sea, an Ethiopian royal—even the negusa nagast himself—would enjoy nothing more than a simple cabin decorated with, at most, a lion skin or ostrich feathers.
The Indian tradition was otherwise. Massive also, at times—Ezana had seen, and been impressed by, the size of the Malwa Emperor's palaces and pavilions. But not austere. Not practical.
Never seen so many gewgaws in my life, he thought sourly.
His eye fell on a ivory carving perched atop a slender table by the entrance. The carving, incredibly ornate and intricate, depicted a half-naked couple entwined in a passionate embrace. Ezana almost winced. It was not the eroticism of the carving which offended him—Axumites were not prudes—but the simple absurdity of the thing.
On a warship?
First storm, that thing's so much ballast.
Garmat pushed him forward into the cabin.
"We're diplomats," he whispered. "Be polite."
Shakuntala was perched on a pile of cushions against the far wall of the cabin. Dadaji Holkar sat to her left, in the position of her chief adviser. Next to him sat the religious leader, Bindusara.
Shakuntala's military commanders were clustered to her right. Kungas was there, along with his two chief Kushan subordinates, Kanishka and Kujulo. The Maratha cavalry leaders Shahji and Kondev were accompanied by three of their own top aides.
Wahsi, also, was there. He had arrived earlier. He was perched on a little wooden stool. Two other stools rested nearby. The Empress had provided them, knowing the Ethiopian preference in seating. All of the Indians were squatting on cushions, in the lotus position.
Once Garmat and Ezana took their seats, Shakuntala spoke.
"The first stage of our strategy has been a resounding success. We have broken free from Kerala and eluded the Malwa. It is well-nigh certain that our enemy believes we are headed for exile in Tamraparni."
She paused, scanning the room for any sign of dissent or disagreement. Seeing none, she continued.
"I believe we can assume that our arrival at Suppara will come as a complete surprise for the enemy. That being so, it is now possible for us to concentrate our attention on the more distant future. We will surprise the Malwa at Suppara, and we will take the city. The question is—then what?"
Kondev stirred. Shakuntala turned toward him, cocking her head inquiringly. The gesture was an invitation to speak.
For a moment, the Maratha officer hesitated. He was a relatively new member of the Empress' inner circle. Accustomed to Indian traditions—he had been a top officer of Shakuntala's father, whose haughty imperial manner had been legendary—he was still nonplussed by her relaxed and easy manner with her advisers.
Recognizing his uncertainty, Shakuntala promp-ted him.
"Please, Kondev. Speak up, if you have some doubt."
The cavalry officer tugged at his beard nervously. "I do not have doubts, Your Majesty. Not precisely. But I thought our course of action after seizing Suppara was simply to march on to Deogiri. Join our forces with Rao's." He ducked his head in a quick, apologetic manner. "Perhaps I misunderstood."
"You did not misunderstand, Kondev," replied Shakuntala. "That was our plan. But the unexpected arrival of the Axumites, and their offer of an alliance, has led me to reconsider. Or, at least, to think in more ambitious terms."
She turned toward the Ethiopians.
"If we held Suppara—permanently, I mean—could your navy hold off the Malwa fleet?"
The three Ethiopians exchanged quick glances. Wahsi was the first to speak.
"No, Empress," he said firmly. "If the Malwa did not possess their gunpowder weapons, it might be possible. Their navy is much larger than ours, in men and ships, but ours is better. Besides, most of their fleet is tied up in the Persian invasion."
He shrugged.
"The fact is, however, that they do possess the demon weapons. That nullifies our advantage of superior skill. We cannot close with them to board. Their rockets are erratic, at long range, but they are fearsome weapons against a nearby enemy."