Shakuntala nodded. She did not seem particularly chagrined, or surprised, by Wahsi's reply. "You could not break a Malwa blockade of Suppara, then?"
Wahsi shook his head. Shakuntala leaned forward.
"Tell me this, Wahsi. If we were able to hold Suppara—keep the Malwa from recapturing the city—could you run the blockade?"
All three Axumites burst into laughter.
"Be like stealing chickens from a cripple!" chuckled Ezana.
"A very strong cripple," qualified Garmat. "Have to be a bit careful. Still—"
Wahsi had stopped laughing.
"Yes, Empress," he stated firmly. "We could run the blockade. Penetrate it like water through a fish net, in fact. Not one or two ships, now and then. We could run a Malwa blockade almost at our pleasure."
He made a little gesture of qualification.
"You understand, I am speaking of a blockade of the entire coast. If they amass enough ships, the Malwa could close off Suppara itself. But I assume there must be other nearby places where we could land a vessel and offload cargo."
"A multitude of them!" exclaimed Bindusara. All eyes turned toward the sadhu.
"I am familiar with the Malabar coast," he explained. "With the entire western coast of India, in fact, from Kerala to the Kathiawar."
Bindusara turned his head eastward, as if studying the nearby shore through the walls of the cabin.
"The Western Ghats run parallel to the coast, from the southernmost tip of India all the way north to the Narmada River. They form the western boundary of the Deccan." He fluttered his hands. "The Ghats are not tall mountains. Nothing like the Himalayas! Their average height is less than a thousand yards. Even the greatest of them, Anai Mudi in Kerala, is not three thousand yards high. But they are quite rugged. The combination of their ruggedness and low altitude means that the western shore of India boasts a huge number of small rivers, instead of a few mighty ones like the Ganges and the Brahmaputra, as does the east coast."
"Smugglers' terrain," grunted Ezana.
Bindusara smiled. " `Terrain'? Say better—smugglers' paradise. Don't forget the climate, Ezana. India's west coast is the wettest part of our land. Each one of those rivers enters the sea through forests of teak and palms. There are any number of hidden and secluded coves in which a cargo could be unloaded. And the local population would be quite happy to assist in the process. Poor farmers and fishermen they are, mostly, with a great need for extra money and no love for the Malwa."
Shakuntala, seeing Wahsi nod, stated:
"You could do it, then?"
"Without question, Empress." The Ethiopian officer ran fingers through his mass of thick, kinky hair, eyeing Shakuntala all the while.
"You want to break the siege of Deogiri by controlling all of southern Majarashtra," he speculated. "Using Suppara as your logistics base."
The Empress nodded. "Exactly. I wouldn't think of trying it if the enemy's main army wasn't tied up in Persia. But with only Venandakatra to face, I think it can be done—provided we get access to gunpowder weapons."
"There are cannons in Suppara," said the Maratha officer Shahji. "If we take the city, we will take them also."
"Not enough," grunted Kungas. "Not by themselves."
He looked at Holkar. "You have spies in Suppara. If I'm not mistaken, those cannons are fixed siege guns."
Holkar nodded. "They're huge bombards. Three of them, positioned to defend the city against seaborne attack." He grimaced. "I suppose they could be moved, but—"
"Forget it," interrupted Kungas. "We can use those cannons to defend Suppara against the Malwa fleet, but they'll be no use to us in a land war against Venandakatra's army. For that, we need help from the Romans. By now, I'm quite sure Belisarius has developed a Roman capacity to produce gunpowder weapons. If we can establish contact with him, the Ethiopians could smuggle the weapons to us. And keep us supplied with gunpowder."
Everyone in the cabin exchanged glances.
"We need to send a mission to Rome, then," said Bindusara.
"Not to Rome," demurred Dadaji. "To Belisarius. To the Roman government, we are simply bizarre outlanders. Only Belisarius knows us well."
The peshwa straightened his posture.
"I will go," he announced. "Our delegation must be led by someone who is both highly placed in the Empress' government and personally known to Belisarius. I am the obvious choice."
"Nonsense!" exclaimed Shakuntala. "The idea is utterly mad. You are my peshwa, Dadaji. I need you to remain here."
Holkar frowned. "But I am the only one who—"
He broke off, casting a startled glance at Kungas.
The Kushan commander huffed. Coming from someone else, the noise would have been interpreted as humor. Coming from Kungas, it was hard to tell.
"He is the commander of your bodyguard!" protested Dadaji.
Shakuntala waved her hand. "He is not needed in that capacity, anymore. Kanishka is more than capable of taking his place. Actually, his talents are being wasted there."
Everyone in the room was staring at Kungas. The expression on the faces of most of the Indians was a mixture of skepticism and hesitation.
Shahji cleared his throat.
"If you will forgive me, Your Majesty, it seems to me that sending Kungas might be a bad idea. He is not of noble blood—neither brahmin nor kshatriya—and I fear the Roman general Belisarius might be offended if your ambassador were of such a low—"
The rest of the sentence was lost, buried beneath an eruption of laughter. Coming from the Ethiopians, mainly, but the Empress herself was participating and even Kungas emitted a chuckle or two.
Dadaji simply smiled. Then said, shaking his head, "You do not understand, Shahji. Romans in general—and Belisarius in particular—do not look at these things the way we Indians do. They are punctilious about the forms of nobility, but, as to its real content—" He shrugged. "So long as Kungas is the official envoy of the Empress, and carries with him a sufficiently resounding title, the Romans will be quite satisfied. Certainly Belisarius will."
"Excellent point, Dadaji," stated Shakuntala. She bestowed an imperial nod upon Kungas.
"I hereby appoint you my ambassador to Rome, and give you the titles of Mahadandanayaka and Bhatasvapati."
Kungas' incipient smile surfaced. Barely.
" `Great commandant' and `lord of army and cavalry,' " he murmured. "My, how I've risen in the world!"
Catching a glimpse of Garmat's face, Shakuntala turned toward him. The Ethiopian adviser's gaiety had quite vanished, replaced by a frown.
"You disagree," she stated. There was no accusation in the words, simply a question.
The old half-Arab stroked his beard.
"Yes, Empress, I do." He made a dismissive gesture with his hand. "Not, of course, for the reasons advanced earlier. Kungas would be quite acceptable as an ambassador, from the Roman point of view. More than acceptable, as far as Belisarius is concerned. The general trusts and admires the man, deeply. I know—he told me so himself."
The Indian officers in the cabin moved their eyes to Kungas. As ever, the Kushan commander's face was impassive, like a mask. But they were reminded, again, that the unprepossessing Kushan—whom they tended, unconsciously, to regard as a lowborn half-barbarian—enjoyed a reputation among the greatest folk of their world which was far beyond their own.
"What is the problem, then?" asked Shakuntala.
Garmat pursed his lips. "The problem, Empress, is three-fold."
He held up a thumb.
"First. You will be sending off your—one of your—most capable military commanders on the very eve of a decisive battle. Suppara can be taken, I believe, despite its guns. But doing so, as we've discussed before, will depend on the Kushans seizing the cannons by a surprise assault. Until they do so, you cannot think to land in Suppara itself with your Maratha cavalry. The ships would be destroyed before they reached the docks."