He pointed at Kungas. "If I were you, that is the man I would want leading that attack. No other."
Shakuntala was shaking her head. Garmat held up a hand, forestalling her words. "No, Empress. You cannot wait until after the battle to send Kungas away. There is no time to lose, if you want to get Roman help. I myself must leave this expedition tomorrow, to report back to the negusa nagast. Your ambassador—whoever it is—should accompany me on that ship."
Shakuntala bowed her head, thinking. As always, the young Empress was quick to decide.
"I agree. We are pressed for time."
She raised her eyes. "The other reasons?"
Garmat held up a finger alongside his thumb.
"Second. I think Kungas' mission would be futile. How will he find Belisarius? In that chaos in Persia?"
The Ethiopian chuckled dryly. "It would be hard enough to find anyone, much less Belisarius. The general told me once that he considered the chaos of war to be his best friend. There is always an advantage to be found, he told me, if you seize it in a willing embrace. Do you understand what that means?"
Shakuntala's Maratha officers were frowning, as was the Empress herself. All of them, it was clear, found the notion of treasuring war's confusion bizarre.
But Kungas, understanding, nodded his head.
"Belisarius will be riding the whirlwind," he said. "He will do everything in his power to create chaos, and then take advantage of it."
The Kushan rubbed the topknot on his head. "He not only could be anywhere, he will be doing everything he can to make it seem as if he were one place while he is going somewhere else." He grunted, partly with admiration, partly with chagrin. "The intention, of course, is to confuse the enemy. But it will have the same effect on allies trying to find him."
The top-knot rubbing grew vigorous. "It will be difficult. Difficult."
"It will be impossible," countered Garmat. "And, finally, quite unnecessary."
He waited for those last words to register, before raising another finger.
"My third reason, Empress, is simple. There is no need to send Kungas as an ambassador to Rome, for the simple reason that I am quite sure Rome—and Belisarius—are sending an ambassador to you. That ambassador, I am certain, will be bringing what you need."
Everyone stared at Garmat. The surprise was obvious on all faces—except those of the other Ethiopians.
"You know something," stated Holkar.
"Nothing specific," said Ezana. "Only—"
Garmat cleared his throat.
"The Kingdom of Axum has maintained a small but quite effective espionage service in the Roman Empire. For well over a century, now." He made a small, half-apologetic grimace. "There has been no trouble between us and Rome, mind you. Ever since the Roman Emperor Diocletian set Elephantine as the southern limit of Roman territory in Africa, the border has been quite tranquil. Still—"
He shrugged.
"Rome is a great empire, ours is much smaller. It always behooves a less powerful kingdom to keep an eye on its more powerful neighbor. Regardless of their current intentions or attitudes. You never know. Things might change."
The Indians in the room all nodded. Common sense, that. And they had their own memories of the long and turbulent history of India.
"Most of our attention, naturally, is given to their province of Egypt. There, we have the advantage that most of the population is Monophysite. Our own creed is very similar, and many of the Egyptian Monophysites look upon us as their religious brethren. Any number of Monophysite religious leaders have taken refuge in Ethiopia, over the years, when-ever the orthodox persecution became—"
He broke off, seeing the incomprehension in the faces of the Indians. Only Dadaji Holkar, he realized, understood anything of what he was saying.
Garmat had to restrain himself from muttering "Damned arrogant Indians!"
"Never mind," he sighed. For all that he genuinely liked and admired many Indians, Garmat was struck again by their peculiar insularity. Even the most broad-minded Indians—with a few exceptions like Holkar—tended to look on the whole vast world beyond their own culture as an undifferentiated mass of semi-barbarians. The divisions within Christianity were quite beyond their ken—or interest.
"The point is this," he drove on. "We discovered some time ago that the Roman Empress is sending a military and political expedition to Egypt. The official purpose of that expedition is to quell an incipient rebellion and reestablish tight imperial control over their richest province. But who did they send to command this force? Belisarius' own wife, Antonina."
He shrugged. "We are speculating, of course. But, knowing Belisarius, I think the speculation is quite sound. Antonina's expedition is real enough on its own terms, of course—the Romans do need to keep a firm hand on Egypt. But we are quite sure that there is another purpose hidden within that public objective. We think Belisarius is sending his own wife in order to open a second front against the Malwa. It would be astonishing to us if that strategy did not include providing support for Andhra."
He gave Shakuntala and Holkar a quick, knowing glance. The young Empress and her peshwa, understanding, nodded in reply. In order to maintain her prestige, Shakuntala had never publicly explained where she obtained the large fortune which served as her imperial war chest. Her Maratha officers, who rallied to her after her escape from Malwa, had never even thought to ask. Empresses are rich. Everyone knows that. It's a law of nature.
In reality, the hunted young girl had been given that treasure by Belisarius himself, on the eve of her escape. The vast treasure with which Emperor Skandagupta had tried to bribe Belisarius into treason, the Roman general had turned over to Shakuntala in order to finance a rebellion in Malwa's rear.
"Would that man have forgotten you?" asked Garmat quietly. "Would that man not have continued to develop his plans?"
Shakuntala's eyes widened, slightly.
"You're right," she whispered. "He is sending someone to us. Belisarius has thought of it already."
Her shoulders slumped, just a bit. From relief, it was obvious. It suddenly dawned on everyone how hard a decision it had been for her, to send Kungas away.
"You will stay, Kungas," she announced. "You will stay here, with me."
The Kushan commander nodded. Then, with a sly little smile, murmured, "How quickly fortune passes."
Shakuntala frowned, fiercely.
"Nonsense! I did not remove your titles—except that of ambassador to Rome. You are still Maha-dandanayaka. Still, my Bhatasvapati."
Her eyes softened, gazing on the man who had once been her captor, and always her protector.
"As you have been since Amaravati," she whispered. "When you saved me from the Ye-tai beasts."
Later, as they filed out of the cabin, the Maratha commander Shahji remarked to Garmat:
"I wonder who the Romans are sending to us? A general of renown, no doubt."
Fighting down a smile, Garmat made no reply. He glanced at Ezana and Wahsi, and saw that his two Ethiopian compatriots were fighting the same battle.
Shahji moved on.
"Poor fellow," murmured Wahsi.
"What a shock, when he discovers," agreed Ezana.
Now, Garmat found himself fighting down an outright laugh. Ezana and Wahsi had accompanied him, three years earlier, in his mission to Rome. They knew the realities of the Roman court. They knew the Empress Theodora's foibles.