His face softened, slightly, with a trace of its usual humor returning. "The Malwa, as we planned, thought that the Empress had fled with Rao. And so they sent thousands of Rajputs beating about the countryside. But Rao was alone, and so was able to elude them. We knew the Empress would not have the skill to do so. So, as we had planned, Rao left her behind in the palace, hidden in a closet in the guest quarters. When we arrived, two days later, we hid her among Prince Eon's concubines."
He looked down at Kungas. The Kushan commander returned his stare with no expression on his face.
"Kungas knew nothing of this, no more than any of you. It is true, on the day we left Gwalior for Ranapur, I believe that he recognized the Empress as we were smuggling her into Prince Eon's howdah. I am not certain, however, for he said nothing to me nor I to him. Nor have we ever spoken on the matter since. But I believe that he did recognize her. And, for his own reasons, chose to remain silent."
Kujulo stared at his commander. "Is this true?" he demanded.
Kungas nodded. "Yes. It is exactly as the Roman says. I knew nothing about their scheme. But I did recognize Shakuntala. On the day we left Gwalior for Ranapur, just as he says."
"Why did you remain silent?" demanded Kujulo.
"That question you may not ask," replied Kungas. His tone, if possible, was even harder than his face. "You may question my actions, Kujulo, and demand an accounting of them. But you may not question me."
Kujulo shrank back, slightly. All the Kushans seemed to shrink.
Kungas dismissed the question with a curt chop. "Besides, it is a stupid question. Your decision tonight may be different, Kujulo. But do not pretend you don't understand my own. If you really need to ask that question, you are no kinsman of mine." His iron eyes swept the Kushans. "Any of you."
A little sigh swept the pavilion. Suddenly, one of the Kushan soldiers toward the rear barked a little laugh.
"And why not?" he demanded. "I am sick of the Malwa. Sick of their arrogance, and the barks of Ye-tai dogs, and the sneers of Rajputs."
Another Kushan grunted his agreement. A third said, softly: "We are destined to die, anyway. Better to die an honored imperial bodyguard than a Malwa beast of burden."
"I'll have none of that talk," growled Kungas. "There is no destiny. There is only the edge of a good blade, and the skill of the man wielding it."
Quietly, at that moment, Ousanas reentered the pavilion. He was just in time to hear Kujulo's remark.
"And the brains of the man commanding the soldiers!" The Kushan laughed, then, in genuine good humor. Looking at the Empress, he nodded toward Belisarius.
"This man, I take it, is one of your allies, Empress." Kujulo paused, took a breath, made his decision.
"One of our allies, now." A quick, collective exhalation indicated that all the Kushan soldiers accepted the decision. Kujulo continued:
"He's a great schemer and trickster, that's for certain. But trickery will only take us so far. Is he good for anything else?"
Shakuntala reared up haughtily. In the corner of his eye, Belisarius saw his own cataphracts stiffen with anger. He began to say something, but then, seeing Ousanas saunter forward, relaxed.
"Kushan soldier very great fool," remarked the dawazz cheerfully. "Probably asks pigeons how to eat meat, and crocodiles how to fly."
The African hunter planted himself before Kujulo, gazing down at the Kushan soldier. Kujulo craned his neck, returning the gaze. Anger at Ousanas' ridicule began to cloud his face.
"Why ask this question from the Empress of Andhra?" demanded Ousanas. "What she know of such things? Better to ask the Persians who survived Mindouos."
Anger faded, replaced by interest. Kujulo glanced at Belisarius.
"He has defeated Medes?" Like all warriors from central Asia, who had clashed with the Persian empire for centuries, Kujulo held Persian heavy cavalry in deep respect.
"Routed an entire army of the bastards!" snarled Valentinian from the back of the pavilion. "Just last year!"
"You might ask the Goths for their opinion, too, while you're at it," rumbled Anastasius. "He's whipped the barbarians so many times they finally asked him to be their king. Couldn't figure out any other way to beat him." The giant Thracian yawned. "He refused. No challenge to it, he said."
Kujulo eyed the Roman general with keen interest. He had never heard of Goths, but he had faced other barbarians in battle.
"So," he mused. "We are now the imperial bodyguard of the Satavahana dynasty. With nothing but Raghunath Rao as the general of a nonexistent army and this Belisarius as an ally."
Kujulo grinned. In that wolf's grin, at that moment, centuries of civilization vanished. The warrior of the steppes shone forth.
"Pity the poor Malwa!" exclaimed one of the other Kushan soldiers.
Kujulo's grin widened still.
"Better yet," he countered, "let us pity them not at all."
Chapter 11
Exactly two weeks after Belisarius arrived at the capital of Kausambi, the Malwa finally met his price. All things considered, Belisarius was pleased with himself. As treason went, he thought he had driven a hard bargain. Especially for a novice.
Nanda Lal thought so too.
"You are as bad as a horse trader," chuckled the Malwa official. His Greek was excellent. Only the slightest trace of an accent and the extreme precision of his grammar indicated that he was not a native to the language. He chuckled again. "Are you certain you are really a general?"
Belisarius nodded. "I've been a soldier my entire adult life. But I was raised in the countryside, you know. Peasants are natural born hagglers."
Nanda Lal laughed. And a very open, hearty laugh it was, too. Belisarius was impressed. He thought he had never met a better liar in his entire life than Nanda Lal. Nor one whose inner soul was so far at variance with his outer trappings.
Officially, Nanda Lal bore many titles.
He was, first, one of the anvaya-prapta sachivya. The phrase translated, approximately, as "acquirer of the post of minister by hereditary descent." It indicated that Nanda Lal belonged to that most exclusive of Malwa elites, those who were blood kin of the Emperor and were thus entitled to call themselves part of the Malwa dynasty. No man in the Malwa Empire who was not anvaya-prapta sachivya could hope to rise to any of the very highest official posts, military or civilian.
Second, Nanda Lal was a Mantrin-a high counselor-and thus sat on the Empire's central advisory body to Emperor Skandagupta, the Mantri-parishad. True, Nanda Lal was one of the junior members of that council-what the Malwa called a Kumaramatya, a "cadet-minister"-but his status was still among the most exalted in all of India.
Third, Nanda Lal occupied the specific post which the Malwa called the Akshapatal-adhikrita. The title roughly translated into the innocuous-sounding phrase, "the Lord Keeper of State Documents."
What he really was, was a spy. It might be better to say, the spy. Or, better still, the grand spymaster.
Nanda Lal's laugh died away. After a last, rueful shake of his head, he asked:
"So, general, tell me. What did you think? I am quite curious, really. I was only joking, you know-about the horse trader business." Another little hearty chuckle. "Only a general would have demanded a tour of inspection of our military facilities before he gave his allegiance to our cause. In addition, of course, to a fortune." Hearty chuckle. "Another fortune, I should say." Hearty chuckle. "That was quite nicely done, by the way, if you'll permit me saying so." Hearty chuckle. "That little casual wave. `Oh, something simple. Like the other chest you gave me.' "