Heraclius helped himself to a peeled apricot dusted with sugar. He took a bite and savored the play of flavors on his tongue. Then he put it aside on the little silver tray by his dining couch.
“The wind is turning in the East,” he said, his voice calm. “In short time the Persians will be blown back to Ctesiphon by it. The barbarians who are camped before my walls will be destroyed or chased back to their grasslands. The Boar will be hunted down with long spears and skewered. These things will transpire, regardless of what we discuss this evening.” r Malichus rubbed his sharp chin with a well-trimmed fingernail. “If this is so, and I do not doubt it, great lord, why summon us to your presence?”
“We intend more than the simple chasing off of the Persians,” answered Heraclius. “We intend to deal them such a defeat as they have not suffered in almost a thousand years. We have the men and the will. All we need are the pieces put into the proper motion. For that, frankly, we need the aid of both of your states.”
Adathus stole a look at his companion, then arched an eyebrow, saying: “Even now the armies of both our cities, as allies of Eternal Rome, have forestalled the advance of the Persians from Antioch southward. We protect Damascus and thence the road to Alexandria. What more can we do to bring about the defeat of the Persians?”
Heraclius nodded in agreement. “This is so. However, the Persian army at Antioch will soon be marching south, intending to capture Palestine and then Egypt. There will be battle in Syria Coele somewhere. Our plans are already in motion, as are Shahr-Baraz’s. It is vital that the Persian army in Antioch remains south of the city, preferably diverted to a siege of Damascus or some other strong city. This state of affairs need not pertain for long, no more than a few months. This will give us time to complete our part of the evolution.”
Adathus leaned back in his couch, his brow furrowed in thought.
“And what evolution would that be?” he asked, clearly suspicious.
Heraclius rang a spoon against the pewter goblet he had been drinking from. Servants entered the chamber and cleared away the platters and other dishes. The last servant gathered up the dining cloth that had covered the table used to serve the four men. Beneath it, the surface of the wooden table was inlaid with a map of the Eastern Empire in tiny, carefully crafted, mosaic.
“The Persian armies are four,” Heraclius began, using his dining tine as a pointer. First he pointed to the narrow strip of blue between the Mare Aegeaum and the Sea of Darkness. “Shahr-Baraz stands across the Propontis in my Summer House with a swift force of cavalry. Though he daily bites, his thumb at me, he holds no more land there than the width of his lances.”
The tine moved south and east, across the brown shape of Anatolia, to the eastern edge of the Mare Internum, where the Levantine coast ran up to meet the body of Asia Minor.
“The nearest true Persian army is at Antioch, under the command of his cousin, Shahin. This is the army that will threaten Egypt as soon as it can. Beyond those two armies, the main force of the Persians is at Ctesiphon, under the command of the Shahanshah himself. A fourth army is currently in the uttermost East, campaigning along the Oxus.
“We desire to defeat the Persians one at a time, so we have let rumor slip that our army will sail north from Constantinople and land at Trapezus.” The tine slid north across Anatolia to the verge of the Sea of Darkness, and then east along that coastline to the mountains that ran down to the dark waters. “From there that army will advance south through Armenia and Luristan, to threaten the Persian heartland. To counter this, the Boar will take his horsemen back east, across Anatolia, to join up with Chrosoes’ army from the heartland.”
The Palmyrene broke in, eyeing the map. “But that is not your true plan then.”
“No.” Heraclius smiled and pointed to the plain of Issus to the northwest of Antioch. “Our army will land here instead and march inland to Samosata. We will be between the Boar, to the north in the mountains, and the main Persian army to the south at Ctesiphon. But our situation will be very precarious if Shahin and his army at Antioch are not already engaged in campaign.”
“So we are to occupy their attention,” Malichus commented, frowning. “Our armies are equipped for border skirmishes, for fighting bandits and policing the desert. We do not have the heavy infantry or horsemen to face Shahin and his clibanari. They would roll right over us in the first standup fight.”
“I know,” Heraclius said with a grim look on his face, “your generals will have to be careful and draw him southward with the promise of battle. One legion of Eastern troops and one of Western will be coming up the coast from
Alexandria to join you. If you can keep Shahin’s attention and fall back to meet them, then you will have the fighting men to fight him on even terms. But… that is not the plan either.“
Malichus and Adathus looked up from the map in concern.
Heraclius took a deep breath, steeling himself for the next words. “By the time you would come to that battle, our armies will have engaged and defeated Chrosoes’ main army somewhere between Samosata and Tauris. Then we will turn south to assail the Persian capital. Shahin will know our movements by then for sure, so he will be forced to turn back to defend their heartland. When that time comes, your forces, and those of the two Legions that have come up from Egypt, will be well placed to press him as he retreats back across the Euphrates.”
Now the two border chieftains glanced at each other and smiled. An army in retreat would be easy prey for the swift horsemen and raiders that their principalities commanded. There would be rich loot to be had as well from the fleeing baggage train. At little cost or even risk if the Persians could be denied battle…
From his chair, Galen watched the by-play between the two ambassadors, and saw their native caution warring with naked avarice.
Adathus pursed his lips and stroked his mustaches with a long, olive-toned, finger. “This plan has promise, great lord. Still, it is risky if Shahin should managed to trap one of our forces and bring us to battle. Our peoples are not great in number and we husband our fighting men carefully-what assurances can you offer me that the Legions from Egypt will arrive on time? What restitution will you make us for the losses as the Persians march through our lands?“
Heraclius fought to keep his face impassive. The haggling had begun. He nodded solemnly. “War is a terrible business, and Palmyra, in particular, may suffer greatly. To this end I propose that in recognition of the aid and assistance you give us, as you have given in the past, the Queen shall be proclaimed Tribune for her part in this defense of the East.“
The eyebrow of the Palmyrene ambassador inched upward in surprise. Within the hierarchy of the Empire, a Tribune stood just below a Caesar in rule, only two steps from the Purple itself. Such honors were not bestowed lightly, and never upon the head of an allied state. The Eastern Emperor is both tremendously assured and in a grave situation, he thought, to make such an offer.
Heraclius turned to the Nabatean, his, face serious. “Our friends in Nabatea have long stood by our side as well. Your state handles the vast majority of the sea trade from Axum and Sinope, your ports on the Sinus Arabicus are thronged with ships carrying our goods and the goods of others, destined for Rome and Constantinople. Your frontier patrols restrain the nomads of Arabia. We have been remiss in not acknowledging your aid and assistance. It seems to us, if you join in this endeavor, that Petra and Bostra should be treated as Roman cities henceforth.”
Now the Nabatean roused himself from his languid air of detachment. The alliance between Bostra and Palmyra was °ld› and loosely fitting, but traditionally the Northerners had taken the lead in dealing with the Empire. The Nabateans had long been more than content to count the coin that spilled into their coffers from the vast flow of trade between the Empire, India, and distant Serica. Still, as an allied state, they were forced to pay a hefty toll when the goods actually passed into Imperial lands. Were Bostra and Petra to be proclaimed urbes, true Roman cities, then nearly a third of that toll would be removed. Great sums were to be made from such a change in tax status.