As indignant as they were, the kings were quite familiar with warfare. The two brothers Dasal and Jaisal looked away, still glaring, but no longer at Belisarius. One of the other kings, Chachu, was the only one who tried to keep the argument going.

"You have rockets," he pointed out.

Belisarius shrugged. "I've got eight rocket chariots with no more than a dozen rockets each. That's enough to harass the Malwa. It's not the sort of artillery force that would enable me to smash infantry squares."

Chachu fell silent, his angry eyes sweeping across the landscape. It was quite visible, since the command tent they were standing under was no more than an open pavilion. Just enough to shelter them from the hot sun. They were out of sight of the Yamuna, by now, marching north toward the Ganges. Well into garam season, the flat plain was parched and sere.

"It is dishonorable," he muttered.

Belisarius felt his jaws tighten. There was much to admire about Rajputs. There was also much to despise. He thought it was quite typical that Rajput kings would be solely concerned with their honor-when what bothered Belisarius was the destruction he'd soon be visiting upon innocent peasants.

"We... have... no... choice," he said, rasping out the words. "The tactical triangle is simple."

He held up his thumb. "Cavalry cannot break infantry armed with guns, so long as they remain in tight formations and keep discipline. You can be sure and certain that an army led by Malwa's overlord will do so."

His forefinger came up alongside the thumb. "Artillerycan smash infantry squares-but we have no artillery worth talking about."

Another finger. "On the other side, Sati has only enough cavalry to give her a scouting screen. Not enough-not nearly enough-to drive us off."

He lowered his hand. "So, we keep the pressure on them-from a bit of a distance-and force them to remain in formation. That means they move slowly, and cannot forage. And there's nothing to forage anyway, because we will burn the land bare around them. Once their supplies run out, they're finished."

In a slightly more conciliatory tone, he added: "If you were mounted archers in the manner of the Persians, I might try the same tactics that defeated the Roman general Crassus at Carrhae. But-we must be honest here-you are not."

Chachu's head came back around. "Rajput archers are as good-!"

"Oh, be quiet!" snapped Dasal. The oldest of the Rajput kings shifted his glare from the landscape to his fellow king. "I have seen Persian dehgans in combat. You haven't. What the Roman general is talking about is not their individual skill as bowmen-although that's much greater than ours also, except for a few like Sanga. Those damn Persians grow up with bows. He's talking about their tactics."

Dasal took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "We do not fight in that manner, it is true. Rajputs are a nation of lancers and swordsmen."

Belisarius nodded. "And there's no way to train an army in such tactics quickly. My own bucellarii have been trained to fight that way, but there are only five hundred of them. Not enough. Not nearly enough."

Chachu's face looked as sour as vinegar. "Where did you learn such a disgraceful method?"

Belisarius' chuckle was completely humorless. "From another Roman defeat, how else? I propose to do to Sati's Malwa army exactly what the Persians did to the army of the Roman Emperor Julian, when he was foolish enough to march into the Mesopotamian countryside in midsummer with no secured lines of supply."

Belisarius' gaze moved across the same landscape. It was richer than that of Mesopotamia, but every bit as dry this time of year. Just more things to burn.

"Julian the Apostate, he was called," Belisarius added softly. "A brilliant commander, in many ways. He defeated the Persians in almost every battle they fought. But he, too, was full of his own inflated sense of glory. I am not. And, Roman or no,I command this army. Your own emperor has so decreed."

He let the silence settle, for a minute. Then, brought his eyes back to the assembled little group of kings.

"You will do as I say. As soon as our scouts make the first contact with Sati's army, we will start burning the land. Behind her as well as before her. On both sides of the Ganges, so that even if she manages to find enough boats, it will do her no good."

After the kings had left the pavilion, Belisarius turned to Jaimal and Udai Singh.

"And you?"

Udai shrugged. "It is a low tactic, no doubt about it. But who cares, when the enemy is Malwa?"

Jaimal just smiled.

Two days after the battle at Mayapur-such as it was-Kungas and his army had covered thirty-five miles in their retreat to Peshawar. It was a "retreat," of course, only in the most technical sense of the term. They'd left Sati in command of the battlefield, true enough. But they'd accomplished their purpose, and it was now time to hurry back lest the Malwa take advantage of their absence to invade the Vale.

The first of Irene's couriers reached them while they were still in the hills.

Kungas read her message several times over, before showing it to Vima and Kujulo.

"What do you want to do?" asked Vima.

Kungas was already looking back toward the east. After a moment, he turned and gazed at the distant peaks of the Himalayas.

So far off, they were. So majestic, also.

He decided it was an omen.

"We'll go back," he said. "I want that bitch dead. No, more. I want tosee her dead."

After traveling perhaps a hundred miles north of the Vindhyas, following the route Damodara and his army had taken, the captain of the assassination team had had enough.

"This is a madhouse," he said to his lieutenant. "Half the garrisons vanished completely, leaving the countryside open to bandits. What's worse, the other half roaming the countryside like bandits themselves."

"And there's only five of us," agreed his subordinate gloomily. "This whole assignment has turned into one stinking mess after another. What do you want to do?"

The captain thought for a moment. "Let's start by getting away from the area Damodara passed through.

We'll go east, first, and then see if we can work our way up to Kausambi from the south. It'll take longer, but there'll be less chance of being attacked by dacoits."

The lieutenant nodded. "I can't think of anything better. By the time we get to Kausambi, of course, Damodara will have it under siege. Which will be a fitting end to the most thankless task we've ever been given."

"We can probably make it through the lines," the captain said, trying to sound confident. "Then..."

"Report? To who? Nanda Lal's dead and-I don't know about you-but I really don't want to have to tell the emperor that we've traveled ten thousand miles to accomplished exactly nothing. He's foul-tempered in the best of times."

The captain just smiled. But it was a sickly sort of thing.

Chapter 34.

The Iron Triangle.

"Keep the pressure on," said Maurice firmly. "We'll dothat . But that's all we'll do."

He ignored the sour look on Sittas' face. That was a given, and Maurice saw no point in getting into another argument with him. Sittas was the most aggressive commander in the Roman army, a trait which was valuable when it came time for headlong cavalry charges. But that same trait also made him prone to recklessness. The Romans and Persians had been able to seize the Malwa fortresses upstream on the west bank of the Indus simply-and solely-because Menander and his warships had been able to launch an attack on their unprotected rear. No such advantage existed if they tried to carry the fight across to the east bank of the river.

Menander was also looking sour-faced, however, and that Maurice did have to deal with.

"All right," he growled. "You can keep making your sorties up the river-untilyou spot any signs that the Malwa are bringing over ironclads from the other rivers-"

"And how will they do that?"

"Don't be stupid. They'll do it in the simplest way possible. Just pick them up and haul the damn things there."

"That'd take-"

"A mighty host of slave laborers and ruthless overseers. Which is exactly what the Malwa have."

Maurice decided it was time for a moderate display of temper. He gave a quick glance at Agathius and then slammed his fist onto the table in the command bunker.

"God damn it! Have you all lost your wits so completely that one single victory turns you into drooling babes?"

"Take it easy," said Agathius soothingly. As Maurice had expected, the crippled cataphract commander picked up the cue instantly. He'd been a tremendous asset ever since he arrived in the Triangle.

"There's no need to lose our tempers. Still, Maurice is right. It'll take them some time, but the Malwawill get those ironclads into the Indus. One, at least-and you've already admitted, Menander, that the Justinian probably can't handle even one of them."

Menander still looked sour-faced, but he didn't try to argue the point. TheJustinian had mainly been designed to destroy Malwa shipping. Its guns were probably as heavy as anything the Malwa ironclads had, but it wasn't as well armored. They'd been designed to do one thing and one thing only-destroy the Justinian, if it ever came out against them.

Agathius swiveled on his crutches to face Sittas. "And will youplease leave off your endless pestering?

To be honest, I'm as sick of it as Maurice is. Sittas, even if you could get your cataphracts across the river in the face of enemy fire-"

"We could go-"

"Upstream? Where? Anywhere below here and Multan, the Malwa now have fortifications all along the Indus. And if you try to take your cavalry north of Multan..."

He shrugged. "Leave that to the Persians. We need the cavalry here in case the Malwa manage to penetrate our lines somewhere."

For all his stubbornness, Sittas wasn't actually stupid. After a moment, the anger faded from his face, leaving an oddly-rueful expression.

"It's not fair!" he said, half-chuckling. "Once again, that damned Belisarius grabs all the glory work for himself and leaves me to hold the fort."

Unexpectedly, Calopodius spoke up from his communications table. He normally kept silent during these command conferences, unless he was asked to do something.

"Is a shield 'false,' and only a sword 'true'?"

All of the commanders peered at him.

"What does that mean?" demanded Sittas.

Calopodius smiled and pointed a finger-almost exactly in the right direction-at his servant Luke, sitting inconspicuously on a chair against a far wall, next to Illus.

"Ask him."

The commanders peered at Luke.

"Ah..." said that worthy fellow.

Antonina took a slow turn on her heels, admiring the huge audience chamber of the Goptri's palace in Bharakuccha.

"Pretty incredible," she said. "You'd think the weight of encrusted gems in the walls alone would collapse the thing."

Ousanas shared none of her sentiments. "Incredible nuisance," he grumbled. He gave Dadaji Holkar a look from under lowered brows. The peshwa of Andhra was standing just a few feet away from them.

"Mark my words, Antonina. No sooner will this current world war end than a new one will begin, every nation on earth fighting for possession of this grotesque monument to vanity."

She chuckled softly. "Don't exaggerate. The fighting will be entirely between you and the Marathas. The empires of Rome and Persia and Malwa will only send observers."

Dadaji made a face. Ousanas sneered.

"Ha! Until they observe the obscene wealth piled up here themselves. At which point great armies will be marching. Mark my words!"

Still slowly turning, Antonina considered the problem. To be sure, Ousanas was indulging himself in his beloved Cassandra impersonation. But there did remain a genuine core of concern, underneath.

Whatwere they to do with the Goptri's palace? Except for the palace of the emperor himself at Kausambi, it was the most splendiferous edifice ever erected by the Malwa. And the interior was an even greater source of greed and potential strife than the glorious shell. For every gem encrusted in the walls, there were twenty in the chests piled high in the vaults below. Along with other chests of gold, silver, ivory, valuable spices-everything, it seemed, that a viceroy could flaunt before a conquered half-continent.

There'd been skin-sacks, too, but those the Ethiopian soldiers and Maratha irregulars had taken down immediately, once they took possession of the palace. Since then, they'd simply glared at each other over the rest.

By the time she finished the turn, she had the answer.

"Give it to me," she said. "To my Hospitalers, rather. And to Anna Saronites, and her Wife's Service."

She lowered her eyes to look at Dadaji. "Surely you-or Bindusara, more likely-can devise an equivalent body for Hindus. If so, you will get an equal share in the palace. An equal share in the wealth in the vaults, as well as equal space in the palace itself."

Thoughtfully, Holkar tugged at his ear. "And for the Kushans? Another equal share, if they create a Buddhist hospital service?"

"Why not?"

"Hm." He kept tugging at his ear, for a few more seconds. Then, shrugged. "Why not?"

Ousanas' eyes widened, half with outrage and half with... something that seemed remarkably like amusement.

"Preposterous? What of we Axumites? We getnothing? "

"Nonsense," said Antonina. "The Hospitalers are areligious order, not an imperial one. Nothing in the world prevents Ethiopians from joining it. Or creating your own hospital service, if you insist on maintaining your sectarian distinction."

Holkar's hand fell from his ear, to rise again, with forefinger pointing rigidly. "Absolutely not! You Christians already have two hospital services! Three is too many! You would take half the palace!"

"Nonsense," Antonina repeated. "The Wife's Service has no religious affiliation at all. True-so far-all of its members are probably Christians. But they've given medical care to Persians and Indians just as readily as they have to Christians."