Fortune's Stroke

A reminder and a distinction

When he finished reading the letter from Emperor Skandagupta, Damodara turned his head and stared at the Tigris. For a moment, his gaze followed the river's course, north to Assyria—and Anatolia, and Constantinople beyond. Then, for a longer moment, the gaze came to rest on his army's camp. It was a well-built camp, solid, strong. Almost a permanent fort, after all the weeks of work.

"That's it, then," he said softly. "It's over."

He turned to the man at his side, folding the letter. "Prepare the army, Rana Sanga. We have been summoned back to India. The emperor urges great haste."

Sanga nodded. He began to turn away, but stopped. "If I may ask, Lord—what is to be our new assignment?"

Damodara sighed heavily. "Unrest is spreading all over India. The Deccan is in full revolt. Venandakatra has been driven back into Bharakuccha. He is confident that he can hold the city unaided, though he can't reconquer Majarashtra without assistance. That will end up being our task, no doubt. But first we must subdue Bihar and Bengal, while the emperor rebuilds the main army. He expects the Romans to attack our northwest provinces within a year. Two years, at the outside."

Sanga said nothing. But his face grew tight.

"It appears that you will be meeting Raghunath Rao again some day," mused Damodara. "After all these years. The bards and poets will be drooling."

Damodara studied Sanga closely. Then said, very softly: "The day may come, Rana Sanga—may come—when I will have to ask you to remember your oath."

Sanga's face, already tight, became as strained as a taut sheet. "I do not need to be reminded of honor, Lord Damodara," he grated harshly.

Damodara shook his head. "I did not say I would ask you to honor your oath, Sanga. Simply to remember it."

Sanga frowned. "What is the distinction?"

There was no answer. After a moment, shrugging angrily, Sanga stalked off.

Damodara remained behind, staring at the river. He found some comfort, perhaps, in the study of moving water.

A concern and an explanation

"I am your obedient servant, Lord," said Narses, bowing his head.

As soon as Damodara left the tent, Narses' face broke into a grin. "We're on," he muttered, rubbing his hands.

Ajatasutra looked up from the chess board. "What are you so excited about?"

Narses stared at him. The grin faded, replaced by something which bordered on sadness.

"You have become like a son to me," said Narses abruptly.

Ajatasutra's face went blank. For a moment, no more. Then, a sly smile came. "That's not entirely reassuring, Narses. As I recall, the last time you adopted a spiritual offspring you tried to murder her."

Narses waved his hand. "Not right away," he countered. "Not for many years, in fact. Besides—"

The eunuch sat on the chair facing Ajatasutra. He stared down at the chess board. "Besides, the situation isn't comparable. She was an empress. You're just a poor adventurer."

Ajatasutra snorted. Narses glanced at the small chest in the corner of the tent. "Well—relatively speaking."

The assassin crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back in the chair. "Why don't you just come out with it, Narses? If you want to know my loyalties, ask."

The eunuch opened his mouth. Closed it. Ajatasutra laughed, quite gaily. "Gods above! I'd hate to live in your mind. You just can't do it, can you?"

Narses opened his mouth. Closed it.

Ajatasutra, still chuckling, shook his head. "Relax, old man. Like you said, I'm an adventurer. And I can't imagine anybody who'd provide me with more adventures than you."

Narses sighed. "Thank you," he whispered. His lips twisted wryly. "It means a great deal to me, Ajatasutra. Whether I'm capable of saying it or not."

Ajatasutra eyed the eunuch, for a moment. "I'm puzzled, though. Why the sudden concern?"

The assassin nodded toward the entrance of the tent. "I didn't catch any of your conversation with Damodara. But I did hear his last sentence. `You do not have my permission to do anything, Narses.' That sounds pretty definite, to me."

Narses cackled. "What a novice! A babe in the woods!" He leaned forward. "You really must learn to parse a sentence properly, Ajatasutra. `You do not have permission,' my boy, does not mean the same thing as: `I forbid you.' "

Ajatasutra's eyes widened. Narses cackled again. "It's mate in six moves, by the way," the eunuch added.

A greeting and a grouse

There was not much left of Charax, when Belisarius and Antonina returned from Adulis a few weeks later. But the Persians had managed to salvage enough of the docks for their ship to be moored.

Emperor Khusrau was there to meet them, along with Baresmanas, Kurush and Agathius. The Persians were beaming happily. Agathius was not.

Politely, the Persians allowed Agathius to greet the general first. The Duke of Osrhoene limped forward, aiding his wooden leg and foot with a pair of crutches. "Fine mess you left me," he grumbled, the moment Belisarius came up to him.