Antonina began to say something, but Belisarius made an urgent gesture which stilled her. His eyes were unfocused, his thoughts obviously turned inward.
“The jewel?” asked Cassian. Again, Belisarius made a stilling gesture. All fell silent, watching the general.
“Almost,” he whispered. “But I can’t quite make out what-” He hissed.
Subterranean, underground images. Impossible to discern clearly-not from the absence of light, but because the visions were so bizarre. Vision: three men in a room, below a building, watching some sort of giant, intricate machine. A sense of danger and anticipation. Vision: the same men, wearing strange eyepieces, staring through a slit; fear, suspense; a sudden blinding flash of light; exhilaration; terror; awe. Vision: other men, laboring underground on some sort of gigantic-pipe? Vision: the pipe flashing through the sky. Vision: weird buildings in an odd city suddenly destroyed, leveled as if from the blow of a giant. Vision: a different man, young, bearded, sitting in a log hut in a forest, showing indecipherable marks on a page to four other men-mathematics? Vision: the same bearded young man, wearing the same eyepieces as the men in the first vision, staring through a similar slit. Again, that incredible blinding light. Again: exhilaration; terror; awe.
The images vanished as suddenly as they came. Belisarius shook his head, took a deep breath. He described the visions, as best he could, to the others in the room.
“They make no sense,” said Antonina. Belisarius stroked his chin and said, slowly:
“I think they do. Not in themselves, no. I have no idea what was happening, in those visions. But-there was a logic, underneath. In every case, there was a sense of men working together to discover a secret, and then create machines which could implement that secret. They were- projects — deliberate, planned, coordinated efforts. Not the haphazard fiddling of artisans and craftsmen.”
He sat up straight. “Yes! That’s what we need. We need to launch such a project, to ferret out the secret of the Malwa weapons.”
“How?” asked Antonina.
Belisarius pursed his lips. “Two things, it seems to me, are paramount. We need to find a man who can lead such an effort, and we need to set up a place where he can work.”
Cassian cleared his throat. “I may have a solution. The beginnings of one, at least. Are you acquainted with John of Rhodes?”
“The former naval officer?” Belisarius shook his head. “I know of his reputation as an officer. And that he resigned under a cloud of disgrace, of some sort. Other than that, no. I have never met him.”
“He resides in Aleppo, now,” said Cassian. “As it happens, I am his confessor. He is at loose ends, at the moment, and quite unsatisfied with his situation. The problem is not material in nature. He is rather wealthy, and has no need to fret over mundane things. But he is very bored. He is a quick-thinking man, with an active spirit, and he chafes at his current idleness. I believe he might very well be willing to assist us in this project.”
“What if he is recalled to service?”
Anthony coughed. “That is, under the circumstances, quite unlikely.” Another cough. “He has-well, you understand I may not betray the confidentiality of confession, but let us simply say that he has offended too many powerful figures on too many occasions for there to be much chance of him ever regaining his position in the navy.”
“Moral turpitude?” demanded Michael.
Anthony looked down, examining the tiles of the floor with a keen attention which the plain, utilitarian objects did not seem to warrant. “Well, I suppose,” he muttered. “Again, I must remind you of the confid-”
“Yes, yes,” said Michael impatiently, waving his hand in a manner which suggested that he regarded the confidentiality of confession with as much esteem as he regarded manure.
“Let me simply say that-” Anthony hesitated, unhappy. “Well, John of Rhodes’ naval career would have progressed more smoothly, and not ground ashore on a reef, had he been a eunuch. He is a raffish character, even now, in his forties. He finds women quite irresistible and, alas, the converse is all too often true.”
“Marvelous,” growled Michael. “A libertine.” The raptor examined a particularly distasteful morsel of decayed rodent. “I despise libertines.”
Belisarius shrugged. “We must work with what we have. And with what little time we have. I cannot stay here long. I expect a conflict with Persia will be erupting again, soon, and I have much to do to prepare my army. I will have to leave for Daras within a week. So, whatever it is we are going to do, if it involves me, will need to be started immediately.”
He looked to Cassian.
“I think your suggestion is an excellent one. Approach this John of Rhodes and feel him out. We need to examine the problem of these strange weapons, and he seems as good a place as any to start.”
“What if he agrees?” asked Cassian. “What, precisely, are we asking him to do?”
Belisarius stroked his chin. “We will need to create a workshop, somewhere. An armory, of sorts. A- weapons project. And, if we have any success in uncovering the secret of these weapons, we will need to recruit and train men who can use them.”
“A question,” interrupted Antonina. “Should we tell this John about the jewel?”
The four people in the room looked at each other. Belisarius was the first to speak.
“No,” he said firmly. “At least, not until we are certain he can be trusted. But, for the moment, I think we must keep the knowledge to ourselves. If word begins to spread too quickly, there’ll be an uproar about witchcraft.”
“I think we must tell Sittas, also,” added Antonina.
“Yes,” agreed Belisarius. “Sittas must be brought fully into our confidence, as soon as possible.” He picked up the jewel. “ Fully. ”
Michael frowned, but Cassian nodded. “I agree. For many reasons. The war we are about to launch will be waged on many fronts, not all of them military. There are many enemies within the ranks of Rome, also. Some, within the Church. Some, within the nobility and the aristocracy.” He took a deep breath. “And, finally, there-”
“Is Justinian.” Belisarius voice was like iron. “I will not be false to my oath, Cassian.”
The bishop smiled. “I am not asking you to be, Belisarius. But you have to deal with some realities, also. Justinian is the Emperor. And, whether for good or ill, is enormously capable. He’s no fool to be led around by the nose, and no indolent layabout to be safely ignored. And he’s also, well, how shall I put it?”
Antonina answered. “Treacherous, suspicious, envious, jealous. A conspirator who sees conspiracy everywhere, and who is firmly convinced that all the world seeks to do him harm.”
Cassian nodded. “Ironically, we are not seeking to do him harm. Rather the contrary. We are seeking to preserve his empire, among other things. But, in order to do so, we will need to conspire behind his back.”
“Do we?” asked Belisarius.
Cassian was firm. “Yes. I know the man well, Belisarius-much better than you, actually, even though you share Thracian ancestry. I have spent many hours with him in private conversation. He attends every council of the Church, you know, and participates fully. Both in the formal discussions and then, in private, with many of the leading theologians of the Church. Though I rank only middling high in the hierarchy of the Church, I rank very high in the esteem of theologians. And Justinian, as you may know, thinks he is quite the theologian himself.”
He stroked his beard. “Actually, he is quite good at it. Justinian’s own theological inclinations are excellent, in truth. In his heart, he leans toward a compromise with heresy and a tolerant policy. But his cold, ambitious mind leans toward a close tie to severe orthodoxy, given his ambitions in the west.”
“What ambitions?” demanded Belisarius.
Anthony was surprised. “You don’t know? You, one of his favorite generals?”
There was a rare bitterness in the general’s crooked smile, now.