A thought came instantly from Aide:
Link. Link itself is here.
I know, replied Belisarius.
Maurice was shaking his head again.
"They tried the straight-up tactic, to see if it would work. Pressed it home, hard. But now that we've proven to them that they can't just roll over us, they'll try a flank attack. I'm sure of it."
Belisarius scratched his chin, nodded. "I'm not arguing the point, Maurice. As it happens, I agree with you."
He glanced across the river. Upstream of the dam, just before the river diverted into the narrower channel of the Nehar Malka, the Euphrates was still a mile wide. But he could see the Persian camp where Ormazd's army had forted up throughout the day's battle.
"Any signs of movement over there?" he asked.
Maurice snorted. "About as much as a crocodile, waiting in the reeds. The only thing moving over there is Ormazd's nostrils, taking in the sweet air of opportunity."
Belisarius smiled. "Well, unless they want to hammer away at twenty thousand dehgans, that only leaves the Malwa one other option."
Maurice grimaced skeptically. He turned and pointed down the slope, to the Nehar Malka. "Do you have any idea how hard it would be for them to get across? The Nehar Malka's no shallow, placid river like the Euphrates was, general. It's narrower and deeper. The water's moving through there fast, and there aren't any fords within four days' march. They'll have to build a pontoon bridge, using those little barges they've got a few miles downriver."
He turned back, shaking his head. "While Coutzes and his boys on this rockpile piss pain all over them, and the katyushas come up to the riverbank and fire rockets at point-blank range, and me and Cyril and Liberius bring up all the cataphracts to hammer whichever poor bastards do manage to stagger across a rickety little pontoon bridge."
He jerked his head, pointing with his face at Ormazd's camp. "Personally, I'd rather take on the dehgans. If the Malwa can clear the right bank of the Euphrates, they can move upstream and cross back over damn near anywhere. We'd be trapped here. Have to abandon the dam and race back to Peroz-Shapur. Join forces with Kurush and try to hold out a siege."
Belisarius' smile was very crooked.
Maurice glared at him. "Are you really that sure of yourself?" he demanded.
Belisarius made a mollifying gesture with his hands. A gentle little patting motion.
Maurice was not mollified. "What's that?" he demanded. "Soothing the savage beast? Or just petting the dog?"
Belisarius left off the motion. Then, grinning:
"Yes, Maurice—I am that sure of myself. So sure, in fact, that I'm going to predict exactly how this next attack is going to happen."
He pointed down the slope of the rockpile to the Nehar Malka below. "I predict they'll start building their pontoon bridge today, in the late afternoon. The attack will begin after dark. You know why?"
"So they might have a chance of getting across the bridge," snorted Maurice. "Never do it in daylight."
Belisarius shook his head. "No. That's not why."
He gave Maurice a hard stare. "You say they've had Ye-tai and Kushans leading every attack?"
Maurice nodded.
"Not this next one, Maurice. You watch. Malwa regulars is all you'll see crossing that pontoon bridge—or would see, if it weren't dark. The reason they're going to attack at night is so that we can't see that none of their Ye-tai or Kushans are participating in the assault. Those troops—"
He turned his head, nodding toward the river.
"—will be crossing over to the right bank of the Euphrates, about a mile downstream from the dam. Out of our sight, especially since we'll be preoccupied with the attack on the Nehar Malka. By dawn, just when we think we've beaten off another assault, the Malwa army's best troops will come at us from behind. Like you said, they can find any number of places to ford the Euphrates upstream."
Maurice's scowl was ferocious, now. "You can't be positive that Ormazd will pull out and give them that opening," he protested.
Belisarius shrugged.
"Positive, no. But I'll bet long odds on it, Maurice. Ormazd knows that the only loyal Persian troops Khusrau has up here are Baresmanas and Kurush's ten thousand. They're forted up in Peroz-Shapur—"
"I wish they were here," grumbled the chiliarch. "We could use them."
"Don't be stupid! If they were here, Peroz-Shapur would be a pile of ashes. As it is, the Malwa expedition had to skirt the town and leave troops to guard against a sally. Just sitting in Peroz-Shapur, Kurush is a threat to them."
He waved his hand. "But let's not change the subject. To go back to Ormazd—this is his best chance to move against Khusrau. If the Malwa destroy us here, they'll return to Babylon. Keep Khusrau penned up while Ormazd takes over all of northern Mesopotamia. The only thing that kept him from doing that before was our intervention—that, and our victory at Anatha. If we're gone, he's got a clear hand."
"How's he going to explain that to his dehgans?" demanded Maurice.
Belisarius laughed. "How else? Blame it on us. Stupid idiot Romans insisted on a hopeless stand. Fortunately, he was too wise to waste his men's lives defending a canal which was obviously just a Roman scheme to reinvade Persia like they did in Julian's day."
"That's pretty tortuous reasoning," muttered Maur-ice, shaking his head.
Again, Belisarius barked a laugh. "Of course it is! So what? It'll serve the purpose."
Maurice was still shaking his head. "What if you're wrong?" Maurice growled, "Dammit, I hate tricky battle plans."
Belisarius smiled. "If I'm wrong, Maurice—so what? In that case, Ormazd will have to fight the Malwa who cross the Euphrates. They may defeat him, but after fighting twenty thousand dehgans I don't think they'll be in any shape to hit us on the flank. Do you?"
Maurice said nothing. Then, sighed heavily. "All right. We'll see how it goes."
The chiliarch started to turn away. Belisarius restrained him with a hand on his shoulder.
"Wait a moment. I'm coming with you."
Maurice gave him a startled look. Valentinian and Anastasius started to squawk. Aide began to make some mental protest.
Belisarius rode them all down.
"Things have changed!" he announced gaily. "The battle's reaching its turning point. I have to be down there, now. Ready—at a moment's notice—to fulfill my vow to Emperor Khusrau."
Maurice smiled. Valentinian and Anastasius choked down their squawks. Aide sulked.
"Safe," sneered Belisarius. He took a moment to don his armor.
"Safe," he sneered again, as he began the long trek down the hill.
Behind him, Maurice said, "Do be a little careful, will you? Going down that miserable path, I mean. Be a bit absurd, it would, you breaking your fool neck climbing down a pile of rocks."
"Safe," sneered Belisarius.
Two eager steps later, he tripped and rolled some fifty feet down the hill. When he finally came to a halt, piling up against a boulder, it took him a minute or so to clear his head.
The first thing he saw, dizzily, was Maurice leaning over him.
"Safe," muttered the gray-bearded veteran mor-osely. "It's like asking a toad not to hop."
He reached down a hand and hauled Belisarius back onto his feet. "Will you mind your step, from here on?" he asked, very sweetly. "Or must we have Anastasius carry you down like a babe in swaddling clothes?"
"Safe," Belisarius assured one and all. None of whom believed him for a moment.
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Framed
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Chapter 33
ALEXANDRIA
Autumn, 531 A.D.
Alexandria was famous throughout the Mediterranean world for the magnificence of its public thoroughfares. The two greatest of those boulevards, which intersected each other west of the Church of St. Michael, were each thirty yards across. The intersection itself was so large it was almost a plaza, and was marked by a tetrastylon—four monumental pillars standing on each corner.