Irene rose again. She was interested-and a bit annoyed-to find that her emotions were unsettled. She was even more interested-and not annoyed at all-to realize that she had no idea why Kungas had come.
I like surprises. I get so few of them.
When Kungas came into her chamber, Irene got her first surprise. As soon as he entered, he glanced over his shoulder and said: "I saw Dadaji leaving, just a minute ago. I don't think he even noticed me, he seemed so preoccupied."
Kungas swiveled his head back to face her. "He came to speak to you about his family," he stated. "To ask you for your help in finding them."
Irene's eyes narrowed. "How did you know?"
Kungas made the little shoulder-twitch which served him for a shrug. "There are only two reasons he would come here, right after the session in the imperial audience chamber. That is one of them. Like everyone else, he was impressed by your spy network."
"And the other reason?"
Kungas seemed to be examining her carefully. "The other reason would be to discuss with you the question of Empress Shakuntala's marriage prospects. He is much concerned with that subject, and would want to enlist the support of the Roman envoy."
Kungas' looked away for a moment, in a quick scrutiny of the chamber. The furniture he gave no more than a glance, but his gaze lingered on a chest in the corner. The lid was open, and he could see that it was full of books.
When his eyes returned to Irene, she thought there was some impish humor lurking within them.
She got her second surprise.
"But I knew that couldn't be it. He would not have left so soon. You do not agree with him, I think, and so he would have stayed to argue."
"How do you know my opinion?" she demanded.
Again, the little shoulder-twitch. "It is-not obvious, no. Nothing about you is obvious. But I do not think you agree that the empress should make a dynastic marriage with one of the independent south Indian monarchies."
Irene studied Kungas for a moment, in silence.
"No, I don't," she said slowly. "I am not certain of my opinion yet, mind you. But I think… " She hesitated.
Kungas held up his hand. "Please! I am not prying, envoy from Rome. We can discuss this matter at a later time, when you think it more suitable. For the moment-"
A very faint smile came to his lips. "Let me just say that I suspect you look at the thing as I do. A monarch should marry the power which can uphold the throne. And so the thing is obvious-to any but these idiot Indians, with their absurd fetishes."
Irene suppressed her little start of surprise. But Kungas' eyes were knowing.
"So I thought," he murmured. "Very smart woman."
He turned away, heading for the door. "But that is not why I came," he said. "A moment, please. My servant is carrying something for me."
Irene watched while Kungas took something from the servant who appeared in the doorway. When he turned back, she got her third surprise. Kungas was carrying a stack of books.
He held them out to her. "Can you read these?"
Hesitantly, Irene took the top book and opened it. She began to scan the first page. Then stopped, frowning.
"This isn't Greek," she muttered. "I thought it was, but-"
"The lettering is Greek," explained Kungas. "When we Kushans conquered Bactria, long ago, we adopted the Greek alphabet. But the language is my own."
He fumbled with the stack of books, drawing out a slim volume buried in the middle.
"This might help," he said. "It is a bilingual translation of some of the Buddha's teachings. Half-Greek; half-Kushan." His lips twitched. "Or so my friend Dadaji tells me. He can read the Greek part. I can't read any of it. I am not literate."
Irene set the first book down on a nearby table and took the one in Kungas' outstretched hand. She began studying the volume. After a few seconds, without being conscious of the act, she moved over to her chair and sat down. As ever, with true bibliophiles, the act of reading had drawn her completely out of her immediate surroundings.
Two minutes later, she remembered Kungas. Looking up, she saw that the Kushan was still standing in the middle of the room, watching her.
"I'm sorry," she said. She waved her hand at a nearby chair.
Kungas shook his head. "I am quite comfortable, thank you." He pointed to the book. "What do you think?"
Irene looked down at the volume in her lap. "Icould, yes." She looked up. "But why should I? It will be a considerable effort."
Kungas nodded. Then, slowly, he moved over to the one window in her room and stared out at the ocean. The window was open, letting in the cooling breeze.
"It is difficult to explain," he said, speaking as slowly as he had moved. He fell silent for a few seconds, before turning back to her rather abruptly.
"Do you believe there is such a thing as a soul?" he asked.
Somehow, the question did not surprise her. "Yes," she replied instantly. "I do."
Kungas fingered his wispy beard. "I am not so sure, myself." He stared back through the window. "But I have been listening to my friend Dadaji, this past year, and he has half convinced me that it exists."
Again, Kungas fell silent. Irene waited. She was not impatient. Not at all.
When Kungas spoke again, his voice was very low. "So I have decided to search for my soul, to see if I have one. But a man with a soul must look to the future, and not simply live in the present."
He turned his eyes back to her. He had attractive eyes, Irene thought. Almond colored, as they were almond shaped. Such a contrast, when you actually studied them, to the dull armor of his features. The eyes were very clear, and very bright. There was life dancing in those eyes, gaily, far in the background.
"I have never done that before," he explained. "Always, I lived simply in the present. But now-for some months, now-I have found myself thinking about the future."
His gaze drifted around the room, settling on a chair not far from Irene's own. He moved over and sat in it.
"I have been thinking about Peshawar," he mused. "That was the capital of our Kushan kingdom, long ago. It is nothing but ruins, today. But I have decided that I would like to see it restored, after Malwa is broken."
"You are so confident of breaking Malwa?" asked Irene. As soon as she spoke the words, she realized they were more of a question about Kungas than they were about the prospects of war.
Kungas nodded. "Oh, yes. Quite certain." His masklike face made that little cracking movement which did for a smile. "I amnot so certain, of course, that I myself will live to see it. But there is no point in planning for one's own death. So I keep my thoughts on Peshawar."
He studied her carefully. "But to restore Peshawar, I would have to be a king myself. So I have decided to become one. After the fall of Malwa, Shakuntala will no longer need me. I will be free to attend to the needs of my own Kushan people."
Irene swallowed. Her throat seemed dry. "I think you would make a good king," she said, a bit huskily.
Kungas nodded. "I have come to the same conclusion." He leaned forward, pointing to the volume in her lap. "But a king should know how to read-certainly his own language!-and I am illiterate."
He leaned back, still-faced. "So now you understand."
Again, Irene swallowed. "You want me to learn Kushan, so that I can teach you how to read it."
Kungas smiled. "And some other languages. I should also, I think, know how to read Greek. And Hindi."
Abruptly, Irene stood up and went to a table against the wall. She poured some wine from an amphora into a cup, and took a swallow.
Without words, she offered a cup to Kungas. He shook his head. Irene poured herself another drink.
After finishing that second cup, she stared at the wall in front of her.
"Most men," she said harshly, "do not like to learn from a woman. And learning to read is not easy, Kungas, not for a grown man. You will make many mistakes. You will be frustrated. You will resent my instructions, and my corrections. You will resent-me."