Belisarius scanned the terrain ahead of him. The small "oasis" toward which they were heading was not much more than a grove of trees. Spindly fruit trees-apricots, mostly, with a handful of peaches.
Useless.
But, a moment later, his uncanny eyesight spotted what he was hoping for.
"There's a building! In the grove!" Belisarius cast a quick glance over his left shoulder. He could see the enemy now.
Damnation! Rajputs.
Perhaps a dozen. A glance over his right shoulder.Same.
His quick mind flashed back over his experiences in India.The standard for a Rajput cavalry platoon is thirty. Which means He turned his head back around, scanning the grove ahead. In less than two seconds, he saw what he was expecting.
"There are Rajputs in the grove, too!" he shouted. "Probably half a dozen!"
Belisarius made no attempt to draw his bow. He was not a good enough archer to handle it at a full gallop. None of his companions were, except- Valentinian already had his bow out. In less time than Belisarius would have imagined possible, the cataphract had fired an arrow. The missile sped ahead of the galloping cluster of Romans and plunged into the trees. Instantly, a cry of pain went up. Almost as instantly, five Rajputs drove their horses out of the grove, pounding toward the oncoming Romans. Belisarius could see a sixth Rajput, but the man was sliding off his horse, clutching at an arrow in his shoulder.
This was lance work, now. All of the Romans except Valentinian already had their heavy lances in position. So did Valentinian, by the time the Rajputs arrived. With his weasel-quick reflexes, the cataphract even managed to slide his bow back in its sheath before taking up his lance. Almost any other man in the world would have been forced to simply drop the weapon.
The contest, under the circumstances-a head-on collision between an equal number of Roman cataphracts and Rajput lancers-was no match at all. Even without stirrups, the heavier Roman cavalry would have triumphed. With them, and the much heavier and longer lances the stirrups made possible, Belisarius and his men almost literally rode right over their opponents. For a few seconds, the general's world was a cacophony of shouts. The clangor of lance against shield covered but could not disguise the more hideous sounds of splitting flesh and bone. Battle cries became shrieks, fading into hissing death.
Three of the Rajputs were killed almost instantly, their bodies torn by the great spears. A fourth would die within minutes, from the blood pouring out of a half-severed thigh.
The only one who survived, suffering nothing worse than bruises, was the Rajput who faced Vasudeva. Though the Kushan was a skilled warrior, he had little experience with stirrups and lanceplay. But he was a veteran, and had the sense not to try matching the prowess of his companions. Instead of finding the gaps between armor, he simply drove his lance into his opponent's shield. The impact knocked the man right off his horse.
The Romans rode on. Belisarius could now see more of the building through the trees. It was a farmhouse, typical of the sort erected by large Persian families. Square in design, the structure was singlestoried and measured approximately thirty feet on a side. The walls were heavy and solid, constructed out of dry stone. He couldn't see the roof clearly, but he knew it would be made of wooden beams covered with soil.
Except There was something odd about the shape of the farmhouse. The trees obscured his vision, but it seemed as if the building sloped on one side.
A thought came from Aide.This is earthquake country. That building is half-collapsed.
Belisarius nodded. They were entering the small grove which surrounded the farmhouse, and he could see that the fruit trees were poorly tended. The place had all the signs of an abandoned farm.
Earthquake, probably, just like Aide says. Then-war comes. The survivors would have fled.
Belisarius cast a last glance over his shoulder. Their pursuers, he saw, were spreading out. Realizing that they had missed their chance at an immediate ambush, the Rajputs intended to surround the grove and trap the Romans in the farmhouse.
Grimly, he turned away. Five men against most of a Rajput cavalry platoon was bad odds. Very bad. But at least they'd have the advantage of being forted up rather than caught in the open.
A moment later they were through the grove and reining up next to the farmhouse.
If you can call this a "fort," he thought ruefully, examining the structure.
"There's only the one door," pointed out Maurice. "Maybe one in back, but I doubt it. Not if this is like most Persian farmhouses."
"You call that a `door'?" demanded Valentinian. His expression was that of a man who had just eaten a basket of lemons.
Maurice managed the feat of shrugging while he climbed off his horse. "It'll do, it'll do. We can probably shore it up with beams." He glanced up at the half-collapsed roof. "Be plenty of them lying around, I should think."
Valentinian left off further comment, although his continued sour expression made clear his opinion of "forts" with collapsed roofs.
Once all five Romans were dismounted, they pried open the door and led their mounts into the farmhouse. The half-dark interior of the farmhouse was filled, for a minute or so, with the noise and dust thrown up by skittish horses, still blowing from exertion and prancing nervously. Vasudeva occupied himself with calming and tying up the mounts while his four companions spread out and investigated the place.
The investigation was quick, but thorough.
Maurice summed it up. "Could be worse. Walls are thick. The stones were well placed. Roof'll be a problem, but at least"-he pointed to the rubble filling the northern third of the farmhouse-"when it collapsed it brought down the adjoining walls. One or two Rajputs could squeeze in there, but there's no way they could do a concerted rush."
Hands on hips, he made a last survey of their fort.
"Not bad, actually. Once we brace the door-"
He smiled thinly, watching Anastasius match deed to word. The giant simply picked up a beam and jammed it against the door. Then, as casually as it were but a twig, he did the same with another.
Maurice finished: "-we'll be able to hold them off for quite a bit."
Valentinian's expression was still sour. Sour, sour, sour. "That's great," he snarled. "Youhave noticed there's no way out of here? Youhave noticed there's no food in the place?"
Gloomily, he watched Belisarius pry the cover off what appeared to be a well in the southeast corner.
"At least we've got water," he grumbled. "Maybe. If that well isn' t dry."
Belisarius spoke, then, with astonishing good cheer. "Better than that, Valentinian. Better than that. I do believe this leads to a qanat." He pointed down into the well. "See for yourself."
Valentinian and Maurice hurried over.
"Make it quick," commanded Vasudeva. The Kushan was peering through a small chink in the western wall. "The Rajputs are into the grove."
"Same on this side," added Anastasius, peering through a similar chink in the opposite wall. "They've got us surrounded." A moment later: "They're dismounting, now, going to charge us on foot." His tone grew aggrieved. "I thought Rajputs never got off their horses, even rode them into the damned latrines."
"Not Sanga's Rajputs," commented Belisarius idly, still staring down into the well. "He's just as stiff-necked as any Rajput when it comes to his honor, but that doesn't extend to any silliness when it comes to military tactics."
Suddenly, Vasudeva hissed. "They've got grenades!" he exclaimed.
Belisarius' head jerked up from his examination of the well.
"You're certain?" he demanded. But he didn't wait for a reply before reconsidering his plans. Vasudeva was not the man to make such a mistake.
"I thought the Malwa never let anyone but their kshatriyas handle gunpowder weapons," complained Valentinian.
"So did I," mused Belisarius, scratching his chin. "Looks like Damodara decided to relax the rules."