"Don't tell them that!" barked Calopodius. "Such work is for plebeians."
"They'll change their tune, soon enough. And the Melisseni are very influential among the older layers of the aristocracy."
"I understand your point, General." Calopodius gestured toward the unseen table, and the letters atop it. "So what do you want me to do? Tell Anna to come to the Iron Triangle?"
Calopodius was startled by the sound of Belisarius' hand slapping the table. "Damn fool! It's time you put that splendid mind of yours to work on this, Calopodius. A marriage-if it's to work-needs grammar and rhetoric also."
"I don't understand," said Calopodius timidly.
"I know you don't. So will you follow my advice?"
"Always, General."
Belisarius chuckled. "You're more confident than I am! But…" After a moment's pause: "Don't tell her to do anything, Calopodius. Send Dryopus a letter explaining that your wife has your permission to make her own decision. And send Anna a letter saying the same thing. I'd suggest…"
Another pause. Then: "Never mind. That's for you to decide."
In the silence that followed, the sound of artillery came to fill the bunker again. It seemed louder, perhaps. "And that's enough for the moment, young man. I'd better get in touch with Maurice. From the sound of things, I'd say the Malwa are getting ready for another probe."
Calopodius wrote the letters immediately thereafter, dictating them to his scribe. The letter to Dryopus took no time at all. Neither did the one to Anna, at first. But Calopodius, for reasons he could not determine, found it difficult to find the right words to conclude. Grammar and rhetoric seemed of no use at all.
In the end, moved by an impulse which confused him, he simply wrote:
Do as you will, Anna. For myself, I would like to see you again.
Chapter 8
Bharakuccha
The day after his meeting with Narses, Damodara went to the chambers occupied by Nanda Lal, in a different wing of the great palace. Politely, he waited outside for permission to enter. Politely, because Damodara was now officially the Goptri of the Deccan; and thus, in a certain sense, the entire palace might be said to be his personal property.
But there was no point in being rude. Soon enough, the chief spymaster of the Malwa empire emerged from his private chambers.
"Yes, Damodara?" he asked. Not bothering, as usual, to preface the curt remark with the general's honorifics.
Nanda Lal seemed to treasure such little snubs. It was the only sign of outright stupidity Damodara had ever seen him exhibit.
"I have decided to take the field against Rao and his rebels," Damodara announced. "Within a month, I think."
"At last! I am glad to hear it. But why move now, after…?"
He left the rest unstated. After you have resisted my advice to do so for so long?
"The army is ready, well enough. I see no reason to wait until we are well into garam season. As it is, we'll be campaigning through the heat anyway. But I'd like to end the business, if possible, before the southwest monsoon comes."
Above the lumpy, broken nose that Belisarius had given him, years ago, Nanda Lal's dark eyes were fixed on Damodara. The gaze was not quite suspicious, but very close.
"You still lack the heavy siege guns-that you have insisted for months are essential to reducing Deogiri."
Damodara shrugged again. "I don't intent to besiege Deogiri. It is my belief that Rao will come forth from the city to meet me on the field of battle. I sense that he has grown arrogant."
Nanda Lal turned his head, peering at Damodara from the side of his eyes. The suspicion had come to the surface now. "You 'sense'? Why? I have gotten no such indications from my spies."
Damodara decided it was time to put an end to courtesy. He returned the spymaster's sideways look with a flat, cold stare of his own. "Neither you nor your spies are warriors. I am. So it is my sense-not yours-which will guide me in this matter."
He looked away, as if indifferent. "And I am also the Goptri of the Deccan. Not you, and certainly not your spies. The decision is made, Nanda Lal." Casually, he added: "I presume you will wish to accompany the expedition."
Tightly, Nanda Lal replied: "You presume incorrectly. I shall remain here in Bharakuccha. And I will insist that you leave Toramana and his Ye-tais here with me." After a brief pause, in a slightly more conciliatory tone, he added, "To maintain the city's security."
Damodara's eyes continued to rove casually about the corridors of the palace, as if he were looking for security threats-and finding none.
"You may have half the Ye-tai force," he said at length, dismissively. "That's more than enough to maintain security. But I will you leave you Toramana in command, even though I could certainly use him myself."
That night, as soon as it was dark, Ajatasutra slipped out of the city. He had no great difficulty with the task, as many times as he'd done it. Would have had no difficulty at all, except that he was also smuggling out the fastest horse in Bharakuccha.
The horse was too good to risk breaking one its legs riding on rough Deccan roads with only a sliver of a crescent moon to see by. So, once far enough from the city, Ajatasutra made camp for the night.
It was a comfortable camp. As it should have been, since he'd long used the site for the purpose and had a cache already supplied.
He slept well, too. Woke very early, and was on his way south to Deogiri before the sun rose.
By mid-morning, he was in excellent spirits. There still remained the not-so-minor problem of avoiding a Maratha ambush, of course. But Ajatasutra was sanguine with regard to that matter, for the good and simple reason that he had no intention of attempting that difficult feat in the first place.
All he had to do was not get killed when the Maratha caught him by surprise. Which, they probably would. With the possible-no, probable-exception of Raghunath Rao, Ajatasutra thought he was the best assassin in India. But the skills of an assassin, though manifold, do not automatically include expertise at laying or avoiding ambushes in broken country like Majarashtra.
No matter. He thought it unlikely that the Marathas would kill a single man outright. It was much more likely they would try to capture him-a task which they would find supremely easy since he intended to put up no resistance at all.
Thereafter, the letter he carried should do the rest.
Well… It would certainly get him an audience with the Empress of Andhra and her consort. It was also possible, of course, that the audience would be followed by his execution.
Ajatasutra was not unduly concerned over that matter either, however. A man who manages to become the second best assassin in India is not, in the nature of things, given to fretfulness.
The ambush came later than he expected, a full three days after he left Bharakuccha and long after he'd penetrated into the highlands of the Great Country. On the other hand, it did indeed come as a complete surprise.
"That was very well done," he complimented his ambushers, seeing a dozen of them popping up around him. "I wouldn't have thought a lizard could have hidden in those rocks."
He complimented them again after four of them seized him and hauled him off the horse, albeit a bit more acerbically. The lads went about the task with excessive enthusiasm.
"No need for all that, I assure you!"
He's got a dagger, captain!