Geography was not Gregory's best subject. "What's the Jhelum?"
"One of the tributaries of the Indus," replied Belisarius. "It provides the easy access-relatively easy, that is-to the Hindu Kush. And Peshawar, where Kungas plans to rebuild the Kushan capital."
"Oh."
Priscus laughed. "Oh! The fucking Malwa empire is starting to come apart at the seams."
Belisarius saw no reason to correct the cataphract's overly optimistic assessment. In reality, he knew, the great Malwa empire-still the world's most powerful-could hardly be described as "coming apart at the seams."
True, the northwest Deccan was lost entirely, except for Bharakuccha and the lowlands along the Narmada river. But the Malwa conquest of the Andhra empire was only a few years in the past, and the region had never really been incorporated by the Malwa. Even the southern and eastern portions of conquered Andhra had been sullen and restive. The northwest-Majarashtra, the heartland of the Marathas-had never stopped fighting openly, even before Shakuntala escaped captivity and provided the rebels with a rallying point.
As for the Kushans.
They never fit very well into the Malwa scheme of things, said Aide. Not pampered and privileged like the Ye-tai, not locked in by custom and tradition like the Rajputs-a square peg in a round hole. Always were, at the best of times. They were bound to break away, given any chance at all.
After a moment's silence, Aide continued his thoughts:
You can't say the Malwa empire is "coming apart at the seams" until the heartland erupts in rebellion. The Ganges valley where the tens of millions of Malwa subjects are concentrated. And not just rebels in the forests of Bihar and Bengal, either. Peasants in the plain, and townsmen in the great cities. That's what it will take. And they won't risk rebellion-not after the massacre of Ranapur-unless they see a real chance of winning. Of which there is none, so long as the Malwa dynasty stays intact and commands the allegiance of the Ye-tai and Rajputs.
Again, a moment's silence. Then, in a thought filled with satisfaction: Still. I think it's fair to say that cracks are showing. Big ones.
Belisarius said nothing in response. In the minutes that followed, as one great explosion after another announced the rolling destruction of Barbaricum, he never even bothered to watch. He was turned in the saddle, staring to the northeast. There, somewhere beyond the horizon, lay Rajputana. That harsh and arid hill country was the forge in which the Rajputs had been created.
And if they begin to crack.
The Malwa will still have the Ye-tai, cautioned Aide. The Ye-tai have nowhere else to go. Especially if Kungas succeeds in reconquering the lands of the former Kushan empire, where the Ye-tai once had their stronghold. Before they accepted the Malwa offer to become the most privileged class in India after the Malwa themselves.
Belisarius smiled crookedly. "Nowhere else to go?" Don't be too sure of that, Aide. Enterprising men-especially ones who can see the handwriting on the wall-can find avenues of escape in many places. What was it that fellow said? The one you told me about in the future that would have been, who made so many fine quips.
Dr. Samuel Johnson. "Depend upon it, sir, when a man knows he is to be hanged in a fortnight, it concentrates his mind wonderfully."
Chapter 23
The Deccan
Autumn, 533 A.D.
Rana Sanga kept his eyes firmly fixed on the ivory half-throne which supported the flaccid body of Lord Venandakatra. Not on the Goptri of the Deccan himself. Much like Venandakatra's face-with which Sanga had become all too familiar in the weeks since Damodara's army had arrived in the Deccan-the chair was carved into a multitude of complex and ornate folds and crevices.
But the Rajput king found it far easier to look at the chair than at the Malwa lord who sat in it. The piece of furniture, after all, had been shaped by the simple hand of a craftsman, not the vices and self-indulgences which had shaped Venandakatra's fat toad-lizard parody of a human face.
The Rajput king dwelled on that comparison, for a moment. He found it helped to restrain his fury. The more so since, whenever the rage threatened to overwhelm him, he could deflect it into a harmless fantasy of hacking the chair into splinters instead of.
Lord Venandakatra finally ceased his vituperative attack on the Rajput troops which formed the heart of Damodara's army. Lord Damodara began speaking. The sound of his commander's calm and even-tempered voice broke through the red-tinged anger which clouded Sanga's brain.
Sanga lifted his eyes and turned them to Damodara. The commander of the Malwa forces newly arrived in the Deccan was leaning back comfortably in his own chair, apparently relaxed and at ease.
"— are more than welcome to transmit your displeasure to the emperor and Nanda Lal," Damodara was saying. His tone was mild, almost serene. "Please, Lord Venandakatra! Do me the favor! Perhaps the emperor might heed your words-unlikely though that is-and send me and my army elsewhere. To fight a war instead of attempting to indulge a spoiled child."
Venandakatra hissed at the insult. He began gobbling incoherent outrage and indignation, but Damodara's still-calm voice slid through it like a knife.
"A stupid child, as well as a spoiled one. I told you from the beginning that not even Rajputs with Pathan trackers could hope to match Rao's Maratha hillfighters on their own terrain. The Panther has hillforts scattered throughout the Great Country. If we match him in the hills and valleys, he retreats to the hilltops. If we besiege the forts-which is easier said than done, Venandakatra-he fades down the slopes. Not without, each time, bleeding us further."
Gobble, gobble, gobble.
Damodara heaved a little half-snort, half-sigh. Derision mingled with exasperation. "From the day I arrived, I told you to cease your terror campaign. Butchering and torturing Maratha villagers does nothing beyond swell the ranks of Rao's army. By now, that army is at least as large as my own. Half again the size, I estimate."
The gobbling began producing coherent half-phrases. Have you impaled yourself. I am the emperor's first cousin. you only distantly related. insubordination and mutiny and treason. on a short stake.
"Be silent!" snarled Damodara. For once, the Malwa military commander's normal placidity was frayed. "Just exactly how do you propose to have me impaled, you foul creature?"
Damodara's round face twisted into a sneer. He waved a hand at Venandakatra's bodyguards. The five Ye-tai were standing against the rear of the audience chamber. They seemed a bit nervous.
"With them?" demanded Damodara, his sneer turning into a savage grin. Sitting next to him, Sanga casually placed a powerful hand on the hilt of his sword. That sword had been a minor legend throughout India even before the war began. Today, the legend was no longer minor.
The five Ye-tai bodyguards were definitely nervous.
Behind Sanga and Damodara, where they squatted on cushions, Sanga could sense the slight manner in which his two Rajput and one Ye-tai officers shifted their own stances. Without having to look, Sanga knew that all three men were now ready to leap to their feet in an instant, weapons in hand.
The Ye-tai bodyguards were very nervous. For all the outwardly respectful manner of their unmoving stance, the five men against the wall practically exuded fear and apprehension. Their eyes were no longer on their master, Venandakatra. They were riveted on the men sitting behind Sanga, even more than on Sanga himself.