A moment later Belisarius was pulling back the flap of the pavilion. As he stooped to make his exit, he caught sight of Ousanas. The tall African was gaping. Not to Belisarius' surprise, Ousanas was the first to deduce the truth. The gape disappeared; the familiar grin erupted.
"Truly, Greeks are mad!" exclaimed the dawazz. "It is the inevitable result of too much time spent pondering on the soul."
Belisarius grinned and exited the tent. As the flap closed behind him, he heard Ousanas' next words.
"Such foolish nonsense—this business about only the soul matters, in the end. Idiot mysticism from a crazed Maratha bandit. No, no, it's all quite otherwise, my good people, I assure you. As Plato so clearly explained, it is the eternal and unchanging Forms which—"
"Ousanas—shut up!" barked the Prince. "What in hell is going on?"
When Belisarius reentered the pavilion, leading the Kushans, he saw that Shakuntala had taken firm command of the situation. Garmat and Eon were sitting on cushions placed to one side. Standing behind them were Ezana and Wahsi. The two sarwen were carrying their spears, but were carefully holding them in the position of formal rest. It was obvious, from their gloomy expressions, that all the Axumites thought Shakuntala's plan—agreed to by Belisarius!—was utterly insane. But events had moved too quickly for them, and they were hopelessly ensnared in her madness.
To the general's surprise, the Maratha women were not huddling in fear in a corner of the pavilion. They were kneeling in a row, on cushions placed just behind Shakuntala, who had positioned herself in the central and commanding position in the large pavilion.
Belisarius was struck by the calm composure of the Maratha girls. As much as anything, the confident serenity of those young faces, as they gazed upon their even younger Empress, brought Belisarius his own measure of confidence. He glanced at Ousanas, standing in the nearest corner of the pavilion, and saw by his faint smile that the hunter shared that confidence.
Not so many weeks ago, those girls had been slaves. Of lowborn caste and then, after the Malwa conquest of Andhra, forced into prostitution. The Roman and Axumite soldiers had purchased them in Bharakuccha, partly for the pleasure of their company, but mostly to advance Belisarius' scheme for rescuing Shakuntala.
At first, the girls had been timid. Over time, as they learned that the foreigners' brutal appearance was not matched by brutal behavior, the Maratha girls had relaxed. But, once they finally realized the full scope of the scheme into which they had been plunged, they had been practically paralyzed with terror. Until Shakuntala had rallied them, and pronounced them her new royal ladies-in-waiting, and pledged that she herself would share their fate, whatever that fate might be.
He glanced now at Dadaji Holkar. The Maratha was also seated near the Empress, just to her left. He was still clad in the simple loincloth of a slave, but there was nothing of the slave in his posture and his expression. The shrewd intelligence in his face, usually disguised by his stooped posture, was now evident for all to see. The man positively exuded the aura of a highly placed, trusted imperial adviser. And if the aura went poorly with the loincloth, so much the worse for the loincloth. Indians, too, like Romans, had a place in their culture for the ascetic sage.
Calm, confident, serene faces. The Kushans, as they filed into the tent, caught sight of those faces and found their eyes drawn toward them. As Shakuntala had planned, Belisarius knew. The young Empress had marshaled all her resources, few as they were, to project the image of a ruler rather than a refugee. It was a fiction, but—not a sham. Not a sham at all.
By the time all the Kushans filed in, even the huge pavilion was crowded. Then, when the cataphracts followed, Belisarius thought the pavilion might burst at the seams.
Shakuntala took charge.
"Sit," she commanded. "All of you except Ousanas."
She looked at Ousanas. "Search the woods. Make certain there are no spies."
The dawazz grinned. The order was utterly redundant, of course. He had already seen to the task. But he knew Shakuntala was simply seeking to calm the Kushans. So he obeyed instantly and without complaint. On his way out of the pavilion, he whispered to Belisarius: "Envy me, Roman. I, at least, will be able to breathe."
The Kushans were still standing, uncertain.
"Sit," commanded Shakuntala. Within three seconds, all had obeyed. But, as they made to do so, She spoke again.
"Kungas—sit here." Shakuntala pointed imperiously to one of two cushions placed not far from her own, diagonally to her right. Remembering the seating arrangement in the Malwa emperor's pavilion, Belisarius realized this was the Indian way of honoring those close to the throne.