Kujulo stared at his commander. "Is this true?" he demanded.
Kungas nodded. "Yes. It is exactly as the Roman says. I knew nothing about their scheme. But I did recognize Shakuntala. On the day we left Gwalior for Ranapur, just as he says."
"Why did you remain silent?" demanded Kujulo.
"That question you may not ask," replied Kungas. His tone, if possible, was even harder than his face. "You may question my actions, Kujulo, and demand an accounting of them. But you may not question me."
Kujulo shrank back, slightly. All the Kushans seemed to shrink.
Kungas dismissed the question with a curt chop. "Besides, it is a stupid question. Your decision tonight may be different, Kujulo. But do not pretend you don't understand my own. If you really need to ask that question, you are no kinsman of mine." His iron eyes swept the Kushans. "Any of you."
A little sigh swept the pavilion. Suddenly, one of the Kushan soldiers toward the rear barked a little laugh.
"And why not?" he demanded. "I am sick of the Malwa. Sick of their arrogance, and the barks of Ye-tai dogs, and the sneers of Rajputs."
Another Kushan grunted his agreement. A third said, softly: "We are destined to die, anyway. Better to die an honored imperial bodyguard than a Malwa beast of burden."
"I'll have none of that talk," growled Kungas. "There is no destiny. There is only the edge of a good blade, and the skill of the man wielding it."
Quietly, at that moment, Ousanas reentered the pavilion. He was just in time to hear Kujulo's remark.
"And the brains of the man commanding the soldiers!" The Kushan laughed, then, in genuine good humor. Looking at the Empress, he nodded toward Belisarius.
"This man, I take it, is one of your allies, Empress." Kujulo paused, took a breath, made his decision.
"One of our allies, now." A quick, collective exhalation indicated that all the Kushan soldiers accepted the decision. Kujulo continued:
"He's a great schemer and trickster, that's for certain. But trickery will only take us so far. Is he good for anything else?"
Shakuntala reared up haughtily. In the corner of his eye, Belisarius saw his own cataphracts stiffen with anger. He began to say something, but then, seeing Ousanas saunter forward, relaxed.
"Kushan soldier very great fool," remarked the dawazz cheerfully. "Probably asks pigeons how to eat meat, and crocodiles how to fly."
The African hunter planted himself before Kujulo, gazing down at the Kushan soldier. Kujulo craned his neck, returning the gaze. Anger at Ousanas' ridicule began to cloud his face.
"Why ask this question from the Empress of Andhra?" demanded Ousanas. "What she know of such things? Better to ask the Persians who survived Mindouos."
Anger faded, replaced by interest. Kujulo glanced at Belisarius.
"He has defeated Medes?" Like all warriors from central Asia, who had clashed with the Persian empire for centuries, Kujulo held Persian heavy cavalry in deep respect.
"Routed an entire army of the bastards!" snarled Valentinian from the back of the pavilion. "Just last year!"
"You might ask the Goths for their opinion, too, while you're at it," rumbled Anastasius. "He's whipped the barbarians so many times they finally asked him to be their king. Couldn't figure out any other way to beat him." The giant Thracian yawned. "He refused. No challenge to it, he said."
Kujulo eyed the Roman general with keen interest. He had never heard of Goths, but he had faced other barbarians in battle.
"So," he mused. "We are now the imperial bodyguard of the Satavahana dynasty. With nothing but Raghunath Rao as the general of a nonexistent army and this Belisarius as an ally."
Kujulo grinned. In that wolf's grin, at that moment, centuries of civilization vanished. The warrior of the steppes shone forth.
"Pity the poor Malwa!" exclaimed one of the other Kushan soldiers.
Kujulo's grin widened still.
"Better yet," he countered, "let us pity them not at all."
Chapter 11
Exactly two weeks after Belisarius arrived at the capital of Kausambi, the Malwa finally met his price. All things considered, Belisarius was pleased with himself. As treason went, he thought he had driven a hard bargain. Especially for a novice.
Nanda Lal thought so too.
"You are as bad as a horse trader," chuckled the Malwa official. His Greek was excellent. Only the slightest trace of an accent and the extreme precision of his grammar indicated that he was not a native to the language. He chuckled again. "Are you certain you are really a general?"