The Kingmakers(117)
Anhalt grinned. The senator aside, he had liked the American soldiers. They were unpretentious and pleasant. “Where is Major Stoddard?”
Captain Madura's face fell. “I'm sorry, sir. He is not with us.”
“Is he well? Has something happened to him?”
“Oh, he's alive and well. Transferred out, sir.”
Anhalt was shocked. Stoddard had been Senator Clark's staunchest supporter. The grim disappointment on the soldiers' faces indicated that he should take it up with the senator if he had questions.
He felt thunder vibrating in his feet and up through his legs, and the pounding of horse muscles exploded behind him. He felt dirt clods carom off his back, and there was sudden silence except for the snorting of a horse which he felt on his neck. The general slowly turned to look over his shoulder and put a pleasant finger to the brim of his khaki helmet.
“Senator,” he said calmly. “It's pleasant to see you again.”
Senator Clark stared down from his shuddering, sweating throne of horseflesh. His black beard was shaved now, and he looked younger with his luxurious waxed mustache and white teeth. He smiled mischievously, as if pleased that his sudden arrival had discomforted Anhalt.
“Sirdar!” he announced, swatting the horse's shoulder. “Finally, a familiar face in Alexandria. I was beginning to think all my old friends were dead or gone.”
“Not at all. You have the same number of friends here you always had.”
Clark sneered, “Good one. Listen, where's Adele? I can't get a straight answer. They keep telling me she's in Persia somewhere.”
“She's in Persia somewhere.”
“Well, when's she getting back?”
“I couldn't tell you, Senator.”
Clark said, “I wanted to express my condolences personally to Adele over the death of her brother.”
“I'm sure she'd find that comforting. I must say, I'm surprised you could find the time. Don't you have a war to manage?”
“I do, and it's being managed brilliantly too. I'm so far ahead of schedule, I could afford to fly over here while my supply lines catch up to my combat units.” He laughed and his men joined him. “But don't worry, I'll be in Washington and then New York by the end of summer. The North American clans are living on borrowed time. How's your war going, Sirdar?”
“Not quite so swimmingly, I fear. Issues with weather.”
“Yes. Weather. Shame when a nasty frost ruins a well-planned offensive.” The senator wheeled his stallion. “My mount is cooling down. Do you ride, Sirdar?”
“I do.”
Clark grinned. “I have an idea, then. My boys here were drilling with some equipment your people provided.” He pulled his saber to reveal a blunt edge and rounded tip. “What do you say we show them some close order work?”
The very idea of the supreme commanders of their respective armies slapping at one another with stiff rods of steel for no reason other than pride or arrogance or boorishness irritated Anhalt. He was about to dismiss it, until Clark said, “We have time, after all. Knowing Adele, she won't have the fortitude to get back to her duty for several years.”
General Anhalt stretched out his hand for a saber belt and called, “Fetch a mount! Bring Jambiya.”
Word of the match spread quickly as soldiers and stable hands began sprinting around the facility. Adults and children alike appeared. Blacksmiths backed their fires and came out of the barns, donning hats against the sun as they streamed toward the field. Boys with buckets raced from their work. On the far side of the field, the terrace of the Polo Club started to fill with men in uniform and suits, women in gowns and veils, and serving staff in aprons. In all corners of the polo grounds, wagering began.
As Clark loped lazily to keep his mount limber, Anhalt watched groomsmen jog toward him with a familiar horse, a grey Arabian gelding named Jambiya. The horse was at least two hands shorter than Clark's stallion, but he was thick chested and sturdy. Anhalt knew him well, and greeted him with gentle words and a firm stroke along the slim jaw.
Anhalt called out, “Senator! Will you wear a helmet?”
Clark waved his white hat. “Feel free, if you need it!”
The sirdar inspected the cinches and bit, and swung into the saddle. He then doffed his khaki helmet and handed it to Major Naroyan. “I'll be back shortly.”
The major saluted as his commander wheeled the horse with his knees and loped to the field. Naroyan walked to a group of Equatorian soldiers wagering with the American Rangers, waving money at one another.
“Players on the field,” Naroyan said officiously. “I must call time, gentlemen. What do we have?”
“They gave us three to one,” an Equatorian captain said, handing over a large handful of American and Equatorian cash, in addition to slips of paper, no doubt IOUs from cash-poor Rangers. Naroyan expertly counted the take and nodded respectfully at the small fortune.