Eric Flint - An Oblique Approach

Belisarius decided he'd been polite long enough.

" Dog work, is it? " he demanded, feigning anger. "I would remind the two of you that the Roman empire was built by such dogs. By infantry , not cavalry. Infantry who knew the value of good fortifications, and knew how to put them up. Quickly, and well."

He reined in his horse. They were now at the gate of the fortress. Belisarius pointed to the barrenness beyond the date palms, from which they had just come.

"Do you see that border with Persia? That border was placed there centuries ago. By infantrymen . How far has your precious cavalry pushed it since then?"

He glared at them. The brothers looked away.

"Not one mile, that's how far." The gate was opening. Belisarius set his horse back in motion.

"So let's not hear so much boasting about cavalry," he growled, passing through the gate.

Rather well done, he patted himself on the back. They're not bad fellows, really. If they could just get that stupid crap out of their heads.

The interior of the fortress was not as imposing as its exterior. In truth, Belisarius had been pressed for time, even with the aid of the cavalrymen, and so he had concentrated all effort on the outside walls and fortifications. Within those walls, the fortress was still just an empty parade ground, although it was covered now with the tents of his soldiers. He had not even built a command post for himself, but continued to use his tent as a headquarters.

As soon as Belisarius dismounted and walked into his command tent, followed by the two brothers, Maurice made his appearance.

"We've got a prisoner," the hecatontarch announced. "Just brought him in."

"Where did you catch him?"

"Sunicas' regiment had a skirmish this morning with a group of Persians. About three hundred of them, ten miles north of here. After Sunicas drove them off, they found one fellow lying on the ground. Stunned. Horse threw him."

"Bring him here."

Belisarius took a seat at the large table in the middle of the tent. Bouzes and Coutzes remained standing. A few minutes later, Maurice reappeared, along with Valentinian. Valentinian was pushing a Persian soldier ahead of him. The Persian's wrists were bound behind his back. By his dress and accouterments, Belisarius thought the Persian to be a midlevel officer.

Valentinian forced the Mede into a chair. Exhibiting the usual Persian courage, the officer's face remained still and composed. The Persian was expecting to be tortured, but would not give his enemy the satisfaction of seeing his fear.

His expectation was shared by Bouzes and Coutzes.

"We've got a first-rate torturer," announced Coutzes cheerfully. "I can have him here inside the hour."

"No need," replied Belisarius curtly. The general stared at the Mede. The Persian met his eyes unflinchingly.

For a moment, Belisarius considered interrogating the officer in his own language. Belisarius was fluent in Pallavi, as he was in several languages. But he decided against it. Bouzes and Coutzes, he suspected, were ignorant of the Persian language, and it was important that they be able to follow the interrogation. By the richness of his garb, the Persian was obviously from the aristocracy. His Greek would therefore be fluent, since—in one of those little historical ironies—Greek was the court language of the Sassanid dynasty.

"How many men does Firuz have under his command?" he asked the Mede.

"Fifty-five thousand," came the instant reply. As Belisarius had suspected, the man's Greek was excellent. "That doesn't include the twenty thousand he left in Nisibis," added the Persian.

"What a lot of crap!" snarled Coutzes. "There aren't—"

Belisarius interrupted. "I will allow you four lies, Mede. You've already used up two of them. Firuz has twenty-five thousand men, and he took them all when he left Nisibis."

The muscles along the Persian's jaw tightened, and his eyes narrowed slightly. Other than that, he gave no indication of surprise at the accuracy of Belisarius' information.

"How many of those twenty-five thousand are cavalry?" asked Belisarius.

Again, the Mede's answer came with no hesitation:

"We have no more than four thousand infantry. And most of our cavalry are lancers."

"That's the third lie," said Belisarius, very mildly. "And the fourth. Firuz has ten thousand infantry. Of his fifteen thousand cavalry, no more than five are heavy lancers."

The Persian looked away, for a moment, but kept his face expressionless. Belisarius was impressed by the man's courage.

"I'm afraid you've used up all your lies." Without moving his gaze from the Persian, Belisarius asked the two Thracian brothers: "You say you have a good torturer?"

Bouzes nodded eagerly. "We can have him here in no time," said Coutzes.

The captured officer's jaw was now very tight, but the man's gaze was calm and level.

"Has the pay caravan arrived yet?" demanded Belisarius.

For the first time since the interrogation began, the Persian seemed shaken. He frowned, hesitated, and then replied: "What are you talking about?"

Belisarius slammed the table with his open palm.

"Don't play with me, Mede! I know your army's pay chest was sent out from Nisibis five days ago, with an escort of only fifty men."

Belisarius turned his head and looked at Bouzes and Coutzes. A disgusted look came on his face. "Fifty! Can you believe it? Typical Persian arrogance."

Coutzes opened his mouth to speak, but Belisarius motioned him silent. He turned back to the captured officer.

"What I don't know is if the pay caravan has arrived at your camp. So, I ask again: has it?"

The Persian's face was a study in confusion. But, within seconds, the Mede regained his composure.

"I imagine it has," he replied. "I left our camp the day before yesterday. That's why I hadn't heard anything about it. But by now I'm sure it's arrived. Nisibis is only four days' ride. They wouldn't have dawdled."

Belisarius studied the officer silently for some time. Again, Coutzes began to speak, but Belisarius waved him silent. The young Thracian general's face became flushed with irritation, but he held his tongue.

After a couple more minutes of silence, Belisarius leaned back in his chair and placed his hands on his thighs. He seemed to have come to some sort of decision.

"Take him out," he commanded Valentinian. Bouzes began to protest, but Belisarius glared him down.

No sooner were they alone, however, than the brothers erupted.

"What the hell kind of interrogation was that?" demanded Bouzes. "And why did you stop? We still don't know anything about that pay caravan!"

"Silly damn waste of time," snorted Coutzes. "You want to get anything useful from a Mede, you've got to use a—"

"Torturer?" demanded Belisarius. He rolled his eyes despairingly, exhaled disgust, sneered mightily. Then he stood up abruptly and leaned over the table, resting his weight on his fists.

"I can see why you haul around a professional torturer," snarled the general. "I would too, if I was a fool."

He matched the brothers' glare with a scorching look of his own.

"Let me explain something to you," he said icily. "I wasn't in the slightest bit interested in getting information from the Persian regarding the pay caravan. He doesn't know anything about it. How could he? The pay caravan only left Nibisis the day before yesterday."

"The day before yesterday?" demanded Bouzes, puzzled. "But you said—"

"I said to an enemy officer that the pay chest left five days ago."

The brothers were now silent, frowning. Belisarius resumed his seat.

"My spies spotted the caravan as soon as it left the gates of the city. One of them rode here as fast as possible, using remounts. There's no way that caravan has reached Firuz' camp yet."