Eric Flint - An Oblique Approach

"Here is the mark of the panther's soul, my friends. I know it as well as my own."

Valentinian heaved a sigh. "Oh, hell. I tried."

It was a signal, Belisarius knew. Quickly scanning the other faces in the cabin, he saw that they had joined in Valentinian's acceptance.

Valentinian was even grinning, now. The cataphract looked at Ezana and Wahsi.

"Remember what Anastasius and I told you?" he demanded. "You didn't believe us after the battle with the pirates!"

Wahsi snorted. " This is what you meant by your general's famous `oblique approach'?"

Ezana laughed. "Like saying a snake walks funny!" He reached up and touched the bandage on his head. "Still," he added cheerfully, "it's better than charging across an open deck."

Belisarius smiled and leaned back against the wall of their cabin.

"I think that's all we need discuss, for the moment," he said. "We'll have time to hone the plan, in the weeks ahead."

Ousanas frowned. "All we need to discuss? Nonsense, General!" A quick dismissing gesture. "Oh, as to the plan—certainly! Good plans are like good meat, best cooked rare. Now we can move on to discuss truly important things."

His great grin erupted.

"Philosophy!" He rubbed his hands. "Such a joy to be surrounded by Greeks, now that I can speak the language of philosophy without that horrid pidgin nonsense getting in the way. I shall begin with Plotinus. It is my contention that his application of the principle of prior simplicity to the nature of the divine intellect is, from the standpoint of logic, false; and from the standpoint of theology, impious. I speak, here, of his views as presented by Porphyry in Book V of the Enneads . What is your opinion?"

Another dismissive gesture. "I ask this question of the Greeks present, of course. I know the views of the Ethiopians. They think I am a raving madman."

"You are a raving madman," said Wahsi.

"A gibbering lunatic," added Ezana.

"I'm not Greek," growled Valentinian.

"I've never heard such drivel in my life," rumbled Anastasius. "Absolute rubbish. The principle of prior simplicity is accepted by all the great philosophers, Plato and Aristotle alike, whatever their other disputes. Plotinus simply applied the concept to the nature of divinity."

Anastasius' enormous shoulders rolled his head forward. The granite slabs, tors, and crevices which made up his face quivered with ecstasy.

"The logic of his position is unassailable," continued the basso profundo, sounding, to all in the room save Ousanas, like the voice of doom itself. "I admit, the theological implications are staggering, at first glance. But I remind you, Ousanas, that the great Augustine himself held Plotinus in the highest regard, and—"

"Oh, sweet Jesus," whispered Menander, falling back weakly. "He hasn't done this since the first day I showed up, the new boy, and he trapped me in the barracks." A hideous moan. "For hours. Hours ."

Eon and the sarwen were gaping at Anastasius, much as they might have gaped at a buffalo suddenly transformed into a unicorn.

Garmat raised his eyes to the heavens.

"It is an indisputable virtue of my mother's people," he muttered, "that they are poets rather than philosophers. Whatever other crimes they have committed, no Arab has ever bored a man to death."

Valentinian glared at Belisarius. "It's your fault," hissed the weasel.

Belisarius shrugged. "I forgot. And how was I to know he'd find a kindred spirit? On this expedition?"

"It's still your fault," came the unforgiving voice. "You knew what he was like. You knew his father was Greek. You picked the troops. You're the general. You're in command. Command takes responsibility! "

"Ridiculous!" exclaimed Ousanas. "How can you say such—"

"— still ," overrode Anastasius, "I fail to see how you can deny that Plato's Forms must also derive from prior elements—"

"And now you insult Plato!"

"How far is it to India?" whispered Menander.

"Weeks, the way these wretched Malwa sail," groused Eon. And here the prince launched into his own technical diatribe, which, though it was just as long-winded as the debate raging elsewhere in the cabin, had at least the virtue of being more-or-less comprehensible, even to landlubbers like Belisarius.

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Framed

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Chapter 18

BHARAKUCCHA

Summer, 529 AD

Bharakuccha was the great western port of the Malwa Empire, located at the mouth of the Narmada River where it emptied into the Gulf of Khambhat. From its harbor, trading vessels of all sizes came and went daily.

Some, like the embassy vessel upon which the general and his company arrived on a blistering hot day in August, came from the northwest and returned thither. Many of those vessels were tiny craft not much more than dugout canoes, which bore petty trade goods to the coastal villages of Gujarat, the Rann of Kutch, and Sind. Others were Indian craft as huge as the embassy ship, which crept their ponderous way along the coast bearing immense cargoes for Persia and Europe. Many more were Persian ships, smaller and swifter than the Indian craft, which competed in the same trade. A few—not many—were Greek and Axumite.

The Greek and Axumite ships, in the main, avoided the northwest coast and sailed directly east and west across the Erythrean Sea. The western terminus of their trade was the Red Sea.

Still other craft came and went from the south. Most of these carried trade to and from the coast of Kerala and the great island of Ceylon. But there were ships whose trade was still more distant. Some of these vessels rounded the tip of India and carried their commerce to the great subcontinent's eastern coast. Others were destined for truly exotic lands—the southeast Asian kingdoms of Champa and Funan, and even Cathay.

Bharakuccha was like no city Belisarius had ever seen.

It was not completely outlandish, of course. The city had a generic resemblance to other such places which the general had visited. Like all great ports, Bharakuccha was a city of contrasts and extremes. Immense palaces and mansions, the abodes of nobility and rich merchants, rose like islands out of a vast sea of slums. Huge emporia and tiny merchant stalls—simple carts, often enough—nestled cheek and jowl. Trade and commerce was the city's lifeblood, and its bustling streets, crowded shops and clamorous bazaars—bustling, crowded and clamorous at any time of the day or night—gave proof that Bharakuccha took its business seriously.

But it was the scale of the phenomenon which astonished the visitors from Rome. The sheer size of the city, the incredible mass of its population, and the frenzy of its activity.

"Mother of God," mumbled Anastasius, "this place makes Alexandria look like a sleepy fishing village."

"They say you can buy anything in Bharakuccha," commented Ezana.

"Every port makes that boast," scoffed Valentinian.

"The difference, my friend, is that here it is true."

The ship was now moored to its dock, and Belisarius watched as Venandakatra and his cluster of priests scurried ashore. They were met by an imposing reception of notables. After a brief ceremony, Venandakatra clambered into a palanquin and was carried off.

Eon heaved a sigh of relief.

"Thank God, we're rid of him."

"For a while, Prince, only for a while," responded Garmat. The adviser stroked his beard, calculating.

"What do you think, General? A week?"

Belisarius laughed. "Are you mad? That pompous prick is going to need at least two weeks to put together the kind of expedition he's talking about. Probably three. Maybe even an entire month."