Eric Flint - An Oblique Approach

Belisarius straightened back up in his saddle. The smile left his face.

"True. So would any good unit of Roman infantry. But let's not get too cocky, Garmat. For all my speeches about quality outdoing quantity, numbers do count. There must be a horde of these foot soldiers. If the Malwa can figure out the logistics, they'll be able to flood the West. And they still have their special weapons, and the Ye-tai and the Rajput. Lots of Ye-tai and Rajput, from what I can tell."

Garmat grimaced, but said nothing.

Belisarius turned and looked toward the rear of the caravan. The Romans and Axumites were located right after the infantry. They were at the very end of the military portion of the procession. Following them came the enormous tail of the beast.

"And they've got a long ways to go to figure out proper logistics," he muttered, "if this is anything to go by."

Garmat followed his eyes.

"This is not normal?" he asked.

"No, Garmat, this is not normal. Not even the sloppiest Roman army has a supply train like this one. It's absurd!"

Garmat found it hard not to laugh aloud. At that moment, the general's normally expressionless face was twisted into a positively Homeric scowl.

"Hell hath no fury like a craftsman scorned," he muttered.

"What was that?"

"Nothing, Belisarius, nothing. I would point out to you, however, that much of the chaos behind us is due to civilians and camp followers."

Belisarius was not mollified.

"So what? Every army faces that problem! You think camp followers don't attach themselves to every Roman army that marches anywhere? You name it, they'll be there: merchants, food and drink purveyors, pimps and whores, slave traders, loot liquidators, the lot. Not to mention a horde of people who just want to travel along the same route and take advantage of the protection offered."

"And how do you deal with it? Drive them off?"

"Bah!" Belisarius made a curt gesture. "That's impossible. Camp followers are like flies." He swiped at a fly buzzing around his face. "No, Garmat, there's no point to that. Instead, you do the opposite. Incorporate them into the army directly. Put them under discipline. Train them!"

Garmat's eyes widened. "Train merchants and slave traders? Pimps and whores?"

Belisarius grinned. "It's not hard, Garmat. Not, at least, once you get over the initial hump. There's a trade-off, you see. In return for following the rules, the camp followers get a recognized and assured place in the army. Keeps out competitors."

The general scratched his chin. "It occurs to me, however, that this rampant disorder can serve our purpose. There is one little problem in our plan that's been gnawing at me—"

He looked down at Ousanas, striding alongside.

"You are a miserable slave, are you not?"

The dawazz stooped and bent his head in a flamboyant gesture of cringing submissiveness. The pose went poorly with the great stabbing spear in his hand.

"Well, I am shocked," grumbled Belisarius. "Absolutely shocked to see you lolling about without a care in the world. In my country, miserable slaves keep themselves busy."

Ousanas cocked an eye upward. The pose was now threadbare.

"Oh, yes," continued Belisarius, "very busy. Scurrying about all over the place—buying provisions, haggling over supplies, that sort of thing." He scowled. "All a pose, of course. The lazy buggers are actually just keeping out of their master's sight so they can lolligag. Out of everybody's sight, in fact. Nobody ever sees a slave where he's supposed to be. You get used to it."

Ousanas looked back at the motley horde of camp followers.

"Ah," he said. "Comprehension dawns. Although the great general might—just now and again—condescend to plain speaking. You want me to make myself scarce, so that when the time comes when I disappear altogether, no spy will even notice my absence."

Belisarius smiled. "You have captured the Platonic Form of my concept."

A moment later, Ousanas was drifting away, the very image of a dispirited, lackadaisical slave. Belisarius, watching, was struck by the uncanny manner of his movements. Ousanas was the only man the general had ever known who could shuffle silently.

A gleeful feminine squeal coming from ahead brought his attention forward. Belisarius and Garmat looked up at the howdah riding on the elephant in front of them. Curtains made it impossible to see within.

"At least he's stopped complaining," growled Belisarius.

Garmat shook his head. "You are being unfair, General. He is not promiscuous by nature. Not, at least, by the standards of royalty." The adviser shrugged. "True, he is a prince, and a handsome and charming boy in his own right. He has never lacked the opportunity for copulation, and certainly has no aversion to the sport. But—he likes women, you see, and enjoys their conversation and their company. So he much prefers a more settled situation."

After a moment, Belisarius smiled wryly. "Well, I can hardly disapprove of that. My own temperament, as it happens." He gestured toward the howdah. "He seems to have settled in here."

Garmat nodded. "He and Tarabai seem to be growing quite fond of each other. I notice that the other Maratha girls have stopped sharing his howdah lately, at night, except—"

He fell silent, glancing around quickly. There were no possible spies within hearing range.

"How is she doing?" asked Belisarius. "Have you heard? For obvious reasons, I stay away from the howdah."

"I have not been inside myself. Eon says she has come to accept his presence, but he is not sure how she would react to another man. She no longer flinches from him, but she still doesn't speak—not even to Tarabai. She is eating well, finally. Her physical wounds are all healed. Eon says he is always careful to keep away from her, as far as possible within the confines of the howdah. He thinks she no longer feels threatened by him. If for no other reason than—"

Another squeal came from the howdah.

"—Tarabai has his erotic impulses well under control," chuckled Belisarius.

The general pointed to the mahout guiding the elephant.

"I trust Ezana is not disgruntled? Or Wahsi? Or Ousanas, for that matter?"

Garmat laughed. "Why should they be? True, they no longer enjoy Tarabai's company, but there are still the other two Maratha women. And the Kushan girls have been willing to spread their affections, whenever your cataphracts are too tired to pester them. Besides, they are all soldiers. The best of soldiers. Not given to stupid jealousies, and well aware that we are following a battle plan."

Another squeal. A low, masculine groan.

"In a manner of speaking."

Belisarius grinned. Then:

"Well, Eon's certainly carried out his part in the plan. He was absolutely perfect, the first day of the trip."

"Wasn't he marvelous?" agreed Garmat. "I thought Venandakatra was going to die of apoplexy, right there on the spot."

The adviser patted his mount affectionately. "Poor Venandakatra. Here he presents us with the finest horses available, and the prince can't stop whining that he needs a howdah, with plump cushions for his royal fanny."

"A very large elephant to carry it," said Belisarius, laughing, "one strong enough to bear up under the prince's humping."

Garmat was laughing himself, now. "And then—did you see the look on Venandakatra's face after—"

"—his petty plot backfired?" Belisarius practically howled. "Priceless! What a complete idiot! He presents the largest, most unruly elephant he can find—"

"—to Africans!"

Belisarius and Garmat fell silent, savoring the memory.

" This is your largest elephant?" Ezana had queried. "This midget? "

"Look at those puny ears," mourned Wahsi. "Maybe he's still a baby."