troops, true. But they would be unavailable to help in the defense of the dam itself.
Once again, Belisarius would fight for him. Almost unaided.
A sour thought came.
Except, of course, for the aid of a traitor.
Khusrau squared his shoulders. The foul deed needed to be done. He would not postpone it.
He turned to one of his aides. “Send for Ormazd,” he commanded.
As the officer trotted away, Khusrau grimaced. Then, seeing the slight smile on Maurice’s face, he grimaced even more.
“And this, Maurice? Are you also certain of this?”
The Roman chiliarch shrugged. “If you want my personal opinion, Your Majesty—no. I am not certain. I suspect that Belisarius is being too clever for his own good.” Scowl. “As usual.”
The scowl faded.
“But—I have thought so before. And, though I’d never admit it to his face, been proven wrong before.” Again, he shrugged. “So—best to stick to his plan. Maybe he’ll be right again.”
Khusrau nodded. For the next few minutes, as they waited for Ormazd to make his appearance, the Persian Emperor and the Roman officer stood together in silence.
Maurice spent the time in a careful study of the enemy’s expeditionary army. He would be leaving himself, the next day, to rejoin the Roman army awaiting the Malwa onslaught at the Nehar Malka. Belisarius would want a full and detailed description of his opponent’s forces.
Khusrau, on the other hand, spent the time in a careful study—of Maurice.
Not of the man, so much as what he represented. It might be better to say, what the man Maurice told him of the general he followed. Told the Persian Emperor, not by any words he spoke, but by his very nature.
Belisarius.
Khusrau had spent many hours thinking about Belisarius, in the past weeks.
Belisarius, the ally of the present.
Belisarius, the possible enemy of the future.
Khusrau was himself a great leader. He knew that already, despite his youth. Part of that greatness was due to his capacity to examine reality objectively, unswayed by self-esteem and personal grandiosity. No small feat, that, for an Emperor of Iran and non-Iran. And so Khusrau knew that one of the qualities of a great leader was his ability to gather around him other men of talent.
He had never seen such a collection of capable men as Belisarius had cemented together in his army’s leadership. He admired that team, envied Belisarius for it, and feared it at the
Once again, Belisarius would fight for him. Almost unaided.
A sour thought came.
Except, of course, for the aid of a traitor.
Khusrau squared his shoulders. The foul deed needed to be done. He would not postpone it.
He turned to one of his aides. “Send for Ormazd,” he commanded.
As the officer trotted away, Khusrau grimaced. Then, seeing the slight smile on Maurice’s face, he grimaced even more.
“And this, Maurice? Are you also certain of this?”
The Roman chiliarch shrugged. “If you want my personal opinion, Your Majesty—no. I am not certain. I suspect that Belisarius is being too clever for his own good.” Scowl. “As usual.”
The scowl faded.
“But—I have thought so before. And, though I’d never admit it to his face, been proven wrong before.” Again, he shrugged. “So—best to stick to his plan. Maybe he’ll be right again.”
Khusrau nodded. For the next few minutes, as they waited for Ormazd to make his appearance, the Persian Emperor and the Roman officer stood together in silence.
Maurice spent the time in a careful study of the enemy’s expeditionary army. He would be leaving himself, the next day, to rejoin the Roman army awaiting the Malwa onslaught at the Nehar Malka. Belisarius would want a full and detailed description of his opponent’s forces.
Khusrau, on the other hand, spent the time in a careful study—of Maurice.
Not of the man, so much as what he represented. It might be better to say, what the man Maurice told him of the general he followed. Told the Persian Emperor, not by any words he spoke, but by his very nature.
Belisarius.
Khusrau had spent many hours thinking about Belisarius, in the past weeks.
Belisarius, the ally of the present.
Belisarius, the possible enemy of the future.
Khusrau was himself a great leader. He knew that already, despite his youth. Part of that greatness was due to his capacity to examine reality objectively, unswayed by self-esteem and personal grandiosity. No small feat, that, for an Emperor of Iran and non-Iran. And so Khusrau knew that one of the qualities of a great leader was his ability to gather around him other men of talent.
He had never seen such a collection of capable men as Belisarius had cemented together in his army’s leadership. He admired that team, envied Belisarius for it, and feared it at the