David Drake & Eric Flint- Belisarius 06 - The Dance Of Time

The Dance of Time-ARC

Belisarius 06

Eric Flint & David Drake

Prologue

The Iron Triangle

Autumn, 533 A.D.

Belisarius watched Eusebius and his crew as they carefully slipped the mine off the deck of theVictrix ,

using a ramp they'd set up in the stern for the purpose. Because of its design, it had been relatively easy

to adapt the fireship to the task of becoming a mine-layer. Doing so with theJustinian would have

required a major reconstruction of the armored gunship.

The sun still hadn't come up, but there was enough light from the approaching dawn for Belisarius to see.

Quietly, almost soundlessly, the mine slid below the surface of the water. Eusebius measured off the

depth of the mine's placement using the prepared lines, squinting at the marks nearsightedly.

A trio of ducks flew past swiftly, just above the level of the reeds. Their quacking sounded like the slap

of bamboo canes.

You are fortunate to see them, said Aide, the crystalline being which rested in Belisarius' neck pouch.

Those are pink-headed ducks, very rare here in theIndusBasin . Indeed, they're not common

even in Brahmaputra .

When we've defeated the Malwa, Belisarius replied silently to the voice in his mind,perhaps I'll retire to

a monastery and write a treatise on natural history based on my travels. Of course, first we have

to defeat the Malwa.

We will, said Aide firmly; andthat was not a joke.

Aide had come—been sent—to Belisarius from the far future; from one of two alternate futures, more

precisely. Aide's purpose was to prevent the Malwa Empire from conquering the world as it had already

conquered most of the Indian subcontinent.

The real horror of a Malwa victory would come tens of tens of thousands of years in the future, when the

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Earth was ruled by the so-called "new gods" which had evolved from men. In human terms, though, what

a Malwa victory meant in this 533rd Year of Christ was bad enough.

Laying the mine took some time, because the crew had to lower it slowly and carefully. There wasn't

really much danger of the charge going off simply due to a rough landing on the river bottom, especially

as muddy as theIndus was. But, understandably, no one wanted to take any chances.

Eventually, the lines grew slack. The heavy stone weight that had dragged the mine below the surface

had reached the bottom.

"About where we want it," Eusebius proclaimed, checking the marks on the lines. "She'll be sitting just

the right depth to cave in any ironclads the Malwa send at us."

By now, his crew had placed so many mines in the rivers that formed two sides of the Iron Triangle that

the rest was routine. The lines were hauled up, after the ends were released so they could slip easily

through the mine's handles. Very easily, since the shell of the mine was nothing more than an amphora

sealed to contain the charge and the air that kept it floating above the weight that anchored it to the river

bottom.

All that was left was the very thin wire that would transmit the detonation signal when given. Like all the

mines the Romans had placed in the Indus and theChenab , the mines were designed to be exploded on

command. It would have been possible to design contact fuses, but the things were tricky and Belisarius

saw no need for them.

In fact, mines with contact fuses could conceivably become a handicap. Belisarius wasn't expecting to

use the rivers for a rapid assault, but war was unpredictable. If he did find himself doing so, he didn't

want to be delayed by the dangerous and finicky work of removing the mines. With command detonation

mines, if need be, he could clear the rivers in less than a minute. Just blow up all the mines.

Eusebius leaned over the rail of theVictrix and handed the end of the signal wire to a soldier in a

rowboat. Moments later, while the soldier holding the wire kept a good grip on it, the other soldiers in the

boat rowed it ashore. The wire would join others in one of the many little mine bunkers that lined the

banks of both rivers in the Triangle. A spotter in the bunker would already have noted the location of the

mine.

Eusebius straightened. "And that's pretty much all there is to the business, General. The old emperor had

the right of it."

Grinning, then: "Much as he still pisses and moans about how much he'd like to build a submarine. But

the fact is that for the purpose of fending off those ironclads the Malwa are building upriver, these mines

will do the trick just fine. And it's a lot less risky than spar torpedoes."

"Not to mention a submarine," Belisarius chuckled. "All right. I just wanted to get a sense of how it was

going."

Had the Malwa been simply an Indian dynasty, they would not have posed a threat to the present world,

let alone that of the far future. Aide had showed Belisarius visions of both past and future. Indian nations

had often been rich and powerful and influential, and would be again; but never in the timeline that led to

Aide and those who created him had the men and women who ruledIndia looked beyond their own

subcontinent. Missionaries and traders fromIndia would turn most of Southeast Asia into a cultural

extension of Hindu India; and, throughBuddhism ,India would have a major impact on the societies of

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theFar East . Still, no Indian ruler in that timeline ever attempted to conquer the world in the manner that

the Malwa Empire was doing—using methods of conquest that were even more savage than Genghis

Khan's, with an end goal that had none of the Mongols' tolerance as actual rulers.

But the ruler of the Malwa Empire was not a man or woman, to begin with. The real ruler of the empire

was not the official emperor, Skandagupta. It was Link, a machine, amonster , which the "new gods"

had sent to change the past and bring their bleak future into existence. If the Malwa armies defeated

Belisarius and his outnumbered forces here in the angle of the Indus and Chenab Rivers, the losers would

not only be the citizens of the Roman Empire but also all other humans in all times.

Belisarius glanced to the side, where theJustinian was slowly steaming. The gunship was keeping a

distance from the mine-laying activity, but it was still close enough to come to theVictrix 's support in the

unlikely event that the Malwa tried to launch an attack on the fireship.

The veryunlikely event. TheVictrix herself had already proven to the Malwa, several times, that she

could destroy any wooden riverboats sent against her. And the one time the Malwa had sent down a

partially-armored boat, theJustinian had blown it into wreckage in less than a minute. For the past

several weeks, there had been no Malwa incursions on the river at all. From the reports of spies, the

enemy had apparently decided to wait until their new heavy ironclads were finished.

Furthermore, if Justinian and Eusebius were right, even those wouldn't do them any good. The Malwa

had no way to build completely iron ships; none, at least, that would have a shallow enough draft for

these rivers. Their ironclads were just that:clad in iron. The underlying boats were still wooden—and

even these small mines would be enough to break such hulls in half.

"To tell you the truth, General," Eusebius commented, "I don't even understand why the Malwa have

kept building those ironclads. There's no way to lay these mines secretly, even working at night the way

we've been doing. By now, they must know we've got both rivers saturated with them."

Belisarius had wondered about that himself. Link had just as much knowledge of future warfare as Aide

did. The effectiveness of mines against warships in any constricted area of water was so well established

in that future that he couldn't imagine Link having any real hope his ironclads could bull their way through

a large and well-lain mine field.

Your theory's the right one, I think,Aide said.Link is shifting to the defensive.

Yes. I hadn't thought it would, not this quickly. I'd expected the monster to try a massive assault to drive

us out of thePunjab , before we could get really settled in. But... It's not. And if it waits much longer, it'll

be too late.

Too late, indeed. The Romans and their Persian allies were slowly but surely gaining control of the Indus

and both of its banks all the way from the Sukkur Gorge to the Iron Triangle, after already having

conquered theSind south of the Gorge. So the spearhead that Belisarius had driven into thePunjab during

the course of his campaign the previous year would soon be well-supplied. The fortifications across the

northern side of the Triangle were already strong enough to break any army Link could send against them

within a year or two. Not even the Malwa Empire had an inexhaustible supply of men and munitions,

ready to hand.

Especially men. Their morale must be close to the breaking point, I think. Link's army needs a rest, and

it knows it. That's why it didn't order the assault. It can afford a stalemate, even for long period, where it

can't afford another string of defeats.

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The sun was coming up.

Softly, proudly:You really hammered them, these past few years.

Chapter 1

Bukkur Island, on theIndus river

He dreamed mostly of islands, oddly enough.

He was sailing, now, in one of his father's pleasure crafts. Not the luxurious

barge-in-all-but-name-and-glitter which his father himself preferred for the family's outings into the

Golden Horn, but in the phaselos which was suited for sailing in the open sea. Unlike his father, for whom

sailing expeditions were merely excuses for political or commercial transactions, Calopodius had always

loved sailing for its own sake.

Besides, it gave him and his new wife something to do besides sit together in stiff silence.

Calopodius' half-sleeping reverie was interrupted. Wakefulness came with the sound of his

aide-de-camp Luke moving through the tent. The heaviness with which Luke clumped about was

deliberate, designed to allow his master to recognize who had entered his domicile. Luke was quite

capable of moving easily and lightly, as he had proved many times in the course of the savage fighting

onBukkurIsland . But the man, in this as so many things, had proven to be far more subtle than his rough

and muscular appearance might suggest.

"It's morning, young Calopodius," Luke announced. "Time to clean your wounds. And you're not eating

enough."

Calopodius sighed. The process of tending the wounds would be painful, despite all of Luke's care. As

for the other—

"Have new provisions arrived?"

There was a moment's silence. Then, reluctantly: "No."

Calopodius let the silence lengthen. After a few seconds, he heard Luke's own heavy sigh. "We're

getting very low, truth to tell. Ashot hasn't much himself, until the supply ships arrive."

Calopodius levered himself up on his elbows. "Then I will eat my share, no more." He chuckled, perhaps

a bit harshly. "And don't try to cheat, Luke. I have other sources of information, you know."

"As if my hardest job of the day won't be to keep half the army from parading through this tent," snorted

Luke. Calopodius felt the weight of Luke's knees pressing into the pallet next to him, and, a moment

later, winced as the bandages over his head began to be removed. "You're quite the soldiers' favorite,

lad," added Luke softly. "Don't think otherwise."

* * *

In the painful time that followed, as Luke scoured and cleaned and rebandaged the sockets that had

once been eyes, Calopodius tried to take refuge in that knowledge.

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It helped. Some.

* * *

"Are there any signs of another Malwa attack coming?" he asked, some time later. Calopodius was now

perched in one of the bastions his men had rebuilt after an enemy assault had overrun it—before,

eventually, the Malwa had been driven off the island altogether. That had required bitter and ferocious

fighting, however, which had inflicted many casualties upon the Roman defenders. His eyes had been

among those casualties, ripped out by shrapnel from a mortar shell.

"After the bloody beating we gave 'em the last time?" chortled one of the soldiers who shared the

bastion. "Not likely, sir!"

Calopodius tried to match the voice to a remembered face. As usual, the effort failed of its purpose. But

he took the time to engage in small talk with the soldier, so as to fix the voice itself in his memory. Not for

the first time, Calopodius reflected wryly on the way in which possession of vision seemed to dull all

other human faculties. Since his blinding, he had found his memory growing more acute along with his

hearing. A simple instinct for self-preservation, he imagined. A blind manhad to remember better than a

seeing man, since he no longer had vision to constantly jog his lazy memory.

After his chat with the soldier had gone on for a few minutes, the man cleared his throat and said

diffidently: "You'd best leave here, sir, if you'll pardon me for saying so. The Malwa'll likely be starting

another barrage soon." For a moment, fierce good cheer filled the man's voice: "They seem to have a

particular grudge against this part of our line, seeing's how their own blood and guts make up a good part

of it."

The remark produced a ripple of harsh chuckling from the other soldiers crouched in the fortifications.

That bastion had been one of the most hotly contested areas when the Malwa launched their major

attack the week before. Calopodius didn't doubt for a moment that when his soldiers repaired the

damage to the earthen walls they had not been too fastidious about removing all the traces of the carnage.

He sniffed tentatively, detecting those traces. His olfactory sense, like his hearing, had grown more acute

also.

"Must have stunk, right afterward," he commented.

The same soldier issued another harsh chuckle. "That it did, sir, that it did. Why God invented flies, the

way I look at it."

Calopodius felt Luke's heavy hand on his shoulder. "Time to go, sir. There'll be a barrage coming, sure

enough."

In times past, Calopodius would have resisted. But he no longer felt any need to prove his courage, and

a part of him—a still wondering, eighteen-year-old part—understood that his safety had become

something his own men cared about. Alive, somewhere in the rear but still on the island, Calopodius

would be a source of strength for his soldiers in the event of another Malwa onslaught. Spiritual strength,

if not physical; a symbol, if nothing else. But men—fighting men, perhaps, more than any others—live by

such symbols.

So he allowed Luke to guide him out of the bastion and down the rough staircase which led to the

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trenches below. On the way, Calopodius gauged the steps with his feet.

"One of those logs is too big," he said, speaking firmly, but trying to keep any critical edge out of the

words. "It's a waste, there. Better to use it for another fake cannon."

He heard Luke suppress a sigh.And will you stop fussing like a hen? was the content of that small

sound. Calopodius suppressed a laugh. Luke, in truth, made a poor "servant."

"We've got enough," replied Luke curtly. "Twenty-odd. Do any more and the Malwa will get suspicious.

We've only got three real ones left to keep up the pretense."

As they moved slowly through the trench, Calopodius considered the problem and decided that Luke

was right. The pretense was probably threadbare by now, anyway. When the Malwa finally launched a

full-scale amphibious assault on the island that was the centerpiece of Calopodius' diversion, they had

overrun half of it before being beaten back. When the survivors returned to the main Malwa army

besieging the city ofSukkur across theIndus , they would have reported to their own top commanders

that several of the "cannons" with which the Romans had apparently festooned their fortified island were

nothing but painted logs.

But how many?That question would still be unclear in the minds of the enemy.

Not all of them, for a certainty. When Belisarius took his main force to outflank the Malwa in thePunjab ,

leaving behind Calopodius and fewer than two thousand men to serve as a diversion, he had also left

some of the field guns and mortars. Those pieces had savaged the Malwa attackers, when they finally

grew suspicious enough to test the real strength of Calopodius' position.

"The truth is," said Luke gruffly, "it doesn't really matter anyway." Again, the heavy hand settled on

Calopodius' slender shoulder, this time giving it a little squeeze of approval. "You've already done what

the general asked you to, lad. Kept the Malwa confused, thinking Belisarius was still here, while he

marched in secret to the northeast. Did it as well as he could have possibly hoped."

They had reached one of the covered portions of the trench, Calopodius sensed. He couldn't see the

earth-covered logs which gave some protection from enemy fire, of course. But the quality of sound was

a bit different within a shelter than in an open trench. That was just one of the many little auditory

subtleties which Calopodius had begun noticing lately.

He had not noticed it in times past, before he lost his eyes. In the first days after Belisarius and the main

army left Sukkur on their secret, forced march to outflank the Malwa in thePunjab , Calopodius had

noticed very little, in truth. He had had neither the time nor the inclination to ponder the subtleties of sense

perception. He had been far too excited by his new and unexpected command and by the challenge it

posed.

Martial glory.The blind young man in the covered trench stopped for a moment, staring through sightless

eyes at a wall of earth and timber bracing. Remembering, and wondering.

The martial glory Calopodius had sought, when he left a new wife inConstantinople , had certainly come

to him. Of that, he had no doubt at all. His own soldiers thought so, and said so often enough—those

who had survived—and Calopodius was quite certain that his praises would soon be spoken in the

Senate.

Precious few of theRoman Empire 's most illustrious families had achieved any notable feats of arms in

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the great war against the Malwa. Beginning with the top commander Belisarius himself, born into the

lower Thracian nobility, it had been largely a war fought by men from low stations in life. Commoners, in

the main. Agathius—the now-famous hero of Anatha and the Dam—had been born into a baker'sfamily,

about as menial a position as any short of outright slavery.

Other than Sittas, who was now leading Belisarius' cataphracts in thePunjab , almost no Greek

noblemen had fought in the Malwa war. And even Sittas, before the Indus campaign, had spent the war

commanding the garrison inConstantinople which overawed the hostile aristocracy and kept the dynasty

on the throne.

Had it been worth it?

Reaching up and touching gently the emptiness which had once been his eyes, Calopodius was still not

sure. Like many other young members of the nobility, he had been swept up with enthusiasm after the

news came that Belisarius had shattered the Malwa inMesopotamia . Let the adult members of the

aristocracy whine and complain in their salons. The youth were burning to serve.

And serve they had... but only as couriers, in the beginning. It hadn't taken Calopodius long to realize

that Belisarius intended to use him and his high-born fellows mainly for liaison with the haughty Persians,

who were even more obsessed with nobility of blood-line than Greeks. The posts carried prestige—the

couriers rode just behind Belisarius himself in formation—but little in the way of actual responsibility.

Standing in the bunker, the blind young man chuckled harshly. "He used us, you know. As cold-blooded

as a reptile."

Silence, for a moment. Then, Calopodius heard Luke take a deep breath.

"Aye, lad. He did. The general will use anyone, if he feels it necessary."

Calopodius nodded. He felt no anger at the thought. He simply wanted it acknowledged.

He reached out his hand and felt the rough wall of the bunker with fingertips grown sensitive with

blindness. Texture of soil, which he would never have noticed before, came like a flood of dark light. He

wondered, for a moment, how his wife's breasts would feel to him, or her belly, or her thighs. Now.

He didn't imagine he would ever know, and dropped the hand. Calopodius did not expect to survive the

war, now that he was blind. Not unless he used the blindness as a reason to return toConstantinople ,

and spent the rest of his life resting on his laurels.

The thought was unbearable.I am only eighteen! My life should still be ahead of me!

That thought brought a final decision. Given that his life was now forfeit, Calopodius intended to give it

the full measure while it lasted.

"Menander should be arriving soon, with the supply ships."

"Yes," said Luke.

"When he arrives, I wish to speak with him."

"Yes," said Luke. The "servant" hesitated. Then: "What about?"

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Again, Calopodius chuckled harshly. "Another forlorn hope." He began moving slowly through the

bunker to the tunnel which led back to his headquarters. "Having lost my eyes on this island, it seems only

right I should lose my life on another. Belisarius' island, this time—not the one he left behind to fool the

enemy. Thereal island, not the false one."

"There was nothingfalse about this island, young man," growled Luke. "Never say it. Malwa was broken

here, as surely as it was on any battlefield of Belisarius. There is the blood of Roman soldiers to prove

it—along with your own eyes. Most of all—"

By some means he could not specify, Calopodius understood that Luke was gesturing angrily to the

north. "Most of all, by the fact that we kept an entire Malwa army pinned here for two weeks—by your

cunning and our sweat and blood—while Belisarius slipped unseen to the north.Two weeks. The time he

needed to slide a lance into Malwa's unprotected flank—we gave him that time.We did. You did. "

He heard Luke's almost shuddering intake of breath. "So never speak of a 'false' island again, boy. Is a

shield 'false,' and only a sword 'true'? Stupid. The general did what he needed to do—and so did you.

Take pride in it, for there was nothing false in that doing."

Calopodius could not help lowering his head. "No," he whispered.

But was it worth the doing?

The Indus river in thePunjab

Belisarius' headquarters

The Iron Triangle

"I know I shouldn't have come, General, but—"

Calopodius groped for words to explain. He could not find any. It was impossible to explain to someone

else the urgency he felt, since it would only sound... suicidal. Which, in truth, it almost was, at least in

part.

But...

"May—maybe I could help you with supplies or—or something."

"No matter," stated Belisarius firmly, giving Calopodius' shoulder a squeeze. The general's large hand

was very powerful. Calopodius was a little surprised by that. His admiration for Belisarius bordered on

idolization, but he had never really given any thought to the general's physical characteristics. He had just

been dazzled, first, by the man's reputation; then, after finally meeting him inMesopotamia , by the relaxed

humor and confidence with which he ran his staff meetings.

The large hand on his shoulder began gently leading Calopodius off the dock where Menander's ship

had tied up.

"I can still count, even if—"

"Forget that," growled Belisarius. "I've got enough clerks." With a chuckle: "The quartermasters don't

have that much to count, anyway. We're on very short rations here."

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Again, the hand squeezed his shoulder; not with sympathy, this time, so much as assurance. "The truth is,

lad, I'm delighted to see you. We're relying on telegraph up here, in this new little fortified half-island

we've created, to concentrate our forces quickly enough when the Malwa launch another attack. But the

telegraph's a new thing for everyone, and keeping the communications straight and orderly has turned into

a mess. My command bunker is full of people shouting at cross-purposes. I need a good officer who can

take charge andorganize the damn thing."

Cheerfully: "That's you,lad! Being blind won't be a handicap at all for that work. Probably be a blessing."

Calopodius wasn't certain if the general's cheer was real, or simply assumed for the purpose of

improving the morale of a badly maimed subordinate. Even as young as he was, Calopodius knew that

the commander he admired was quite capable of being as calculating as he was cordial.

But...

Almost despite himself, he began feeling more cheerful.

"Well, there's this much," he said, trying to match the general's enthusiasm."My tutors thought highly of

my grammar and rhetoric, as I believed I mentioned once. If nothing else, I'm sure I can improve the

quality of the messages."

The general laughed. The gaiety of the sound cheered up Calopodius even more than the general's earlier

words. It was harder to feign laughter than words. Calopodius was not guessing about that. A blind man

aged quickly, in some ways, and Calopodius had become an expert on the subject of false laughter, in

the weeks since he lost his eyes.

This was real. This was—

Something he coulddo.

A future which had seemed empty began to fill with color again. Only the colors of his own imagination,

of course. But Calopodius, remembering discussions on philosophy with learned scholars in far away and

long agoConstantinople , wondered if reality was anythingbut images in the mind. If so, perhaps blindness

was simply a matter of custom.

"Yes," he said, with reborn confidence. "I can do that."

* * *

For the first two days, the command bunker was a madhouse for Calopodius. But by the end of that

time, he had managed to bring some semblance of order and procedure to the way in which telegraph

messages were received and transmitted. Within a week, he had the system functioning smoothly and

efficiently.

The general praised him for his work. So, too, in subtle little ways, did the twelve men under his

command. Calopodius found the latter more reassuring than the former. He was still a bit uncertain

whether Belisarius' approval was due, at least in part, to the general's obvious feeling of guilt that he was

responsible for the young officer's blindness. Whereas the men who worked for him, veterans all, had

seen enough mutilation in their lives not to care about yet another cripple. Had the young nobleman not

been a blessing to them instead of a curse, they would not have let sympathy stand in the way of criticism.

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And the general, Calopodius was well aware, kept an ear open to the sentiments of his soldiers.

Throughout that first week, Calopodius paid little attention to the ferocious battle which was raging

beyond the heavily timbered and fortified command bunker. He traveled nowhere, beyond the short

distance between that bunker and the small one—not much more than a covered hole in the

ground—where he and Luke had set up what passed for "living quarters." Even that route was sheltered

by soil-covered timber, so the continual sound of cannon fire was muffled.

The only time Calopodius emerged into the open was for the needs of the toilet. As always in a

Belisarius camp, the sanitation arrangements were strict and rigorous. The latrines were located some

distance from the areas where the troops slept and ate, and no exceptions were made even for the blind

and crippled. A man who could not reach the latrines under his own power would either be taken there,

or, if too badly injured, would have his bedpan emptied for him.

For the first three days, Luke guided him to the latrines. Thereafter, he could make the journey himself.

Slowly, true, but he used the time to ponder and crystallize his new ambition. It was the only time his

mind was not preoccupied with the immediate demands of the command bunker.

Being blind, he had come to realize, did not mean the end of life. Although it did transform his dreams of

fame and glory into much softer and more muted colors. But finding dreams in the course of dealing with

the crude realities of a latrine, he decided, was perhaps appropriate. Life was a crude thing, after all. A

project begun in confusion, fumbling with unfamiliar tools, the end never really certain until it came—and

then, far more often than not, coming as awkwardly as a blind man attends to his toilet.

Shit is also manure, he came to understand. A man does what he can. If he was blind... he was also

educated, and rich, and had every other advantage. The rough soldiers who helped him on his way had

their own dreams, did they not? And their own glory, come to it. If he could not share in that glory

directly, he could save it for the world.

When he explained it to the general—awkwardly, of course, and not at a time of his own

choosing—Belisarius gave the project his blessing. That day, Calopodius began his history of the war

against the Malwa. The next day, almost as an afterthought, he wrote the first of theDispatches to the

Army which would, centuries after his death, make him as famous as Livy or Polybius.

Chapter 2

Axum

Capital city of the Ethiopian empire

Across theErythreanSea , Belisarius' wife Antonina woke to the same rising sun, coming through the

window in her chamber in the Ta'akha Maryam. By now, more than a year and a half since Malwa

agents had blown up the royal palace of the EthiopiankingdomofAxum , the Ta'akha Maryam's

reconstruction was virtually complete.

Stubbornly, as was their way in such things, the Axumites had insisted on rebuilding the palace exactly as

it had been. If the heavy stonework was still susceptible to well-placed demolitions, they would prevent

such by the spears of their regiments, not the cleverness of their architects.

In the mornings, at least, Antonina was glad of it. At night, in the gloom of candlelight, she sometimes

found the Ta'akha Maryam oppressively massive. But, in the daytime—especially at daybreak, with her

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David Drake & Eric Flint- Belisarius 06 - The Dance Of Time

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