Antioch, "reaching Antioch, easily, in three months."
Khadames nodded, lips pursed. "There is an Arab force at Gazzah, on the Judean coast, but I believe it numbers no more than five or six thousand horsemen."
"Lightly armored lancers and bowmen," Shahr-Baraz mused. "Against the Western Legions the Arabs could delay and harry and raid, but they will not be able to stop a concerted effort. Indeed, they would be hard-pressed to hold any of the coastal fortresses..." The Boar's finger stabbed in succession along the curve of the U. "...Gazzah, Caesarea, Akko, and then there is Tyre." Shahr-Baraz grinned ruefully. "...which is still held by a Roman garrison."
"Our fleet?" Khadames raised a hopeful eyebrow. "It could strike behind the Roman line of advance, slowing them down?"
Shahr-Baraz shook his head, troubled. "What is our fleet? Arab and Palmyrene crews in captured and refitted ships, a few more than a hundred of them. We have some war galleys, true, taken from the Empire, but our victories at sea—I think—have come with a great helping of luck. When the Western fleet comes at us again, it will be ready for the lady Zoë's sorcery and for all manner of tricks and stratagems."
At the mention of the Palmyrene Queen's name, a shadow flickered across Khadames' face. Shahr-Baraz stopped, a questioning look on his face. "What is it?"
"Nothing, my lord. Nothing worth speaking of here, at any rate."
The Boar essayed a smile, but it did not touch his eyes. "You've marked the change, then? Some subtle difference in her voice, her gait, the way she holds her head?"
Khadames nodded slightly, though he was wary and said nothing aloud.
"Some of our allies," Shahr-Baraz said slowly, looking away, out across the oval space of the forum surrounding the blackened, shattered stump of a great marble column, "are not what we might wish, yet with them has come victory. For the moment, I am content to let these things be."
"And in future?" Khadames ventured, trading on old friendship and a lifetime spent in campaign and battle beside his king. "Will the Peacock Throne be ever shadowed by the Serpent?"
"I cannot say." Shahr-Baraz looked back, meeting Khadames' eyes with a rueful expression. "I cannot divine what will come. Can you?"
"Perhaps," Khadames growled. "I have looked upon Damawand, lord king, and you have not. That foul place—all smokes and fire and the roar of the forges—may be our future. There is a power growing at the lord Dahak's hand, something beyond the reach of kings. Do not think that he is your servant!"
Shahr-Baraz nodded, though his expression was closed, and he looked down upon his crude map and sighed softly. "Our ways will part soon, my friend. I have decided to take the bulk of the army—the diquans , the Huns, the Arabs—south on the fleet, to Caesarea Maritima. I have sent letters, informing the governors of Antioch and Damascus and those further east, to direct our reinforcements to meet me there. You, I leave here, to hold this flank and keep the Romans penned in Thrace and Greece. You shall have a goodly portion of our heavy horse, those Armenian lancers, the whole of the Avars. This should suffice to fend off any Roman raids."
"What about the infantry, the siege engineers?" Worry crept into Khadames' voice.
"They will accompany the treasure train east, as guards. I do not think that there is anything in Egypt needful of their attentions—at last report the Roman fortifications there were lacking—and Dahak has promised he will bring forth his own strength against anything the West can raise."
"How will I hold the city, then?" Khadames bit his thumb, measuring distances on the sketch map with his eyes. The thought of having to hold a position with more barbarians and mercenaries than Persians made his stomach turn queasy. "If the Romans press me, I may be driven back into the ruins. The Avars will be useless for that kind of work—I doubt the plainsmen would enter the city if driven with
Khadames nodded, lips pursed. "There is an Arab force at Gazzah, on the Judean coast, but I believe it numbers no more than five or six thousand horsemen."
"Lightly armored lancers and bowmen," Shahr-Baraz mused. "Against the Western Legions the Arabs could delay and harry and raid, but they will not be able to stop a concerted effort. Indeed, they would be hard-pressed to hold any of the coastal fortresses..." The Boar's finger stabbed in succession along the curve of the U. "...Gazzah, Caesarea, Akko, and then there is Tyre." Shahr-Baraz grinned ruefully. "...which is still held by a Roman garrison."
"Our fleet?" Khadames raised a hopeful eyebrow. "It could strike behind the Roman line of advance, slowing them down?"
Shahr-Baraz shook his head, troubled. "What is our fleet? Arab and Palmyrene crews in captured and refitted ships, a few more than a hundred of them. We have some war galleys, true, taken from the Empire, but our victories at sea—I think—have come with a great helping of luck. When the Western fleet comes at us again, it will be ready for the lady Zoë's sorcery and for all manner of tricks and stratagems."
At the mention of the Palmyrene Queen's name, a shadow flickered across Khadames' face. Shahr-Baraz stopped, a questioning look on his face. "What is it?"
"Nothing, my lord. Nothing worth speaking of here, at any rate."
The Boar essayed a smile, but it did not touch his eyes. "You've marked the change, then? Some subtle difference in her voice, her gait, the way she holds her head?"
Khadames nodded slightly, though he was wary and said nothing aloud.
"Some of our allies," Shahr-Baraz said slowly, looking away, out across the oval space of the forum surrounding the blackened, shattered stump of a great marble column, "are not what we might wish, yet with them has come victory. For the moment, I am content to let these things be."
"And in future?" Khadames ventured, trading on old friendship and a lifetime spent in campaign and battle beside his king. "Will the Peacock Throne be ever shadowed by the Serpent?"
"I cannot say." Shahr-Baraz looked back, meeting Khadames' eyes with a rueful expression. "I cannot divine what will come. Can you?"
"Perhaps," Khadames growled. "I have looked upon Damawand, lord king, and you have not. That foul place—all smokes and fire and the roar of the forges—may be our future. There is a power growing at the lord Dahak's hand, something beyond the reach of kings. Do not think that he is your servant!"
Shahr-Baraz nodded, though his expression was closed, and he looked down upon his crude map and sighed softly. "Our ways will part soon, my friend. I have decided to take the bulk of the army—the diquans , the Huns, the Arabs—south on the fleet, to Caesarea Maritima. I have sent letters, informing the governors of Antioch and Damascus and those further east, to direct our reinforcements to meet me there. You, I leave here, to hold this flank and keep the Romans penned in Thrace and Greece. You shall have a goodly portion of our heavy horse, those Armenian lancers, the whole of the Avars. This should suffice to fend off any Roman raids."
"What about the infantry, the siege engineers?" Worry crept into Khadames' voice.
"They will accompany the treasure train east, as guards. I do not think that there is anything in Egypt needful of their attentions—at last report the Roman fortifications there were lacking—and Dahak has promised he will bring forth his own strength against anything the West can raise."
"How will I hold the city, then?" Khadames bit his thumb, measuring distances on the sketch map with his eyes. The thought of having to hold a position with more barbarians and mercenaries than Persians made his stomach turn queasy. "If the Romans press me, I may be driven back into the ruins. The Avars will be useless for that kind of work—I doubt the plainsmen would enter the city if driven with
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