The Shadow of Ararat (65 page)

Baraz's meaty hand snapped up, catching the thrown punch, and his fingers squeezed like tree roots digging at a mosaic floor. The Great Prince gasped in pain and crumpled to his knees. The Boar released the crushed hand and stared down at the Prince in undisguised disgust as Shahin struggled to his feet.

"By the order of Chrosoes, King of Kings, I am assuming command of this army."

Baraz's voice held the finality of millstones crushing grain into meal. "If you care to discuss the wisdom of this with the Great King, then I suggest to tie yourself to Ctesiphon and take it up with him." He leaned close to the Great Prince's pale face. "But," Baraz said, "he is in a foul mood of late. I would not advise it."

"I... I do not believe you!" Shahin stepped back two paces and drew himself up. The Great Prince was a very powerful man in the Empire; his estates were as vast as those of the King of Kings. He could raise armies of his own, and he was closely related to the House of Sassan. "The Great King has entrusted this campaign to me! To me, you ignorant backwoods farmer! What proof do you have of this order from the King? I have received nothing to indicate this!"

Baraz laughed at the red face of the Great Prince. "A messenger brought me this news only tonight, and now I am here. You will command the left wing of the army—this too is the wish of the King of Kings, that you should have a place of honor. But I command here, now, Prince Shahin, and you would do well to heed my commands."

Shahin spat on the thick rugs of the floor. "Where is this messenger? Is he known to you? An Imperial courier? Do you have a written order?" The Prince's face turned sly as he thought he spied an advantage over the Boar.

Baraz chuckled again and turned slightly. "Here is the messenger, O Great Prince. Do you dispute him?"

Shahin stepped past Baraz, angry words on his lips, but then he saw Dahak leaning back in a chair with one foot wrapped with cloths. The dark man smiled and the lanterns of cut crystal and glass that illuminated the tent flickered and went out. In the sudden darkness, there was the soft sound of crickets, and a slow dull-red glow flickered into being around the sorcerer. Fire burned in two sharp points where the man's eyes should be.

"The King of Kings speaks," Dahak said in a deep basso voice. "Will you deny his will?"

Shahin stepped back, speechless, and ran into the solid bulk of Baraz. "No! No, great lord, I obey!" The Prince fell to his knees and bowed three times, prostrating himself upon the carpeted floor.

Flame leapt back up in the lanterns and the tent was filled once more with a warm light. Ominous silence was replaced by the sound of men shouting in alarm and the slap of running feet on sand and gravel. Dahak turned his face away from the two men in the center of the tent and seemed to fade into the rich brocade of the wall.

Seven or eight men, half dressed, with bared swords and spears, rushed into the tent and drew up sharply when they saw that the chamber was empty save for the Great Prince and the Boar. All had come running at the shouts of
assassins
! and
riot
!

"General!" The commanders of the army were surprised to see a man they last knew to be no less than seventy leagues away. The Boar gave them a wide smile, all bright-white teeth. He casually tipped one of the tables back over, though now the candied fruits and jugs of wine were smashed and scattered on the floor.

"Well met, my friends. Where is the commander of the light horse? I see the
cataphracti
, the spearmen, the engineers represented here... is it Tahvaz who commands the scouts now?"

The captains shook their heads, and sidelong glances at the Great Prince, who was now sitting in his chair once more, a slave daubing at his forehead with a cool cloth, made Baraz turn, his eyes slitted in suspicion.

"Great Prince? Where is the commander of the light horse?" Baraz's voice was polite.

Shahin looked up, his dark kohl-rimmed eyes glittering with hatred.

"The miserable Tahvaz was sent back to Ctesiphon a month ago. He was reckless and insubordinate. We are well done of him."

Baraz pursed his lips; something that had bothered him during the hike down the hill was becoming clear. He turned back to the captains, now joined by many of their officers, who were crowding into the tent to see what had caused all of the fuss. "Khadames... you command the
cataphracts
—are there any light horse in this army?"

The commander of the heavy horse shook his head sadly.

"Then," the Boar continued, "you have no scouts out at all, only pickets of spearmen around the camp. And it has been so since the army left Antioch in the north?"

The captains shrugged and Khadames squared himself and met the gaze of his former commander. "No, Lord Baraz, we have advanced in close order, with only some of my horsemen in light armor as flankers. We have not seen the enemy... they may still be at Damascus..." His voice trailed off as Baraz folded his hands behind him and gave him a steely glare. The other captains shuffled their feet and cast their heads down.

"The enemy," Baraz said in a conversational tone, "is bare miles away, beyond these hills to the south. Given that he commands a host of bandits, you can be sure that he knows your every move, the number of your men, and the temperature of the gruel you ate for breakfast. I have seen his camp and his numbers are as great as ours or better."

A bitter laugh from behind him interrupted the general. Shahin rose, his robes once more neatly arranged and his makeup restored to some semblance of order.

"His
numbers
do not matter, General. Our heavy knights will smash whatever formations he places in the field against us. He does not have the weight of metal that we do, he cannot possibly stand up to us in an open battle!"

Baraz barely spared a glance for the Great Prince. "You have not seen him or brought him to battle, my friends, because the tribes are laying a trap for you, one that they hope you will blunder into headlong, unthinking. When this enemy chooses to fight, then he will fight. Until then he will content himself with buggering your sheep and stealing your women. What happened to the Lakhmid archers and lancers that Tahvaz captained? They can still serve to scout... what is it?"

Now the captains were openly uncomfortable. Khadames sighed and squared his shoulders again. "There was a dispute over pay, General. The Lakhmid auxiliaries are no longer with the army. When last I saw them, they had made camp at Arethusa."

Baraz's fists clenched and he finally turned to face Shahin fully. The Great Prince stepped back but then halted, standing his ground.

"The Lakhmid chiefs have not been paid?"

"They demanded twice that which they agreed to serve for! I will not let dirty tribesmen extort the Empire of good heavy gold! We do not need them, they are a trouble and a nuisance to us! I bade them return home, and this they did."

In the corner, where Dahak sat tending to his sore ankle, there was bitter laughter. The captains and officers turned, startled, to see who was there and then shrank back in open fear. The gaunt, dark shape of the wizard was well known in rumor and whisper.

"No tribesman ever went where a perfumed dandy bade him go, Great Prince. If you left some thousands of Lakhmid tribesmen behind you, you can be sure that they have taken their pay, and more, from lands you counted a fine prize." Dahak's voice was a whisper, but every man in the tent heard it full well and felt a chill upon the hearing.

Shahin flushed, but there was little he dared say to the dark man.

"Enough." Baraz growled, thinking furiously. "Khadames, send for your fastest riders. Take the pay that the Lakhmids were promised and three times that on horses. Send a man that you can trust and get him on the way to Arethusa. Tell the chiefs of the tribes that I, Shahr-Baraz, the Boar, call upon their honor to help the Empire. Tell them... tell them that when there is battle, the Tanukh will be theirs. Tell them that I, Shahr-Baraz, promise it!"

"It shall be so, General. I shall send my nephew Bahram to treat with them."

The captain of the heavy horse bowed and strode quickly from the tent, his voice raised to call his lieutenants and banner leaders to him.

The Boar turned to the other men and gestured for them to come closer. "We must fall back, and quickly too. The tribesmen will be lying for us in ambush, and we must regain some room to maneuver. Every man in this army must be on the road back north, with his kit and arms, before daylight. It will be a near thing, even so, but if we are swift, we can evade the noose. Take only those things that are necessary..." Baraz paused and a crafty gleam came into his eye. He turned and faced Shahin.

"In particular, Great Prince, this tent and all that is in it must stay. Not one item may be removed, nor will the tents of your companions and confidants be taken north."

Shahin sputtered in rage but fell silent when Baraz raised a broad hand.

"You have led an army of the Empire into a dire place, Great Prince. Now you must pay amends for that recklessness. Go, you lead those horsemen who Khadames' trusted officer did command."

Shahin looked around, but the faces of his captains and their lieutenants held no support for him. At last, with an angry snarl, he strode out, his robes fluttering behind him. With him gone, Baraz sighed in relief. There was business to be done, and quickly.

"You, lad. What is your name?"

One of the couriers who had been attached to Shahin's staff stepped forward nervously. He was very young, barely sixteen and with the look of one of the desert tribes. For a moment Baraz wondered what had brought him into the service of the King of Kings.
No matter,
he thought, and pushed the distraction away.

"Khalid, Lord General."

"Khalid, three things I need of you, right away—first, Shahin's horse. Secure it for me and bring it here. If the stablemen give you trouble tell them that the Boar demands it. Second, the Great Prince's banner and tabard. These too I need. Third, despite what I just said, we will take one wagon north with us—a well-sprung one, with high clearance and enclosed. This is for my friend, who cannot walk at present."

Khalid looked over his shoulder, to where Dahak was sitting quietly, observing the bustle of men going about a hurried business, and swallowed. "Yes, Lord General! I will see to it immediately!" The boy sprinted out of the tent.

"You others, tell me of the condition and organization of the men..."

Dahak idly watched the boy run out. Though he seemed sleepy to those around him, he had already settled within his mind to a calm center. While the camp was aboil with activity, with thousands of men rushing about to gather up their gear and arms, the sorcerer stretched out his will and covered the encampment with a seeming of peace and nighted sleep. To the Tanukh watchers who lay hid on the hillsides above the camp, all seemed as it had been before. It was difficult work, and Dahak fell into a light trance as his full attention was devoted to this deception.

"There, mistress, it is as I said." Thyatis ignored the wiry little man with the pox-scarred face. She crept around the corner of the dome and peered over the lip of the ornamented roof. The red tiles under her hands were hot from the noonday sun. A narrow street was thirty feet or more below her. On the other side of the street a white wall of stuccoed brick rose up a good twenty feet. It was unbroken, save by a battlement at its top, pierced by arrow slits and a fighting embrasure. From where she lay she could see down into the hanging garden behind that wall. The garden had been built on the roof of the massive building that had once served as the residence of the governor of the city. It was filled with small fruit trees, rosebushes, and a hundred kinds of flowers. A small fountain trickled at one side of the open space.

The Roman ignored the ornamental flowers and the garden. Beyond the rosebushes, a second wall rose, just a few feet high, below which lay the central courtyard of the building. It was a barren area, paved with the omnipresent red bricks. All of the walls around it were bare, though the outlines of arches and windows on the first two floors could be made out. They were bricked in now and plastered over. Only a single door could be seen, leading into the courtyard. A man was standing next to the door, his head in the shade of the building roof, with his hands held in front of him. Metal links glinted between his hands.

"Nikos!" she breathed. She had not believed Bagratuni's cousin when he had come to them with this story of a Roman prisoner in the Old Residence. But there he was. She watched for twenty or thirty grains until two guardsmen came out of the doorway and led the man back inside. Thyatis crawled back away from the edge of the roof then and scuttled across the barren roof to the airshaft. She had climbed up from the cellar to reach the dome on the Temple of the Lord of Light. The little Armenian crept along after her.

At the airshaft, she tugged twice on the rope that snaked down into the darkness. Even with the sun nearly overhead, the shaft's angle kept it dark and cold. An answering tug came and she motioned for the poxy-faced man to climb down. He was quick to slither down the rope and Thyatis waited, sweating, until another tug came. She could hear the chanting of the priests of Ahura-Mazda coming from the temple windows. It was her great hope that the acolytes did not take their ease from chores on the deserted roof of the building. She rolled over the edge of the airshaft and then braced her feet on the inner brickwork. She leaned back against the rope and then walked her way down the wall.

Above, the sky became a square of blue that shrank and then disappeared as she descended below the ground level of the temple. Damp darkness surrounded her and the sound of sluggish water reached up with a foul smell. Her boots splashed into a rivulet of water and she stood in a small space surrounded by moldy brick walls. She crouched down and duckwalked along a low tunnel with a triangular apse. At its end, she gagged at the smell, but crawled out through a place broken in the wall of a larger tunnel. Strong hands assisted her out of the narrow crevice.