There was regret in that knowledge, and frustration, but neither anger nor anxiety. Irene knew her man, now. She did not understand him, not entirely. Perhaps she never would. But she did know him; and knew, as well, that she could accept what she did not understand. The same stubborn determination that had kept an illiterate to his books, week after week after week, would keep him away from her bed, for a time. Not until an empress was wed to a champion, and he gave away his girl to the man she had chosen, would Kungas be satisfied that he had done his duty.
So the man was. So he would always be. Irene, comparing him to other men she had known, was well content in her choice.
She arose and moved to the window. Felt the breeze, enjoyed the sound of surf. She was happy, she realized. As happy as she had ever been. That understanding brought with it an understanding of her mood. And frustration anew.
She laughed. "Oh, damn! Where are you, Antonina? I want to get blind, stinking drunk!"
The Arabian Coast
Autumn, 532 A.D.
"How could I have been sostupid?" demanded Antonina, glaring over the stern rail of her flagship. She rubbed her face angrily, as if she might squeeze out frustration by sheer force. "I should have known they'd follow us, the greedy bastards. And we were bound to be spotted, once we came within sight of land. There's only one obvious reason a fleet of Ethiopian warships would be cruising along the southern coast of Arabia-we're going to pillage the Malwa somewhere. Damned carrion-eaters!"
Wahsi, standing next to her, was matching her glare with one of his own. Even Ousanas, on her other side, had not a trace of humor in his face.
"None of us thought of it, Antonina." Ousanas twisted his head, as if searching the deck of the Ethiopian warship for a missing person. Which, in a way, he was.
"I wish Garmat were here," he grumbled. "If there's anyone who knows how a bandit thinks, it's him." Ousanas gestured at the Arab dhows which were trailing in the wake of Antonina's fleet. "He might figure out how to talk them into going away."
"I doubt it," said Antonina, wearily. She stopped rubbing her face and stared at the small armada. The dhows reminded her of buzzards following a pack of wolves. "The problem is, Ousanas, they're not really pirates. Just dirt-poor fishermen and bedouin, smelling the chance for loot."
"They'll ruin all our plans!" snarled Wahsi. "There'll be no way to keep this expedition a secret, with that gaggle of geese following us. Assuming they don't just sell the information to the Malwa outright."
Antonina was back to rubbing her face. With only one hand, this time, slowly stroking her jaw. Without realizing it, she was halfimitating her husband's favorite mannerism when he was deep in thought.
"Maybe not," she mused. "Maybe-"
She glanced up, gauging the time of day. "It'll be sundown, soon." She pointed to a small bay just off the port bow. "Can we shelter the fleet there, tonight?" she asked Wahsi.
The Dakuen commander examined the bay briefly. "Sure. But what for? You said you wanted us to stay out of sight of land once we got halfway down the Hadrawmat. We're there. We should be putting further out to sea. Make sure we're over the horizon during daylight, until we reach the Strait of Hormuz."
Antonina shrugged. "That was for the sake of secrecy. With them following us"-she pointed to the fleet of dhows-"there's no point. We have to keepthem out of sight, too. No way to do that without talking to them. That's why I want to anchor in the bay. The dhows will follow, and I think I can set up a parley."
"Aparley?" choked Wahsi.
Antonina smiled. "Why not?"
Wahsi was glaring at her, now. "Are you insane? Do you really think you canreason with those-those-"
Ousanas' laugh cut him off. The laugh, and the huge grin which followed. "Of course she doesn't think that, Wahsi!"
The tall hunter beamed down at the short Roman woman. "She's not going to appeal to their `reason,' man. Just their greed."
"Well spoken," murmured Antonina. She smiled demurely at Wahsi. " I'm a genius, remember?"
It took hours, of course. Long into the night, negotiating with a small horde of Arab chieftains and subchieftains. Each little dhow had its own independent captain, and each of them had an opinion of his own. Four or five opinions, as often as not.
"We cannot board those great Malwa beasts," snarled one of the village-notables-turned-pirate-captain. He spoke slowly, and emphatically, so that Antonina could follow him. Her command of Arabic was only middling. "The one time we tried-" He threw up his hands. " Butchered! Butchered! Only two ships came back."
"Butchered, butchered," rose the murmur from the crowd. The pavilion which Antonina had ordered erected on the beach was packed with Arab chieftains. All of them joined in the protest, like a Greek chorus.
Antonina responded with a grin, worthy of a bandit.
"That was my husband's ship, I imagine."
