The "truth" was a helmet. A great, heavy, ungainly contraption of segmented steel plates. A Goth helmet, Damodara vaguely realized.
"We found a small mountain of the things," said Sanga, "along with all the other gear those mercenaries were wearing."
Damodara looked up. "Where?"
Sanga glowered at the helmet. "Do you remember that small valley we passed through, where the Persians had been mining?" He snorted. "I remember noticing how fresh the mine tailings were. I was impressed, at the time, by the courage and determination of the Persian miners-to have kept working till the last minute, with a war raging about their heads."
"The tunnel!" explained Narses. "There was a tunnel there. A mine adit."
Sanga shook his head. "That is no mine, Narses. They disguised the first few dozen yards to make it look like one, but it is really an entrance to a qanat." He pointed at the helmet. "We found those about fifty yards in. Piled in a heap, as I said. It took us an hour to move the stuff aside, and go beyond. Thereafter-"
He pulled up a chair and sat down heavily. "From that point on, the trail is as clear as the one we have been following. Belisarius' entire army-I am as certain of it as I am of my own name-took that route. Hidden from sight underground, they marched to the south. They probably emerged, miles away, in another valley. Their Persian allies would have had fresh horses waiting for them."
He slapped the map with his hand. "Thatis why Belisarius was always willing to let us move north, but was so stubborn an opponent to the south. He was protecting the location of the tunnel. It must have taken them weeks-months-to prepare everything, even with help from the Persians. He could not afford to have us stumble upon his secret by accident, in the course of our maneuvers."
Damodara's eyes were wide open. His next words were almost choked out.
"Are you telling me that-" He waved his hand, weakly, as if to encompass all of time and space. "Everything we've done, for monthsall the maneuvers and the fighting-even the battle at the pass-was afeint?"
Sanga nodded. "Yes, Lord. It was all a feint. Belisarius was buying time, yes. But he wasn't buying time for Emperor Khusrau, or his man Agathius in Peroz-Shapur. He was buying it for himself. Until the time was right, and the preparations were finished, and he could finally strike at his true target. Now that Emperor Khusrau's retreat has drawn our main army out of Charax, the Roman can drive home the death stroke."
"Here," said Sanga. His finger speared a point on the map. "At Charax."
Damodara's eyes, already wide, were almost bulging.
"That's insane!" he cried. "Charax is the most fortified place in the world! Even without the main army there, the garrison is still the size of Belisarius' army. Bigger! There's no way on earth he could storm the place-not even if he had siege guns."
Narses interrupted. His voice was dry and cold, like arctic ice.
"Have you ever heard of the Trojan Horse, Lord Damodara?" he asked. The Malwa lord twisted his head, transferring the incredulous gaze to Narses.
The old eunuch chuckled humorlessly. "Never mind. I will tell you the tale some other time. But you can trust me on this, Lord.That- "
He jabbed a finger at the helmet resting on the table. "Thatis a Trojan helmet." Narses laughed. There was actual humor in that laugh, mixed with rueful admiration.
"God, has the world even seen such a schemer?" He laughed again. " Those helmets, Lord Damodara, tell you the truth. They were discarded by Belisarius' two thousand Goth mercenaries, now that they no longer needed them to maintain the disguise. For those men were never Goths to begin with."
Damodara's mind finally tracked the trail. His eyes remained wide. His jaws tightened. The next words came between clenched teeth.
"There were two thousand Kushans in the army which Belisarius destroyed at Anatha last year. We always assumed they were slaughtered along with the rest."
Rana Sanga ran fingers through his thick hair. Then he, too, laughed-and, like Narses, his laugh was mixed rue and admiration.
"He used the same trick against us in India," mused Sanga. "Turned the allegiance of Kushans, and then left a false trail, so that the Kushans could do his real work."
Damodara was back to staring at the map. After a moment, his eyes narrowed.
"This still doesn't make sense," he said softly. He tapped his finger on the location of Charax. "I can see where he might get into Charax, using Kushans as his entry. And, certainly, once he got in-" Damodara snorted. "His soldiers, against garrison troops, would be like wolves in a sheep pen."
Slowly, the Malwa lord rose up, leaning on the table. His eyes went back and forth from Sanga to Narses.
"But then-how does he getout?"
Again, Damodara's finger tapped the map. This time, very forcefully, like a finger of accusation.
