Throughout, Nanda Lal's hand had never left Venandakatra's shoulder. Now, with a shove, he forced the Goptri into the pavilion.
The pavilion's interior was lavish with furnishings. Thick carpets covered every inch of the floor. The sloping cotton walls were lined with statuary, silk tapestries, and finely crafted side tables bearing an assortment of carvings and jewelry.
With another shove, Nanda Lal pushed Venandakatra toward the great pile of cushions at the center of the pavilion. A third shove sent the Goptri sprawling onto them. Venandakatra was now hissing with outrage but, still, he spoke no words of protest.
Satisfied that he had cowed the man sufficiently, Nanda Lal scanned the interior of the pavilion. His eyes fell on a cluster of Maratha girls in a corner. They ranged in age from ten to thirteen, he estimated. All of them were naked and chained. The current members of Venandakatra's harem. Judging from their scars and bruises, and the dull fear in their faces, they would not survive any longer than their many predecessors.
That should finish the work, thought Nanda Lal. He turned his head to the Rajput officer standing guard by the pavilion's entrance.
"Take them out"-he pointed to the girls-"and kill them. Do it now."
Seeing the rigidity in the Rajput's face, Nanda Lal snorted. " Behead them, that's enough." The Rajput nodded stiffly and advanced on the girls. A moment later, he was leading them out of the pavilion by their chains.
The girls did not protest, nor make any attempt to struggle. Nanda Lal was not surprised. Marathi-speaking peasant girls, from their look. They probably didn't understand Hindi and, even if they did His eyes fell on Venandakatra, gasping with outrage.
I probably did them a favor, and they know it.
Nanda Lal waited until the sound of a sword cleaving through a neck filtered into the pavilion.
"So, Venandakatra, let us deal with your duty. With no further distractions. Now that I have investigated the situation, I will recommend to the emperor that your request for siege guns be granted."
The spymaster nodded toward the north. "But you will have to be satisfied with the guns at Bharakuccha. Six of them-that should be enough. And there will be no other reinforcements. The war in Persia has proven more difficult than we foresaw, thanks to Belisarius."
He shrugged. "It would take too long to bring siege guns across the Vindhyas, anyway. As it is, hauling the great things here will take months, even from Bharakuccha."
Venandakatra's face lost its expression of outrage. Anger came, instead-anger and satisfaction.
"At last!" he exclaimed. "I will take Deogiri!" He clenched his bony fingers into a fist. "Rao will be mine! He and the Satavahana bitch! I will stake them side by side!"
Nanda Lal studied him for a moment. "Let us hope so, Venandakatra."
He turned away and strode to the pavilion entrance. There, the spymaster filled his nostrils with clean air.
Let us hope so, Venandakatra. For the sake of the Empire. Were it not for that, I would almost wish for your failure.
His eyes fell on the execution ground. The six Maratha rebels were all dead, now. Their bodies were draped over the stakes. Their heads lolled, as if they were mourning their sisters sprawled on the ground in front of them. Five heads, and five headless corpses, naked in a spreading lake of blood.
You would look good on a stake, Venandakatra. Splendid, in fact.
Suppara
Spring, 532 A.D.
Irene Macrembolitissa, the Roman Empire's ambassador to the rebels of south India, strode down one of the corridors in Empress Shakuntala's small palace, head deep in thought. The Empress of Andhra-it was a grandiose title, for a young girl leading a rebellion against Malwa, but one to which she was legitimately entitled-had requested Irene's presence in the imperial audience chamber. It seemed that Kungas had finally returned from his long journey to the rebelheld city of Deogiri. Shakuntala wanted Rome's envoy present, to hear his report.
Irene had never met Kungas. She knew of him, of course. Kungas was one of the top military commanders of Shakuntala's small army. He bore the resplendent titles ofMahadandanayaka andBhatasvapati-" great commandant" and "lord of army and cavalry." He was also the head of Shakuntala's personal bodyguard, an elite body made up entirely of Kushans.
Before she left Constantinople, Belisarius had provided Irene with a full and thorough assessment of Kungas. He knew the Kushan from his trip to India, and was obviously taken by him. Without quite saying so, Belisarius had left Irene the impression that Kungas' advice and opinions should be given the utmost care and consideration.
