was still a mistake, and, under the circumstances, quite fatal.
In less than two days, they brought Belisarius to bay.
By late afternoon of the following day, the lead tracker spotted him. Not five miles ahead, already making camp for the night.
The Rajput officers held a hurried conference. Sanga's lieutenants argued for surrounding the Roman's camp and attacking that very night.
Sanga would have none of it.
"Not him," he stated firmly. "Not that man, at night. First, he might make his escape in the darkness."
He held up his hand, forestalling Udai's protest.
"That's unlikely, I admit. What I'm more worried about is that we'd be forced to kill him. I want him alive. It may not be possible, but if there's any chance at all it will be by daylight. In a night attack, with its confusion, there'd be no chance at all."
He glanced up at the sky. The eastern horizon was already purple.
"And there's no need. He's making camp, so he's not going anywhere. We'll use the night to surround him, quietly."
A hard eye on his lieutenants. "Quietly." They nodded.
Sanga stared south.
"At dawn, we bring him down."
The Pathan himself brought Belisarius down. The tracker didn't even bother to stun him. He simply pounced on the Roman general, still wrapped up in his roll—half an hour after daybreak, lazy sheep!—by the embers of a small campfire—a campfire on the run, idiot beast!—jerked him up by the hair. Then, with his knife, sliced the Roman's cheek. A gash, no more, just enough to mark his man.
Quickquick, and the Pathan stepped away.
The Roman general staggered to his feet, shrieking. He clutched his cheek with both hands. Blood from the wound spurt through the fingers. He took two steps, stumbled, fell on his belly across
In less than two days, they brought Belisarius to bay.
By late afternoon of the following day, the lead tracker spotted him. Not five miles ahead, already making camp for the night.
The Rajput officers held a hurried conference. Sanga's lieutenants argued for surrounding the Roman's camp and attacking that very night.
Sanga would have none of it.
"Not him," he stated firmly. "Not that man, at night. First, he might make his escape in the darkness."
He held up his hand, forestalling Udai's protest.
"That's unlikely, I admit. What I'm more worried about is that we'd be forced to kill him. I want him alive. It may not be possible, but if there's any chance at all it will be by daylight. In a night attack, with its confusion, there'd be no chance at all."
He glanced up at the sky. The eastern horizon was already purple.
"And there's no need. He's making camp, so he's not going anywhere. We'll use the night to surround him, quietly."
A hard eye on his lieutenants. "Quietly." They nodded.
Sanga stared south.
"At dawn, we bring him down."
The Pathan himself brought Belisarius down. The tracker didn't even bother to stun him. He simply pounced on the Roman general, still wrapped up in his roll—half an hour after daybreak, lazy sheep!—by the embers of a small campfire—a campfire on the run, idiot beast!—jerked him up by the hair. Then, with his knife, sliced the Roman's cheek. A gash, no more, just enough to mark his man.
Quickquick, and the Pathan stepped away.
The Roman general staggered to his feet, shrieking. He clutched his cheek with both hands. Blood from the wound spurt through the fingers. He took two steps, stumbled, fell on his belly across