Ahead, a score of horsemen detached themselves from the Greek lines and rode forward at a steady trot. A long flag streamed above their heads, an olive wreath on red silk, worked with Greek letters in golden thread. Under it was the white flag of parley, ominously small. There was no mistaking Kalyavan among the scores of straw-haired Greeks. He sat his destrier, a whip in his hand, wearing a leather jerkin over loose braccae. A crimson paludament was pinned to one shoulder with a great square-cut topaz.

‘Krishna, my friend,’ Kalyavan said cheerfully, his Greek accent pronounced.

‘Archon,’ Krishna returned politely. ‘Welcome to Mathura. I see you have brought some warmth with you in this season of chill. I wish you had informed us of your intention so we could have prepared a more suitable welcome.’

‘Well, you know what they say about surprise,’ Kalyavan raised his palms like a child. ‘It must jolt to work.’

‘Why not come inside, Archon?’ Krishna forced a smile. ‘We could speak like civilized men.’

‘Ah, soon enough, Krishna. I do intend to dine at the Senate House by nightfall. But as a conqueror, not a guest. Don’t even try, Krishna,’ he said, before Krishna could say anything. ‘I am not interested in anything you have to offer. Immortality is the only thing that interests me, and that I will claim when I see my banners flying over the Iron Curfew. But let us play civil, for now. I suppose this giant at your side is your brother…’

Kalyavan was momentarily shaken from his play at the sight of the figure beside Balram. ‘…Forgive me Krishna, but my weakness has ever been for women in armour. This can only be Lady Satyabhama, the War Mistress?’ He bowed in her direction. ‘Your eyes, My Lady, are like onyx beyond price!’

Krishna had been so immersed in his own thoughts that he hadn’t noticed Satyabhama come up. She shrugged now and said, ‘If you had kissed Jarasandh’s arse half as well, he might have lent you some soldiers.’

‘And let him take credit for the victory? Nah, I do not share.’ He winked at Satyabhama. ‘Yes, the Emperor may be annoyed by my actions, but if I were to bring him Krishna’s head, I reckon it would douse his anger.’

‘Why have you called this parley?’ Balram asked, unamused.

Kalyavan cleared his throat. One of his generals rode forward and unrolled a scroll. ‘The terms offered are, If Mathura is surrendered peacefully to Archon Kalyavan, one of the Senators will be instated on the throne of Mathura, as a loyal subject of the Emperor, subject to payment of a monthly tribute.’

‘How generous.’ Balram’s voice was hard as flint.