by Peter Darman
Vanadzor was not a pretty city. There were no ornate fountains, marble statues or buildings constructed of brightly coloured stone. There were only stout one- and two-storey homes and shops made of the same stone used in the construction of the city walls. This gave the city a brooding, menacing aspect, made worse by the inhabitants clothed in a variety of dark brown, blue and green hues. That said, the street the party of horsemen and women rode down was paved and the shops on either side were doing a brisk trade. Klietas saw pottery, ironmongery, fabrics, furs and tools on sale, as well as the unmistakable aroma of fresh meat.
At the palace the party was relieved of its horses and greeted by Prince Haytham, now in his eighteenth year. Talib and Minu bowed to him begrudgingly and he in turn forced a smile at them. But all he was interested in was Haya, the tall, lithe Amazon who would one day be his queen. He took her hand and led her into the palace, leaving the rest to follow in their wake.
‘Welcome, welcome.’
Castus, wearing a shining bronze and steel cuirass of his King’s Guard, was all smiles when the Durans entered his throne room, the king jumping up from his throne to leap down from the stone dais to take Haya’s hand, which he kissed. Shamshir stepped on to the dais to stand on the right side of the throne, glad to be relieved of the responsibility of caring for the ungrateful Durans. Moments after he and they had entered the throne room, Hovik and Khalos entered the chamber, bowing to the king, who ignored them.
‘You must be exhausted after your ride,’ smiled Castus, still holding Haya’s hand. ‘I will order slaves to draw baths for you all.’
‘You are most generous, majesty,’ said Minu. ‘Can you please explain why we were brought here?’
‘We have a mission to accomplish on behalf of Queen Gallia,’ added Talib.
Castus regarded the pair coolly.
‘As I understand it, my King’s Guard rescued you after you had been captured by the Cappadocians.’
‘Pontic soldiers, majesty,’ interrupted Shamshir, ‘commanded by a Roman.’
Castus flicked a hand at him. ‘A minor point. But having saved you from certain death, I would have thought a degree of gratitude is called for, rather than interrogating a king in his own throne room.’
‘With respect, majesty,’ said Minu.
‘Enough, Minu,’ commanded Castus. ‘This is Gordyene, not Dura. I do not answer to you, or your queen.’
He released Haya’s hand and walked over to Klietas, peering at the chain around his neck, from which hung a large claw. Castus pointed at it.
‘What is this?’
‘A bear’s claw, majesty,’ said Klietas.
‘From the bear he killed that was going to maul King Pacorus,’ said Bullus.
Castus turned and raised his arms to his general, adviser and commander of his bodyguard.
‘Squire to the king, bear wrestler and assassin. We have a modern-day Achilles in our presence.’
‘You are too kind, majesty,’ said Klietas, naively unaware the king was being sarcastic.
Castus spun and pointed at him and the others. ‘And you would do well to remember it. Now you are all dismissed.’
He gestured to the palace steward loitering near the doors to see his guests-cum-prisoners to their rooms, retaking his throne when they had bowed in a half-hearted fashion and left the chamber. Guards closed the doors to allow the king to speak to his brother and commanders. He lost no time in rebuking Shamshir.
‘You should have killed that farmer, Shamshir. His presence offends me.’
‘Because he spilt wine on you last year?’ grinned Haytham. ‘Or because he killed a bear with his bare hands?’
‘Because he struck me,’ seethed Castus, ‘which would normally have resulted in his instant execution. But nothing about Dura is normal. His very existence is an affront to me.’
‘King Pacorus is very fond of him, by all accounts,’ said Hovik.
Castus rolled his eyes. ‘I care nothing for what King Pacorus thinks. He is an old fool who has outlived his usefulness.’
An evil glint appeared in the king’s eyes. ‘Perhaps I will send the farmer’s head to Dura, as a gift for its king. That should stir up the old fool.’
Hovik was appalled but Khalos shook his head at the general. He had the measure of Castus and knew how to dissipate his anger easily enough.
‘Majesty,’ said the adviser, ‘we talk of lowly farmers when we should be discussing matters of more import.’
‘Such as?’ snapped Castus.
‘Your future wife.’
Castus’ demeanour changed in an instant. ‘Ah, yes. Isn’t she a beauty? And a veteran of many battles. My mother and father would approve, I think.’
Khalos brought his hands together.
‘While no one can doubt her beauty and talents, majesty, may I remind you that negotiations have already begun between Gordyene and King Ali of Atropaiene regarding your marriage to Princess Elaheh.’
‘Such a match would make Gordyene stronger militarily, majesty,’ said Hovik. ‘Atropaiene would make a powerful ally.’
Castus looked at his general. ‘I have never met Princess Elaheh, Hovik, whereas Haya is pleasing to my eye.’
‘By all accounts the princess is very beautiful,’ added Khalos.
‘And has all her limbs?’ said a chuckling Haytham.
Khalos frowned. ‘Yes, prince, all four.’
Castus slammed down his fist on the arm of his throne. ‘No, I will marry Haya. It is destiny that we should be together. My father married for love, and so did Akmon, and I will do the same.’
‘With respect, majesty…’ started Khalos.
Castus held up a hand to him. ‘The matter is closed to discussion, Khalos.’
He stood and marched towards the doors.
‘I intend to marry Haya as soon as possible.’
Shamshir, loyal dog that he was, hurried after his lord.
‘Perhaps I could marry the princess,’ said Haytham, grinning at Khalos before taking his leave.
Hovik flopped down on the throne, Khalos seating himself in what would be Queen Haya’s chair beside him.
‘I have put a great deal of time and effort into convincing King Ali that King Castus is not an uncouth barbarian who feasts on the flesh of his enemies.’
Hovik scratched his nose. ‘The king seems keen on this young Amazon.’
‘Of course he does. A young man with restless loins is always going to be attracted to a tidy arse and a firm pair of breasts.’
Hovik laughed. ‘Ever the romantic, Khalos.’
‘Castus is a king, so romance does not come into it. If he wants to be a good king, he will recognise that kingship comes with responsibilities as well as privileges. A marriage alliance with Atropaiene will not only strengthen the northern border of the Parthian Empire, it will also go some way to convince the other kingdoms in the empire that Gordyene is not an uncivilised place.’
‘I doubt Castus will be bothered about that, my old friend.’
‘That is why he has advisers,’ said Khalos. ‘Why do you think the Silk Road goes through Media, Hatra and Dura when it reaches the western half of the empire?’
Hovik shrugged. ‘Because those kingdoms are closer to Syria and Egypt.’
‘That is partly the reason, but I know for a fact the caravans are reluctant to travel through Gordyene because they fear they will be robbed. They think this kingdom is a wild, lawless place.’
‘They are wrong,’ said Hovik.
‘But they perceive Gordyene as being lawless and devoid of culture and learning. It is time to change that perception, and to achieve that Castus must marry well. It will mark the beginning of a new era for Gordyene.’
‘You have been busy, my friend,’ said Hovik admiringly. ‘But at the moment the king thinks he’s a demi-god following his great victory.’
Khalos gave him a wry look. ‘I heard it was Satrap Kewab’s victory.’
Hovik chuckled. ‘He’s a rare talent, th
at one. I’ve done a lot of soldiering and I have never met a commander who can anticipate the moves of the enemy like he can. It’s as if he steps into the minds of the opposing generals. Quite extraordinary. Perhaps you should marry the king to him.’
Khalos roared with laughter. ‘Now that really would confirm that Gordyene is an immoral, depraved place.’
Castus seemed to be besotted with Haya as he showed off his kingdom to her, or at least Vanadzor and the Pambak Valley, which was now shrouded in mist most days as autumn began to take hold. The other Durans were placed under virtual palace arrest, their weapons locked up in the armoury and their horses and camels placed under guard in the royal stables. While Castus and Haya rode out each day with an escort of King’s Guard, the others had to amuse themselves in the austere surroundings of the palace. Hovik and Khalos did their best to appease an increasingly frustrated and irate Talib and Minu, especially after they were denied writing materials to correspond with Dura. But at least they and the others were allowed to practice their archery skills in the palace grounds.
On the third day of their confinement, the Durans taking out their rising anger on a row of straw targets behind the palace armoury, Khalos paid them a visit to assure them they would be allowed to leave Vanadzor imminently.
‘That is very generous of King Castus,’ said Minu with bitterness, releasing her bowstring to propel an arrow into the centre of her target.
‘I would ask for your patience. The king is a little headstrong.’
Another arrow slammed into the packed straw.
‘Some would say ill-mannered.’
Khalos winced with embarrassment and walked along the line of archers, stopping at Yasmina who was displaying a deadly proficiency with a bow. The weapon seemed large and unwieldy in her small hands. He had no knowledge of the Daughters of Dura and thought she and Azar beside her might be Minu’s slaves. Yasmina shot an arrow that split the preceding missile. He placed a gentle hand on her shoulder.
‘Excellent shot.’
In a split-second she brushed away his hand and spun to face him, looking up at him with venom in her eyes.
‘Do not touch me, old man,’ she hissed, ‘do not ever touch me.’
He was startled but before he could say anything she revealed something of great interest.
‘Your king is a fool. He is to marry a woman who may be barren.’
‘My apologies,’ he smiled, backing away from her.
Later, when they had shredded the targets and vented their anger, he despatched the palace steward to request the girl he had offended earlier meet him in his office in the palace so he could apologise to her. When she arrived, her round face wearing a scowl, it took him a while to put her at ease. He asked the steward to fetch fruit juice and pastries, asking Yasmina to sit opposite him across from his large mahogany desk. When the refreshments arrived, he asked the steward to depart but told him to leave the office door open. He sensed the girl was uneasy around men, though why he did not know.
‘I wanted to apologise for touching you earlier,’ he said. ‘My actions were inappropriate. I did not wish to offend you.’
She began eating a pastry that was still warm, the taste obviously delighting her as she smiled, highlighting the dimples in her cheeks, Khalos also biting into an almond cake. It was indeed delicious.
‘You have been on a great adventure, by all accounts,’ he said.
At first she gave monosyllabic answers, but his gently probing manner, soft voice and non-threatening demeanour loosened her tongue. She told him about how they found out a great army was going to attack Gordyene, about how Atrax stumbled on their camp, and how she had taken part in the killing of Glaphyra, the ‘evil bitch’ who had tricked King Pacorus. He smiled and nodded but his interest was aroused when she began to speak of the trivia of her mission, of how she and Azar pretended to be Talib’s daughters and Klietas and Haya masqueraded as a married couple. Khalos placed his elbows on the table, and rested his chin on his hands.
‘It was a convincing pretence?’
‘Oh, yes, they shared a tent and Klietas got her pregnant,’ replied Yasmina.
‘Pregnant?’
She stuffed a cinnamon cake in her mouth.
‘Not any more. She was given a potion of mentha pulegium to kill it. But it might have made Haya barren. It is a known side-effect of the treatment.’
He wondered how one so young knew of such things but did not probe.
‘Klietas was angry at her,’ she laughed. ‘But she is an Amazon and is no man’s property.’
She fixed him with her brown eyes. ‘Not even a king’s.’
Castus’ reaction when Khalos gloatingly informed him his bride-to-be was not a virgin but had been sleeping with the squire who had not only spilt wine on him but had struck him, was predictable. He flew into a rage and ejected Khalos from the throne room, placing him under armed guard until he decided on an appropriate punishment. But Khalos knew more about the king’s character than Castus himself. When the young ruler confronted Haya with the accusation, she not only confirmed Khalos’ revelation, but also shrugged it off as meaning nothing. A cold fury gripped him but he did not strike her or have her arrested. Instead, he had Khalos released and invited the Durans to a great feast he was holding that evening.
Every senior officer in the Immortals, Vipers, horse archers and medium horsemen, plus spouse, was ordered to attend. The feasting hall was full to capacity and filled with the sweet aromas of cooked meat, spices and the perfume of the wives of the lords of Gordyene and the senior commanders of its army. Castus sat at the top table, behind him a great red banner emblazoned with a silver lion. Either side of him sat Hovik, Motofi, Kuris, Shamshir, Khalos and Narin. And there was also Spadines, the Sarmatian rogue who had been a great friend and ally of Spartacus and whose people lived just south of the Araxes River. But only a select number of his senior warlords were present, and they were drinking only moderate amounts of beer.
Castus had the Durans sit at their own table positioned at right angles to the top table and directly opposite him. He chatted to his closest aides and continually looked at Haya, catching her eye and raising his cup to her. She blushed, smiled and toasted him. It was a most convivial evening.
When everyone had feasted on half a dozen varieties of meat and carp and trout caught that morning, trumpeters sounded their instruments to indicate the king was about to speak. All chatter ceased and all eyes turned to the tall, athletic young man with blue eyes and dark blonde hair, a rare combination among the pale, dark-haired people of the north.
‘This year Gordyene has taken its place at the top table of Parthian kingdoms.’
The hall echoed with the sound of knuckles being rapt on tables. Castus held up a hand to call for silence.
‘Our great victory at Melitene has proclaimed to the world that Gordyene will never allow foreign invaders to plunder its land, rape its women or indeed mass on our borders. We will never shirk from striking first, and hard, across borders to safeguard this land and its people.’
More rapping of knuckles. This time Castus waited until it had died down before extending a hand to the table of Durans.
‘Our great victory was due in no small part to our friends from Dura alerting us to the threat coming from Cappadocia. This gave us time to formulate a plan and put it into effect.’
He smiled at Minu. ‘Tomorrow, our Duran friends will de departing for home. I wish them a safe and speedy journey. Our good wishes and gratitude goes with them. Please stand and join me in toasting one of Gordyene’s oldest allies.’
He waited until everyone was on his or her feet before raising his cup.
‘To Dura.’
A delighted Talib and Minu smiled as everyone said ‘Dura’ before drinking from their cups. Haya looked disappointed Castus had made no mention of betrothal, while Klietas was looking thoughtful, hoping that Haya might be returning home with him and the others, but also aware that there existed a chasm between
them that could never be bridged. The truth was, he could not forgive her for murdering their child.
Castus retired to his quarters soon after his speech, calling Shamshir to him at the door to the rear of the chamber leading to his private rooms. The hall reverberated with chatter to drown out the order he gave to the commander of the King’s Guard.
‘None of our friends from Dura are to see the dawn.’
Chapter 20
Klietas closed his eyes. Relieved he and the others would be leaving this grim, damp land in the morning, he would be saddened to leave Haya behind. She had told him she would be staying to take part in the marriage preparations, though Minu had been complaining that she still needed the permission of Queen Gallia to leave the Amazons before she was free to marry. But letters between Vanadzor and Dura could resolve that issue. A short while ago he had dreamed of returning to his farm with his future wife. He believed King Pacorus would grant his wish to marry Haya, and together they would tend their crops and welcome the arrival of what he hoped would be many children. But the dream had turned to ashes and he would return to Dura alone. Only in his dreams was the world a kind and generous place.
‘Wake up.’
He was brought back to the land of the living by a hand gently shaking his shoulder. The candle on the small table beside his bed was still flickering, its flame barely illuminating the austere room he had been given, which in the poor lighting looked like a cell. He jumped up in alarm when he saw a hooded figure standing over him.
‘Do not be alarmed, Klietas.’
The voice was soft, female and reassuring. He did not know why but he felt instantly at ease.
‘Get dressed.’
He pulled the sheet aside and then immediately clutched it to him. He remembered he was naked.
The stranger giggled. ‘This is no time for modesty, Klietas. I have seen a naked man before.’
She removed her hood to reveal the most beautiful face he had ever seen, framed by thick, lustrous hair. She had sparkling eyes and sweet lips, which parted when she smiled to reveal perfect white teeth. And that perfume. He stood naked before her and put on his clothes and boots. She was dressed like a man, with boots, leggings, belt and tight-fitting tunic. But his eyes were drawn to her breasts, which were large and perfectly shaped, accentuated by her slender waist. Who was she?
