“Is that it?” Numerius cried out in relief, as he lowered his mud-splattered hood from over his head and gazed down at the city.
“Yes, that’s it boys,” one of the Italian brothers called out with cheerful excitement. “Phasis, gateway to the unexplored and fabled east. The destination of Jason and his Argonauts and their search for the golden fleece. I hope you are not superstitious. Colchis is where the sorceress Medea lived. You know the one who fell in love with Jason. Better pray to your gods that you don’t meet her. The stories say that she killed her own children and swore vengeance on Jason for dumping her. She is one hell of a pissed off sorceress.”
“Afraid of a woman are you,” Saadi called out, as she gave the brother a mocking look. “And here I was thinking you were a proper man afraid of nothing. My mistake.”
“You like me,” the Italian brother replied, giving Saadi a seedy wink. “I know you do Saadi. It’s not too late to declare your affections for me you know.”
“I would rather go to bed with a pig,” Saadi retorted as she turned away with a look of disgust.
“Saadi,” Skula called out suddenly, as he pointed to the north. “Over there beyond the mountains is my homeland. A sea of grass. You would like my people. For the horse clans of the steppes allow all unmarried women to fight alongside their men. The women I grew up with, were all trained in horsemanship, in hunting, in shooting arrows and in hand to hand combat. They say that when the Greeks first learned of this they called our women, amazons. You would fit in just right I think.”
“Amazons,” Saadi exclaimed, as a glimmer of interest appeared in her eyes. “That sounds intriguing Skula. You must tell me more about these women from your homeland. I would like to know more.”
“I will tell you about them,” Skula said in a solemn voice.
On his horse, Fergus gazed up at the sky. It was getting dark. “All right listen up, all of you,” he called out. “I don’t want any trouble when we enter the city. No picking fights, no visits to whores, no drinking and no boasting about our mission. We have come here to find the Indian merchants, who Adalwolf was doing business with, and that’s what we’re going to do. Now let’s find ourselves a tavern, settle the horses and get some food and rest. We will start looking for the merchants tomorrow.”
“Can we have a bath Sir,” one of the Italian brothers asked as he raised his hand. “We have been on the road for a long time. Some of us need a bath. I can smell them from a hundred yards away.”
“If they have baths in Phasis then you may have a bath,” Fergus replied, as urging his horse onwards, he started out for the city.
***
Fergus closed the door to his room and carefully locked it. Outside, through the open window it was dark, and in the street below he could hear the noise of horses’ hooves, shouts and the trundle of wagon wheels. They’d encountered no problems entering the city and after some aimless wandering through the streets, he’d found a tavern that had space for them all and stables for the horses. Glancing at the iron box that stood beside the bed, Fergus moved across the room and sat down on the bed. On their long perilous journey from Antioch he had always kept the locked, strong box, containing the ransom gold for Adalwolf’s release, close to him. Hadrian was right. If the gold was lost, then Adalwolf would be lost and there had been plenty of bandits and robbers along the roads they’d travelled, who would have eagerly taken it from him, if only they had known about the precious cargo. Rubbing his tired eyes, Fergus reached out and took a quick sip of wine from a cup that stood beside his bed, before searching for something inside his dirt and sweat stained tunic. Pulling forth the letter that Hadrian had given him in Antioch, he studied the scroll with a thoughtful, puzzled look. Hadrian had told him to only open the letter when he reached Phasis. It was a bit odd, but Hadrian could be odd sometimes. With a sigh Fergus broke the seal and carefully unrolled the papyrus. Rising to his feet and moving across into the flickering light of an oil lamp, he gazed down at the neat lettered writing and began to read.
To Fergus from Hadrian. If you are reading this and have obeyed my orders you will have reached Phasis and be ready to receive additional information regarding your mission. Adalwolf is an old and dear friend and negotiating and securing his successful release is your prime responsibility. I have entrusted you with this important task because I believe that you can get the job done. However, I firmly believe that it would be irresponsible to make deals with terrorists who so willingly threaten and kidnap Roman citizens going about their lawful business. As I am a representative, the future emperor and supreme commander of the Roman state, I cannot make any deals with men who threaten Rome with blackmail and extortion. For if it becomes known that Rome is willing to pay for the release of its citizens, then no Roman citizen anywhere will be safe from these bandits. Our policy is clear. We do not negotiate with terrorists. There shall be no negotiation with this Parthian prince calling himself Sanatruces. But that does not absolve you from your duty and responsibility to Adalwolf and to me. Find a way to free Adalwolf. Use your own initiative. How you handle the situation is up to you, but it is imperative that Adalwolf be freed and brought back to me alive and well. And if you fail, do not bother coming back at all, for it will be your fault that Adalwolf is dead and all my responsibilities to you shall be forfeit. Hadrian
Fergus gazed at the letter in shock. Carefully he reread it to make sure he had not missed anything. Finally, he dropped the scroll onto his bed and ran his fingers across his beard as he slowly shook his head in bewilderment.
“You are a fucking coward,” he hissed angrily. “You couldn’t tell me this face to face in Antioch. You made me read it when I was seven hundred miles away. You weasel. You, outrageous piece of shit.”
Abruptly Fergus turned to stare at the iron box, as a horrible thought came to him. Hastily he picked up the box and placed it on the bed before pulling away the key from around his neck, where it hung on a chain, and inserting it into the lock. With a metallic creak the lock opened and quickly Fergus raised the lid of the box and gazed down at two heavy stones that were the box’s only contents. Fergus staggered backwards in shock. There was no gold. There was no ransom. All this time he had been faithfully guarding two heavy stones and a useless box. Hadrian had tricked him. He had fooled him. He had made him look like an idiot. With a surge of anger, he sent the box flying across the room where it clattered against the far wall.
“You prick,” Fergus snarled, his face flush with rage. “Oh, you are a fine arsehole. I spit on you.”
Unsteadily Fergus reached out for his cup and drained the wine in one go. Then heavily he sat back down on the bed and glared silently at the upturned iron box. What was he going to do now? He had to decide. But there was no question of abandoning his mission. Adalwolf was a good friend. He’d known him for ten years. No. There could be no question of leaving Adalwolf to die. And there could be no question of leaving Marcus, his father, on Hadrian’s execution list. His father had to be removed from that list. So, he resolved, he would have to do something but what? Hadrian had said that he was to use his own initiative, but that was easier said than done. Hissing in frustration, Fergus’s fingers caught hold of the Celtic amulet around his neck. Galena had given it to him when they had first been married. She had said that it had powerful magic that would help ward off evil spirits. Tensely he played with the cold iron as he tried to figure out what to do. Without any gold to buy Adalwolf’s release, the only other option was a covert rescue mission. But there was no time to make plans. He only had eight men. He would have to make it up on the go.
***
In the dense, narrow, twisting streets of the original Greek Polis the diversity of the crowds was like no other Fergus had experienced. Accompanied by Flavius, Skula and Saadi, he strode on down the street in search of the Indian trading house with which Adalwolf had been doing business. Most of the inhabitants seemed to be Greeks and local tribesmen, but a significant proportion were foreign merchants a
nd their slaves and attendants. Wherever he looked Fergus saw strange faces, dark skinned Indians, huge bearded Sarmatians from the frozen north, small pale Chinamen with slanted eyes, Greeks, Roman citizens dressed in toga’s, Parthians in their baggy trousers, Arabs wearing their headdresses, bearded orthodox Jews, Armenians and Germans. The buzz of dozens of different languages filled the streets, making Fergus wonder how anyone could communicate with each other. It was morning, and as he made his way down the street, he could smell the scent of exotic spices and herbs. Along the side of the alley, the traders had adorned their shop fronts and market stalls with cages in which sat strange animals and birds. Others had laid out their wares on shelves and tables. Fruits, plants, spices, silk, clothes and foods like he had never seen before, were everywhere. But the scale of the shops and businesses was small, and as he pushed on deeper into Phasis, Fergus remembered what Hadrian’s Greek adviser had told him. Most of the foreign goods pouring into Phasis along the great northern trade route were destined for onward shipment to the great cities of the empire. Phasis itself was just a small transit port of no more than five thousand souls.
Finally, as he entered a small market place, and turned to look around, Fergus spotted a sign above a simple-looking stone building. The sign had been written in a language and alphabet that Fergus had never seen before but directly underneath were two translations and the last one was in Latin.
“Mahendra’s Indian merchant group,” Fergus read out aloud. “Finest Indian merchandise. Specialist in the purchase and trade of tigers. Reliable and fast delivery guaranteed most of the time.”
“Is that the place where Adalwolf went to do make his deal?” Flavius exclaimed in his Germanic accent as he pointed at the building.
“Yes, that’s the right name,” Fergus growled, as he started to push through the crowd towards the shop. He had decided to tell no one about Hadrian’s trickery and the debacle with the non-existent ransom gold. It would be best for the moment if everyone continued to believe that they were going to negotiate Adalwolf’s release. His companions remained silent as they followed and, as Fergus entered the front room he was met with a blast of incense that nearly left him choking. Hastily a slave appeared from the back room, took one quick look at Fergus, smiled and bowed deeply and gracefully.
“I wish to speak to Mahendra,” Fergus said in Latin, as he fixed his eyes on the slave. For a moment the man looked confused. A blush appeared on his cheeks and he slowly shook his head.
“I wish to speak to Mahendra,” Fergus repeated in Greek and, as he did the slave suddenly seemed to understand and quickly and silently he vanished into the back room. A few moments later he was back, accompanied by a big, dark skinned, red eyed and black haired Indian man of around forty. For a moment Fergus stared at the trader and the merchant gazed back at him.
“Are you Mahendra, owner of this business?” Fergus said carefully in Greek.
“I am Mahendra,” the merchant replied in heavily accented Greek. “How can I help you?”
Fergus turned to glance at his companions who were all staring at the dark skinned Indian in silent astonishment and fascination.
“I am a friend of Adalwolf and work for master Hadrian,” Fergus said, speaking slowly as he tried to remember the correct Greek words. “Adalwolf was doing business with you on behalf of his patron, master Hadrian. Adalwolf came to you to negotiate the purchase of ninety-nine live tiger cubs. You were going to arrange the deal for him. But then we heard that Adalwolf was abducted. Hadrian is an important man. He wants to know what happened to Adalwolf? You are one of the few people who last saw him. I need to know what you know about the business deal and the nature of Adalwolf’s abduction? Anything that you can tell us will be useful. Please. It’s important. Adalwolf is my friend too.”
As Fergus fell silent, Mahendra gazed at him with a face that betrayed no emotion.
“The deal was for one hundred tiger cubs,” the Indian merchant replied sharply. “And the deal is off. I am sorry.”
Fergus looked away. The merchant had passed his little test. He was the right man. “Please, you must know more than that,” Fergus said carefully, turning to fix his eyes on the merchant.
Mahendra met his gaze. Then abruptly he looked away.
“It is bad business. Bad business what has happened to Adalwolf,” the Indian merchant said slowly, as he too searched for the Greek words. “I have already sent instructions to my people in India agreeing the deal. Now I must send another message telling them to stop work. That costs me my reputation.”
“What about the abduction?” Fergus asked with a little encouraging nod. “Do you know what happened to Adalwolf?”
“Ah, the Parthians,” Mahendra said with an irritated, dismissive gesture. “Agents of Prince Sanatruces abducted your friend. But it was not done here in Phasis. After making the initial arrangements with me, Adalwolf travelled to the city of Gabala in the land of the Caucasian Albanians. He went there so that he could work out the final details of the deal. Albania is a vassal state of Rome. It lies to the east on the shores of the Caspian. The Albanians charge duties on all trade that crosses their borders. One needs to choose the right ship’s captains for the transport across the Hyrcanian ocean. In Gabala he would be closer to the people he needed to speak to. It is in Gabala that Sanatruces’s agents found him and took him prisoner. I do not know where they took your friend or whether he is still alive.”
“Did anyone else know about the business deal?” Fergus asked.
“Yes,” Mahendra nodded solemnly. “In Gabala, Adalwolf said he was going to speak to the Roman ambassador about the deal. The ambassador’s name is Licinius. I have met him. He is an influential man with the Albanians, as you would expect. He would have known about the deal. Speak to him if you wish to know more. I have told you everything I know.”
Chapter Twenty-One – Roman Diplomacy on the Caucasus Frontier
The Cyrus river was broad and placid as it wound itself through the peaceful valley. On the northern bank, stretching away to the horizon, ranged the green, heavily forested foothills of the mighty Caucasus mountains. Fergus sat on his horse stoically gazing ahead, as he trotted along the bank of the river. It was a cold April morning and his face and travelling cloaks were stained and splattered with mud. The iron strong box was secured to his horse’s back, and coming on behind him in single file, were his eight silent companions. Thirteen days had passed since they had departed Phasis on their journey to Gabala, capital of Caucasian Albania. Their path had taken them on a south-eastern course, initially along the Phasis river valley to the Colchian fort at Sarapana and then across the hills to the Cyrus, the great trading river that flowed all the way into the Hyrcanian, Caspian Sea. There had been no paved roads, just rough, muddy farmers’ paths and tracks. But the river valleys had been rich and fertile and occupied by numerous farms and villages. Fergus however, had gained the impression that the wild, wooded hills and rugged, trackless mountains to the north were scarcely populated. The forests had been filled with chestnut trees and had teemed with game. Deer, wild boar, bears, foxes, hare, grouse and pheasants had provided ample opportunity for the occasional hunting that had supplemented their rations. And one night, as they had camped out under the open sky, they had heard wolves howling to each other in the mountains. The noise had completely unnerved the horses.
The few native villages they had come across had spoken a language that none in his party had understood and it was only by using his limited knowledge of Greek, that he’d been able to purchase provisions for his companions and their horses. It had felt as if they were nearing the edge of the civilised world. But the people had been friendly, and they had not run into any trouble.
Out on the Cyrus a long convoy of ships and rafts, all tied together by ropes, had appeared around a bend in the river and was slowly making its way upstream. The shouts and cries of the drivers and the snorting and bellowing of the horses and oxen which were dragging the ships upstream, fil
led the crisp morning air. Gently urging his horse from the path, Fergus drew aside and came to a halt as he watched the convoy approach. The ships and rafts were piled high with what looked like trade goods and on the boats, he caught sight of a few dark-skinned and black-haired men. They had to have come from the east, from India. Fascinated, Fergus stared at the traders out on the water, as behind him his companions came to a halt and did the same. The great northern trade route, Hadrian’s Greek adviser had briefed him, ran from Phasis to the Hyrcanian Ocean via the Phasis and Cyrus rivers. The route crossed through the ancient kingdoms and Roman vassal states and protectorates of Colchis, Iberia and Caucasian Albania. From the western shores of the Hyrcanian, in Caucasian Albania, trade goods; gold and silver were exchanged for cottons, pearls, black pepper, Chinese silk, exotic animals; which were transported by ship across the Caspian to the mouth of the Oxus river. From there they were hauled eastwards until they reached a tributary river called the Bactrus, which led to India. The whole journey from India to Phasis took two months, the adviser had claimed. The northern trade route to India and China was the hardest and least used of all the oriental trade routes, the adviser had added. But its great strategic advantage to Rome was that it avoided having to cross Parthia. It allowed direct trade between the Roman empire and India and China, and in times of war with Parthia and when the main silk road was closed, that was particularly useful.
Rome and the Conquest of Mesopotamia (Book 8 of the Veteran of Rome Series) Page 19
