“How far to Gabala Sir?” Arlyn called out.
On his horse, Fergus stirred. “Tomorrow we shall leave the river and head north-east into the hills,” he replied. “The peasants in that last village said that it will take two or three more days before we reach the Albanian capital.”
“Then what Sir?” Flavius the German said quietly, as he glanced at Fergus. “Where are we going to meet this prick Sanatruces and negotiate Adalwolf’s release? How are we going to do this?”
Fergus sighed as he gazed at the traders out on the river. “Patience Flavius,” he said in a gentle voice. “I am working on a plan. But I need to speak to Licinius, the Roman ambassador in Gabala before I make the decision. We need more information on where and how Adalwolf is being held prisoner. Right now, all I know is that Sanatruces awaits us and the gold at Derbent. Once we know more we will act.”
On his horse Flavius was gazing at Fergus with a thoughtful look. “Now why do I get the feeling that there is something you are not telling me,” Flavius said, with a sudden troubled look in his eye.
“Shut up Flavius,” Fergus growled, as he kept his eyes on the ships in the river.
“If Adalwolf was trying to purchase one hundred tiger cubs for the emperor, then I think these animals must be rare and expensive,” Numerius called out. “But what’s a tiger Sir? Have you ever seen one of these beasts? What do they look like?”
“It’s a little furry pussy cat that likes to be tickled under its chin,” Flavius snapped, twisting on his horse to get a good look at Numerius. “Man, you Praetorians are thick. You were posted to Rome. Did you never visit the Coliseum? They fed Christians to the tigers and lions and please don’t tell me you don’t know what a lion is. I think I will cry if you do.”
On his horse Numerius looked offended. “Well, better to be thick than ugly like you,” he retorted with wounded pride. “And I never went to the games.”
“Are you calling me ugly?” Flavius snapped as his face darkened and he glared at Numerius. “You will pay for that insult you thick prick.”
“Cut it out, all of you,” Fergus said sharply. “You remind me of a group of whining, bitching women. So, shut it. You are giving me a headache. Now, let’s go.”
***
Gabala looked poor and it was small for a capital city Fergus thought, as he walked his horse on through the gateway and into the town. The tall, rounded stone and brick watchtowers, that formed the southern gate into the walled city, were manned by guards. The Albanian soldiers were bearded, clad in chainmail armour and wearing pointed helmets not unlike Syrian auxiliary archers. Glancing up at the soldiers, Fergus saw that they were watching him. The Albanians however remained silent, as clutching their spears and bows, they warmed themselves beside their burning braziers. No one called out or tried to stop them as Fergus continued-on into the city, followed in single file by his weary companions. To the north the high, snow-capped mountain peaks of the Caucasus loomed on the horizon, frighteningly close, dominating the rugged, uneven terrain. The Caucasus had steadily drawn closer as soon as they had left the Cyrus behind, and their sheer beauty was breath-taking. Higher and mightier than the mountains around Lake Van, they seemed to represent a vast wall of rock commissioned by the gods and constructed by giants. Eagerly Fergus turned to look around the town as he nudged his horse on down the narrow, muddy unpaved street. Gabala had been hard to find, tucked away as it was amongst the jagged rocky mountain peaks, beautiful cascading waterfalls and plunging gorges and densely forested valleys. But they had made it at last, and now that he was here, it felt as if he had reached the last outpost of civilisation. For, beyond the mountains to the north and the Hyrcanian Ocean to the east, the knowledge of Hadrian’s Greek advisers became sketchy and uncertain.
From the doorways of their simple stone and wood built houses, the local inhabitants paused in what they were doing, to stare at Fergus as he slowly rode on down the street. Most of the men were bearded, tall and pale skinned and some of the women were wearing headscarves. They gazed at him without smiling, their hard faces suspicious and unfriendly. Most were dressed in simple, long flowing tunics made of linen, over which they wore sheepskin or bearskin cloaks. As Fergus pushed on deeper into the town in the direction of a large stone fortress, he passed a small square. A crowd of adults and children had gathered around a solitary performer who was forcing a large brown bear to perform tricks for the audience. Fergus raised his eyebrows as he gazed at the scene in amazement.
“We’re not in Antioch anymore boys,” Flavius muttered from directly behind him, as he too gazed at the bear.
The Roman ambassador’s house and diplomatic compound in Gabala was a large stone fortress-like building arranged around an open central courtyard. Two auxiliary soldiers, clad in chainmail and armed with spears and shields, were standing guard outside the gate into the courtyard. Coming to a halt by the gate, Fergus dismounted and quickly glanced up at the proud Roman banner that fluttered from the battlements. The letters SPQR were unmistakeable.
“I need to speak with Lucinius, the ambassador,” he called out in Latin, as he strode up to the guards. “Tell him that I have come from Antioch, on the Legate Hadrian’s orders and am here on urgent business. Hurry man.”
The guards glanced at each other. Then one of them turned and hastened away into the compound. A few minutes later he was back, and hurrying after him came a well- dressed, clean-shaven man wearing a white Roman toga and accompanied by a few tough looking and hard-faced military men, clad in civilian tunics.
“My name is Lucinius,” the man wearing the toga called out in perfect Latin, as he strode towards Fergus. “I am the Roman ambassador here. Did you say that you have come all the way from Antioch? Hadrian has sent you?”
“That’s right Sir,” Fergus replied, as he took a moment to study Licinius. The ambassador looked to be in his mid-thirties and there was a friendly, affable and disarming attitude about him.
“Well that is a welcome surprise,” Lucinius grinned, as he quickly turned to gaze at Fergus’s companions. “I don’t get many Roman visitors out here. You have reached the end of the world. It will be good to hear your news. You are most welcome. Have you and your men found lodgings for the night?”
“We are here on urgent business,” Fergus said, as he slowly lowered the hood from over his head. “Hadrian has sent us to find out what happened to a friend. A man called Adalwolf. I have been told that Adalwolf came to Gabala to finalise a business deal with some Indian merchants, before he was abducted by a Parthian prince named Sanatruces. I understand that you met Adalwolf?”
“Ah yes,” Licinius said, as he quickly rubbed his hands together and looked down at the ground. “Yes, a most unfortunate and unpleasant business. You had better come into my home and I shall tell you what I know. You and your men and your horses are welcome to stay here in the compound. We have the space. My advisers here will show you where you can stay. Once you are rested and refreshed, come to my quarters and we shall talk.”
“Thank you, Sir,” Fergus replied, as he dipped his head in graceful acknowledgment. Turning to his companions Fergus gestured that they should dismount. Then, leading his horse by the reins, he followed the ambassador’s advisers into the courtyard and, as he came through the gateway he caught sight of a young woman watching him from the second-floor balcony. The lady’s white stola dress fluttered in the gentle breeze and her long black hair cascaded down onto her shoulders. She looked stunning and for a moment Fergus was transfixed.
Wrenching his eyes away from the gorgeous woman, Fergus led his horse over to the stables where Licinius’s advisers were waiting for him. As a slave hastily took the reins from him, one of the hard-faced military men sauntered over and caught Fergus’s eye before giving him a quick head-to-foot examination.
“That’s the ambassador’s wife,” the ex-soldier muttered quietly. “And from one former soldier to another. Take my advice. Be careful. She’s a man eater and a first-class bitch.”
***
“So, you have brought gold to purchase Adalwolf’s release,” Licinius said, leaning back in his chair, as Fergus finished telling his tale. The two of them were alone, sitting in the ambassador’s luxurious study. A jug of Caucasian wine and two cups stood on the table and the floors were covered with thick, warm, animal skins. It was evening and, in the flickering glow of the braziers, Fergus could see a small stone bust of emperor Trajan, standing beside the fireplace. Licinius sighed as he turned to gaze at the iron strong box that was wedged in between Fergus’s feet. For a moment he seemed lost in thought.
“I can see now why you needed eight companions,” Licinius exclaimed. “Transporting that amount of gold is a risky business.” Licinius turned to gaze once more at the iron strong box. “I’m afraid we are a long way from Rome. The mountains and forests in these parts are invested with bandits and robbers who prey on the oriental trade going up the Cyrus. And that is not even mentioning the barbarian tribes to the north beyond the mountains. You were lucky not to have been attacked. If I were you I would keep the existence of the gold a closely guarded secret.”
Fergus nodded. “You said that you were going to tell me about Adalwolf,” he said as he reached out to his cup of wine.
“Yes,” Licinius replied with a hasty nod. “Yes. I did meet your friend Adalwolf,” he began. “He arrived here from Phasis a few months ago. He sought me out, said he needed my assistance. We had a pleasant evening where he told me all about the business deal he was trying to arrange. One hundred tiger cubs.” Licinius smiled disarmingly. “That sort of number of beasts will have cost a fortune, but then again, if Hadrian is paying, then it is nothing.”
“What happened?” Fergus asked quietly.
“Well I agreed to help him,” Licinius said, raising his eyebrows in exasperation. “Anything to help Hadrian is a worthy cause. I have some contacts amongst the small Jewish community here in Gabala. The Jews are the middlemen in the Indian trade. They are the shipbrokers. The merchants use them to negotiate and charter the ships that take the goods across the Hyrcanian ocean. The actual transport of the goods from India to Phasis however, is mainly done by Albanians, Armenians, Siraces and Aorsi tribesmen etc. Those guys take all the risks and get paid the least.”
“And Adalwolf?” Fergus insisted.
“I was going to meet him to introduce him to some of the Jewish brokers,” Licinius said with a regretful sigh. “But the meeting never happened. Agents working for the Parthian prince Sanatruces abducted Adalwolf right here in the city. Snatched him from the street just like that. Sanatruces must have got wind of what Adalwolf was doing. There was nothing I could do, and by the time I had informed the King, the agents and Adalwolf were long gone.”
“Where did they take him? Do you know where they are holding him?”
Licinius paused as he gazed at Fergus. “Derbent,” he said at last. “Sanatruces is at the city of Derbent. He has been there for months. It’s about ninety miles from here to the north-east across the mountains. The city sits on the frontier of the Kingdom of Caucasian Albania with the northern barbarians.” Hastily Licinius raised a finger in warning. “But before you decide to ride straight through the front gate, you should know that Sanatruces enjoys the protection of the Alans. They are the largest and fiercest of the horse clans that live on the plains to the north. The latest news we have here in Gabala, is that they are encamped at Derbent in strength but are maintaining a peaceful posture for now. But that can change as easily as the weather. Those savage horsemen will not just let you pass without paying them an adequate, let’s call it a “an adequate protection fee.”
“And the King of Albania,” Fergus said. “He tolerates these barbarians entering his kingdom?”
“He says there is no profit in trying to fight them,” Licinius replied, in a sour voice. “The King will do nothing unless the Alans directly threaten him and his power.”
Fergus looked down at the iron box standing at his feet and for a moment he seemed lost in thought.
“Why have the Alans come to Derbent?” he said at last raising his head to look at Licinius. “And what is Sanatruces doing here anyway? The war between Rome and Parthia is far away to the south on the Tigris and Euphrates. What business has brought a Parthian prince so far to the north?”
“A good question,” Licinius replied. with an amused gleam in his eye. “Let me explain the strategic situation here on the Caucasus frontier for I see you are unfamiliar with it. This is a tough neighbourhood but an important one to Rome. The Caucasian kingdoms act as buffer states against the barbarian hordes to the north, just like Armenia was a buffer state between Rome and Parthia. They help protect Roman land. It’s my job to ensure that this protection continues. An additional factor is the control of the valuable northern trade route to India and China. Together Caucasian Iberia and Albania control and protect the two-main mountain passes and invasion routes, through which the northern barbarians can attack our interests to the south of the Caucasus. One route passes through the Darial gorge to the north west. It’s called the Caucasian Gates. The gorge has been fortified and there is a small Roman garrison.” Licinius paused, as he made sure he’d not lost his audience, but Fergus was watching him attentively. “The other invasion route is at Derbent,” Licinius exclaimed. “The city dominates the narrow strip of accessible land between the mountains and the shores of the Hyrcanian Ocean. Forty years ago, the Albanians decided to make a deal with the Alans to the north and allow an Alan raiding party to pass through Derbent on their way south, where they devastated and looted Armenia and Northern Parthia. So, you can see why Rome wishes to control these passes.”
Licinius paused, as he reached for his cup of wine and took a hefty sip. The ambassador seemed to be enjoying himself.
“Gabala may seem like a sleepy provincial outpost but it’s really a hotbed of international intrigue and power politics.” Licinius smiled broadly, as he saw that he had Fergus’s attention. “The city is filled with foreign diplomats and spies. Romans, Armenians, Jews, Sarmatians and Parthians, all trying to bend the King to their interests. Now, together with the Caucasian kingdom of Iberia to the west, the kingdom of Albania is currently and officially an enthusiastic vassal state of Rome. Ofcourse they fucking are,” Licinius said with a little chuckle. “For we are on the up. Rome is victorious on all fronts and Trajan’s conquest and annexation of Armenia and the ongoing Parthian civil war have pushed the Albanians into pledging to be our best friends and loyal allies. They are our dear sworn allies, until they are not. But the King here in Gabala is a shrewd man. He knows that fortunes and times change and, if we were to suffer a reversal in the field or Parthia returned in strength, then his loyalty to us would wain and the influence of the Parthian diplomats at his court would grow. It was always so and always it shall remain. So, you can see how important prestige is Fergus. Prestige buys you friends.”
“Which brings me to your question of what Sanatruces is doing at Derbent,” Licinius said hastily as he saw Fergus’s attention start to waver. “I believe Sanatruces has come to Derbent to arrange a treaty of alliance between the Alans and Parthia on behalf of his uncle the King of Kings Osroes of Parthia.” Slowly and ominously the Roman ambassador raised his finger in the air. “But I suspect Sanatruces has even wider ambitions. I suspect that Parthian gold is being used to not only persuade the Alans into war with Rome, but also the peoples further west, the Roxolani and free Dacians on the Danube and maybe even the Germanic Quadi and Marcomanni. If the Parthians can persuade these tribes to attack the Danube frontier, it will cause us problems. Many of Trajan’s troops have been taken from the garrisons along the Danube and that sector of the frontier is only lightly held. A serious invasion would mean that legions would have to be withdrawn from the war against Parthia.”
“So, the gold that Hadrian is willing to pay to secure Adalwolf’s release, will most probably end up helping to subsidize attacks against the empire,” Fergus said with a
frown.
“I fear so,” Licinius said in a grave voice. “It would be a good idea if someone were to kill Sanatruces.”
Fergus too suddenly looked grave. “When I was posted to the desert frontier in Syria,” he said quietly, as he turned to stare at Licinius. “I came across evidence that the Parthians were using gold to meddle and foment rebellion; unrest amongst the people’s subject to Rome. So, if what you are saying is true, then the Parthians are expanding this strategy to the northern barbarians. This is going to cause us trouble. Have you informed Rome of your suspicions?”
“I have sent several urgent letters to Trajan and the Senate,” Licinius replied wearily. “There has been no response as far as I know. You have been my only Roman visitor in a long time. It can be a lonely posting out here.”
“Well I am grateful for your hospitality,” Fergus said with a gracious dip of his head.
Across from him Licinius sighed and ran his hand across his chin. “This war with Parthia must end in a diplomatic settlement,” he said. “I do not presume to know Trajan’s strategy, but I do know that Parthia is too large and powerful to be conquered. At some point we are going to have to decide on how far to go and what lands to keep and defend. It’s a decision that is going to cause considerable disagreement between the Peace and War factions in the Senate. Let’s hope it does not lead to civil war.”
Abruptly Licinius leaned forwards, his eyes flashing in alarm. “But do you know what really keeps me awake at night. What happens if those millions and millions of barbarian horsemen living on the great plains to the north start to move westwards like the Cimbri and Teutones once did in the time of the Consul Marius. What happens when they start to pour across the Danube and Rhine. I have seen these wild savage horsemen. They scare the shit out of me.”
“We will throw them back,” Fergus replied sharply. “The Legions can handle anything. But I am just a soldier,” Fergus added with a little smile. “My father, Marcus, however is a senator in Rome. He will know much more about such weighty matters of state.”
Rome and the Conquest of Mesopotamia (Book 8 of the Veteran of Rome Series) Page 20
