by Peter Darman
I began by informing Byrd and Malik of the forthcoming journey to Ephesus and asked them to keep it to themselves. They immediately offered to come with us but I told them that there were already seven members of the party.
‘What’s so special about seven?’ asked Malik.
‘Dobbai thinks it an auspicious number that will win us the favour of the gods,’ I told him.
He looked at her. ‘And this will guarantee that they will all return alive?’
Dobbai shrugged. ‘If I could guarantee that, desert lord, then I would be a god myself.’
‘Then what is point of only seven travelling?’ said Byrd curtly.
Dobbai twisted her ugly face into a frown. ‘Because, pot seller, by choosing to take seven the son of Hatra pays his respects to the gods, and in so doing may win their favour.’
I could tell that Malik thought the whole scheme mad. ‘You risk much, Pacorus.’
‘You trust Athineos?’ asked Byrd.
‘He did not betray us when we left Italy,’ I said.
‘That is because we gave him a large amount of gold to buy his silence,’ sneered Godarz. ‘He is a mercenary and would sell his own mother if the price was right.’
‘Which brings me neatly to my next point,’ I said. ‘Byrd and Malik, should Godarz’s fears turn out to be well founded and we are indeed going to our deaths, I would like you two to track down Athineos and kill him.’
‘I’ll do that,’ hissed Godarz as he appeared even more distraught.
‘As will I,’ stated Orodes.
I held my hands to them. ‘My friends, if the worst happens you will have your hands full holding this kingdom from the pack of wolves that will gather once news of my death spreads.’
‘Your opinion of yourself is very high, son of Hatra,’ remarked Dobbai. ‘Perhaps with you gone Mithridates will welcome Dura back into the family of Parthian kingdoms.’
‘Not if I am king,’ promised Godarz.
‘Amusing though this speculation is,’ I interrupted, ‘I would like to travel to Ephesus knowing that if we are betrayed then vengeance will be visited upon our betrayer.’
Byrd gave a nod. ‘It will be so.’
Malik placed a hand on his chest. ‘I will not rest until this Athineos is carrion for vultures.’
‘Good,’ I said. ‘We will be leaving tomorrow.’
The meeting over, everyone drifted away from the terrace. I noticed that Surena appeared to be very pleased with himself. He had good reason: he had excelled in training and Arminius and Drenis had told me in private that he had all the attributes to be an excellent gladiator. Gallia walked from the terrace with Dobbai and Samahe, all three deep in conversation. I was alone; at least I thought I was.
Godarz had stayed behind and now he came over to me. Despite being the city governor he wore his usual plain white tunic, sandals and red leather belt. His many years as a Roman slave had left its mark on him and though he was Parthian he dressed like a Roman, and also thought like one. He grabbed both my arms.
‘It is not too late, Pacorus. You can still call off this mad venture.’
I looked down at his hands. He released his grip.
‘I will not abandon Burebista, Godarz. You know this.’
‘Are you going to rescue Burebista or find Spartacus?’
I walked to the stone balustrade and looked out across the Euphrates, now barely visible as the light faded.
‘I do not know what you mean.’
Godarz followed me. ‘Do you not? He is dead, Pacorus. You will not find him, or Claudia for that matter, at Ephesus. You chase ghosts, and in the process may become one yourself.’
I turned to face him. ‘I will not abandon a Companion, Godarz. I did not ask anyone to accompany me. They have chosen to do so of their own volition.’
He laughed derisively. ‘You are their king so of course they will follow you. But you risk everything that you have built here on a fool’s errand. And, more importantly, you risk your wife’s life.’
Now we came to it.
‘I may be king but that is one person who follows her own mind.’
He threw up his arms. ‘She follows you, Pacorus. Or are you so blind that you cannot see it?’
He pointed a finger at me. ‘I will never forgive you if anything happens to that girl.’
His tone should have angered me but I respected him too much to be offended.
‘I love Gallia more than life itself,’ I said meekly. ‘But the thought of Burebista being alive and a Roman slave tortures me, Godarz. It fills my every waking second.’
His eyes filled with concern. ‘If you, Shamash forbid, fail to return I will not be able to hold Dura if the empire mobilises against me. I am not a great warlord like you.’
I placed a hand on his shoulder. ‘My fights are not yours, my friend. If the worst happens get the best terms you can. Save the people rather than the kingdom. Get the army to Hatra. It will be welcome there. But I suspect that with me gone Mithridates will leave Dura alone.’
‘And Claudia?’
‘If you feel Dura will fall then get her to either Hatra or Palmyra.’
His eyes narrowed. ‘Haytham?’
‘She will be safe among the Agraci,’ I said.
He placed his hands on the balustrade. ‘As you wish.’
Silence descended between us as night slowly came. He continued to peer into the gloom as the servants came on to the terrace to light the oil lamps. The breeze had disappeared now and the chirping of crickets began to fill the air.
‘I would have your blessing, Godarz,’ I said.
He drummed his fingers on the polished stone, turned and embraced me.
‘May Shamash protect you, Pacorus.’
I left the terrace a man at peace, knowing that any ill will that Godarz harboured had been banished. There was but one more thing to do.
After Godarz had departed I walked to the throne room where lamps flickered along the walls and from metal brackets suspended from the ceiling. Despite the abundance of lights the hall was still cast in a subdued illumination. The halls of Ctesiphon and Hatra had white marble floors, white marble pillars inlaid with gold leaf and white-painted walls, but Dura’s Citadel had been built as a fortress not a palace, and so its buildings were entirely functional. They projected austere strength rather than gaudy opulence. I walked over to the dais, the guards snapping to attention as I stepped onto the stone and stood before the griffin standard that hung on the wall behind the thrones. There was a respectful calm in the chamber and I could hear my heart beat as I reached up and gently grasped the material. I closed my eyes and said a silent prayer to Shamash, asking that He would watch over us during the coming trial.
I left the palace and walked to the stables. The Citadel was still a bustle of activity, with the changing of the guard taking place at the gates, workers vacating the armoury and clerks leaving the headquarters building and treasury before the gates were shut. But the stables were quiet now, most of the staff having departed for their homes, leaving only a bare minimum of stable hands and veterinaries to oversee the night watch.
I walked into Remus’ block and went to his stall, the two stable hands that would sit with the horses throughout the night rising from their stools and bowing as I passed them.
‘He is quiet?’ I enquired.
The older hand, a man who had worked at the Citadel for over forty years, smiled at me.
‘Settled in for the night majesty. You thinking of taking him out?’
I shook my head. ‘No. I just wanted to see him before…’
I nodded and walked past them to Remus’ stall. He had heard my voice and his head was poking out over the gate when I arrived there. He grunted and nuzzled his head into me. I stroked his neck.
I spoke softly to him so the stable hands would not hear. I had told the commander of the stables that I was going on a long journey and that only Prince Orodes was to ride Remus, though he was to be exercised each day. There
was no need to tell him this because any Parthian worth his salt knew how to take care of a horse. Remus began nipping my neck affectionately.
‘Yes, yes, and I love you too. Now listen. I am going to be away for a while and you will be staying here. So no kicking or biting anyone and don’t throw Orodes if he rides you from time to time.’
He looked at me with his blue eyes.
‘No more sea journeys for you, old friend. If the worst happens then I will wait for you in the next life.’
I stroked his neck one last time and left the stables.
If the parting from Remus was hard then saying goodbye to Claudia was heart wrenching. As I stood with Gallia staring down at our sleeping daughter I was tempted to abandon the whole venture. To stay at Dura with my daughter and my wife. I looked at my wife and I could tell that she was thinking the same. But what would men think of me; what would Spartacus think of me?
‘I have to go,’ I whispered to Gallia.
‘I know.’
I bent down and kissed Claudia’s forehead. Gallia did the same and then we walked in silence from her bedroom. In the courtyard fourteen camels were being loaded with supplies – among them the weapons and armour we would use at Ephesus – and others were equipped with saddles so we could ride them. Like Malik and Byrd we wore flowing black Agraci robes with shemaghs covering our heads and faces. Under these I wore my boots, leggings and white tunic, beneath which I wore my white silk vest. I also wore my spatha and dagger under my robes and carried my bow in its case attached to my saddle, Gallia and Surena also taking their bows. Three full quivers dangled from my saddle. In addition to the weapons packed on the camels Domitus, Drenis and Arminius each carried a gladius about their person, plus a dagger. Domitus wanted to bring his vine cane along but I convinced him to leave it at Dura. I had consulted Drenis and Arminius and they told me that a rich lanista would not carry a centurion’s cane.
Malik, Byrd and four of his scouts, all mounted on horses, would provide an escort for our journey to Tripolis, and would bring the camels back to Dura after we had boarded ship at the port. They waited on their mounts near the Citadel’s gates as we said our goodbyes. A teary Viper stood with her arms around her husband as I embraced Orodes and then Godarz. Rsan dutifully bowed his head and remained at a courteous distance. I turned to Dobbai.
‘Look after Claudia.’
She flicked a hand at me. ‘I have looked over her since before she was born. Your daughter’s safety is assured. You should concentrate on your own fate, son of Hatra. And be sure to safeguard your wife. She will be a target.’
My blood ran cold. ‘The target of enemy missiles?’
She rolled her eyes. ‘Of male desire. More dangerous than any weapon forged on an anvil.’
Gallia embraced her and then Samahe called us to her.
‘My time here is done. But I want you both to listen carefully. You must visit the city of Paphos on the island of Cyprus. Once there ask for the whereabouts of the seer Julia. She will be expecting you and will provide assistance.’
‘What assistance?’ I asked.
‘That will be for Julia to decide,’ answered Samahe.
‘She is one of our order,’ said Dobbai, ‘so accept her offer of aid, son of Hatra. And do not annoy her.’
‘Annoy her?’
‘With infantile questions. Now go and rescue this slave you are so fond of.’
Surena was the first in the saddle, eager to be away on a new adventure that promised fame and glory. I had been assured that the camels we would be riding would be the most amenable that Dura had to offer. And as I eased myself into the wooden saddle bound together by rawhide and covered with leather, my camel dutifully waited until I was firmly in position until it rose to its feet. Byrd and Malik trotted from the Citadel as we sat cross-legged on the front of our camels’ humps, over their strong shoulders, our feet on the beasts’ neck. This gave each rider greater control over his animal as he could use not only the short reins but also employ pressure from his feet on the camel’s neck. Just as well because each rider also held the reins of another camel carrying supplies. The latter included Agraci goatskin tents that we would use to sleep in during our journey.
With our faces and bodies covered no one gave the column of camels and their Agraci guides a second thought as we rode down Dura’s main street and through the Palmyrene Gate, the duty centurion raising his cane as he recognised Byrd and Malik trotting past him. He frowned and waved his cane at us in an effort to expedite our exit from the city before the camels deposited piles of dung in front of his guardroom. I looked up at the stone griffin and bowed my head as we passed through the gates and began our journey to Tripolis.
Chapter 7
A camel can easily travel up to thirty miles a day, even in the merciless heat of a Mesopotamian summer. We joined the great press of caravans, carts and donkeys that filled the road from Dura to Palmyra on the first two days, Malik leading us south afterwards to keep away from his father’s capital. We did not wish to avoid Haytham but for reasons of security we avoided the settlement. The fewer people who knew of our mission the greater our chances of success. So Malik and Byrd led us along little-used tracks, heading for small oases hidden beneath rocky outcrops where the camels and horses could be watered. After six days we travelled through passes between snow-capped mountains and arrived at the port of Tripolis.
We made camp outside the city among the tents and animals of the traders who had travelled from Parthia and other parts of Syria. They were either halting on their way to Egypt or would be selling their wares in the city for onward shipment to Rome. Our small party with its camels and goatskin tents blended in perfectly so as to arouse no suspicion. After the tents had been pitched Byrd’s scouts lit a fire and began preparing our meal. Gallia, her hair and face covered with a shemagh, nudged me in the ribs when she saw two soldiers approaching.
‘Romans,’ she hissed.
‘Calm down,’ I told her, ‘we are in Syria and this is a Roman city.’
The two legionaries, similar to the ones in my own army except from their red tunics instead of Dura’s white, ambled past without giving us a second glance.
‘I only like Romans that close when I am fighting them in battle,’ snarled Gallia as she watched them pass by.
‘We are going to see a lot of Romans over the next few weeks, so I hope you are not going to provoke any trouble.’
A pair of blue eyes looked at me. ‘I know why we are here, Pacorus. You need not worry about me.’
When we sat down to eat, a cool but not unpleasant northerly breeze freshening the air, I spoke to Surena concerning not drawing attention to us.
‘Do not cause any trouble while we are here,’ I ordered him. ‘I do not wish to jeopardise the mission before it has begun.’
‘Yes, majesty,’ he said.
‘And don’t call him “majesty”,’ said Domitus.
Surena frowned. ‘Then what should I call you, lord?’
Arminius pointed a finger at Domitus. ‘As your lanista, he’s the one you should be calling “lord”.’
‘This is most confusing,’ observed Malik.
‘It is only temporary,’ I said. ‘Tomorrow we will go into the city to search out Athineos and finalise our departure, and also request that he stop off at Cyprus.’
Alcaeus chewed on his roasted goat. ‘He will be stopping off at Cyprus anyway. It is on the way to Ephesus and he will wish to pick up fresh water and fruit for the rest of the journey.’
‘Have you been to Cyprus, Alcaeus?’ asked Drenis.
The doctor shook his head. ‘No, but I have heard it is a wondrous island. It is where Aphrodite came from the ocean.’
‘Who’s Aphrodite?’ said Surena, stuffing a chunk of meat into his mouth.
Alcaeus rolled his eyes. ‘The Goddess of Love, Desire and Beauty. What do they teach you in the Sons of the Citadel?’
Surena grinned. ‘How to defeat enemies and become a great warlord. Like
the king.’
‘Tell us more about Aphrodite,’ I said.
‘She was born when Cronus, the ruling titan, castrated Uranus, the Sky God, and tossed his genitals into the sea,’ stated Alcaeus. ‘Whereupon Aphrodite arose from the sea foam in a giant scallop and then walked ashore on the island of Cyprus.’
‘What’s a titan?’ asked Surena.
Alcaeus sighed. ‘Titans are elder gods who ruled the world before the Olympians overthrew them. Their ruler was Cronus, who was overthrown by his son Zeus.’
Surena was fascinated. ‘Where are they now, these titans?’
‘In tartarus,’ answered Alcaeus, ‘the underworld.’
Surena gazed into the flickering flames of the fire. ‘I will be a titan of the arena.’
‘Well just save any fighting for Ephesus,’ I told him.
Alcaeus looked at Gallia, who had uncovered her face but kept her hair covered.
‘You are right to cover your hair, Gallia. I’ll warrant there are few women in the eastern Mediterranean with blue eyes and blonde hair.’
He looked at me. ‘And even fewer with a husband who has a scar on his face. You must both take care.’
‘We will,’ I assured him.
The next day I rode into the city in the company of Malik and Byrd. I took them because I wanted them to be familiar with the appearance of Athineos, just in case he betrayed us. They would be no use as agents of revenge if they could not recognise their target. I thought it improbable that the Cretan would betray us. Then again, he was something of a mercenary and would indeed probably sell his own mother if the price was right.
