Companions (The Parthian Chronicles)

by Peter Darman

  ‘Worshippers from the temple,’ the legionary told me. ‘They are blocking all the roads in the city. They want to see that woman who killed the lions with her bow. They believe she is a god, or something like that.’

  When we got back to the house on the hill he discovered that the woman he was referring to was the ‘wife’ of my lanista because there were hundreds of people crowded round the building.

  ‘The governor will need to send more guards,’ he said as he and his fellow legionaries used their shields to create a path for us to the entrance.

  As many of the crowd began to sing some sort of religious song and light candles, I walked into the courtyard to see Gallia seated with Domitus. I made sure Lysander was absent before taking her in my arms and kissing her.

  ‘Hail to the queen of the Amazons,’ I teased her.

  ‘Hail to the king of the arena,’ Domitus said as Surena entered the courtyard.

  ‘A new king and queen,’ remarked Drenis, ‘the gods smile on us.’

  ‘Indeed they do,’ I said, ‘because Burebista has been withdrawn from the games. Gallia’s intervention today has convinced me that we have divine help in our venture. That crowd outside believes her to be Artemis herself.’

  I gave no thought to Lysander’s absence as Argos massaged the stress and aches from my body soon afterwards. After I had been refreshed I asked Domitus to send a slave to the harbour with a note for Athineos to ask him to come to the house and update me on the next step in our negotiations with Lentulus Vatia. But all thoughts of Athineos were put to the back of my mind when Lysander arrived with an invitation from High Priest Kallias himself.

  ‘Kallias?’ said Domitus. ‘What does he want with us?’

  Lysander stood with his hands behind his back, grinning as usual.

  ‘The high priest requests the company of Lanista Lucius Domitus, his wife and the gladiator Nikephorus at his house this evening.’

  Domitus looked at me. ‘Why does the high priest want a lowly gladiator in his house?’

  Lysander’s smile continued to hold. ‘I do not know, master, only that High Priest Kallias desires his company along with that of yourself and your wife.’

  Domitus seemed uninterested, which made Lysander uncomfortable.

  ‘It is a great honour, master, to receive such an invitation.’

  I nodded at Domitus who sighed loudly.

  ‘Very well. Tell the priest that we accept his invitation.’

  Lysander bowed his head and scurried from the courtyard.

  ‘You have certainly made an impression,’ Alcaeus said to Gallia. ‘Kallias is the most influential man in Ephesus, perhaps in this part of Asia, and to be asked to eat with him is an honour many of the most important citizens of this city would kill for. Strange that he should invite Pacorus, though.’

  ‘Perhaps he was impressed by my performance in the arena,’ I said.

  ‘I doubt it,’ scoffed Drenis.

  Surena was most unhappy. ‘Why wasn’t I invited?’

  ‘Because that fat editor wants to entertain you tonight, Surena,’ said a grinning Arminius, ‘in his bed.’

  ‘That’s disgusting,’ remarked Gallia, ‘but then you didn’t have to sit near the odious fat Roman. He stinks and his breath is enough to sour milk.’

  ‘You need to get your rest tonight, Surena,’ I told him, ‘so you are fresh for tomorrow’s bouts.’

  ‘You think I will be fighting tomorrow, lord?’

  I thought about the editor’s anger and disappointment when Surena had survived the fight against four adversaries earlier.

  ‘I have no doubt.’

  As we were not eating at the house we prepared ourselves for the meeting with Kallias. Domitus and I wore simple white tunics with leather belts and sandals on our feet. Gallia made more of an effort, donning a white silk dress that covered her legs but left her svelte arms bare. It was secured at the shoulder with silver brooches and around her waist she wore a thin silver belt. She let her locks hang loosely around her shoulders, wearing a silver tiara inlaid with lapis lazuli on her head and long silver earrings below. Her necklace was a solid silver torc-style ornament, the ends of which were griffins.

  ‘Dobbai gave it to me as a present,’ she told me. ‘She said it combined my Gaul heritage with my position as Dura’s queen.’

  I touched one of the griffins. ‘I like it.’ I brushed her cheek with my fingers. ‘Though not as much as the one who wears it.’

  She smiled sheepishly. ‘Remember who you are, Nikephorus.’

  Lysander returned to the house with fifty palace guards to ensure our journey to the high priest’s house was undisturbed. Most of Gallia’s adherents had returned to either their lodgings in the city or their tents around the Temple of Artemis, the governor having ordered the city gates to be closed early to rid the streets of the worshippers of the goddess. I walked behind Domitus and Gallia, surrounded by a small phalanx of temple guards in their bronze helmets and bronze scale armour cuirasses as we made our way to the house of Kallias.

  I say house but in reality it was a small palace located on the western side of a small square near the prytaneion. Those worshippers who had money to rent lodgings in the city called to Gallia and tried to touch her hair as we walked on the marble flagstones. But the guards kept them at a safe distance, occasionally using shields to knock individuals out of the way. They said nothing during the journey but I noticed that many cast glances at Gallia, especially her long blonde hair. I had seen that look before: when I had returned to Parthia after fighting in Italy and had brought Gallia back with me. People had been mesmerised by her fair skin, blue eyes and blonde locks. And here, at Ephesus, many believed her to be the reincarnation of Artemis herself.

  The abode of Kallias was a magnificent two-storey structure with a façade that had Corinthian style columns on the ground floor, the columns being made of honey-coloured marble and the steps leading to the main entrance being white marble. There was a gated entrance to the square to ensure no undesirables entered, which meant the gaggle of worshippers who had followed us from our own accommodation were kept outside. The guards escorted us to the steps of the palace where a white-robed priest with oiled black hair and a black beard welcomed us and requested we follow him.

  We walked up the steps and past the columns, in the recesses between which were white marble statues of Artemis, Zeus, Hera and Apollo. I detected the aroma of frankincense as we entered the reception hall that had white marble floor tiles, frescoes of Greek gods on the walls and more honey-coloured marble columns. Beside them stood guards armed with spears and shields. Slaves dressed in white chitons and bare feet tended to lamps and candles.

  We were shown into the modestly sized banqueting hall that had even more marble than the reception hall, our guide bowing his head as he stood beside the open doors made of cypress. I notice that there were five daybeds arranged in a circle, each one having a table of the same height positioned in front of it. Normally at formal occasions Greek men and women ate separately but tonight was an exception for beside the imposing figure of Kallias stood the alluring Hippo, like Gallia wearing white and draped in silver jewellery.

  Kallias walked forward, a smile on his large face.

  ‘Welcome Lucius Domitus of the Ludus Palmyra,’ his voice was deep and commanding. ‘Please, take the weight off your feet.’

  He led Domitus to a richly upholstered daybed next to his own as Hippo went to Gallia.

  ‘Hail to you, lady, whose exploits this day have made you the talk of all Ephesus.’

  Hippo clicked her fingers and a female slave came forward to escort Gallia to a daybed opposite Domitus. Hippo turned her big brown eyes to me.

  ‘Welcome Nikephorus, valiant gladiator from the Ludus Palmyra.’

  Unexpectedly she linked her arm in mine and led me to the daybed next to the one Domitus occupied and then she took her position beside Gallia and opposite Kallias. The high priest reclined on his side as slaves hurried fr
om the kitchens with trays of food and jugs of wine.

  I had spent many hours with Alcaeus, both on campaign and in the legionary camp, during which he had explained Greek eating habits. Royal feasts in Parthia tended to be lavish affairs to display a court’s wealth and power to guests. It had been the same in Persian times and before them the Mesopotamians. But Greeks viewed such banquets as morally decadent and believed over-eating to be uncouth. Similarly drinking wine that had not been watered down was seen as barbaric. He was always telling me that Greeks approached both eating and drinking alcohol with frugality to highlight their idea of themselves as poor but free people. This was important more than ever now that Greece was under Roman rule because it was an expression not only of Greek manners but also of Greek freedom despite Rome’s governance.

  Tonight’s feast was indeed frugal, though not unvaried. Slaves brought barley cakes, cold boiled dandelion, celery, melons, cucumber, pumpkins, onions, radishes and lettuce. A delicious treat was honeycombs served in their natural form. There was no meat, the Greeks believing that animals killed purely for consumption was frivolous. They preferred to eat meat from animals that had first been sacrificed to the gods. However, we were served with fish, mainly ray and skate, the latter’s ‘wings’ being cooked in wine vinegar, olive oil and capers.

  We sipped wine from shallow drinking cups made of ceramic and called a kylix. They had handles and bases and were decorated with images of nymphs and satyrs.

  Kallias stared at Domitus over the rim of his kylix.

  ‘The wine is to your liking, lanista?’

  Domitus nodded. ‘Most excellent, sir.’

  ‘And you, Lady Gallia?’ asked Kallias.

  Gallia smiled at him. ‘Your hospitality is impeccable, high priest.’

  Kallias placed his kylix on the table before him and picked up a slice of melon.

  ‘Nikephorus, the food is to your liking?’

  I kept my head down to avoid his eyes. ‘Yes, dominus.’

  ‘It is a great honour to have you here with us,’ said Hippo, ‘especially you, lady, who displayed great courage in the theatre today. I am certain the goddess guided your hand when you shot those lions with your bow.’

  ‘It must be so,’ remarked Kallias, ‘for how else could a woman shoot a man’s weapon?’

  Gallia momentarily bristled but remembered where she was. She smiled coyly.

  ‘You are too kind.’

  Kallias leaned back on his couch. ‘You may be interested to know that before the Romans came the Great Theatre was the place where plays were performed. Indeed, when not the venue for Roman vulgarity actors still perform there.’

  He looked at Domitus. ‘I apologise for insulting your race.’

  ‘No apology needed, sir,’ said Domitus.

  ‘Did you also know,’ he said to Domitus, ‘that actors in the theatre wear masks made of linen to hide their features, to disguise themselves?’

  ‘No, sir.’

  Kallias pointed at me. ‘Just as gladiators disguise themselves in the arena by wearing bronze helmets. All except that young ram of yours; what is his name?’

  ‘Surena,’ answered Domitus.

  ‘A modern-day Hector indeed. Where did you acquire him from, lanista?’

  ‘From the East,’ said Domitus evasively.

  Kallias nibbled on his melon.

  ‘The East, yes. Did you know that Ephesus is the destination of goods brought from the East along the so-called Silk Road?’

  ‘I did not, sir, no,’ replied Domitus.

  ‘It is a most wondrous thing. Goods that are made in China travel thousands of miles across the Parthian Empire to arrive in Syria, Asia and Egypt. But perhaps more interesting are the stories that the caravans bring with them. Most of them are either made up or wildly exaggerated, of course, but not all. For example, we know that the ruler of the Parthian Empire is a tyrant named Mithridates, a man who reportedly murdered his own father. You have probably heard of him, lanista, Palmyra being so close to Parthia.’

  Domitus looked disinterested. ‘I have heard of him.’

  ‘Parthia sounds a wild, lawless place,’ continued Kallias, ‘filled with warring factions. It certainly causes the Romans some disquiet, though sometimes that is no bad thing.’

  He threw up an arm. ‘There I go again, insulting you.’

  ‘You do not insult me, sir,’ replied Domitus.

  ‘But you are Roman, are you not?’ enquired Kallias.

  Domitus nodded.

  ‘But not your wife.’

  Domitus shook his head.

  ‘I am from Gaul,’ said Gallia.

  Kallias looked muddled. ‘I am unfamiliar with Roman practices, lanista. You own the gladiators that fight for you, do you not?’

  ‘I do, sir,’ said Domitus.

  ‘And yet unlike the other lanistas who are here in Ephesus your men are not kept under lock and key at night.’

  Domitus smiled. ‘I trust them not to escape, sir. After all, Palmyra is a long way from Ephesus.’

  Kallias sipped at his wine. ‘And Dura is even further away.’

  To his credit Domitus did not blink. ‘Dura?’

  Kallias looked at Hippo. ‘You see, high priestess, how good an actor he is.’

  Domitus jumped off his couch. ‘If you have something to say, priest, then say it.’

  Kallias held up a hand. ‘I meant no offence, general. For you are General Lucius Domitus, are you not? Commander of the army of the Kingdom of Dura and the steel fist of its king.’

  He looked at me. ‘Pacorus, son of King Varaz of Hatra and formerly Lord High General of the Parthian Empire.’

  ‘The husband of Gallia, Queen of Dura and commander of a band of female warriors called the Amazons,’ added Hippo.

  I looked at Gallia as Kallias rose from his couch and dismissed all the slaves in the room, ordering the doors to be closed.

  He turned to me. ‘In your plans and deception you overlooked one important thing.’

  ‘Which was?’ I asked.

  ‘Slaves,’ he answered. ‘There are two hundred thousand people in this city and at least a quarter of them are slaves. More importantly, all the ones who serve in the house you are currently living in are owned by the Temple of Artemis and its servants.’

  ‘Including Lysander?’ I asked.

  ‘Lysander is a free man,’ replied Kallias, ‘but he too works for me.’

  He pointed at me. ‘Did you think that just because I am a priest I do not take an interest in what happens in the world? That I have not heard of King Pacorus and his blonde-haired queen, the man who destroyed a Roman army before Dura and turned back the army of Pompey? How easy it was, therefore, to make the link between a gladiator who wore a lock of blonde hair around his neck and who shared the bed of the wife of his lanista with the same individual.’

  ‘What do you want?’ snapped Gallia. ‘I assume you did not bring us here just to enjoy our company.’

  Kallias smiled and Hippo appeared delighted by Gallia’s fierceness.

  ‘I have heard that Queen Gallia is a warrior and your actions today have confirmed it.’

  The high priest retook his seat. ‘However, those actions have presented me with a problem.’

  ‘The worshippers at the temple believe you to be the reincarnation of Artemis herself,’ said Hippo.

  Kallias’ high forehead was wearing a frown. ‘I do not know what reason brought you to Ephesus but I must ask you all to leave forthwith. Your presence may incite trouble with the Roman authorities.’

  ‘You fear the Romans, High Priest Kallias?’ I asked.

  His nostrils flared. ‘I do not fear the Romans, lord king, but I do not want to give them an excuse to unleash a bloodbath against the followers of the goddess.’

  ‘I am not here to incite a rebellion,’ stated Gallia.

  ‘Then may I ask what are you here for, majesty?’ Kallias retorted.

  Gallia looked at me.

  ‘We are here to fre
e a friend from slavery,’ I said, ‘and cannot leave until the games are finished.’

  ‘If you do not leave forthwith then I cannot guarantee your safety,’ said Kallias.

  ‘Meaning what?’ I asked.

  ‘Meaning that if I have discovered your identity then it is only a matter of time before the governor does.’

  ‘Or you decide to tell him,’ said Gallia.

  Hippo’s eyes opened wide in amazement that a woman, even a queen, would dare to speak to the high priest of the temple thus. But Kallias merely picked up a chunk of pumpkin with his hand and ate it.

  ‘I have heard tales of the Queen of Dura,’ he said after he had finished it. ‘I believed the tales of how she shot down her enemies with her bow from the saddle were fantasies, that the band of women warriors called the Amazons was a lie invented to cower the enemies of the Kingdom of Dura. But I have seen with my own eyes your courage, your skill with a bow and your fearlessness.’

  He rose from his couch and pointed at the doors.

  ‘There are over twenty thousand visiting followers of the goddess camped around the temple or quartered in the city, plus thousands more who live in the city and pray to Her. By now every one of them will have heard of how a blonde-haired woman shooting silver arrows killed the lions that threatened to rip the theatre’s crowd to pieces.

  ‘Rightly or wrongly they believe that you, Queen Gallia, are at the very least one of the immortal Amazons sent by Artemis to show the people the goddesses’ power. Others believe that you are Artemis Herself. It was not lost on those who witnessed your exploits that the Roman soldiers fled before the beasts whereas you not only stood your ground but advanced upon them.’

  ‘The queen likes to get close to those she is slaughtering,’ remarked Domitus jovially.

  Kallias was not smiling. ‘You may think it is a matter for mirth, general, but I am responsible for all the souls in this city and I will not place them in danger.’

  ‘They are in no danger,’ I said. ‘As soon as we get what we came for we shall be gone from Ephesus.’