Gaius dismounted and moved for the great man. Clearly conscious of their height difference, Gaius made a note to keep his head high, and Phraates, sharp as a dagger, stepped forward to stand on a slightly lower bit of turf. The well-educated Phraates spoke Greek to Gaius, who answered with less than equal skill, though, I had no doubt, Phraates would speak Latin at the feast. It was just a game to insult Gaius.
Eventually, the great men turned to walk for an especially opulent tent where food would be served with the best of wine. They waited before it, speaking and pausing for a moment. We followed and there, both men approached the two couches on a raised dais. My Germani Guards surrounded the area, and Wandal and I walked forward to stand behind Gaius. The elevated platform was surrounded by splendid servants and marble statues. The platform was apart from the guests to give the two a bit of privacy, and still have something for the people to look at. A man, an interpreter of Phraates, one he surely didn’t need, kneeled next to him, and kept his eyes down. He had plaited hair, and odd, green eyes that were bright and curious. The familiar older envoy rushed in, apparently having been lost, and kneeled next to the man subserviently. Phraates gave Wandal and me a hostile glance, and then he watched the other Guards, many of whom were walking around the tent, keeping an eye on the still subdued crowd. Most were casting curious looks at the two great men.
Lollius entered, bowed to Gaius and then the king, and Phraates scowled and fidgeted as he looked away, without so much as a nod. He placed his rings on a plate held by a slave and received a goblet of wine from a servant girl. Lollius found Publius in the crowd, and Sejanus went to stand with them. Lollius’s eyes went to mine, and his lips were moving. I stared at him, as he was mouthing something, and there was a worried look on his face. More than worried, in fact.
It was terrified.
Wandal pulled me out of my thoughts and whispered. “He is saying: ‘I know who. Does he know who betrayed Gaius?”
I frowned. I saw Lollius mouthing the sentence again.
Wandal was right.
I nodded at Marcus, and he smiled nervously. We would speak as soon as possible.
A servant was clapping his hands, and the feast began.
“Your trip was satisfactory?” Gaius asked in Latin.
“I have had better trips, to be entirely honest,” Phraates said with his clear voice. “I have enjoyed travel like this, where one must deal with such important issues, but some other matters weigh heavily on my mind.” He shrugged and answered Gaius’s question before it could be asked. “There are issues in the East, as well as here, that require coin and armies, and unity. I have some wars to win, some with family, others with people you have never heard of.”
Gaius smiled. “Will Parthia see peace again? A land of plenty, they claim, unlike most other nations.” What he left unsaid, was that Rome was a land of even greater wealth.
Phraates stroked his beard and chuckled. “Indeed! Plenty of everything, that’s what the King of Parthia might enjoy. There will be peace.” He rapped fingers on his goblet and waved a hand towards Lollius. “But as these negotiations with Rome have been anything but fair and enjoyable, that peace tastes like ash. Perhaps I can share some of the frustrations we have had to deal with in our mutual struggle to find common ground?”
“By all means,” Gaius said with a nervous smile. “Do tell me.”
Phraates waved his hand at a fly. “Not only do I abandon my brothers in Rome, who are no guests, but prisoners in a gilded cage, but you are filling the throne of Armenia with a noble of Atropatene.”
His eyes sneaked to the handsome new king-to-be. Juba II was with him, an old king helping a future king to keep his patience.
“A raw man, that,” Phraates said. “Needs handholding and someone to wipe his nose.”
Gaius nodded sagely. “Yes, of course. You resent Atropatene and Armenia with one family on two thrones—”
“A family in love with Rome,” he interrupted. “Atropatene—”
“Is yet another land Parthia has coveted,” Gaius said steadily.
The Parthian swallowed his anger, and spoke calmly. “And which now is a Roman protectorate, and with Armenia, one day, a Roman province.”
“I know of no such plans,” Gaius said innocently. “None have been presented to me, and Augustus has not said a thing about that.”
“And yet, Ariobarzanes,” he answered, and nodded at the man, “has the makings of trouble for Parthia, despite being greener than a palm-leaf. Where we have occasionally supported Armenia and Tigranes especially against Atropatene, now they would be one nation.” He shook his head. “This is a very heavy price to pay for Parthia. I like it not, but my negotiators came back, save for one.” He swallowed some wine.
“The man had been murdered,” Gaius said sadly, though his eyes flashed, “on a day of great battle, and we never found the murderer.”
Phraates chuckled. “Murders in a Roman military camp are not commonplace, are they? Never mind. I shall have peace, and that is what we need.”
“Peace,” Gaius said. “It is a fine thing to reach for.” Gaius leaned forward, and spoke coldly. “Did you know there were men who tried to kill me? That I too, was attacked in Nabataea the same day your man died. And one of these men spoke of you. He said ‘for Phraates’.”
“I have heard of this,” Phraates said with a subdued voice. His two servants scowled briefly. “It is, surely, a lie to throw shadow between the two of us. Not all want peace for us. I have enemies who would see me occupied in war with Armenia. And still, you were in battle, no? In battle, one sometimes gets attacked.” He smiled and lifted an eyebrow.
Gaius nodded, swallowing his rage. “Very well.”
Phraates fidgeted. “There was an incident.” He went silent, as if pondering about the wisdom of sharing it.
“What was this incident?” Gaius asked finally.
Phraates eyed Gaius unkindly. “It is about coin. Such a mundane thing, and I feel like a filthy merchant, Gaius. It seems my people have failed me during these negotiations. My advisors brought dishonor to me.”
Gaius was frowning and he slumped back. “How so? Did one of your advisors,” Gaius asked, eying the two kneeling men, “seek to kill me after all?”
He scowled. “I said it was about money. I would never have bought your murder. Never. You, with respect,” he said with a very slight bow, “have no true military experience.”
Gaius reddened.
Phraates went on. “I don’t want you dead. I don’t want someone like Tiberius, for example, prowling around my cities, do I?”
That was an insult so deep it couldn’t have stung more if it had been delivered with a slap. Gaius twisted, and sat forward. “I assure you—”
“I am assured,” Phraates said, clearly enjoying the young man’s discomfort. “My advisors didn’t order you killed either. But they cheated me. Except for Vonones here,” he waved at the old man, “I would not have found out about the treason. I had these men torn to pieces, but the damage is done. I am very unhappy on the way Rome bought this deal. The gold poured into your coffers, and left mine. A staggering amount of riches. And some went to my advisors, it appears. Just this week, some was given over.”
Gaius frowned. “No gold was asked for.”
“Gold was asked for,” Phraates said tiredly. “I know. It is missing from my vaults. Your negotiator asked for it. This … man. Lollius.” He stared at Gaius, whose eyes went into slits. “You didn’t know? I see, I see. I hear he has suffered from some … irregularities in his past before. Make sure all of it ends up in Rome, unless you would return them to me.”
“None was asked,” Gaius said stiffly. “Not an aureus.”
Phraates sighed. “Well. I suggest you ask Lollius where it might be found. They say his daughter in Rome flaunts impossibly rich jewelry in feasts. My brothers tell me this. And while I am no expert, perhaps he has meddled in Roman and Parthian affairs long enough. As the governor of Roman provinces, perhap
s you should make sure such lopsided deals are not made in your name in the future.” He downed his wine and had it refilled. “Augustus should have him put to a sword. Or Tiberius, if the man ever gets home.”
Lollius had not heard the discussion. We had, but none else.
Gaius stared at Lollius. Marcus stood there rigidly, waiting for an insufferably long time, confused. Gaius stared at the man as if Lollius should die that very moment, and then he waved at Sejanus.
The man walked forward, his long, suspicious face gleaming with anticipation, and Phraates was smiling softly. Sejanus kneeled next to Gaius who spoke to him. Then Sejanus left.
After that the feast continued in relative silence.
I saw Praetorians escort Lollius out.
***
Publius came to me in the late hours, when the guard was changed and Gaius, escorted by Livilla, took to his bed in the legion camps. “Lollius.”
“What?” I asked, dreading the answer.
“He is nearly dead,” Publius said. “Took poison, the poor man. He was corrupt. They said—”
“I heard Gaius and Phraates speaking,” I said bitterly. “Where is he?”
“In the camp,” Publius said and gave me a meaningful stare. “He is nearly gone. You should see him, and make your goodbyes.”
I left Publius. Wandal and I rushed through the gates, barking the passphrase, and surged to the center of the great legionnaire camp. I saw Sejanus before a tent, and he looked uneasy. “You heard?”
“What happened?” I snarled.
“I brought him here,” he said, “and politely searched his tent. There was a talent of gold and two of silver in there. So, talents of it. He took poison when I was not watching. The medicus says he is done.”
“But he can still speak?” I asked.
Sejanus nodded. “Yes. He—”
“Wandal, stay here,” I said and pushed in. I tore away my helmet, and rushed to the interior of tent. There, in a compartmented interior, lay the rich belongings of Lollius. Fabulous furniture, and books that had followed him from Rome were scattered all over the roomy floor. In a corner, there was a desk with silvery corners. On it, several scrolls, tablets, and pens.
And then when I stepped inside, to the rooms beyond, I saw the treasure.
There was a hoard of it. It would have been more than decent loot for a commander from a rich, sacked city. There was no denying it came from Parthia. Gleaming heaps of coins sported the Parthian king’s likeness. I hesitated, and then I passed them, and found Lollius on his bed at the very end of the tent, his eyes closed. A bald medicus had been attending him, and looked startled as I entered. He opened his mouth, but I pointed a finger outside, and kneeled next to Lollius. The man left, sighing.
I don’t know how long I was there; sure he had died.
And then, his eyes fluttered open.
They were unfocused, he stared around, as if frightened by what he saw, his mouth dry and spattered with vomit. “Are you real? They … the others are …” he wept and warded himself from things only he could see.
He was nearly dead. I had seen it often, men and women seeing spirits that called for them.
“I am here. Do you need anything?” I asked him sadly. I was no true friend to him, but neither did I hate him.
“Listen,” he said with a sudden, desperate burst of energy, as he groped for my hand. “I do need something. I know who helped the Parthian. I have been keeping my eyes open since Nabataea, but only now with the Parthians back in camp, I had a chance to observe people together. So, I followed that Vonones. The old one. I did. He didn’t go in to the feast immediately, but met with two men, briefly, just around the corner. I heard them speaking. Something about gold. And more. Phraates has a plan to keep Armenia under Parthian rule.”
“What—”
He shook his head, groaned, held his chest, and blood oozed out of the corner of his mouth. “Listen. I didn’t take poison. I was handed a mug of wine, and in it … Listen. There will be trouble, and this Vonones knows—”
I leaned over him and he was spasming.
In but a moment, he died.
I held my head, and saw him over the border of death. When he was gone, I got up, and stepped out. I turned to see Sejanus, who flinched by the look in my eyes. “Did he die?”
I stared at him. “He did. He thinks he was murdered. Something in the wine?”
Wandal looked horrified.
He looked confused. “Seeing things, he was. I saw him take wine himself. Did he say a thing?”
“Didn’t have time,” I answered, looking down at my hands. “He is gone.”
I turned away, and walked to find Vonones.
The Parthians had left.
I saw them on the ferry, waving at Gaius, as they made their way back home.
Phraates smiled at Gaius coldly. Vonones was there as well, and his eyes flickered towards the north.
Towards Armenia.
CHAPTER 20 (Artagira, Armenia, August 9th, 3 A.D.)
The king, Ariobarzanes, was humiliated. The people of Artagira were staring down at him from the walls, and despite his royal looks, his noble bearing, the honor of his bloodline, he was a Roman picked foreigner, and related to the old kings only distantly. Far from home, ally to Rome, and in many Armenian minds enemy to Parthia, many people we had met spoke of him with doubt and even suspicion.
And some were, in fact, in an open rebellion.
What had seemed a relatively successful feast with Phraates, had turned out to be a meal of air.
While Phraates denied any of his followers would fight Rome, it was a well-known fact that there were in fact many Parthian soldiers in the city. Phraates claimed them to be men of his enemies.
The legions, upon hearing of the rebellion in many of the cities, had stoically marched across the border, and finally after half a year of stomping down on necks, they proudly took positions in front of the main nest of vipers. The vast city was the Armenian capital, the richest city in the land, and every man stared at the high white and brown walls with a mixture of greed and concern. Gaius was fidgeting and truly worried, and the ten thousand legionnaires, while thus far unopposed, took note of the hundreds of glittering spear points on top of the walls, and the swarming number of enemies on top of squat towers. The walls and the towers would be housing archers and siege engines. Not intimidated by that fact, the siege specialists of the legions were busily readying their gear. Catapults and ballista were being assembled, and some were already finished while wood, hide, ammunitions, and many detailed and impossible to understand special items were being procured from the surrounding countryside, or even crafted. The toil of putting up camps and encircling the city with guards and towers would take most of soldiers’ time for the coming week. Many of the cohorts were not working, but simply looking threatening. All they had to do was preen, posture, and look menacing, and that part was a natural fit for the killers.
It had worked before.
Nations had fallen on their knees for the sight of legions making ready their war-machines, and for the terror of glittering, or grimy for that matter, cohorts marching about.
The auxilia was busy at work as well. They were already riding about the countryside, torching unlucky villages that belonged to the rebels, especially a local noble called Abaddon, but in truth, no estate sympathetic to the new king or Rome would be saved any more than those of his declared enemies. The auxilia riders of Syrians and Gauls would not stop to ask questions before taking slaves and loot.
“How many?” Gaius asked tiredly.
Publius stirred. He had taken on not only the role of rector, but now advisor, and oversaw all the scribes of Gaius. “So far it appears there were some six thousand belligerents in the city, and they were not in a mood to negotiate. That was yesterday. Some say hundreds fled the city in the night, and now they are talking, as you know. They say there are troubled nobles in the city that do not want their city burned and women raped.”
&nb
sp; “Why do they resist?” Gaius asked. “They have men, but there are ten thousand legionnaires here. Surely they know this is the end for them?”
“They are expecting help,” I answered. “The Parthians.”
Gaius nodded.
Publius spoke. “And, they have heard what happened to the last negotiators. The ones in Nabataea. So, they are not coming out easily. They have an aversion for a spear in the gut. Sounds quite natural.” His tone was slightly critical.
Gaius fumed, and apparently tried to push away the memory of the faces of the men he had ordered dead. He hated men who congratulated him on that ‘bold’ move, he hated men who spoke of the battle after. He had nightmares about it.
I tried to divert his attention. “There won’t be help coming. The locals will know there is no force in Armenia that would rise to defeat you, even if the Parthians hope for a miracle. Only some hundreds of Parthians ride the land outside the city. They won’t come here. They are talking now, because the Armenians know this.”
“The local Parthians are the ones fighting,” Gaius said thinly. “Some might come from Phraates, but most are locals. Tigranes gave Parthians lands, and it was probably easy to convince these men their way of life was at an end, unless they fought. And Phraates says he had no idea who these men are. No, there are no Parthians coming to relieve them.”
“Some thousand Parthians in the city,” Publius said. “I am sure you are right. But they are negotiating anyway. The Parthians can demand a lot, but not for the entire city to die for them. This Armenian noble, Abaddon, will at least hear us out. They say he is old, and wise.”
“We have peace,” Gaius said as if to himself. “Phraates ate with me, he agreed. What can he hope to accomplish?”
“Despite names on paper, Gaius,” Publius said, “here we are. Phraates is praying the country will still be in terrible disarray when he is done with his competition back home. He prays we shall do so much damage to the Armenians, that they are happy to take the Parthians back.”
The Bane of Gods Page 27
