‘You are something of a philosopher yourself, I find.’
Valerius shook his head. ‘My father had ambitions for me in that direction and I was guided by a master. But I found that though I could memorize and repeat the views and conclusions of others, I never once found a way to contribute something of my own to a debate. Spending your days mouthing another man’s words soon becomes like digging the soil from one hole only to fill another. Seneca recognized it and pointed me towards the law.’
‘Yet you became a soldier?’
Valerius smiled. ‘Sometimes a man’s fate is not his to decide.’
‘Seneca?’
‘Gaius Valerius Verrens.’
When Sohaemus had finished laughing he showed Valerius some of the treasures of his collection. Calling on a servant to climb a ladder to this alcove or that, he directed them to retrieve the scrolls with an obvious knowledge of their whereabouts and contents.
‘I try to heed Seneca’s exhortations that books are tools of learning and not mere decoration,’ he assured Valerius. ‘Clearly, I cannot read them all, but much of the knowledge contained here is duplicated and some of it discredited. My clerks seek out the gems among them and bring anything of interest to my attention: new information or innovative approaches to a philosophical problem.’ He pointed to a table where a clerk was working with a papyrus scroll, copying the contents to a long strip of soft leather using a sharpened reed and a bowl of black ink. ‘Goatskin,’ Sohaemus said proudly. ‘Expensive, but parchment is so much less fragile than papyrus. The third book of Herodotus, I believe, Philippus? One of nine. He has been working on it since the festival of Elah Gebal. Where have you reached, Philippus?’
‘I am transcribing the passage where Cambyses goes mad, majesty,’ said the clerk, clearly at ease with his master despite the ferocious scowl Sohaemus affected.
‘A timely reminder of the consequences of the cares of state,’ the Emesan ruler nodded ruefully. ‘Is it true that Nero went mad?’
Valerius hesitated, remembering a warm night and the garden of a villa outside Rome; blood spurting black in the moonlight and the final sigh of an actor leaving the stage. Despite the time that had passed since Nero’s death, this was treacherous ground. The young Emperor had been more popular in the East, where his excesses were less visible, than among his own people. Vitellius, whom Vespasian had just displaced, had been in the process of declaring his predecessor but two divine, and it was just possible his successor might fulfil his wishes.
‘I think he was ill-advised,’ he said carefully. ‘And lost sight of his duty to his people. Without Seneca there was no guiding hand, and more important, no restraining one. His mistakes were more a young man’s folly than madness.’
Sohaemus studied him shrewdly. ‘A good answer.’ He paused and became thoughtful. ‘As a young man I too could have been accused of youthful folly in my relentless pursuit of additions to this collection. I would dispatch agents far and wide seeking out new treasures, with orders to take any steps necessary to acquire them. I convinced myself that in attempting to bring together all the world’s knowledge in a single place I was furthering the advancement of humanity. Of course, now I know that I was only feeding my own vanity. That is why I have decided to have all the most important scrolls copied so that they can be distributed and more widely read. Most new additions these days are sent to me, though few books drive me to the kind of passion Homer or Herodotus once did. Only one acquisition would truly excite me now. A book I have sought for many years …’
‘I’m sure Valerius has heard enough about your dusty old books, Uncle.’ Tabitha made her entry without warning and Valerius turned just in time to see her expression change from one that didn’t quite match her tone to a smile as bright as the Sun King’s throne. ‘In any case the armourer wishes to take measurements and discover our guest’s requirements.’
Valerius bowed deeply to Sohaemus. ‘Thank you for sharing your wonderful collection with me, if only for a short time. I would have been happy to learn about the book that so excited your passion, but it would be impolite to keep your armourer waiting.’
The king beamed at the praise for his collection. ‘You are an honoured guest of the house of Sampsiceramus and free to come and go as you will, Gaius Valerius Verrens,’ he said. ‘I will leave word that you may visit the library at any time for the duration of your stay.’
VIII
‘I haven’t had the opportunity to thank you for your kindness in naming me to King Sohaemus,’ Valerius said as they walked side by side through a long corridor to the guest apartments. ‘It was a small enough thing I did, but a king’s gratitude is not to be scorned and now I am in your debt.’
Her reaction surprised him. ‘A small thing?’ She stopped without warning and studied him with narrowed eyes, her mouth pursed dangerously. ‘You call saving my life a small thing? If I were not familiar with your rough Roman ways, Gaius Valerius Verrens, I would believe I had suffered a mortal insult.’
‘I only—’
Tabitha stood with her hands on her hips, her breasts rising and falling beneath the thin material of her dress. ‘Is it a small thing for a one-armed man to risk his life against many – Ariston told me you left your camp alone – to save the life and honour of a lowly serving girl? If it was such a small thing, perhaps you dallied on the way, uncertain whether a mere woman’s life was worth the effort? Perhaps you thought about turning back and leaving her to her fate? If …’
He stepped forward and placed a finger on her lips. She blinked at the intimacy and scowled at him, but the tirade faded. Something in his eyes sent a shiver through her body.
‘Once more, I must apologize, my lady. It seems that whenever we talk my words turn into great clumsy boulders in my mouth. If, knowing what I know now, I had even considered such a thing, I would gladly fall on my sword. If you had not fought with such courage I would not have arrived in time. In truth, you were your own saviour, but you are right, it was no small thing to go to the aid of someone so worthy of saving.’
Their eyes locked and he knew he only had to lower his head and their lips would meet in a kiss that would change everything. But the moment passed. Instead she reached out and soft fingers touched his cheek. ‘It seems I misjudged you, Valerius, for the boulders are transformed into pearls. It is I who must apologize for behaving like a petulant child. The stink of those men is still thick in my nostrils. I can smell the blood and the roasting flesh. And,’ her face dissolved into a quizzical smile, ‘I am confused. Perhaps the event is still too fresh, for my head spins. I should have known you would never say anything to hurt me. The debt is mine and I vow to repay it one day.’
In the focus of her blue eyes Valerius suddenly understood why Ariston had been so willing to part with his secrets. They had a mesmerizing quality and he was drawn into their depths by the flecks of gold in their shadows. He had to make a physical effort to break the spell.
‘One thing still puzzles me. I can understand why you did not tell us who you were at first, but surely it would have been safe after Apamea?’
She considered for a moment. ‘Yes,’ she nodded, ‘it might well have been, but what was there to be gained from it? If it became known that I’d survived there was always a chance that the associates of those men would have tried again, even with Gaulan on the alert.’
‘So they knew who you were?’
‘And why I had travelled to Chalcis.’ She saw the question in his eyes. ‘Persuading that fool Aristobulus to part with his precious troops was only part of my mission.’
‘If we had known, we could have done more to protect you. Found a different route …’
‘Do not look so annoyed, Valerius.’ Tabitha’s laugh was like the tinkling of a silver bell. ‘Even now you do not trust me with your entire story, so why should I trust you with mine? Still, perhaps that will change. Here are your quarters.’
He watched her until she disappeared before entering the curtained doorw
ay. Ariston and another man were waiting for him inside. The Syrian looked uncomfortable amid the sumptuous surroundings. Brightly coloured tapestries depicting hunting scenes and ancient battles lined the walls and the couches and low bed were scattered with soft cushions. A window opened on to a courtyard with a fountain at its centre surrounded by trees bearing exotic fruits. The two men eyed each other suspiciously, like dogs ready to fight over a bone.
‘He says he’s the royal armourer,’ Ariston announced sceptically. ‘But he looks more like the king’s catamite to me.’
The second man gave Valerius a courteous bow. He wore a long, flowing robe and appeared very young for his position, with jet black hair that hung in ringlets to his shoulders. His skin was pale, smooth and unlined. Unlike most Emesans Valerius had encountered he had handsome, fine-boned features and a beardless chin. The Roman noticed a strong smell of perfumed oils. He sighed. ‘You’re right,’ he said, ‘he doesn’t look as if he’s been near a forge in his life.’
‘He can wield a hammer as well as any man in the armoury,’ the young man said easily. ‘And he speaks Greek more fluently than this fleabag of a servant of yours. I’m surprised they allowed him through the doors without throwing him in the horse trough first.’ He repeated the bow. ‘Dimitrios Dan at your service, lord.’
Ariston spluttered through his beard at the insult, but Valerius grinned and raised a hand. ‘Well, Dimitrios Dan, your king said you could turn me into a prince. I doubt you have ever had a more difficult commission, but perhaps we can cooperate. While we discuss our business this fleabag will find us some wine.’ Ariston stalked out of the room muttering to himself. ‘Where did you learn your trade?’
‘Under a Roman, lord. The armourer of the Sixth legion found me in Jerusalem. I was working in a metal shop doing fine work on copper salvers and he liked what he saw. He used me to create the decoration for officers’ breastplates and the like and taught me how to mend a sword and rivet a piece of plate. When the Sixth left for Antioch I found employment here.’
‘I’m intrigued,’ Valerius said. ‘How did someone so young find favour with the king?’
‘I am known,’ Dimitrios couldn’t keep the mischief from his voice, ‘but not always loved, for my innovation, lord.’
‘Well, you can keep your innovations to yourself.’ Valerius returned his grin, immediately liking the young man. ‘I’m all for progress in tactics, but all I ask of a piece of armour is that it protects the places it is supposed to protect.’
The armourer couldn’t hide his disappointment. ‘Do you have any other requirements, lord?’
‘I’ve seen your eastern princes and they wear more ornament than a Thracian auxiliary. So no peacock-plumed helmets or anything outlandish in the armour line. Do you have anything in the Roman style?’
‘I believe we can accommodate your wishes,’ Dimitrios said gravely.
‘A few adjustments with the straps and buckles and I think we have the very thing. If you please, lord?’ He pulled out a length of twine marked at regular intervals of a kind Valerius had known legionary armourers to use. With a few deft movements he measured Valerius’s chest and shoulders, the length of his arms, the girth of his waist and the circumference of his neck.
Valerius put up with the fuss without complaint, but eventually he lost patience. ‘Are you finished yet?’
‘Almost, lord. Ah …’
‘What is it?’
‘Your right hand?’
‘Is old bones buried beneath a burned-out villa in Britannia.’
‘May I?’ Dimitrios lifted the wooden fist on its cowhide stock with a look of distaste. ‘But the replacement is so crude.’
‘A friend carved it.’ Valerius remembered the endless hours Serpentius had spent whittling the block of oak and the terrors of the day he’d worn it for the first time. ‘I like it as it is.’
‘Of course, lord, but a few adjustments, a polish …’ He studied it more closely. ‘The grip is designed to fit a standard legionary scutum, I believe?’
Valerius nodded.
‘But you find it a little loose, the angle not quite perfect?’
Valerius pinned him with a glare, but he realized the armourer was right. ‘Yes,’ he said grudgingly.
‘Then it will take only a few hours.’ Dimitrios’s handsome features broke into a grin. ‘It will be the same hand, but more fitting for a man of such rank, and,’ he forestalled Valerius’s opposition, ‘more efficient in a fight.’
Valerius looked down at the primitive wooden fist, scarred and dented and not quite firmly fixed to the stock. It had been the best Serpentius could do with a fruit knife in the camp at Cremona where they’d waited to die in the sands of the amphitheatre for Vitellius’s pleasure. He doubted the Spaniard would mind. A little care and attention would do it no harm and he could spare it for a few hours. He worked at the bindings with his left hand and pulled the socket free with a soft groan of relief. It was time he oiled the stump in any case.
‘I want it back tomorrow.’
‘Of course, lord. May I check one final measurement?’ He stretched the cord across the Roman’s chest, bending to study the marks and muttering numbers to himself. The position brought his mouth close to Valerius’s ear, but even so the Roman barely heard the whispered words. ‘Be very wary. All is not as it seems in the palace of Sohaemus. Trust no one.’
‘Then why should I trust you?’ Valerius’s lips barely moved as he answered.
‘You will see, lord. Undoubtedly, you will see.’
Dimitrios stepped back and bowed, reversing out of the room past a hovering Ariston. The Syrian placed a jug of wine and two cups on a table. ‘What was all that about?’
‘I’m not sure.’ Valerius poured wine from the jug into the cups and passed one to the Syrian.
‘Your hand.’ Ariston’s eyes widened as he noticed the missing wooden fist.
‘I’m told it will be returned in even better condition,’ Valerius smiled.
‘But it leaves you …’
Valerius saw the words ‘half a man’ freeze on the Syrian’s tongue. ‘Vulnerable,’ he agreed. ‘So you will have to be my trusty right hand until Serpentius returns from the Chalcidean camp. Can you do that, Ariston?’
‘I am your man to the death, lord.’
‘Then tell me everything you know about this city and its king. I’ve never seen so much gold in a single place, nor so many gems. Yet there are people starving in the streets.’
Ariston nodded slowly. Where to begin?
Emesa and Palmyra, it transpired, were tied by trade and blood, and had once been part of a larger federation that included Apamea, Laodicaea and Heliopolis. The rulers of the two cities were, in times long forgotten, members of the same family. ‘A mongrel breed of Assyrian, Armenian, Greek and Medean,’ Ariston spat, conveniently forgetting he was of similar lineage. For generations the two cities had coveted each other’s wealth, only constrained from violent action by the fact that each depended on the other for the artery that provided that wealth: Emesa’s to the east on the desert road controlled by her rival; Palmyra’s to the west, on the coast road controlled by Emesa. ‘They were like the right hand and the left hand of the same body struggling to cut the throat for control of the whole.’ Fortunately for the Emesans and the Palmyrans, Rome imposed its rule before either could prevail or it could have been the ruin of both.
Ariston paused in his narrative, but Valerius stayed silent, sensing there was something more to come. Something important.
‘Yet even the power of Rome is not strong enough to stem the level of ambition or jealousy inspired by vast wealth,’ Ariston continued in his sing-song Greek. ‘And vast wealth had come to Emesa as a gift of Elah Gebal, the Sun God and the God of the Mountain. Some say it was the king’s namesake, Sohaemus of Chalcis, who discovered the black stone on a hunting trip, led by the gods to where it had fallen after being plucked from the sun. Others say that it was Iamblichus, who then ruled this city. It is
certain that the king’s father built the Temple of the Sun God with tributes from every ruler in the East, freely given because all wished to share in the glory of this offspring of mighty Sol.’ Valerius remembered the vast temple that had caught his eye as he’d climbed the hill, with the sun glittering on its golden statues. ‘Every year the tributes have continued, allowing Sohaemus to build his great palace and swelling his coffers to bursting. He uses the power it gives him to undermine Palmyra and the other city states; meanwhile they covet his wealth with hungry eyes and work to bring him down.’
‘Why not use the gold to increase the size of his army?’ Valerius asked. ‘Even half of what I have seen would pay for another five thousand spears.’ But he realized the answer even as he posed the question.
‘Rome,’ Ariston nodded. ‘It is not in Rome’s interest to foster strength or ambition, only stability. And stability is best maintained by keeping men like Sohaemus in their place, even if it means he can only send five hundred archers to Titus. When Vespasian’s legions proclaimed him Emperor, Sohaemus travelled to Berytus to pledge his loyalty, along with the kings of Commagene, Palmyra and Chalcis. He was well treated for his consistent support for the Empire, but he knows he is just one among many.’
Valerius looked at the man sitting uneasily on the couch opposite. Ariston had his eyes to the floor and his face was creased by a frown of concentration as he searched for ever more detail. The amount of information he had gathered in the few short hours since they’d arrived outside the city was truly remarkable.
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