Read The Parthian Page 19

  Chapter 19

  We built a massive funeral pyre that night on a knoll near to the entrance to the camp and burned the bodies of Spartacus and Claudia upon it, laying them side-by-side so that they were together in death as they were in life. Diana stood next to Gallia holding the infant as the flames consumed the bodies in a huge fireball that hissed and crackled with fury. We stood in silence, thousands of us, and watched our lord and general and his wife depart from this world to take their place in heaven. I said a prayer to Shamash and hoped that He would be kinder to them in the afterlife than the Romans had been in this life. I looked around at the ocean of faces that stood illuminated by the red and yellow flames, a myriad of different races – Thracians, Spaniards, Dacians, Gauls, Germans, Jews, Illyrians, Greeks and Parthians – all of whom had been forged into an army by a former gladiator, a man who had nothing and yet one who had commanded the respect, love and loyalty of thousands. But then what were positions, titles and possessions? I was a prince by an accident of birth, called ‘highness’ by those who did so not by choice but because they had to. I who had lived in palaces and been given the best things not because I had earned them, but because of who I was. I was proud to be a prince of Hatra, but I was prouder to have fought for Spartacus and my pride burned as bright as the flames before me when I considered that I had also been his friend. And as his friend I would carry out his and Claudia’s wish to take their son back to Parthia. But what about the rest of the army, what would those who had fought for Spartacus these past years do now? The answer came in the days following.

  I had stood and watched the fire diminish and die, until in the dawn light it was only a large mound of smoking black ash, the bodies of Spartacus and Claudia seemingly whisked away by invisible phantoms that had born them to heaven. Or so I liked to believe. The camp was full of those who had fought the day before, the dying, the badly injured, those like myself who had been in the foremost ranks and never suffered even a scratch, and those whose bodies were untouched but whose minds had been turned to mush by what they had seen and experienced. The morning and afternoon were filled with screams and groans as doctors sawed through mangled limbs and probed wounds for fragments of arrowheads and splinters of steel and iron.

  I sent out cavalry patrols to determine if the Romans were going to attack us, but they returned to report that the enemy was shut up in their two camps and showed no signs of movement. I was not surprised. Thousands of them lay rotting on the battlefield and many more must have been wounded. They were probably in a worse state than us.

  ‘Exactly,’ said Afranius, ‘and now is the time to strike and finish them off.’

  Godarz laughed. I had convened a meeting to determine what course of action should be followed now that Spartacus was dead. Amazingly, Cannicus still lived, but he was pale and weak and I feared that it was only a matter of time before he succumbed to his wounds. His entire belly and chest had been wrapped in bandages, but the blood was still seeping through. Two of his men had carried him to the meeting in a chair and had wrapped him in a cloak to keep him warm, for the morning air was cool. Nergal was present, as was Gafarn.

  ‘We are going home, Pacorus,’ said Cannicus, breathing heavily with the effort of talking.

  ‘You speak for all the Germans?’ asked Afranius.

  ‘I do, what’s left of us. We will go north through the mountains and then head for the Alps. We wish to see the great forests of Germania once more before we die.’

  ‘And you, Afranius, what will you do?’ I asked.

  He looked at me with contempt. ‘I have spoken to others in this camp who do not want to flee when victory is within our grasp. We will attack the Romans and destroy them.’

  ‘Did a Roman hammer strike you on the head yesterday and knock out any little sense you may have had?’ said Godarz incredulously. ‘They are down in their camps waiting for another thirty thousand troops to join them, and once they do, they will march up this valley and slaughter anyone foolish enough to remain here.’

  ‘What Godarz says is true,’ said Nergal. ‘I fought them on the Appian Way and you will not prevail against those soldiers.’

  But Afranius was living in a fool’s paradise and our words had no effect on him. If anything they made him more contemptuous of our opinions.

  ‘I will lead an army against the Romans,’ he said. ‘And when we have destroyed them, I will fulfil the dream of Spartacus and march on Rome itself.’

  ‘It was the dream of Spartacus that we should be free, not lying dead on a battlefield,’ said Cannicus.

  ‘There is no more fight left in this army,’ added Godarz.

  ‘Will you make yourself emperor, Afranius?’ I asked.

  He said nothing, only snorted dismissively, then rose and walked from the tent. I never saw him again.

  During the next few days the main camp and my cavalry camp across the river were hives of activity as the various contingents made provision for their journeys.

  I held a final parade of the cavalry. Now reduced to seven hundred riders, such had been the scale of our losses at Brundisium, Rhegium, on the Appian Way and here, on the Silarus. Companies reduced to mere shadows of their former selves, but still the men sat proudly on their horses, even Byrd’s ragged band of scouts, and Vardanes held my banner as I addressed those assembled.

  ‘Friends, today we depart this valley and embark on many journeys. Some of you have elected to come with me to Parthia, others have decided to march south to Bruttium, and there are those who will head north to the Alps and over the mountains.

  ‘We have fought many battles and won great victories over the Romans, and in all the time that we have been together we have not been defeated. We are undefeated still.’ They gave a mighty cheer at this, which startled some of the horses.

  ‘So I say to you all, wherever you go, each of you can take pride in your achievements and know that you were once part of a great army under the command of one of the greatest generals in history, Spartacus, whose name will live on long after we have departed this world. Go with pride, my friends, and let us look forward to the day when we are done with this world and shall once again be reunited.’ I drew my sword and held it aloft.

  ‘Spartacus.’

  They shouted his name long and hard on that spring day. On the other side of the river those who had elected to follow Afranius mustered into their centuries and cohorts under a brilliant blue sky. It was a decent showing, and I was tempted to join them. Godarz, who had been working with his quartermasters to ensure that what supplies left were distributed fairly, must have read my thoughts.

  ‘They are fools and you know it,’ he said dismissively.

  ‘For wanting to stay free?’

  ‘No, for refusing to face facts, and the plain truth is that we cannot win now. A year, six months ago, perhaps, but the gods have turned against us and nothing we can do can change that.’

  Byrd arrived on his scruffy horse, much to my surprise. He nodded at Godarz, who nodded back.

  ‘We have more important matters to attend to,’ said Godarz.

  I was bemused. ‘We do?’

  ‘It is time to plan for the future, highness. And for that I must have your trust.’

  ‘I trust you, Godarz.’

  ‘Very well.’ He was obviously possessed of a great purpose, though what it was I could not discern.

  Byrd dismounted and ambled up to us. Godarz frowned at the state of his horse and his appearance.

  ‘You remember the spot, Byrd?’

  ‘I remember, of course. Can find easily.’

  Godarz smiled contentedly. ‘Good.’

  ‘Would one of you care to explain what this is about?’ I asked.

  ‘Our way out of Italy, highness,’ replied Godarz. ‘I believe that I can get us passage out of this accursed land and back to Parthia if you are in agreement.’

  In truth I had no plan to get us through the next day, let alone get us out of Italy. ‘Our fate is your hands, G
odarz.’

  It took us most of the day to get organised, to load mules with food for men and horses, and to burden others with spare weapons and arrows. Godarz insisted that the only shelters we should take were papilios, the eight-man oiled leather tents of the Roman Army that we had captured. There were to be no command tents, ovens, braziers, kitchens or field forges. Weapons and food were the priorities. One of Byrd’s scouts, a local man named Minucius, would lead us into the Apennines and through to the other side. He had lived all his life in these hills and knew every track, gully and valley. He had joined Spartacus because his master had refused to purchase a new cloak to see him through the winter, and I privately thanked his master for his parsimony.

  And so it was, on a warm spring afternoon in the upper Silarus Valley, that I began my final journey through Italy. We were a motley collection of different races, all bound together by loyalty to Spartacus and Claudia and their living child, whom we had sworn to protect and lead to safety. It was a strange fate that a swaddled babe could command the lives of those who took him into the mountains. We were but a handful, but not since that day have I travelled with such cherished companions. Accompanying me were Gallia, Gafarn, Diana, Byrd, the scout Minucius, Godarz, Nergal, Praxima, Domitus, Alcaeus, fifty Parthians, twenty Amazons, a score of Thracians, thirty Dacians and five Greeks. All my Parthians and Gallia’s Amazons were mounted, the rest walked. As they set off in a long line pulling a host of ill-tempered and heavily laden mules, I rode Remus over to where the Germans were about to strike northwest into the hills. They had placed the deathly pale Cannicus on a sled, which they fastened to a horse, though that was the only one they took. There were five thousand of them, all that remained of Castus’ legions. I tried to shake the hands of as many as I could before they departed. They wore their hair long and their language was coarse, but they had met and bested the finest that Rome could throw at them.

  I knelt beside Cannicus. ‘So, my friend, you go back to the great forests of Germany.’

  He looked at me with eyes filled with resignation. ‘To hunt boar and bear, and spread my seed among the young women.’

  ‘Your fame will make you a king among your people, or the young women at least.’

  ‘I feel that we let him down, Pacorus.’

  He was talking of Spartacus. I felt the same. ‘I know, but he will forgive us.’

  ‘The child?’

  ‘Is safe.’

  ‘Promise me that you will tell him about us all and what we did, Pacorus.’

  I took his hand. The grip was weak. ‘I promise, my friend. He shall hear of his father and mother and all those who were their friends and who fought beside them. And especially he shall hear of the fierce and wild Germans led by Castus and Cannicus.’

  He smiled and let go of my hand. A giant man with a shaggy beard and thick black hair stood beside me.

  ‘We have to be going now, sir.’

  I shook Cannicus by the hand once more. ‘We will meet again, my friend, but not in this life.’

  I watched as he and his men began their ascent. I stayed there until the last group had disappeared into the trees and then there was silence. Remus chomped on his bit and scraped the earth with his hoof. I rode into the camp that had been the home of my lord. That was now deserted. The tent of Spartacus, the smaller tents of his troops, arranged in neat lines, the captured Roman standards planted in the earth for everyone to see, mute testimony to the brilliance of the man I had followed. I halted Remus in front of his tent and sat in silence. For a brief moment I thought I saw Spartacus and Claudia both standing arm-in-arm at the tent’s entrance, both smiling at me, her head resting on his muscled shoulder. But then the wind blew, the vision was gone and I rode away to rejoin my comrades, and the tears ran down my cheeks.

  The rest of that day we walked on foot and led our horses, all except Diana who rode carrying the infant in her arms. We maintained a brisk pace, lest the Romans sent patrols after us. I doubted that they would, though. For one thing many groups, both large and small, had scattered in all directions that morning, some heading south to the wild hills of mountainous Bruttium, others going north to find sanctuary among the Gauls living on the other side of the Alps. Others had a desire to seek a glorious death under Afranius. Ironically, most of the surviving Thracians had elected to join him, though I suspected that it was their desire to die fighting rather than serve under the young Spaniard.

  Soon we were moving along a narrow track through a dense forest of fir trees, occasionally coming across grassy clearings and lightly wooded ridges filled with wild pear and apple trees. After two hours we came to a saddle in the mountains and descended out of the trees to skirt a hillside filled with scented broom, and then down still further to travel beneath a ceiling of cypress trees. It was a beautiful and peaceful country and I almost forgot about the Romans, though I was mindful to always have at least a dozen men as a rearguard, just in case we had unwelcome visitors. The dense woodlands masked our group, though Godarz prohibited the lighting of any fires for the first five days of our journey, which was a pity because we saw brown bears, deer and boar, and I would have loved to have killed some game so we cold eat some hot meat. But we were in Godarz’s hands so we ate bread and hard biscuit instead. After ten days he relented, though, and so Gafarn and I left the party camped in the lee of a cliff face near to a fast-running stream and took our bows to find some prey. We rode through broom and juniper brushes and then woodland until we came to a group of old oaks, through which ran a well-used animal track. There was no wind to carry our scent and betray us to the keen senses of any prey, so we tied the horses behind a tree, crouched in the undergrowth and waited. After half an hour five red deer ambled into view, two stags, their antlers beginning to show, and three hinds. The stags were big, standing at least seven foot high and weighing around four hundred pounds, I guessed. They could not see us but stopped and stared all the same, their noses twitching. We were about two hundred feet from them.

  ‘You take the stag on the right and I’ll drop the one on the left,’ I whispered to Gafarn.

  Seconds later the two stags were dead and the rest had bolted away, as Gafarn and I walked our horses over to the carcasses and tied them to our mounts’ saddles.

  ‘You and Diana should look after the child,’ I said to him as we rode back to camp hauling our prizes behind us.

  ‘Did not Spartacus and Claudia wish for you to take him?’

  ‘I vowed I would take him back to Hatra, but when I do, I don’t think my father would look favourably on me raising the child of a slave general.’

  ‘I suppose not. You think it better that two slaves should look after him?’

  I halted Remus and looked at him. ‘You stopped being a slave long ago, Gafarn. And Diana I class as a friend. You and Diana shall live like royalty when we get back, that I promise you. And,’ I hesitated, ‘I would like to be considered your friend.’

  ‘I would like that too, highness. Of course all this depends on us getting back to Hatra.’

  Gafarn, ever the realist.

  Seven days later we were in the Sila Mountains, having escaped the notice of the Romans thus far. Godarz and Byrd took me into the thick forests that blanketed this region and led me to small clearing surrounded by chestnut trees. The day was still and warm and the forest was filled with the sweet scent of wild herbs and flowers.

  ‘This is the spot?’ Godarz said to Byrd.

  ‘This is the spot, yes. I cut notch in that tree.’ He jerked his hand towards one of the chestnuts, which had a diagonal gash across its truck.

  They dismounted and walked over to the tree, before disappearing behind it.

  ‘Bring the spades from my saddle bag,’ shouted Godarz. I pulled the shovels from the leather bag and took them to where they were standing, ten paces into the forest from the chestnut. I passed one of the two spades to Godarz who handed it to Byrd. He pointed to a spot directly in front of him.

  ‘You two can dig.
I’m too old and my back is too weak for such youthful labour.’

  I was confused. ‘Dig for what?’

  ‘The sooner you get started, the sooner you will find out.’ Byrd and I dug for the next hour, creating a hole five foot square as we cut into the dark earth. It was hard work, and soon I was stripped to the waist and sweating profusely, while Godarz stood and watched us.

  ‘I didn’t realise we buried it so deep,’ he remarked.

  Then Byrd’s spade hit something solid and he stopped digging and fell on his knees, scraping away at the earth with his hand. Then I saw that he had uncovered some sort of box. I helped him clear away the soil from its top and saw that it was a solid wooden chest with iron fittings. Though its top measured only nine foot square, when we tried to lift it I realised that it must have been filled with lead.

  ‘Not lead,’ said Godarz, who disappeared and then returned with his horse. He tied a rope to its saddle and then threw the other end at us. We tied it around the chest and together with the horse we managed to haul it out of the hole and onto the ground. Byrd and I stood with our hands on our knees, panting and dripping with sweat. We looked like a pair of miners, covered in dirt and with grime on our faces. Godarz smashed the lock on the chest with a hammer and then opened the lid. I stood speechless. It was filled with silver denarii. There must have been thousands of them.

  ‘Enough money to pay around two thousand Roman soldiers for a year,’ said Godarz. ‘And, more importantly, enough money to get us all back to Parthia.’

  He must have caught my puzzled expression.

  ‘It’s quite simple. A year ago we were awash with money, the result of a string of victories. But what did Spartacus want with money? Nothing. But I had lived among the Romans for too long to be fooled by the fantasies of a dreamer. And, for all his gifts as a general and leader of men, and the fact that I like him, that was what Spartacus was. And dreamers always wake up and face cold reality, eventually. So I enlisted the help of Byrd and I invested in what you might call some insurance.’

  ‘You did not believe that we could win?’ I asked him.

  He thought for a few seconds. ‘When we stood in northern Italy with the road to the Alps open, I dared to believe the unbelievable, but when we turned back south I knew it was over. This is Italy, Pacorus, not a desert. You can beat the Romans over and over again, but in their homeland they always win the last battle.’

  ‘You think we can just buy our way out of Italy?’ I asked.

  ‘Actually, yes.’

  And that is what happened. Domitus and Godarz rode into Thurri and made contact with Athineos, the Cretan sea captain whom I had dealt with all those months ago. And so it was, on a spring day on a deserted shore south of Thurii, that we boarded ten ships to take us across the eastern Mediterranean. The ships had been hired by Athineos, who embraced me with a great bear hug when he saw me.

  ‘Good job you’ve got a man like Godarz with you, young prince,’ he said as we both watched some of the horses being loaded onto the boats, their legs dangling beneath great canvas sheets that were slung under their bellies. They whinnied in alarm as they were lowered into the hold, where they would be tethered in place for the next fifteen days. It was not ideal for them, though they would be groomed, fed and watered, their dung would be tossed overboard and their quarters kept as clean as possible during the voyage.

  Athineos frowned. ‘You sure you don’t want to leave the horses behind? I could get a good price for them.’

  ‘A Parthian never leaves his horse,’ I told him. ‘Are your men trustworthy? I mean, can they be relied upon to keep their mouths shut?’

  He threw his head back and roared with laughter. ‘This lot will slit your throat as much as look at you. But I’ve already given them a hefty load of money upfront for the trip, so you have no worries. I’ve told them you’re a bunch of rich pilgrims on the way to the Orient to worship some strange god. I’ve also told them that they will each make more money on this little jaunt than they would normally make in year, so they are quite content. In any case, we all learned long ago that as long as a client pays his money, what he’s up to is his business.’

  ‘That’s a very Roman way of looking at things.’

  ‘I suppose it is, but money is money.’

  Godarz had paid him half of the monies before we set off, the rest to be paid when we arrived near Antioch, a prosperous trading city where a group of travellers would pass unnoticed. It was not part of the Roman Empire, but the Romans had many agents in and around the city and I did not want to take any chances.

  ‘No doubt there is a price on my head.’

  ‘Probably is,’ he said, ‘but the Romans have got their hands full rounding up the rest of Spartacus’ army. They are vindictive bastards, though. I heard Crassus had six thousand slaves crucified all along the Appian Way, all the way to the gates of Rome itself, to make an example of them, you see.’

  So Afranius had made it to Rome after all, though not in the manner he would have hoped.

  ‘They are savages,’ I said.

  He cocked me a wry smile. ‘I heard that you yourself killed a few Romans on your travels up and down Italy.’

  ‘That was war, it was entirely different.’

  ‘Not to the people of Metapontum or Forum Annii it wasn’t.’

  The last of the horses were being loaded onto a large, wide-beamed cargo boat and the remaining guards I had posted along the beach were wading through the water to the boats.

  ‘That Crassus must be rich,’ mused Athineos.

  ‘Why do you say that?’

  ‘Well, see, normally when there is a slave revolt they make an example of the ringleaders and the like, but return the rest of the captives to their masters. But six thousand is a big number to nail to crosses, and he must have paid a lot of Roman slave owners a lot of money in compensation, otherwise they’ll be chasing him through the courts for years.’

  We sailed on that evening’s tide, the wind filling the sails as the sun went down on the western horizon like a huge red fireball. I stood on the deck with Gallia and watched it disappear. I, Godarz, Gallia, Diana, Gafarn, Byrd, the infant and ten others travelled on Athineos’ vessel, the rest being divided between the other nine boats. I had been worried about Cilician pirates, but Athineos assured me that these waters were clear of them, as they had moved all their ships north to convey Roman troops from Greece to Brundisium, the same troops that I had attacked on the shore several weeks previously. I had asked Athineos for writing paper and then sat down to compose a letter to my father, explaining what had happened during the past three years.

  ‘Do you mention me in this letter?’ asked Gallia.

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘And what do you say of me?’

  I smiled at her. ‘That I never knew how empty my life was until you filled it.’

  She shook her head. ‘Tell me the truth.’

  I pulled her close and kissed her. ‘That is the truth. I am nothing without you and I do not wish to live in a world that does have you in it.’

  ‘Still the dreamer, Pacorus. You should have been a poet rather than a warrior.’

  ‘Perhaps I will be now that the fighting is done,’ I slapped her behind. ‘That and siring children, of course.’

  She suddenly looked serious. ‘You think the Romans will forget you?’

  ‘I think the Romans will not dare to come to Parthia. If but a handful of Parthians can rampage through their homeland for three years, think of what a whole army and empire could do to them.’

  She smiled. ‘Perhaps.’

  The voyage east was uneventful and even pleasurable. It was certainly infinitely more enjoyable than my journey to Italy. We were blessed with fine weather and good winds, though several of my Parthians were seasick and several of the horses suffered diarrhoea, which caused the crews to complain bitterly. It was cured when Godarz realised that the beasts were being fed twice their daily intake of hay by sailors wishing to be kind.
This was soon stopped and the unpleasant side-effects disappeared. Of the Romans or Cilicians we saw none. When we reached Syria it took us a whole day to offload the horses and acclimatise them to movement once more. The days spent in a stationary position had weakened the muscles and joints in their legs, so once they were hoisted out of the holds and into the sea; each rider spent two hours walking them in the water. That night we camped on the shore and slept on the sand, with the ships anchored in the water.

  The next day we said goodbye to Athineos and his crews. Godarz paid the balance owed him and he put one of his massive arms around my shoulders.

  ‘If you want my advice, young prince, you will stay in Parthia from now on. You’ve brought back a beauty, that’s for sure, so concentrate on keeping her happy and you’ll be fine.’ He suddenly looked serious. ‘Remember, the Romans are like a bad-tempered cobra. You don’t want to antagonise them.’

  ‘I’ll try to remember that, captain.’ But in truth all I was thinking about was Hatra and my parents.

  As we watched the ships disappear over the horizon, I inhaled the air into my lungs. It smelt and tasted like my homeland, and I swore I could smell the spices of the Orient on the eastern breeze. I sent Gafarn and Godarz into Antioch to purchase camels, tents, food and fodder for the horses. Six Parthians went with them for protection. While we waited for them to return, we camped just off the beach beneath a cluster of apricot trees. The day was hot and dry, but we pitched our Roman tents in the shade of the trees and the gentle eastern breeze made our location pleasant enough. Diana had the infant in her care and the rest of the Amazons grouped around her in their tents, while the various races also stayed together. I posted a screen of guards two hundred yards inland from our camp, but we saw no one that day. Antioch was at least ten miles away and Athineos had disembarked us on a stretch of coast that had no villages nearby. Nevertheless, I was worried that his ships had been seen, and I had bad memories of being once before surprised on a beach.

  In the early evening Godarz and Gafarn returned, bringing two dozen spitting and ill-tempered camels with them, each one loaded with supplies. Many of our party, including Gallia, had never seen a camel before and she was filled with joy, patting their long necks and faces. She found them amusing, but camels take themselves very seriously and do not like to be mocked, and a particularly angry looking one spat in her face, which mortified my love but prompted many of the Parthians to smile. We had learned long ago to treat these beasts of the desert with respect.

  ‘They are disgusting creatures,’ she said, wiping her face with a towel.

  ‘Welcome to the East, my sweet.’

  We no longer needed the Roman shelters, for that night we slept in tents that were far removed from the Roman variety. Each one was made from strips of cloth woven from goat or camel hair and vegetable fibres, sewn together and dyed black. They were large enough to provide a place to sleep, to entertain guests, and also a place to prepare and eat food. And that night we ate roasted goat, bread, cheese, figs and drank local wine, which was surprisingly palatable. We sat round a giant fire with the tents arranged in a large circle at our backs. After we had all eaten I addressed the assembly.

  ‘Friends, this is our first night free from the shadow of tyranny, the first occasion when we will all sleep together on ground that is not part of the Roman Empire. And while we live, the memory and legacy of Spartacus and Claudia still live.’ They banged their wooden platters on the ground in acknowledgement of this. I raised my hands to still them.

  ‘We are less than one hundred miles from my homeland, and so in a week you will all be free citizens of the Parthian Empire, each one of you at liberty to decide how you will live your lives. No longer will you be the property of a fat, idle Roman landowner, chained and whipped like a dog. You have shed blood and lost friends to earn that freedom, and I know that each one of you is worth ten Romans. All of you are welcome to come and live with me and my future wife in Hatra.’ I smiled at Gallia.

  ‘The son of Spartacus and Claudia will be raised in the royal palace at Hatra by Gafarn and Diana, but I would like to think that we are all, in our own way, parents to the boy. And so let us drink to our lord and general, Spartacus, and to his wife Claudia, and promise to keep their memory alive and tell the truth about his life and fight for freedom. And let each of us swear loyalty to his son, who shall be brought up to learn about his parents and who is, and forever shall be, free.’

  I knelt and raised my cup of wine to the sleeping child in Diana’s arms, while around me everyone did likewise. Then the child opened his eyes and began wailing.

  The next day we struck camp and headed east. Before we set off I summoned two volunteers chosen by Nergal to convey my letter to my father at Hatra. They were both olive-skinned and slight of frame, in their early twenties with long black hair about their shoulders.

  ‘Ride fast and true,’ I told them, ‘and with Shamash’s blessing we will meet again at Hatra.’

  I and the other horsemen rode in full war gear, those who had them wearing their mail shirts and I my sculptured black leather cuirass. I also wore my Roman helmet with its white crest. I instructed all riders to wear their white cloaks, though I kept my standard furled for the moment, as I did not want to offend the authorities in Antioch. The city had formally been a part of the Seleucid Empire, but had risen in revolt and was now ruled by Tigranes the Great, so called. An enemy of Parthia, he had, fortunately for us, become embroiled in a war against Rome that was sapping his empire and his authority. Nevertheless, with our camels I hoped that we would pass as yet another caravan that had hired its own guards to protect its goods. I ordered all the women to wear their helmets so as not to draw attention to themselves.

  On foot, marching at the head of his makeshift century, strode Domitus in his centurion’s helmet, his trusty cane in his right hand. He led seventy-five men, made up of Dacians, Thracians and a handful of Greeks, and they marched in perfect formation along the dusty track that was taking us east. The presence of a solid block of soldiers wearing mail shirts, Roman helmets and carrying javelins and Roman shields made somewhat a mockery of our attempt to pass ourselves off as a trade caravan, but I could not deny these men their right to march as soldiers.

  ‘You never learned to ride, then, Domitus?’

  ‘No, sir, never saw the point, truth be told.’

  ‘It doesn’t matter now. Hatra has need of all good soldiers such as you, even if they cannot ride.’

  I dismounted from Remus and walked beside him. ‘I fear you may never see Italy again, Domitus.’

  He shrugged. ‘Rome was quick enough to discard me. Reckon I can do the same to it easy enough.’

  ‘Once we are back in Parthia, perhaps we could raise a legion for you to command.’

  He looked at me, then jerked his head towards those he was leading. ‘This lot are good soldiers, because they’ve been taught to fight like Romans. Not sure if Eastern types are suited to be legionaries. No offence, sir.’

  I laughed. ‘None taken. But surely any man can be taught to fight in a certain way if he has the right instructors.’

  Domitus shrugged. ‘Maybe, sir, though it takes the Romans five years to train a legion. That’s a lot of time and I’m only one man.’

  ‘But the men behind us could help you, could they not?’

  ‘Again, maybe,’ he cast me a glance. ‘I would have thought that you would have been sick of the Romans and all things Roman by now.’

  ‘Parthia’s horsemen are the best in the world, Domitus, but an army that combines them with Roman legionaries would truly be a powerful thing.’

  ‘Like Spartacus did, you mean.’

  ‘Exactly. I do not intend to let the knowledge I have gained in Italy go to waste. I would like you to think about it, at least.’

  He suddenly shouted at the top of his voice, causing Remus to jerk his head in alarm. ‘Pick up those feet you miserable worms, we’re not on a pleasure trip.’

  He
looked at me. ‘I will certainly consider it, sir, but I thought you would be thinking of a more quiet life, not planning more wars.’

  I mounted Remus. ‘I have a feeling that war will be coming to Parthia soon, and I want Hatra to be ready. I fear that only the dead have seen the end of war.’

  We crossed the River Orontes and travelled into the vast fertile region between that river and the Euphrates, the western border of the Parthian Empire. The first five days of our journey were uneventful, but on the sixth day our outriders galloped back to the column in alarm, bringing their horses to a halt feet from Nergal and myself.

  ‘Cavalry approaching, highness.’

  ‘How many?’ I asked.

  ‘Unknown highness,’ replied the other, ‘but we spotted them on the horizon. They are kicking up a lot of dust, there must be many of them.’

  ‘Yes, I can see that,’ said Nergal, pointing to the east and the sky that was filled with a light brown cloud.

  ‘Armenians?’ I mused.

  We were on a track that was in the middle of a wide expanse of semi-arid desert, though there were a few hillocks dotted either side of the road and stretching into the distance. One on our left, around a quarter of a mile away, was slightly higher and larger, and I decided that it was as good a spot as any. We marched over to the hillock and deployed into line, sixty riders, seventy-five soldiers and two dozen camels about to face a multitude. At that moment a rage welled up inside me. To have come so far and with the border of Hatra within touching distance, only to die in this miserable stretch of Syria made me mad beyond description.

  Godarz must have been reading my thoughts. ‘We could try to outrun whoever they are.’

  I shook my head. ‘They are too close and will catch us, especially those on foot.’

  ‘Perhaps they are Romans,’ said Nergal.

  An unpleasant thought entered my mind. Surely Lucius Furius could not have crossed the sea to track me down? But the riders approaching were coming from the east, not the west.

  ‘Perhaps they are not interested in us at all,’ suggested Gafarn. ‘After all, we are just another caravan on the road.’

  He may have been right, but my instincts told me that something was wrong.

  ‘Nergal,’ I snapped. ‘We will form an all-round defence on this hillock. Put the horses and camels in the centre. Domitus.’

  He ran up to me and saluted. ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘I fear that our line will be thin. I will place archers behind your men. Hopefully we can shoot their horsemen before they get near us. Go.’

  He raced away and began organising our defence.

  ‘Each archer has only thirty arrows, highness,’ said Godarz.

  ‘They might disorganise our line, highness.’

  I looked at him and burst into laughter. The absurdity of it all. He looked at me as though I had gone mad.

  ‘Do not worry, Godarz, I fear that whatever tactics we use this day will avail us little.’

  The dust cloud was getting closer as Domitus formed a line of his men around us and my horsemen dismounted and took up position behind the foot soldiers, and if I squinted my eyes I could make out tiny black shapes on the horizon. Whoever they were, they were in a hurry to get to us.

  ‘Gafarn,’ I said.

  My former slave and trusted companion was at my side.

  ‘Gafarn, you and Diana will ride south and then swing east where you will be able to cross the Euphrates. There are bridges there you can use.’

  ‘I would rather stay with you, highness.’

  ‘And I would rather you, Diana and the child live. This is my final request to you as a friend. If you all live, then it will have all been worthwhile.’

  For once in his life he appeared speechless.

  ‘I’ll take that as a yes, then.’ I shouted along the line again. ‘Godarz and Alcaeus, please attend me.’

  They arrived half a minute later.

  ‘I would ask a favour of you both, and that is to accompany Gafarn and Diana to Hatra.’

  Godarz began to speak. ‘I would rather…’

  ‘I know what you would rather do, but I am making this request. It is not an order, but one friend asking a favour of another. Let me die knowing that our quest was not in vain.’

  ‘Please get some supplies and go,’ I told them, for the enemy horsemen were fast approaching, a great line of men on big horses filling the horizon. Whoever they were, their riding skills were impeccable, for their frontage was unbroken and arrow straight. There appeared to be thousands of them. I dug my knees into Remus and rode to stand in front of our ragged, sparse line. I faced those I led, Parthians, Gallia’s Amazons, Thracians, Dacians, Gauls and Greeks and one Spaniard.

  I raised my bow.

  ‘Vardanes, it is time to unfurl the banner.’

  I felt a shot of pride as the breeze caught the large standard and I saw the white horse’s head flutter in the breeze.

  ‘We are many races, but we are also one. We are united by one thing, something so strong that death itself cannot defeat it. We are free and we shall die free. Sons and daughters of Spartacus. Freedom!’

  They screamed and shouted the cry back at me, the noise loud and piercing enough to wake the gods. I put on my helmet. I would die beside my woman this day, that much was certain, but afterwards we would be together in heaven for all eternity, she and all these present whom I had come to love. I nudged Remus forward to take my place in the front rank and then dismounted. They were about three miles away now, still maintaining their formation and discipline. Suddenly Nergal was beside me.

  ‘They are riding white horses.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘They are riding white horses, highness.’

  I peered into the distance. The main body of horsemen, who indeed did seem to be on white horses, was now being overtaken by a host of other riders on each flank who were filling the valley.

  ‘I see a white horse’s head on their banner!’ Nergal was pointing frantically at the large banner being carried by a rider in the centre of the line. Behind me cheering erupted and some of my men began chanting ‘Hatra, Hatra’. They were two miles away now and I saw before me not an enemy but the Royal Bodyguard of my father, King Varaz.

  I turned around. ‘Hatra has come! Hatra has come!’ and jumped on Remus and kicked him forward. Many of those behind me followed, which panicked the camels, who either stood still or bolted in the opposite direction. I thundered down the slope of the hillock and raced across the plain, my cloak billowing behind me. I could see my father now, a gold crown atop his shining helmet, flanked by his bodyguard, among them the bony faced Vistaspa. I pulled Remus up sharply when I had closed to within five hundred paces of my father and vaulted from the saddle, then went down on one knee and bowed my head to my king. My father’s horsemen slowed and then halted. I heard footsteps on the parched ground and then two hands grabbed my shoulders and hauled me up. Then my father and I were locked in an embrace, as all around us cheers filled the air. I could barely see through the tears that filled my eyes and ran down my cheeks. The day that I had dreamt about for so long had finally arrived, and for several minutes I was unable to speak, so great was my joy. I saw Vistaspa greet Godarz and embrace him, and I thought I saw tears in those dark eyes as he met again a man who had ridden by his side so many years ago, but perhaps it was only my own tears that clouded my view.

  ‘You look older, my son.’

  ‘You look the same, father. How is mother?’

  ‘When your letter arrived, it was like magic had suddenly restored her to me, for she had been grieving terribly these past three years.’

  ‘And my sisters, Aliyeh and Adeleh?’

  ‘Older, perhaps wiser, certainly more beautiful, but eager to see their brother again.’

  The rest of that day was a blur of emotions, though I remember vividly the moment when I introduced Gallia to my father. She rode up on Epona, dismounted and then walked up to him. She was in her full war gear of
boots, leggings, mail shirt, sword at her hip and helmet on her head, the cheek guards closed. My father’s bodyguard was mounted behind him as he stood before her; what happened next I would remember forever. She unstrapped the cheek guards and then removed her helmet, her long blonde hair tumbling around her shoulders. The men of my father’s bodyguard gasped in admiration at this beauty before them as she bowed her head to my father. I felt ten feet tall, for they had never seen such a woman before, one who stood proud and strong but whose looks could melt the hardest heart. My father took her hands and kissed them, and then she smiled that dazzling and disarming smile, and in that instant I knew that she had conquered the Kingdom of Hatra.

  Six days later we rode into the city on a crystal clear day under a vivid blue sky. The whole of the garrison lined the road to the western gates, and it seemed the entire population had turned out to welcome us back. I don’t know how long it took to wind our way through the city’s streets, but it must have been hours. Eventually I gave up trying to steer Remus through the throng and dismounted to make my way to the palace on foot. Men shook my hand, women kissed me and mothers held out their babies for me to kiss, or at least I think they wanted me to kiss them. I kissed them anyway. Every one of those who had come with me from Italy was treated like a hero, and I think many of the young warriors stayed in the city that night with whatever young woman took their fancy.

  Gallia walked beside me. She wore a plain blue tunic now, no mail tunic or helmet, though she still wore her sword. Many of Hatra’s citizens gaped open mouthed at her as she passed. Her pale skin, blue eyes and long blonde hair contrasted sharply with their own dark complexions and black hair. Some believed that she was a goddess and fell to their knees as we passed them, and I heard them say that only an immortal could have delivered their prince from the Romans. Others tried to touch her hair, and still more bowed their heads to this beautiful foreign woman who was among them. Eventually we reached the royal palace where the crowds were kept out and where the nobility of the city were gathered in their finery. But my eyes only saw my mother, Queen Mihri, and my sisters, Aliyeh and Adeleh. The latter had indeed turned into striking young women. I fell to my knees in front of my mother and our reunion was long and emotional, with my sisters wrapping their arms around the both of us. And then my mother greeted Gallia, who also bowed before her.

  We walked to the Great Temple, on the steps of which stood the grim-faced High Priest Assur and his subordinates, all of them with long black beards, hair tied in plaits behind their backs and dressed in pure white robes. We all filed into the temple where Assur conducted a rather long and tedious ceremony in which he gave thanks to Shamash for the safe return of Hatra’s heir and his companions. Halfway through, Spartacus’ son started to cry and continued to wail until the ceremony had ended.

  A banquet was held several days later in our honour. It was lavish and enjoyable, mostly because I sat beside Gallia and my parents on the top table, while all those who had come with me from Italy were arranged either side of a long central table set before us. Gafarn, now the adopted son of my father and made a prince, left early with Diana to attend to the son of Spartacus.

  They lived in the palace with me and Gallia, as did the others. Nergal and Praxima had married as soon as we had arrived back at Hatra, and it would have been a double wedding except that my father insisted that my joining with Gallia should take place several weeks hence to allow invitations to be sent to all four corners of the empire. Indeed, Sinatruces himself at Ctesiphon had requested our presence at his palace. My father said it was because I had returned from the dead and he wanted to congratulate me in person, though mother insisted that the real reason was that he wanted to see Gallia. The fact that he had requested my attendance only and not my father’s could be construed as an insult, but my parents were so filled with joy at my return that they gladly consented. Only Assur grumbled that it was not proper protocol.

  He told me so when I had been sitting in silence in the empty temple, staring at the Roman eagle that I had taken so long ago. It was lying at the foot of the altar to Shamash, a tribute to the god that I worshipped. I heard footsteps behind me and turned to see the stern figure of Assur looking down at me.

  ‘Do I disturb you, prince?’ His voice was serious and deep, and he still unnerved me as he did when I had been a child.

  ‘Not at all, sir. I was just thinking how strange is the fate of man, and how life hangs by a thin thread that can be severed at any time.’

  He sat his bony frame down beside me. ‘All the things that you have done, and the long journey that you have made. How can all that have been possible without Shamash looking over you?’

  ‘But why me and not the dozens of others, thousands of others, that died around me during my time away?’

  He smiled; one of the few occasions I had seen him do so. ‘We cannot and must not question the will of god, but I believe that He has some great purpose for you yet. That is why He returned you to us.’

  I nodded at the Roman eagle lying prostrate at the altar of the god I worshipped. ‘The man I followed in Italy took many of those, and yet he died, cut down in battle while I lived. One day I will have to tell his son that I saw his father die and could not save him.’

  Assur laid a hand on my shoulder. ‘When the time comes you will find the words. I have heard that you fulfilled your vow to this man called Spartacus to safeguard his son. You have no reason to reproach yourself.’ And yet I did reproach myself, for I lived and Spartacus died.

  We had been in Hatra for ten days when I asked my father’s permission to ride to Nisibus to see my old friend Vata.

  ‘Gladly, Pacorus. Take Gallia with you, he could do with some brightness in his life. When news reached us that Bozan’s column had been destroyed he became very morose. He had, after all, lost his father and best friend at the same time.’

  ‘I can’t imagine Vata being morose.’

  My father and I were at the royal stables to take our horses out for a morning ride. It was the first time I had done so, for the celebrations and thanksgivings had filled our days since our arrival. Gallia was given rooms in the palace near mine, though my parents’ strict protocol meant that Gallia’s door was firmly locked at night. In any case, my future wife informed me that even if we were not in a royal palace we would not be sharing a bed until we were man and wife.

  ‘What about a rock ledge next to a waterfall?’ I asked mischievously, which earned me a slap on the arm.

  ‘We are not in Italy now.’

  ‘No,’ I replied, ‘more’s the pity.’

  Afterwards the whole of Hatra’s nobility had visited the palace to pay their respects to me, though I suspected that the real reason was to meet Gallia. The story of the return of Prince Pacorus with his warrior princess by his side began to travel far and wide, made more intriguing when it became known that her coming had been foretold by the sorceress of King Sinatruces himself.

  The stables were a hive of activity as a small army of squires, farriers and veterinaries went about their business. The stable area was huge, with each horse having a well-appointed stall in an airy and clean stable.

  ‘So,’ said my father as he stroked Remus’ neck, ‘this is the horse that carried you in Italy and brought you back to us. He is a magnificent specimen.’

  I threw the saddlecloth onto his back and then the saddle.

  ‘His name is Remus,’ I said. ‘Named after one of the founders of Rome. I was told that Remus had a twin called Romulus, and they were both reared by a she-wolf.’

  ‘A strange tale, Pacorus, though no stranger than your own story.’ He laid a hand on my shoulder. ‘I cannot begin to tell you how joyous your return is to your mother and me. Truly a gift from god.’

  ‘Thank, you father. It is good to be back.’

  I looked into the next stall where Epona was housed, to see that it was empty and being cleaned out by a young stable hand.

  ‘Where is Epona?’

 
; ‘The Princess Gallia took her out earlier, highness.’

  ‘Alone?’ I was slightly concerned.

  ‘No, highness. The princess and her, er, her women warriors rode out to the training fields.’

  ‘Who else was with them?’

  ‘Prince Gafarn accompanied them, highness.’

  ‘Well,’ said my father, ‘looks like they have stolen a march on us.’

  I secured my quiver to the saddle and then mounted Remus. My father’s horse, a seven-year-old mare named Azat, was brought to him and he likewise saddled her and then we rode from the stables. The morning was getting warm and the sky cloudless as we travelled west out of the city. As usual, there was heavy traffic on the road coming from the east, long caravans of camels loaded with spices, silk and other materials, donkeys piled high with fruit for the markets, and individuals on foot weighed down with heavy sacks on their backs. The training fields were located five miles west of the city, a wide expanse of ground divided into archery ranges and drill areas. It was mid-morning by the time we left the city, the traffic on the road making way for the royal party of the king, me and a dozen members of his bodyguard. After a short while the officer in charge rode up to us and saluted.

  ‘Trouble ahead, majesty.’

  ‘What trouble?’ asked my father.

  The man cast me a nervous glance. ‘The Princess Gallia, majesty…’

  Before he had finished his sentence I dug my knees into Remus and galloped ahead. After a couple of minutes I came across a large crowd gathered round a richly attired plump man standing next to a donkey in the middle of the road. The beast had a large load of hides on its back and had clearly collapsed through exhaustion. The man had a stick in his hand and beside him, resplendent in her mail shirt, tight leggings and steel helmet, stood Gallia, a dagger at the man’s throat. The man, a merchant I assumed, was obviously an individual of some wealth as he had a personal escort of a dozen guards, all wearing mail armour, helmets and carrying heavy spears. The guards would normally have protected their master, but twenty women pointing loaded bows at them made them think twice. Gafarn was beside Gallia, no doubt translating for her. The crowd around them was both amused and nervous, for anyone could see that this fierce woman and her riders meant business.

  I pushed my way through the crowd and dismounted.

  ‘What is this, my sweet?’ I asked, taking my place by Gallia’s side.

  ‘Trouble, Pacorus,’ said Gafarn.

  ‘I can see that. My love, why don’t you put the dagger down.’ Gallia held the point firmly at the man’s neck.

  I looked behind me to see Praxima with her bow pointed at the merchant, while the other Amazons covered his guards.

  ‘Will someone tell me what is going on?’

  ‘Ask this fat bully,’ growled Gallia.

  ‘Allow me to illuminate further,’ offered Gafarn. ‘We were riding back from archery practice when we came across this individual beating this poor beast with his stick, whereupon the Lady Gallia took exception and tried to persuade said gentlemen to desist.’

  ‘I threatened to slit his throat unless he stopped,’ said Gallia.

  The merchant, sweating and alarmed, obviously believed me to be his salvation, for he had heard Gafarn speak my name and he must have known that I was the heir to Hatra’s throne.

  ‘Highness, this is an outrage. This woman, this demon from the underworld, has dared to threaten me for nothing more than attending to my own business. This beast is my property and I will treat it as I see fit.’

  The miserable, half-starved donkey was still sitting on the ground, no doubt glad of the opportunity to snatch some rest.

  I could tell by the look on her face that Gallia would not yield, and neither would the merchant. I had visions of dead bodies and the road soaked in blood when I heard shouts of ‘make way for the king’ behind me.

  All noise died away as my father dismounted and walked to where Gallia stood.

  ‘What is going on here?’

  Gafarn spoke to him in whispers and then my father spoke to Gallia.

  ‘If I purchased the donkey for you, would you grant me a favour and lower your weapon, daughter?’

  Gallia looked at my father and lowered her dagger. ‘As your majesty commands.’

  ‘Thank the gods,’ said the merchant. ‘Your majesty, I really must protest…’

  ‘Silence!’ bellowed my father, making me for one jump. ‘I did not ride out of the city today to bandy words with a lowly merchant. I could have you executed for daring to raise your voice to my son’s future wife, but as I don’t want to pollute the ground with your blood, I will purchases this sad creature that you have abused so foully. Pay the man, Pacorus.’

  With that my father turned and went back to his horse. I reach into the purse hanging from my belt and threw some gold coins on the ground, which the merchant gladly accepted. With such a sum I could have purchased a dozen donkeys. He bowed his head and then gestured to his guards that they should be on their way. Gallia signalled for her Amazons to lower their bows and the crowd dispersed. She walked over to the donkey and cut the straps to free it of its load. The merchant gestured to one of his guides to collect the hides that were now lying on the ground.

  ‘The gold includes the baggage it was carrying,’ I shouted, daring anyone to question me.

  The merchant’s guard stopped and looked nervously at his master, who clapped his hands and smiled.

  ‘Of course, of course, highness. As you wish.’

  After a couple of minutes the donkey got back on its feet. Gallia handed it to Gafarn and walked over to my father. She bowed her head to him.

  ‘You are most generous, majesty; I did not mean to cause offence. But I cannot stand by when I see cruelty.’

  My father smiled at her. ‘You are indeed a rare beauty, Gallia. Are you riding back to the city?’

  ‘Yes, majesty, we have been attending to our archery skills.’

  My father looked at the Amazons drawn up by the side of the road.

  ‘Do your women shoot well, Gallia?’

  She smiled. ‘Yes, majesty, like me. They always hit what they aim at.’

  My father nudged Azat forward. ‘I don’t doubt it. Have a good day, Gallia.’

  I embraced Gallia and kissed her on the cheek. ‘My father and I are going to the training fields. Try not to kill anyone between here and the city.’

  She jabbed me in the ribs. ‘Thank you for the gift.’

  The story of Gallia and the merchant only added more to the myth that surrounded her, as well as to that of her ‘wild women’.

  She left the Amazons at Hatra when we rode north to Nisibus to see Vata, though I did take Nergal and the fifty Parthians who had come with me from Italy. He met us ten miles south of the town with a handful of the garrison. I recognized his round face and stocky frame as he jumped down from his horse and ran towards me, and then we embraced. He was nearly thirty years of age now and his face had a slightly haggard look. In truth, the years had not been kind to him.

  ‘It is good to see you, my friend,’ I said.

  Gallia had dismounted and stood several feet behind me, though when he saw her he let go of me and went down on one knee before her.

  ‘Your servant, lady.’

  She lifted him up and kissed him on the cheek.

  ‘I am glad to meet you, Vata. I have heard a lot about you.’

  ‘Not all bad, I hope,’ he winked at me.

  As we rode to Nisibus together, Vata gave me a brief summary of events in the empire.

  ‘Our friend King Darius still wants to be a Roman, but we have placed forces on our northern border to try and pre-empt any Roman invasion. For the moment things are quiet.’

  ‘And what of King Sinatruces?’ I asked.

  ‘He still lives, just.’

  ‘Who is King Sinatruces?’ asked Gallia.

  ‘The king of kings,’ said Vata, ‘he’s over eighty years old, and when he dies there will be civil wa
r.’

  ‘Surely not,’ I was surprised.

  ‘The empire has become a more fractious place since you left us, Pacorus. There are rumours that the title will not pass to his son, Phraates, but will be challenged by other kings of the empire.’

  ‘And if that happens?’ Gallia was inquisitive about the workings of the empire.

  Vata smiled. ‘Then, lady, there will be war.’

  Nisibus was in truth a dismal place, which suited Vata’s mood. That night he gave a lavish feast in our honour, though I could tell that his father’s death had cast a dark shadow over him. He was the town’s governor and his loss and his duties weighed heavily on him. I saw little of the carefree young man whom I remembered. He had changed; but then, so had we all.

  ‘It’s good that you are back, my friend,’ he said as we relaxed after our meal in his governor’s palace, a large, rather austere limestone building in the city’s northern district. ‘Your father will have need of all the great warriors he can lay his hands on.’

  ‘Really, why?’

  ‘Because many in the empire are jealous of Hatra and its wealth. They will be even more so now that you have returned.’

  I took another sip of wine. ‘I doubt that anyone has noticed.’

  He laid a hand on my arm. ‘You are wrong, my friend. Your story spreads like a wildfire to all parts of the empire.’ He looked past me to where Gallia was talking to Nergal.

  ‘It’s true what they say about her. She is a stunning beauty, my congratulations.’

  ‘What about you, my friend. Is there a woman in your life?’

  He laughed, and for a brief second the old Vata returned. ‘Many, though none that I would want to introduce to my mother.’

  ‘I am sorry about your father.’

  He looked and me and shrugged. ‘It is a soldier’s fate to die in battle. And my father was a soldier.’

  ‘The best,’ I said.

  He leaned in closer. ‘Tell me, is it true what they say about Gallia?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘That she fought beside you in battle.’

  I finished my wine. ‘It's true. She has fought in many battles. What’s more, she saved my life once when a Roman was about to run his sword through me.’

  ‘Hard to believe that one so gorgeous is capable of fighting. I’ve heard it said that her coming was predicted by the old hag that Sinatruces keeps at his palace.’

  ‘That is also true.’

  He slapped me hard on the shoulder.

  ‘We live in strange times, my friend.’

  Once we had said our farewells to Vata, Gallia and I returned to Hatra and then set off on the journey across my father’s kingdom to visit King Sinatruces, taking a leisurely trip down the west bank of the River Tigris. My retinue numbered over two hundred and included most of those who had travelled from Italy, though Gafarn and Diana remained at the palace along with Alcaeus, Byrd and Godarz. The latter had been appointed to be Prince Vistaspa’s personal envoy, and when I asked what that meant exactly, he had smiled and replied, ‘it mostly involves talking for hours about the old times when we ride together. Obviously I am too old to fight, but my old lord is kind and we are planning a trip to Arabia to source new breeding stock for the king’s stables.’

  Godarz was a welcome addition to my father’s household, not least because his presence had made Vistaspa less severe than I remembered him. Nergal had become the commander of my personal bodyguard, which was made up of those who had come from Italy. Many of my father’s bodyguard had wanted to join, as well as others who came to Hatra having heard of my adventures, but I refused them all. I had a close bond with those I had fought beside in Italy, and I only wanted their swords and bows to protect me. My father had raised an eyebrow when I told him that Gallia’s Amazons should be included, but at that time he could refuse me nothing and so twenty fierce female horsemen led by the wild Praxima rode behind my scarlet banner.

  How fine we looked during that journey, those on horses dressed in white tunics, white cloaks, mail shirts, silver helmets with white horsehair crests, red-brown leggings and leather boots. Our saddlecloths were red edged with white, while our horses wore black leather bridles decorated with silver strips. Domitus and his cohort were also equipped with white tunics, and their shields were no longer painted red but white, with their bosses burnished bright. With his white crest atop his helmet, he still looked liked a Roman centurion, even down to his short-cropped hair.

  ‘Long hair is for women. No offence, sir.’

  I was walking beside him, holding Remus by his reins. ‘None taken, but most of your men have long hair.’

  ‘That’s different. Normally I would insist that they all trim their manes, but they fought for three years under Spartacus and travelled halfway across the world to stay with you, and they are among the best soldiers I have seen in battle, so I make an exception for them. But only for them.’ He cast me a glance. ‘If you are serious about raising a legion...’

  ‘Never more so,’ I replied.

  ‘Then those who join it will have to look, dress and drill the way I want them to. There can be no argument about that.’

  ‘I would not have it any other way, Domitus.’

  ‘Thank you, sir. By the way, I’ve enlisted a lot of those who came to your city to volunteer their services. Their training will begin when we return.’

  ‘But I told them that I didn’t want them.’

  ‘No, sir. You told them that you didn’t want them in your bodyguard. But I took a look at them and I reckon that they could be useful, and so told them they could stay if they were prepared to fight on foot.’

  ‘But why, Domitus? Frankly, most of them seemed to be adventurers, dreamers and the like.’

  He laughed. ‘That they are, but men who fight for ideals are often better than those who do so just for pay. Besides, I reckon that a man who has tramped from god knows where to enlist in your service can be turned into a loyal soldier. You can’t buy that sort of enthusiasm. And loyalty is priceless. Hope you don’t mind.’

  He had obviously been thinking far into the future. ‘Not at all, Domitus. I leave the matter in your capable hands.’

  We rose at dawn and rode during the morning, then rested in large tents during the blistering heat of the middle of the day. The horses and camels were secured under large canvas awnings that also protected them from the heat.

  I relaxed with Gallia at the entrance to my tent, watching farmers in the distance tending to their fields. This part of Hatra was lush, with irrigation canals running off the Tigris, watering the fields up to two miles from the river itself.

  ‘So, what do you think of my father’s kingdom?’

  She looked at me with those piercing blue eyes and smiled. ‘I like it, and I like its people.’

  ‘And they like you. I think you have conquered them already.’

  ‘This king we are going to see, this Sinatruces. Is he higher than your father?’

  I thought for a moment. ‘Yes and no. He is the King of Kings, appointed to rule over all the other kings in the empire, but those kings are rulers in their own right. It is more like a collection of equals who are happy to elect one of their number to take charge of the empire.’

  ‘What if one king decides he wants to be king of kings instead of the one already appointed?’

  ‘Such a thing has happened only once or twice in our history. We recognise that there is strength in unity, and while we are united, we are invincible.’

  It took us five days to reach Ctesiphon, and on the final morning of our journey we were met by five hundred cataphracts sent by Sinatruces to escort us to his palace. Their commander was a thickset man in his forties named Enius. He and his men were encased in scale armour that covered their torsos, arms, legs and feet. On their heads they wore open-faced helmets with blue plumes, and rich yellow cloaks draped around their shoulders. Their horses also wore armour, which covered their bodies, necks and heads. The armour of both ma
n and horse was composed of both iron and bronze scales. I saw that some of the scales were also silver strips, which made both man and horse shimmer and glisten in the sunlight. Enius carried a shield on his left side but no spear, whereas his men were armed with long spears that had blue cloth strips fluttering from beneath their whetted points. The cataphracts looked both magnificent and intimidating, a nice touch by Sinatruces, I thought. They gave just the right balance between a demonstration of power and an impressive reception party. Gallia’s eyes lit up when she saw them; the first time in her life that she saw Parthian cataphracts in all their glory. Enius, who rode beside me on my left, was eager to ingratiate himself with my beloved. She was, like all of us, not wearing her helmet as the day was getting hot, and her hair was flowing freely down her back and over her breasts. I could see that Enius and his men wanted to see this warrior woman from the west, as most of his cataphracts rode not behind us but in two large blocks on our flanks. I smiled when I saw their heads turn to catch a glimpse of her and some pointed at her. She was certainly dazzling their commander.

  She flashed him a smile. ‘Your men and their horses are beautiful, Lord Enius.’

  ‘They pale beside you, lady,’ he replied.

  ‘I have never seen horses wearing armour.’

  ‘We have cataphracts in Hatra, my sweet,’ I said.

  ‘Then why have I not seen them?’

  ‘Because they are only used on the battlefield or to honour a special guest,’ said Enius.

  ‘Or to impress a beautiful woman,’ I added. Enius ignored my jibe.

  In truth, though, Sinatruces did honour us, for when we reached Ctesiphon two hours later, the perimeter wall of the palace was lined with soldiers and the route to the palace was also lined with guards of the imperial household. Enius led us under the gatehouse of the palace walls to the marble palace steps, where the chancellor welcomed us and where a host of attendants took our horses and camels to the stables.

  ‘Welcome, Prince Pacorus,’ announced the chancellor, who had a high-pitched voice and whose face was covered in rouge. His soft, feminine hands, which he held in front of him like a pious man of religion, were adorned with gold rings. Gallia looked at him and began to laugh, before controlling herself. The chancellor frowned at her most severely. Obviously he was an observer of strict court etiquette.

  ‘Please follow me,’ he said, before turning abruptly and marching up the steps.

  ‘He’s a eunuch,’ I whispered to her as we followed him, which caused her to laugh even louder. I glanced apologetically to Enius, who had a broad grin on his face as he trailed after us.

  The palace was larger and more lavish than the one at Hatra, with walls made of blue and yellow bricks and columns adorned with mythical paintings. It was as impressive as I remembered it from my first visit, which now seemed to me to have been in a different age. We were informed that after we had bathed, dressed and eaten, Sinatruces would grant us an audience. We were also informed that King Phraates, his son, would not be present at the audience as he was on a diplomatic mission to Armenia. Gallia and I were shown to separate rooms where slaves had prepared baths of scented water. After I had soaked away the grime of the journey, a big muscular Nubian slave massaged my shoulders and back. Then two waif-like girls who giggled continuously filed the nails on my hands and feet, massaged my head and combed my hair. Gallia was shown into my room where a table had been heaped with sweet meats, fruit, bread and olives. Servants poured us wine from silver jugs into gold and silver cups.

  Gallia looked like a goddess. She had swapped her mail shirt and leggings for a long white silk gown that left her arms bare. She wore gold anklets and bracelets. Her gown was inlaid with gold that ran under her breasts and around her neck. She also wore a gold waist chain, while on her head was a gold diadem inlaid with red and green jewels. Her hair shone like it had been brushed for hours, the locks tumbling around her neck and shoulders. Even her white sandals had golden buckles. I just stood and stared at her.

  ‘Has someone cut out your tongue?’

  ‘You look like a goddess,’ was all I could utter.

  She smiled and took my hand and led me to large couch where we were served food and wine. Afterwards the chancellor came and led us to the throne room, though not the one where I had first met Sinatruces. This one was a medium-sized square room with a high ceiling and a grey marble floor. The large white stone dais stood at the opposite end to where we entered, through two large doors painted white and inlaid with gold. Marble columns lined the walls of the throne room, each one surmounted by a gold mythical beast – chamrosh, hadhayosh, huma, karkadann, zahhak, roc, manticore, simurgh and shahbaz. In front of each column stood a guard dressed in a yellow tunic, baggy white trousers, and holding a short spear with a long, broad blade. We walked across the floor towards the dais, where Sinatruces was sitting on his throne dressed in a simple yellow robe covering his whole body. There was a vacant chair on his left side. Light streamed into the room via square windows positioned high up on the walls. Incense burned either side of the dais where four fierce-looking Scythian axe men, huge Asiatic thugs, stood with their hands on their large and keenly sharpened two-headed axes. Gallia and I halted in front of the dais and bowed at Sinatruces. He looked every bit his eighty years, with his thin bony face, narrow nose and wispy white hair on each side of his bald head. But his eyes were like a hawk’s and were fixed on Gallia.

  ‘So, young prince, this is the beauty who has set my empire alight with gossip, speculation and rumour.’ He spoke Latin so Gallia could comprehend, for as yet she had only a basic understanding of our language.

  ‘Yes, highness,’ I said. ‘This is the Princess Gallia.’

  His fingers rapped on the arms of his golden throne. ‘A princess? From what race are you from, child?’

  She stood proudly in front of him and her voice did not falter when she answered. ‘From a land called Gaul, your majesty, a land far from here that is green and mountainous.’

  Sinatruces leaned forward, resting his pointed chin on his right hand. ‘Come and sit beside me child, so that I may hear more of your land.’

  Gallia took her place beside him, leaving me standing on my own and feeling somewhat ignored.

  ‘Ha! The young lion burns with jealousy, Sinatruces. I would have a care if I were you. His sword is sharp and his reflexes quick. I doubt that even your axe men would be able to save you should he decide to water the ground with your blood.’

  The Scythians hoisted up their weapons and fixed me with their black eyes after a voice I recognised had uttered these words. Out of the shadow in the corner of the room behind the dais shuffled the old crone Dobbai. She looked as dishevelled and unwashed as I remembered her, her hair lank with grease and her black robe filthy. She shuffled into the room and walked onto the dais, ignored Sinatruces and stood before Gallia. She took my love’s hand, who for once was lost for words. Dobbai then looked at me.

  ‘So, you have fulfilled the prophecy young prince. You intend to marry her?’

  ‘I do.’

  ‘You hear that, Sinatruces. And you had a design to make her one of your harem. If you imprison her here, this son of Hatra will tear your empire apart.’ She cackled at Gallia. ‘Have no fear, child. The only part of the high king’s body that works at all is his tongue.’

  Dobbai pointed a finger at Sinatruces. ‘The fantasies of tired old men are pathetic to behold. Do you think that this woman, this beauty whom Prince Pacorus has crossed oceans and vanquished armies to be with, could be traded like a cheap trinket?

  ‘You may cut down this young man where he stands, but to do so would cause a storm to descend upon you such as the world has never seen. Do you know, Sinatruces, that even as you sit on your throne men flock to Hatra to serve under Prince Pacorus? They have heard of the manner of his return, and from all lands the brave, the fanatics and the pious flock to Hatra to serve him. Some say he is a god, while others say that this young girl is a goddess who has b
een sent from the heavens to protect him. To touch even one hair on his head would be enough to conjure up a mighty army under King Varaz that would destroy you and reduce your palace to dust. To dust, Sinatruces.

  ‘All this will come to pass if you seek to possess her, for many are saying that he and she are beloved of the gods.’

  Sinatruces, clearly alarmed, shook his head and professed his innocence.

  ‘I did not think to imprison her,’ protested the king. ‘I merely wanted to see her. I meant no harm.’

  ‘Well,’ snapped Dobbai, ‘you’ve seen her.’

  Dobbai took Gallia’s hand and led her from the dais, then placed her hand in mine. Sinatruces sat back looking crestfallen.

  Dobbai then stared at the king. ‘And if you are thinking of retracting your gift to Pacorus, the price that your devious mind had settled upon for her, then think again.’ She jabbed a bony finger at him. ‘The gods are watching us at this very moment, watching your every move. And for one whose time on this earth is coming to an end, and who will be standing before them soon enough, I would choose your words carefully.’

  The king looked at Dobbai then to me, then at Gallia. He sighed and looked down at his feet, and appeared like a man who had let a great prize slip through his fingers.

  ‘Of course, we are glad to see you. Both of you. It is a miracle that you have returned safely to Parthia. My wedding gift to you, Pacorus, is this.’

  He clapped his hands and the eunuch chancellor came from behind us to stand beside the dais. He unrolled a scroll and began to speak in his high-pitched voice.

  ‘Sinatruces, king of kings, lord of Parthia from the banks….’

  ‘Get to the meat of it,’ snapped the king.

  The eunuch frowned. He was not having a good day. ‘Pacorus, Prince of Hatra, is hereby created King of Dura Europus, said position to be held by him and his offspring for all eternity. This is the word of Sinatruces, and is the law.’

  I was stunned. Dura Europus was a city on the left bank of the Euphrates positioned on cliffs high above the river, looking west across the Syrian plain towards the city of Palmyra. It was a large, bustling place protected by a curtain wall and towers. And it was just across the river from my father’s kingdom. It had always been the domain of the king of kings of the empire.

  I was lost for words, for this was indeed a great gift.

  ‘I do not know what to say, majesty,’ I stammered.

  ‘Then say nothing,’ replied the king, in no mood to indulge me, ‘it is often better to stay silent.’

  Dobbai sat in the chair next to Sinatruces and looked at us both. ‘They will make a fine couple, Sinatruces, and he will be a great general for Parthia. Better a friend than a terrible foe, I think. You have made a wise decision. And the gods will be pleased with that decision.’

  Sinatruces had had enough of our company and waved us away. We bowed and walked from the room.

  ‘I am a king and you will be my queen,’ I whispered to Gallia as I enclosed her hand in mine.

  She suddenly stopped, turned and walked back to the dais. She bent down and kissed Sinatruces in the cheek, then asked one of the Scythians for his dagger. The man suspected foul play but Sinatruces was enraptured and waved his hand to get the fellow to acquiesce. Gallia took the blade and cut a lock of her hair, then placed it in the reptile-like hand of the king. Dobbai was delighted and clapped her hands. Gallia then walked back to me.

  Dobbai called after us. ‘Keep your sword blade sharp, young prince, for the eagles will come looking for you.’

  ‘What does that mean?’ asked Gallia.

  ‘I have no idea, my love, but the words of that filthy old woman have a nasty habit of coming true.’

  But in truth I did not care about the utterances of the old crone, for I had my beloved by my side and my own kingdom to rule. And I would have my own army to lead, and I would make that army the greatest in the whole of the Parthian Empire.

  The next day we made preparations to leave Ctesiphon, for I felt that we had out-stayed our welcome. In any case I had no wish to see Sinatruces, who had lured us here on false pretences. Enius had come to see me earlier and had asked if we required an escort from the city, but I dismissed him curtly as I was strapping my saddle onto Remus back in front of the stables. Gallia and the others were likewise preparing for the journey back to Hatra, and she looked at me as the figure of Enius ambled away with hunched shoulders.

  ‘That was rude.’

  Remus was in a fidgety mood and wouldn’t let me buckle up the last strap. ‘Stay still.’

  Gallia frowned. ‘There’s no need to take it out on your horse.’

  ‘Take what out?’

  ‘You’re in a sulk, though I do not know why?’

  ‘Do you not?’

  ‘No. I was the one whom he wanted to imprison here and make one of his wives, not you.’

  I gave up trying to fasten the strap and walked over to her. ‘I would never have let that happen. Disgusting old man. He’s eighty years old.’

  Gallia put her arms round me and kissed my cheek. ‘My gallant knight. Even if he had locked me up here I would have escaped back to you; no walls can keep me from you. But I’m not a prisoner, so there’s no need to rebuke poor Remus for an old man’s lust.’

  She began stroking his neck, and after a couple of minutes had fastened his strap.

  ‘A fine horse, young prince.’

  I felt the cold rush of fear run down my spine as Dobbai spoke her words. I turned to see her walk from one of the stables. She grinned at Gallia and then once again took my love’s hand.

  ‘You are not going to say farewell to Sinatruces before you leave?’

  ‘No,’ I snapped.

  ‘He is old and may not live to see you again.’

  ‘Well,’ said Gallia, ‘I don’t suppose it would hurt.’

  ‘No!’ I was insistent. ‘I am a king now and not a boy to be ordered about. And this is my future wife, a princess in her own right and my future queen.’

  Dobbia threw her head back and cackled loudly. Then she looked at Gallia. ‘You see, my child, how quickly they are seduced by titles and positions. It is the doom of men. Well, let us talk no more of Sinatruces, for he is but a feeble old man.’

  ‘He is also the king of kings,’ remarked Gallia.

  Dobbai cupped Gallia’s cheek with her right hand. ‘Yes, princess, he is, and he desired to make you his queen of queens, to rule as such when he had left this life. You hear that, son of Hatra? Had it been so, you would have been kneeling before her err long. But, my child, your destiny lies elsewhere. And now we come to it, for I have a message for you both.’

  I had had enough. ‘If it’s from Sinatruces, then you can tell him…’

  Dobbia let go of Gallia’s hand, turned and glared at me, her eyes suddenly filled with rage and her face a visage of cold fury. ‘Do not bandy words with me, boy. I have not come here to be lectured to, but to convey a message. So you will be quiet!’

  I stood frozen to the spot, slightly alarmed that a frail old women had suddenly turned into a fierce demon. Then the anger in her eyes abated somewhat.

  ‘Stand before me, both of you.’

  Gallia moved to be beside me and I held her hand. Suddenly it felt as though we were the only two people left in the whole world, for our attention was fixed wholly on Dobbai, who now spoke to us in a calm, authoritative voice.

  ‘She came to me last night in a dream. She said that she is pleased with you both, especially you, Pacorus. She told me that she is happy and you are not to worry about her, and that you must tell all your friends that this is so. She watched over you during your voyage to Parthia, and now that you are both safe she can go and join her husband with a happy heart.’

  I felt Gallia’s grip on my hand tighten.

  ‘Her husband?’ I enquired.

  Dobbai smiled. ‘Yes, son of Hatra, her husband; your lord and friend. For Claudia told me that you had fulfilled your oath to her by
bringing her son to this land.’

  I saw that Gallia had tears running down her cheeks. ‘And she is happy, lady?’

  ‘Yes, child,’ replied Dobbai, ‘for now she does not have to linger but can join her husband. You know his name, don’t you, son of Hatra?’

  I nodded and felt my mouth speak the name of my lord, my general and my friend.

  ‘Spartacus.’

  Epilogue

  The villa of Marcus Licinius Crassus was bathed in autumn sunlight as Lucius Furius made his way up the Palatine Hill and entered the abode of his lord. Crassus had risen high since he had crushed the slave rebellion. He had come to Rome’s aid when others had failed her, and had raised armies from his own pocket that had crushed Spartacus. The common people did grumble, though, about the smell caused by the crucified slaves, whose bodies along the Appian Way had been left to fester and rot for weeks, on the express orders of Crassus himself. Most had been picked clean by fat crows, but the sight and smell were unpleasant and there were frequent protests. In recognition of his achievements Crassus had been made consul, a post he shared with his rival General Pompey. The two men disliked each other intensely, but had seen fit to enter into an alliance to keep an eye on each other, as well as to ensure that Rome would not be weakened by civil strife. During the triumphs that had followed the crushing of the slave rebellion, Crassus had paid for ten thousand tables for the common people to feast off, and had also given them each a free gift of three months’ supply of corn to fill their bellies. Such largesse made him very popular among the masses.

  Lucius was shown into Crassus’ study where he was seated opposite the consul and served wine. Crassus smiled at his young protégé, who still walked with a limp.

  ‘How are you, Lucius?’

  ‘Well, thank you consul.’

  Crassus picked up a scroll that had been lying on his desk and passed it to the younger man.

  ‘I thought you might be interested to see this. It arrived early today.’

  Lucius took the parchment and unrolled it. The words were Latin.

  ‘To Marcus Licinius Crassus.

  Greetings.

  It has been some time since our last meeting, and I thought out of politeness that I would update you on the state of affairs since I left Italy. The son of Spartacus is a fine young boy and continues to thrive in Parthia, where those who journeyed with me also enjoy a life of freedom and prosperity. I have heard that you have also prospered since our game of cat- and- mouse that we played in Italy. I am pleased for you and salute your fame. I trust that your high position among the people of Rome will satisfy your ambition and not tempt you to cast your eyes to the East, where a mighty army stands ready to defend the Parthian Empire. Should this not be the case, I cannot promise that the same courtesy you extended me in allowing me to depart Italy unmolested will be extended to you and your legions should you be tempted to cross the Euphrates.

  I wish you long life and happiness. May Shamash smile on you.

  Your friend.

  King Pacorus of Dura Europus.’

  Lucius Furius threw the letter on the table. ‘This is an outrage. What is Parthia but a collection of mud huts, bandits and renegades? They must be punished. He especially must be punished.’

  Crassus sat back in his chair and observed Furius. He was fond of the young tribune; after all, his father had been a loyal supporter in the Senate. But his son had cost him a lot of money, not least the hundreds of horsemen he had lost during the slave rebellion.

  ‘Lucius, your bravery and valour are undoubted. But a wise head is called for at this moment. It took us three years to crush Spartacus and his army, and in the last battle I lost nearly ten thousand dead and you lost all of your cavalry, if my memory serves me right. And now Pacorus, King Pacorus, has returned to his homeland where there are tens of thousands of horsemen who fight like him.’

  Furius looked aghast. ‘Then we do nothing?’

  Crassus stood up and walked over to his balcony that overlooked the Tiber. ‘No, Lucius. We take our time and make thorough preparations for our campaign to conquer the Parthian Empire.’

  ‘And Pacorus?’

  Crassus smiled to himself. ‘I will bring him back to Rome in an iron cage.’

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