The Parthian (46 page)

‘What are you going to do?’ she asked.

I looked at the eunuch. ‘Repay a debt.’

We took the whimpering creature a mile inshore, dragging him behind me on a rope that had bound his wrists together. All the time he was trying to save himself, explaining that he was only doing his master’s bidding. He probably was, but I was uninterested. All I could think about was how I had been betrayed and nearly killed, and how many of my men’s charred bodies remained on that beach, piled onto a funeral pyre. We halted at a place where two dirt tracks crossed each other. I ordered two of my men to find a young tree and cut it down, then cut the branches off the trunk. We dismounted and I drank some water, for I was suddenly very thirsty. The track had been churned up by the horses and wagons that had passed by earlier. I made no attempt t speak to anyone, for I was still seething over the Roman treachery. I do not know why this was so, for what did I expect from my enemies? Yet the fact that they had broken their word offended me greatly.

After what seemed like an age, the men returned with a trimmed tree trunk about twenty feet in length and four inches in diameter. I ordered one end to be sharpened into a point, then instructed the eunuch to be stripped naked and spread-eagled face down on the ground.

‘No, lord, no. I beg you,’ he screamed as ropes were tied around his ankles and wrists, four men holding the end of each rope. I was impassive to his cries of mercy as the sharpened end of the pole was rammed into his rectum and then driven further into his body by a hammer wielded by a muscled warrior. His screams rent the air and several of my men winced as each blow of the hammer forced the wood further into his anus. The eunuch repeatedly smashed his forehead into the earth as intense pain shot through his body, but there was no release from his torment, which got worse as the minutes passed and as the pole was forced through his body inch by inch until the point came out of his right shoulder blade. As two men dug a hole I handed the man wielding the hammer, and who was now covered in sweat, a water bottle and told him to rest. The eunuch was still alive, still writhing in pain, but made no sound save for barely audible groans. We hoisted him up and planted the hammered end of the pole in the freshly dug hole, then packed it with earth to keep it upright. Then we rode away, leaving the impaled eunuch to endure a slow and painful death. It would take two or three days for him to die, perhaps longer if he was unlucky, and during that time ravens would come and feast on his body. They would peck out his eyes first, and then tear at his flesh with their beaks. It is a cruel death, but pity is wasted on such treacherous people.

When we reached camp I reported to Spartacus, despite my arm being on fire and the bandage soaked in blood. Nergal had informed him what had taken place.

‘Are you surprised?’ he said, handling me a cup of wine as I sat in his tent and Claudia pressed herbs onto my wound and then re-bandaged it.

‘They broke their word.’

He laughed. ‘Of course they did. We are mere slaves and are nothing in their eyes. Did you think that being a prince would entitle you to be treated differently?’

‘They have no honour,’ I replied.

He sat opposite and looked at me. Claudia finished applying the bandage and kissed me on the cheek. ‘Listen, my young friend. For the Romans, honour is for equals. We have wounded their pride by rising up, defeating their soldiers and sacking their towns. And now we have held one of their cities to ransom. Forced it to do our bidding. Their sense of outrage had become intolerable for them to bear. Therefore they tried to kill you. The fact that they failed will only increase their thirst for vengeance, especially when they discover their charred ships full of blackened bones.’

‘No mercy for those who break their word,’ was all I could say.

‘You did the right thing,’ said Spartacus.

‘How’s the arm?’ asked Claudia.

‘It will heal,’ I said. ‘I owe you my life, lady. Gallia told me that you had warned her that I was in danger.’

Spartacus rose from his chair, walked over to his wife and cupped her face in his large hands. Then he kissed her.

‘Useful thing to have a woman whom the gods talk to.’

‘I do not talk to the gods,’ she chastened him,’ they reveal things to me, that is all.’

‘A wondrous gift,’ I said.

‘Or a curse,’ she said. ‘Not all the visions I have are happy ones. I have no control over what is revealed to me.’

‘Crixus was right, we should attack the city,’ I said, changing the subject. For in truth the only thing that was in my mind was revenge.

‘Were you hit on the head as well?’ said Spartacus.

‘We should put Thurri to the sword.’

Spartacus poured himself more wine. ‘We have no time for you to settle your personal vendetta. The army is almost ready. We are done with this place, and we are marching north.’

‘They have offended us!’

‘They have offended
you
.’

‘Their treachery should not go unpunished.’

‘What is hurt more, Pacorus, your arm or your pride?’

He was right, the army was ready and in truth my horsemen were also ready. Deficiencies in mail shirts and helmets would not hinder our effectiveness greatly. But my desire for vengeance still burned brightly within, and I was determined to settle my affairs before I left.

Chapter 11

T
he only person who could help me was Lucius Domitus, the ex-centurion who now happily trained recruits to kill his fellow Romans. I was suspicious of him at first, but Akmon told me that he was an excellent instructor, albeit a hard taskmaster. I did not doubt that, as all centurions seemed to have an inbred callous streak. Nevertheless, he was the man I needed and so I paid him a visit on an expanse of ground upon which stood dozens of upright wooden posts, and against these posts recruits equipped with wicker shields and armed with wooden swords were practising their skills. Domitus was obviously enjoying his position immensely, hurling a stream of obscenities against the men in his charge. I strolled over to watch him, cane stick in hand, walking up and down the rows of sweating soldiers stabbing at the posts, keeping their shields tight to their bodies and being careful not to overextend their sword arms. And every once in a while Domitus would hit a man with his cane (so much for not being allowed to strike his recruits), then scream at him the reason for the blow. I had the feeling that he could do this all day and all night, such was his delight. He saw me and walked over.

‘Fancy some sword practice, sir?’

‘Er, no, thank you. How are they progressing?’

‘Good,’ he replied, smiling. ‘They’ll soon be ready for the real thing.’

‘You don’t mind training them to kill Romans?’

‘Why should I?’ he shrugged. ‘I was condemned to death in the mines and Spartacus freed me. Reckon I owe him for that. He’s quite a charismatic character, don’t you think.’

‘Yes he is.’

He opened his water bottle and took a swig, then offered it to me, before bellowing at the top of his voice for the soldiers to stop slacking.

‘I’m guessing that you didn’t come over here just to pass the time of day.’

‘I need your advice,’ I said.

He seemed pleased by this as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. ‘Of course.’

‘I need to get into Thurri.’

‘Easy enough,’ he replied, ‘you will need plenty of coin, though. You can pay a smuggler to get you in by the sea. You give him half of what he wants, he drops you at the docks and then picks you up at the agreed time, after which you pay him the rest of the fare at the end of the return trip.’

‘Seems simple enough.’

‘Simple but dangerous, especially for you. Chances are that any sailor worth his salt would take your money and then sell you to the authorities for a fat profit.’

‘I see,’ I must have looked dejected as he then made me an offer.

‘I could arrange for your passage, make up a story about me wanting to get into the city to see a relative.’

‘So how do I fit into your plan?’

‘Oh, you could be my slave. No one would bat an eyelid.’

‘A slave!’ I was not amused.

‘It’s the only way, sir,’ he said. ‘I’m a Roman, so no one is even going to look at you if they think you are my slave. You would be invisible, so to speak.’

‘What’s to stop you selling me to the authorities?’

He looked hurt. ‘Absolutely nothing, apart from the fact that I too have a price on my head once they find out who I was. So it would be death in the arena for you and likely me standing beside you. I told you, I owe Spartacus and I know he esteems you highly, so in a way I am paying him back part of the debt I owe him.’

In truth I could not see the logic of his answer, but he had a raw honesty that made me
almost
trust him. I could have forgotten the idea there and then, but my thirst for revenge needed to be sated. I decided to put my life in the hands of this former centurion. I told him that I agreed to his plan, and two days later found myself standing behind Domitus on a beach less than three miles north of Thurri.

I had asked Spartacus permission to go to the city and at first he was reluctant.

‘What’s done, done, Pacorus.’

But I was insistent. ‘No, lord, not yet.’

‘And if I lose my cavalry commander, what then?’

‘Then Nergal will take my place. He has ability.’

‘But not as much as you. I do not like the idea, I have to tell you. All for the sake of pride.’

‘Not pride, lord, my honour has been offended. I cannot let this slight go unpunished.’

He shook his head. ‘You are a strange one, Pacorus. Do you think honour will act as a shield against Roman swords and javelins, will honour get you out of Italy?’

‘No, lord, but it is important to me. And the idea of that fat merchant sitting in the city laughing at me gnaws away at my very soul.’

He threw up his hands. ‘Go, then, but if you are caught you are on your own. You will be alone with your honour.’

‘Thank you, lord.’

‘I hope it is worth the effort.’

It was quiet in the dark save for the gentle lapping of the waves on the shore. Domitus was dressed in a beige tunic, boots, red cloak and had his
gladius
in a scabbard at his left hip. He carried his ubiquitous vine cane in his right hand. Lean, with short-cropped hair and muscular arms, he looked every bit the Roman centurion. I, on the other hand, must have looked a sorry figure, with my course brown tunic and bleached cloak, called a
peanula
, with its hood pulled over my head. The only weapon was my dagger that I carried hidden in my tunic. Domitus had a leather pouch tied to his belt, in which was a plentiful supply of silver coins — part of the loot that we had acquired on our travels. It was, to use his own words, ‘a tidy sum’. I was worried that we were too close to the Gauls’ camp for any boats to approach the shore, but Domitus assured me that there was a brisk trade between our army and the small boat owners of the city, all going on with the full knowledge of the Gauls.

‘What does Crixus like, apart from fighting and killing?’ he asked me as we waited.

‘Drinking,’ I replied.

‘Exactly, and for gold and silver he is provided with the best wines from Italy and Greece. His men probably use this beach, and in return they get all the gossip about what’s going on in Thurri and elsewhere.’

‘Does Spartacus know this is going on?’ I asked.

‘Course, but the thing is that Crixus gets to learn all the gossip, sir.’

‘So?’ I failed to see what value small talk could be to us.

‘So’ said Domitus, indicating irritation at my failure to see the obvious, ‘if the Romans are assembling a fleet of warships to land on army on this stretch of the coast, then friend Crixus gets to hear of it well in advance. Small price to pay or a few gold coins that weren’t his in the first place. Ah, here’s the boat.’

The boat was a small, single-masted fishing vessel that reeked of rotting fish and salt. I gave Domitus a piggyback ride to the boat, as he said we had to maintain the pretense of master and slave at all times. He was helped aboard by a reptilian-like man who stank even worse than his boat; the captain I assumed. Domitus was helped aboard and I was left to haul myself onto the reeking vessel, and then told to sit at the bow while my ‘master’ sat with the skipper at the stern. Two crew members sat side-by-side amidships, each holding an oar that they used to get us away from the shore and out to sea. In the gloom I must confess I was nervous, being in a small boat on a large ocean, but the captain chatted away without concern to Domitus, who replied with single-word answers. I stared down at my feet during the journey, which took less time than I thought, for within an hour we were sailing slowly into the harbour at Thurri. The docks were lit up by lines of beacons arranged on two curved breakwaters that protected the harbour, with a tall stone lighthouse standing at the end of one of them. The quays were crammed with vessels of every variety and size moored side-by-side. It may have been a city under siege, but the people of Thurri would not starve, such was volume of shipping in the harbour. On its landward side stood a series of wharves and porticoes to accommodate traders and their goods either in storage or transit, though because it was night the level of activity was low. 

Our miserable vessel docked at a wharf and Domitus paid the captain half the agreed fee. He showed him the rest of the coins and told him to be waiting for us at exactly the same spot at midday tomorrow. 

‘We’ll be here,
dominus
,’ he replied with the expectation of more easy money, though as I followed Domitus past the warehouses and into the city I wondered if he would go straight to the nearest barracks and inform the centurion on guard. Then again, he had no reason to suspect anything. Domitus was obviously a Roman citizen and I was obviously his slave. We found accommodation for the night in a dirty, lice-ridden inn run by a fat oaf who had three chins but only one front tooth. The inn was near the docks and was full of rough-looking sailors who sat around the tables in the dining area, shoving food into their mouths with their fingers, drinking and generally arguing with anyone at hand. Domitus ordered himself a meal of pork, bread and wine, while I trudged outside to find a place in the courtyard, outside the stable block. There were other slaves already there, grey shapes laid along the wall, most sleeping. I took my place beside them, just another bundle of human misery. Domitus came out into the courtyard a while later with a jug of water and a piece of bread. I drank the water but refused the bread, which was as hard as rock.