Parthian Dawn (3 page)

‘You don’t have to thank the slaves, Diana.’

‘No, sorry, majesty.’

My mother shook her head and smiled. ‘You must call me “mother”, Diana, for now that we have adopted Gafarn, you have become our daughter. And of that we are most pleased, are we not Varaz?’

My father was obviously bored by all this women’s talk. ‘What? Yes, of course.’

My sisters, Aliyeh and Adeleh, appeared, adorned with gold in their hair, on their arms and around their ankles, looking every bit the Hatran princesses they were. Aliyeh, in her mid-twenties, was tall and thin and possessed of an aloof, serious nature. Adeleh, on the other hand, was two years younger and had a happy disposition. They embraced Diana and fussed over the infant. Their appearance contrasted sharply to that of Diana, who wore no jewellery and was dressed in simple attire. In truth Diana was unremarkable when it came to looks, but such was the kindness in her heart and the goodness in her soul that everyone loved her, from the slave who broke a jug and received an arm round the shoulder instead of a beating, to the fiercest warrior in my father’s bodyguard, who was disarmed by her smile and charm. Gallia was far more beautiful, though her reputation as the woman who could shoot a bow as well as any man (I would say better than most), and who was also handy with a sword and a dagger, made some wary of her. She was called ‘fierce beauty’ by many, though none dared say it to her face, and people’s awe of her was further increased by the rumour that she had been sent by the gods to save me from the Romans. No such reputation was attached to Diana, but the magic she possessed to make people love her was just as powerful.  It was a strange destiny that had made a kitchen slave a Parthian princess, but no stranger than my own, which had taken me to the side of a former gladiator who had conquered all Italy, if only for a while.

‘Your father says that you want to take Gafarn and Diana away from us,’ said my mother.

Aliyeh and Adeleh squealed their protests, causing the baby to cry. Aliyeh scooped him up in her arms to calm his distress.

‘I merely sought to ask them to come with me, mother.’

‘Well,’ she replied, ‘I would like them to stay, and it’s nice having an infant in the palace again. If you want to go and play kings then that’s your business, but don’t drag Gafarn and Diana along with you. Besides, I’ve heard that Dura Europos is a dismal place. I don’t know why you want to be king of such a city.’

‘Because he doesn’t want to wait to be king of Hatra,’ replied my father, ‘besides Dura Europos is closer to the Romans in Cappadocia.’

‘Why should I wish to be close to the Romans?’ I asked.

‘Because your hatred for them burns bright still,’ he said, ‘and you strain at the leash like a ravenous hound to strike at them.’

‘Nonsense.’

‘Is it? Gafarn, you know your brother well, what say you on this matter?’

‘I think Pacorus has not forgotten the insults he endured at the hands of the Romans.’ He was talking of my being chained, beaten and whipped when a slave. ‘But his love for Gallia is greater than any thirst for revenge.’

My father clapped and Gafarn bowed in mockery at him. ‘A most politic answer. Obviously all your years in the palace did not go to waste. But I stand by my words.’

‘In any case,’ I added, ‘it would have been unwise to refuse Sinatruces, who is the King of Kings after all.’

‘Most convenient for you.’ My father, like a dog with an old bone, was refusing to give up the argument. ‘He was certainly out-manoeuvred by you and that sorceress of his. He sought to entice Gallia to his palace to make her his wife, and then give you the crown of Dura Europos in compensation. But instead he ended up making you a king anyway and he failed to entrap Gallia.’

‘No man imprisons me,’ snapped Gallia.

‘Well said, daughter,’ said my mother. ‘And now we shall have an end of all talk of politics and Romans. Nothing will happen before the wedding anyway.’

Chapter 2

H
atra, city of one hundred thousand people, was a glittering jewel in the desert the day I married Gallia. Perhaps it was because I was madly in love with my tall, blonde-haired princess from Gaul, or perhaps it was because the city was filled with kings and princes and their gaudily dressed entourages, but whatever the reason the limestone walls and towers of the city seemed to sparkle that day. From every one of its one hundred and fifty towers flew scarlet banners bearing white horses’ heads — the royal symbol of Hatra, after the famed whites ridden by every member of the king’s bodyguard. Today, though, the men of the bodyguard had been given leave to attend my wedding. Only those who were of Hatra’s nobility were allowed to serve in the royal bodyguard, and now they were in the Great Temple with their families and friends, along with hundreds of others who had been invited. The massive temple, its exterior walls surrounded by high stone columns, was filled to the brim. Assur stood impassive at the high altar while his priests fussed and panicked as they tried to get everyone seated in the correct order. Father, my mother and myself were in the front row on the right side of the great aisle that ran down the centre of the temple. Also in the front row were Gafarn, Diana, the infant child of Spartacus and my sisters. Immediately behind, and much to Assur’s disapproval, were those who had come with me from Italy. I called them the ‘Companions’, for that is what they were. And so there was Nergal, my brave and loyal second-in-command who had taken a wild-haired Spanish girl as his wife. I turned and looked at them both, the grinning Nergal who always seemed so optimistic, his brown, shoulder-length hair almost as long as that of his wife. Praxima smiled at me and fixed me with her big round eyes. I smiled back. She leaned forward and laid a hand on my shoulder.

‘I am happy for you, lord.’

‘Thank you, Praxima. And I am happy that you are both here to share this day with me.’

She had been a Roman slave in a brothel. Now, in her white flowing dress, it was hard to believe that she had fought like a man in Italy; indeed, she had been and was Gallia’s subordinate when my love had formed her own band of women warriors. I looked beyond Praxima to where a score of the Amazons sat at my wedding, the survivors of Gallia’s command. They were all young and some were beautiful, and as I turned to face the altar I remembered that they were also deadly. I had seen Praxima slit men’s throats with a dagger and shoot them down without pity with her bow.

The other Companions were a mixed bunch — Parthians, Dacians, Germans, Thracians and Greeks — former Roman slaves who had laughed and shed blood together, who were united by an unbreakable bond of comradeship forged in the cauldron of battle. They shared jokes with the cropped-haired Lucius Domitus, the Roman whom they loved like a brother. But the man whom we all regarded as a father figure was on the other side of the aisle, to the left of the woman I was about to marry. His name was Godarz and he too had been a Roman slave. In his late forties, tall, lean with cropped hair, he was actually a Parthian who had been a slave in Italy for many years. So many, in fact, that he dressed like a Roman. Curiously, he had served in the Silvan army under Vistaspa long ago, the same man who now commanded my father’s army. I can only surmise that it was the hand of God himself who had led me to a town in Italy called Nola, which Spartacus had captured and where Godarz had been a slave. We had released him from his bondage and he had subsequently become the quartermaster general of the slave army, and a man I respected hugely. Now he was going to give Gallia away, for her own father was dead, killed by Gafarn, now my brother.

A large hand slapped my shoulder. ‘Not a bad crowd, Pacorus, should be a good day. Mind you, there’s still time for Gallia to change her mind and marry me instead.’

Vata planted his stocky body beside me, his big round face wearing a grin. My friend since childhood, his father had been Bozan. During my time away he had become sullen and withdrawn, but today some of the old Vata — happy and carefree — had returned. My father had made him governor of Nisibus, a city in the north of his kingdom, but today he was in Hatra as an honoured guest.

I laughed. ‘My friend, you delude yourself, she only has eyes for me.’

He leaned forward and caught Gallia’s eye, then waved at her. She smiled and waved back. He put his arm round my shoulder.

‘You see,’ he said, ‘women can’t resist a hero.’

‘When I see one,’ I replied, ‘I’ll let you know.’

He laughed aloud, prompting Assur to frown at him. Vata ignored the high priest and pointed at the silver Roman eagle standard that lay at the foot of the high altar.

‘You remember that day, Pacorus, when you took it?’

He was referring to the battle four years ago when we had defeated a Roman legion and I had captured the legion’s eagle.

‘Like it was yesterday, my friend.’

Assur suddenly beat the end of his staff on the white marble floor and gradually the hubbub died down. His voice was deep and solemn.

‘Marriage is the chief concern of human life, as from it arise the nearest and most endearing relationships which go to form the comfort and happiness of existence in this world: husband and wife, parents and children, brothers and sisters. Marriage may be designated the hinge of all kindred, the strongest link in the chain that binds mankind together. Hail to Shamash.’

As one the congregation answered, ‘Hail to Shamash.’

He motioned to me and Gallia to come forward and sit in the two chairs that had been placed before him. Between the chairs two priests held a large white cloth. The marriage ceremony has strict rules, and both of us had been tutored in the proper procedure beforehand. I had fought in many battles and come close to death on many occasions, but today I was more nervous than I had ever been in all my life. And all the while I was aware that Shamash, the god of the sun whom I revered, was watching me from heaven. Were my dead friends, Spartacus and his wife Claudia, also observing me? I liked to think so.

I took my seat on the right side of Gallia and then the two marriage witnesses stepped forward, those who were the nearest relations to bride and bridegroom. Gafarn was standing by my side, while Godarz stood arrow straight beside Gallia. Assur nodded and the priests raised the curtain to allow Gallia and me to hold hands, after which the priests released the cloth to fall over our linked hands. Thus was it indicated to all present that the separation that had hitherto existed between Gallia and myself no longer existed, and that we were now united.

Then the two priests passed a long piece of twine around both of us seven times, a process that indicates union between man and woman. One strand can be broken easily enough, but not seven.

Assur raised both his hands, his eyes to the ceiling.

‘May Shamash, the Omniscient God, grant you a progeny of sons and grandsons, plenty of means of provision, great friendships and a long life.’

Turning to Gafarn, Assur spoke solemnly to him. ‘I ask you, in the presence of King Varaz, in the presence of the invited kings of the Arsacid dynasty, and in the presence of all who have come to Hatra to witness this marriage, if you have agreed that King Pacorus will take this maiden, Princess Gallia, in marriage, in accordance with the rites and rules of the Great Shamash?’

‘I have agreed,’ replied Gafarn.

Assur’s stare was then transferred to Godarz.

‘Have you, with righteous mind and truthful thoughts, words and actions, and for the increase of righteousness, agreed to give this maiden to King Pacorus to be his bride?’

Godarz nodded. ‘I have agreed.’

Assur then gave his staff to one of the two priests who stood next to him and walked forward, indicating to Gallia and me to kneel. He then placed a hand on my shoulder and the other on Gallia’s, fixing us both with his stare.

‘Have you preferred to enter into this contract of marriage up to the end of your life with a righteous mind?’

We both replied. ‘I have preferred.’

Assur stepped back and once again raised his hands.

‘Know all that Shamash has now blessed this union and has decreed that King Pacorus and Princess Gallia, who is now queen, are married, and that no mortal man may question this union. May Shamash bless them. Hail to Shamash.’

The assembly replied ‘Hail to Shamash’, and then Assur gestured for us to rise. The two priests stepped forward and gathered the twine that had been wrapped around us, which was given to Godarz. The white cloth curtain they gave to Gafarn, then Gallia and I turned and walked down the aisle towards the temple’s main entrance. This faced east to greet Shamash every morning when the sun rose to begin its journey across the sky. The temple echoed with the sound of applause as I walked beside my wife, now also my queen. I glanced at her. The thin gold strips in her hair glinted in the light. On her head she wore a gold diadem inlaid with diamonds and large and small emeralds. Around her neck she wore a gold and diamond necklace. She was so beautiful and in truth I could not keep my eyes off her. She glanced at me with her eyes of the purest blue, eyes that could entrap a man as a spider’s web catches its prey.

‘Well,’ I whispered, ‘how do you like being a queen?’

She dazzled me with her smile. ‘I hope I can be a good one.’

We left the temple and walked across the Great Square to the palace quarter. Our route was lined by troops of the city’s garrison, soldiers armed and equipped in the Greek fashion, with full-face bronze helmets surmounted by white crests, leather cuirasses fitted with iron scales and leather greaves around their shins. Their large round shields were made of wood with an outer bronze facing, and their weapons comprised swords and six-foot thrusting spears. Many kings and princes surrounded themselves with guards who looked pretty in their brightly coloured baggy leggings and tunics, armed only with spears and wicker shields, but the troops of Hatra’s garrison were trained to fight on the battlefield as well as patrol the city’s streets. Their commander, Lord Kogan, a dour, serious man of the same age as my father, drove his men hard, as Vistaspa did with my father’s horsemen. Parthia’s strength was her cavalry, but the garrison’s two thousand men were a useful reserve for my father to call on. It was Kogan who met us outside the temple and escorted us into the palace, walking a few steps behind.