The Curse of Babylon (69 page)

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Authors: Richard Blake

Tags: #Fiction, #Historical

BOOK: The Curse of Babylon
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‘Then it all began to unravel. I should have expected you’d work out part of the truth about the box. I was hoping Eunapius didn’t know quite as much as he did. When you left earlier than I expected, I had to come after you and stop you from interfering with Shahin.

‘But you got here faster than I ever expected. By the time I’d realised that, of course, the box and its contents had been made largely irrelevant by some turn of the Royal Mind in Ctesiphon. So I decided to take out Chosroes. But he was too well guarded, even for me. I suffered the humiliation of learning from useless bloody Theodore that you’d nearly got there instead – and that you would have got there but for his own insane jealousy for the girl, or the boy, or whatever he had fixed in his diseased mind.’

Priscus stopped. ‘Something I can’t work out is why you let me think you hadn’t got the real secret of the box. Did you want me to come after you?’

I smiled. ‘Would you have let me come out here if you’d known the truth?’ I asked. ‘Even without the invasion, there was a chance I’d fall into Persian hands. Could you risk that I’d talk under torture? You let me go because, if I were taken, you thought I’d only reinforce belief in the magic cup and its
true
message of our strength in the Home Provinces. In the end, I suppose you followed me anyway, to see what would happen.’

‘Would you believe I followed you in case you needed to be saved?’ he asked. ‘You and somebody else?’ That thought hadn’t crossed my mind. I fell silent again.

‘I can’t recall how many times in the past I used the phrase “We stand or fall together”,’ he continued. ‘Too often, you took it as ironic. Perhaps it often was. I mostly uttered the phrase before or after trying to stitch you up. The Empire needs a genius to defend it and a genius to make it worth defending. It doesn’t matter who’s the Emperor, so long as those two are agreed on what needs to be done. You are the reformer – sound money, low taxes, honest government, quiet toleration of religious and other differences. I can’t be the defender. But I do ask you to look after young Rado. When he first tried to make me get up in the morning and wash, I saw he had unusual qualities. He’s shown these pretty well in the past few days. If he survives this battle, take him back to Constantinople. Get him into the Military Academy. Make Heraclius promote him as illegally as he promoted you. Give him five or six years of carving up the Lombards. Then turn him loose again on the Persians. He’ll astonish the world.’

I pursed my lips. ‘That depends on my standing with Heraclius,’ I said.

Priscus sniffed again. ‘There’s no doubt of that, dear boy. Before I left, he’d renamed a square after you and announced your marriage to his niece. He’s extended your land law to every province not under occupation and declared non-compliance punishable as high treason. He’s even sent an army to your assistance, such as that may be. It might be here within another ten days. Win tomorrow and you’ll go home as quite the golden boy.’

‘And what of you, Priscus?’ I asked.

He stood up and looked harder at the continuing glow from the bonfires. ‘Oh, I’ll get my final achievement,’ he said. ‘General Rado’s idea was to concentrate most of his forces on the frontal assault. He did put some aside for a preliminary sideways attack – to cause panic and pull defenders away from the site of the main attack.’ He laughed. ‘Imagine digging a hot needle into a caterpillar’s side. It rears up and twists about. The problem with Rado’s original plan was that his needle wasn’t hot enough. He’s now agreed to group all the survivors of some Persian atrocity under my command. I’ll be leading them down into the pass. We’ll make it look as if we’re going for the True Cross. That should put Chosroes in a sweat.’

‘And how will you get men on horseback down the slopes?’ I asked.

He sniffed louder still. ‘Who mentioned horses, my dearest? We’re going down on foot.’

There was an obvious answer. I still asked the question. ‘How will you get out again?’

‘Dearest Alaric,’ he laughed, ‘you’ll just have to make a success of the frontal assault.’

I got up and stood beside Priscus. Together, we watched the glow from the pass. Every so often, there was a snatch of voices lifted in rapturous song and of wind instruments.

‘Do you remember how we first met?’ he asked.

‘It’s not something I’m likely to forget,’ I answered. ‘It was my second day in Constantinople. I was enjoying myself in a restaurant with Martin, when you walked in with half a dozen of your Black Officers. You clubbed someone to pulp while arresting him and finished him off in private when you discovered you’d got the wrong man. You arrested the pair of us and took us off to be tortured to death. It was a stroke of luck I’m still here.’

‘Oh, Alaric,’ he said, ‘I’ve always wished we could have got off to a better start. But who was it said “When error is irreparable, repentance is useless”?’

‘Thucydides,’ I said automatically.

‘Oh, such scholarship!’ he mocked. ‘And such a contrast to the battle speech you’ve taught to young Rado.’ He let his voice fall back. ‘Still, must be getting along. You won’t believe the work Rado and I have on our plates before dawn.’ He put his hand out. ‘Will you wish good luck to an old comrade?’

‘With all my heart,’ I said, taking his hand. As ever, it was cold and dry. He smiled and withdrew it.

And that was it. He walked quickly away from me in the direction of Rado’s tent. I watched until I saw the faint brightness as the flap was opened and closed again. I stood a long time in thought. Still thinking, I walked back to my own tent. Antonia would be up and waiting for me.

Chapter 69

 

The sky promised a fine day. But it was cold at dawn. I don’t think anyone had slept in the end. I’d spent the rest of the night talking things over with Antonia. Rado and his deputies may not have once looked up from their urgent fussing over heaps of pebbles. Everyone else had gone through the later hours of darkness in a long religious service. With all the kissing and pawing, I could be surprised there was any paint left on our icons. And now the moment was coming inescapably forward. Almost before the eastern sky was pink, we set out for the junction of the two passes. We arrived as the pink was glowing brighter and brighter.

With Rado, I poked my head above some bushes and watched Shahin’s slow procession to the appointed place. Still in its open box, I watch the cup glinting in the grey light. Right at the front, it was carried by Shahin himself. I spotted Simon beside him and a limping and somewhat slimmer Timothy close behind. At a distance of about ten paces, they were followed by what may have been their whole armed band. All were dressed in white. None was visibly armed. That surely meant they were to be ushered, at some point in the proceedings, into the Royal Presence.

Once they’d all gone past and vanished round the last turn in the Larydia Pass, it was time for the scouts to go after them for a good look. It wasn’t long before they were waving up at us that everything was clear. At a signal from Rado, all of us who weren’t with Priscus, or waiting overhead, bows at the ready, dismounted and followed him. Still leading our horses, we crept forward till we were at the edge of the smooth ground. The right-angle turn that led to the junction of the passes was just over four hundred yards ahead.

‘Stay here,’ Rado ordered. ‘No one must move till I give the signal.’ The two of us moved silently forward on horseback. Fifty yards before the turn, we dismounted again and walked the rest of the way. Unlike nearly everyone else, I’d squeezed myself into some captured chainmail. It was heavier than any Greek armour I’d known, and, though it was the biggest I’d been able to find, was slightly too small for easy breathing. I did consider asking for help to pull it off again. But Antonia, in one of her own moments of the jitters, had made me promise to keep it on. It was probably for the best, all things considered, to keep the promise.

‘Let me take first look,’ I said. Except that no one watching us could have been in any mood to be amused, what happened next had its funny side. Replacing my helmet with a grey cap, I pressed myself against a wall of smooth rock and slithered a few feet to the right. I was met, as I pushed my head out, by a blast of sound that had Rado and me straight into each other’s arms. It was the eunuch choir, you see. I’d been looking round the corner of the rock wall so briefly, and then been so shocked, that I’d taken in nothing that made sense. It was only as the eunuchs got into their stride, and were joined by an army of trumpeters and cymbal players, that I was able to put things together.

A quarter of a mile away, the eunuchs were spread out, several deep, in a semicircle that brushed both sides of the pass. Behind them were the musicians. Behind them, glittering in the first reflected rays of the sun, were the spear points of the Royal Guard. The semicircle was broken in the middle. Here, somewhat recessed, were the gorgeous robes of the main court functionaries. Right in the middle, Chosroes was looking out from his public security cage. Of soldered iron plates on three sides, this was protected in front by a double bronze grille of the sort I’ve already described. A hundred yards closer to us, Shahin had everything set out on a low table and was waving his arms about in the manner prescribed for court presentations.

Now joined from far back by all the military bands, the noise swelled in both volume and cacophony. I put my head round for another look. Yes – what mattered was that the Royal Guard was blocked both front and back. I pulled back and let Rado see for himself. He looked round at me, relief plainly on his face. We both looked up at the sky. It would soon be time. Rado took a few steps back along the pass and raised his arms. Two hundred and fifty men climbed on to their horses. The priests began their last round with their icons. Far behind, ready to bolt if need be – that much I’d got Eboric to promise – Antonia was presently out of sight.

We both looked again at the presentation ceremony. Shahin had placed a white cloth over the box and Chosroes had opened a small flap in his grille. The eunuchs were simmering down – though they’d once caused part of a ceiling to collapse in Ctesiphon when the Great King broke with precedent and stepped right out of his security cage. At last there was a moment of silence. Then seven trumpeters came forward and blew seven fanfares that were loud even at this distance. A dozen eunuchs stepped forward from the choir and drew breath.

‘What, O slave,’ they screeched in unison, ‘hast thou brought unto His Majesty, the Lord of All Creation, from the City of the Greeks? Let it be displayed for the whole universe to behold.’

Shahin went into another waving of arms.

He stopped.

High up, and from half a mile back along the big pass, two steerhorns blared out. Their sound cut through the rising warble of the eunuchs. It was followed by a long roar of hate and then by a muffled clash of arms. After that, it all seemed to go quiet. Arms frozen in mid-contortion, Shahin stood still. One of the court officials stepped out of line and looked uselessly round. I looked at Rado. He looked at me. I smiled nervously.

Suddenly, Priscus was shown right in his metaphor of the pricked caterpillar. It really seemed as if the whole army had reared up and turned back on itself. With a rising babble of shouts, the Royal Guard and the soldiers behind them were spilling forward to shove the eunuchs aside and make their way to where the terrified screaming was concentrated. The front of the crowd was both thinning out and moving forward. Chosroes was lost to sight. I could hear, and almost see, the wave of panic spreading out from where our hot and very sharp needle had been thrust into the beast’s side.

Rado lifted his right arm. Behind us, another steerhorn sounded. It was time for our archers to let fly their opening volleys. Panic turned to chaos, and almost every Persian had his back to us.

We got on to our horses. Rado beckoned everyone forward. ‘Remember,’ he said calmly – ‘no prisoners; no looting; pull back when you hear the trumpet blast.’ We arranged ourselves into a column, fifteen wide by sixteen deep. Rado and I were at the front, our standard bearer just behind us. We moved forward at a slow trot. We rounded the corner and looked fully on the spreading chaos before us. I heard the flutter of our unfurled standard. One of the priests had suggested we should fix an icon recovered from a smashed church to a spear. I’d overruled him, insisting instead on the formal
chi-rho
of the military – the first two letters of Christ’s name superimposed on each other. It was a crude thing of charcoal on an altar cloth we’d rescued, but it gave us the proper military look. Everyone gave a loud cheer. I held tighter on to my reins. No one in the main crowd seemed to have noticed we were coming straight at them but Shahin was looking round at us. His mouth fell open, he clutched at the box. Simon clutched at him. I saw Timothy scuttle towards the cover of an old rock fall. ‘God with Us!’ Rado cried. With a great answering roar of ‘God with Us! God with Us!’ we drew our swords and went into a gallop.

Everyone did now see us. The front of the crowd dissolved into a terrified blur. I distinctly heard Shahin’s wail of terror as he took to his heels. He stumbled forward, still holding his box aloft. We skirted the table. We ignored Shahin’s unarmed and useless flunkies. The last sight I had of him, he was vanishing into a crowd of court officials. The box was empty.

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