The Parthian (86 page)

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 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 horse 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 then 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 worth better than those who so just for pay. Besides, I reckon that a man who has tramped from god knows where to enlist in your service can be truend 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 sat 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 and 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 head they wore open-faced helmets with blue plumes, with rich yellow cloaks draped around their shoulders. Their horses also wore armour, which covered their bodies, necks and heads. The armour of both man 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. 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 side, 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 free 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.

‘They 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 walls of the city were lined with soldiers and the route through the streets 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 were adorned with gold rings, which he held in front of him like a pious man of religion.

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 a different age to me now. 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 olive. 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, with gold inlaid on the gown that ran under her breasts and around her neck. She also wore a gold waist chain, while on her head sat a gold diadem inlaid with red and green jewels. Her hair shone like it had been polished 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 pained 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 sat on his throne dressed in a simple yellow robe that covered 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 rapt on the arms of his golden throne. ‘A princess? From what race are you from, child?’

She stood proud 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 my 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, looking 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 king’s body that works at all is his tongue.’