Thunder of the Gods (48 page)

‘Greetings once more, Marcus Valerius Aquila.’

Stunned, Marcus remembered to bow after a moment of indecision, and the king waited gravely until he was upright once more.

‘You seem discomfited by our meeting, Roman. Or is it perhaps the fact that I have greeted you by your real name, rather than the alias under which you presented yourself, that troubles you?’

‘I …
how
?’

Arsaces ignored the question, taking two cups from a table in the corner of the room.

‘Rome sees me as a tired old man, does it not? Scarred by my defeat twenty years ago, haunted by the sacking of this very city, and kept on my throne mainly by the power struggle between my priests and generals. A weak ruler, I am tolerated by a dozen lesser monarchs who fear the civil war that would follow my death more than they dislike the current uneasy peace that I keep between them. Rome, Valerius Aquila, takes me for a man of straw.’

He poured two cups of wine, handing one to Marcus.

‘Sit.’

The Roman obeyed his command, still clearly mystified by the king’s knowledge of his true identity.

‘At least you have the good grace not to hide your perplexity. I like honesty in a man …’

Arsaces took a sip of his wine.

‘After all, I see so little of it.’

He sipped again, then put the cup aside.

‘In truth, Rome’s view of my abilities is not entirely unfair. I do pit my vassals against one another, reminding them that we face enough enemies to make my rule essential to wielding our collective strength against the threats to the integrity of our borders. To the north-east are a multitude of barbarian tribes, true barbarians, godless animals from the boundless grasslands who forever press up against the empire’s northern kingdoms. They are horse archers without peer, taught from childhood to ride, and shoot, and kill, and their single intention is to steal, to burn and to rape at every opportunity. Against them we range our own horsemen, equally brutal, equally skilled, an imperial army larger than any force our individual kingdoms might put into the field. The day will come when these nomads swell to such numbers that they will burn a swathe of destruction across both my empire and yours, Roman, but not in my time!

‘To the east is nothing but desert, through which the caravans from the distant silk lands struggle only because of the rich rewards to be had. No threat will come from there. To the south there is ocean, and peaceful trade with the dark-skinned men who sell us spices and the finest iron in the world. But to the west …’

He left the sentence unfinished, and Marcus realised he was expected to speak.

‘Rome.’

‘Indeed. Your empire, forever pushing at our western border. We have defeated you more than once, and brutally so back in the time of my ancestor, Orodes the Second. But each time we have beaten you, another general and another army have sought revenge for those defeats, and now your legions camp on our borders like hungry wolves, forever eyeing the next prize to be torn from my empire. You saw the fortress at Europos, or Dura, the Stronghold as you call it?’

‘It guards the route to Palmyra.’

‘It was Parthian, until Avidius Cassius took it from us, in the war with Rome that I was rash enough to start. Now it acts as yet another source of gold for your empire, taxes on the traders passing through it that should by rights flow into my imperial treasury, and fund my defence of the northern borders. And Nisibis, the city from which you sailed with my son, currently under siege by Narsai of Adiabene? Also once Parthian, again taken from us by Avidius Cassius. How I smiled when the news reached me that he had paid the ultimate price for attempting to wrest your empire from its rightful ruler. So now a puppet rules in Osrhoene, and your soldiers march freely through it and into Adiabene to garrison a city that was once the most glorious fortress in all the empire. And all the trade that passes through Nisibis funnels yet more gold to Rome.’

‘But—’

The king waved a hand, silencing Marcus’s interjection.

‘But we started the war in which those fortresses were lost? Indeed I did. And I learned a valuable lesson from that defeat, Roman. I was minded to counterattack, as Avidius Cassius’s army marched to sack my capital, but the priests would not allow it. The auguries were poor, and Mazda would be angry with my people were they to allow their king to die to no good end. Ctesiphon’s destruction would be avenged, they told me, in good time. They were right, of course. Mazda sent a plague to punish your army, and the legions took the disease back to your empire when they retreated in disarray. I hear it has spread across your lands and killed a hundred times more than died in the city’s sack, and I thank the god of fire for this fitting retribution. So, as the augurs predicted, all was as well as could be expected, given our defeat. By afflicting your legions with disease, Mazda showed his support for the empire, and for me as its King of Kings. The army, the priesthood and the vassal kings united in support of their ruler, and my empire recovered from the humiliation soon enough, as your empire suffered a just revenge in its turn. But as I rode away from this city with my Immortal Guard, turning tail rather than throwing the remnants of my army at your legions and dying gloriously, I knew the real reason for which I was forbidden to make that noble gesture, prevented from earning the glorious death that my younger self knew was required. There was no succession. No son of an age to take my throne. My death would have started the civil war we fear more than anything, weakening the empire and laying it open to invasion from the north. I accepted my humiliation. But I swore to avenge it, by one means or another.’

Marcus nodded.

‘So you decided to wage war by other means?’

‘The priests told me you were a quick one. Yes, by
any
other means. My spies watch your border provinces like hawks, and some of them rise in your service, working subtly to assist those among you who are either venal or stupid. The governor of Syria is an excellent case in point. I doubt he would have been quite as successful as he was at defrauding the state without a few well-placed ideas being dropped into his lap.’

‘By a man who promptly disappeared when my legatus arrived on the scene?’

‘Indeed. Legatus Scaurus had a prior reputation in the province, so the spy in question decided that he preferred the idea of a swift exit to that of crucifixion. Not, however, before he heard enough rumours about you to make for an interesting story on his return. Is it true that your father was murdered by the emperor’s men, and yet you serve the same emperor?’

‘I believe the exact phrase used was “confiscatory justice”, Highness. The Praetorian prefect accused my father of plotting against the throne, had him murdered and then dismembered to deny him honourable burial. What was left of him was dumped into the main sewer and flushed into the river Tiber, I believe. My mother and sisters were presented as the centrepiece of a party for a group of perverts who count – or rather who
counted
– some of the richest and most eminent men in Rome among their number. They were raped and murdered, and their bodies were dumped outside the gates among the city’s detritus. Only one of them was ever found, and her eyes had already been pecked out by the crows.’

Arsaces nodded, his gaze softening.

‘So when you presented yourself as “Corvus” … It is the Latin for “crow”, I believe?’

‘It was a simple expedient at first, a means of changing my name to hide from my father’s killers, but now I wear it as a badge of my hatred, and to remind me that my revenge is not yet complete. You decided not to die without purpose when Legatus Cassius turned his legions loose to sack your capital, Highness. I made much the same decision with regard to the emperor.’

The king smiled knowingly.

‘Then bear my own example in mind. There is more than one way to have revenge upon an enemy.’

He raised his cup.

‘To your eventual success. May you weaken my enemy in taking the revenge that you know must be yours.’

They drank.

‘And now, to business. I didn’t have you brought here simply to discuss our respective life experiences. I have a message for your legatus, a response to his attempts to make peace, and I wanted you to understand the context of that message as clearly as the words themselves.’

He fixed Marcus with a hard stare.

‘My grip on this throne grows less certain with every year. On the face of it, of course, nothing is changed. The army and the priests bicker, always seeking an advantage, but neither will ever supplant the other. The army has the glory of defending the empire, and the honour which that brings. The priesthood has Ahura Mazda on their side, and the terror of his potential disfavour. They are like wrestlers locked in a perpetual struggle, neither capable of putting the other on his back. But the kings …’

He drank again.

‘There are a dozen kings whose realms form the empire, and the position of King of Kings is wholly dependent on their willingness to be ruled. Which means that their fear of civil war must outweigh their dissatisfaction with their ruler. And kings, I can tell you, are never happy being ruled. I dream of such a luxury, having a man set above me on whom all problems can be blamed, fairly or not, but they only see how much better their own reign over the empire would be. And I have sons, men who look at me with impatience, given my age, and at each other with the calculating eyes of men who see only rivals. My second oldest son Arsakes rules Armenia. And Osroes, the youngest, I have given the kingdom of Media, for he is headstrong and needs to be kept busy. His march on Nisibis is a perfect illustration of that truth. If he recovers from his injury, he will make a formidable rival for his brothers. And the oldest, Vologases, is perhaps the most dangerous of them all, for which reason I keep him close. He is the oldest, the cleverest, and the man most likely to move against me. My gundsalar Kophasates watches his every move, and his command of my Immortals is in name only. I do not expect to die peacefully, but neither do I plan to make it easy for any of my sons to usurp my throne while I still live.’

Marcus shot a glance at the guard, but the king shook his head.

‘He is deaf and dumb, profoundly so. He guards me when there is a need for discretion, giving me the absolute surety that my words will never be repeated. So, Marcus Valerius Aquila, my message to your legatus is this: you ask me to rein in Narsai, lift the siege of Nisibis and cease the harassment of legitimate Roman interests in Adiabene? I will not. I cannot. To do so would be to attract the ire of the kings I reign, while to condone Narsai’s act of undeclared war is to provide them with evidence that my desire for revenge on Rome is undimmed by the years. Indeed, my son’s defeat and capture, and his humiliating return to Ctesiphon, make it doubly important for Narsai to triumph. I will be compelled to provide assistance to his army, and to confirm his command of the army of Media while Osroes remains unfit to resume command. Nisibis will fall, eventually, when the grain stores are emptied. It may take a year. It will happen nonetheless. And I will accept the tributes that will be bestowed upon me, and smile as I ride my horse through the city’s gates in triumph. And now that you understand my response, and the reasons I must make it, tell your legatus that if he chooses to march his men away I will see that their safety is assured.’

‘If we will pass under a yoke, leave without our weapons and swear never to step on Parthian soil again?’

Arsaces smiled gently.

‘Of course. And I imagine that the soil of Osrhoene would be included in that oath as well.’

Marcus nodded.

‘I understand you, Majesty. When shall I leave?’

The king waved a dismissive hand.

‘Soon. I have suggested to my son Vologases that he escort you back to Nisibis with a detachment of my Immortals. Not only will it be a good deal faster than working your way back up the river, but that way I can ensure that you are delivered to the gates of Nisibis unharmed, and that my message reaches your legatus without any interference from the more exuberant of my subjects. I shall make a formal farewell to you before you leave, and renew my gratitude to you and your companions. And return that sword you mentioned earlier today. After all, I am a man who honours his word.’

Scaurus closed the message tablet and handed it back to his clerk.

‘The enemy are on the move, it seems. Which means, as we expected, that Narsai expects the mud to have dried sufficiently for his infantry to advance across it and take our makeshift wall. Our task is remarkably simple, but may prove to be the greatest challenge we’ve faced since we left Antioch. I expect every one of you to provide our men with an example of the virtue and discipline that built us an empire and have kept it intact, despite the best efforts of our enemies to take large parts of it away from us. We cannot afford to take a single step back, gentlemen, because if we do, then we’ll be fighting in the streets of the city.’

He paused and looked round at them.

‘And we all know how that will end up against superior numbers. Talk to your men, gentlemen, and tell them that they’ve broken these barbarians once and they can do it again. Tell them that they’re the best soldiers in the world, and that these Persian animals will have to kill every last one of us before we’ll surrender that reputation by leaving thousands of women and children at their mercy. Julius?’

The first spear stood and looked around him at the officers gathered around the table.

‘We don’t have long, so I’ll keep this short. You’re all the sons of men immeasurably richer than your soldiers can even imagine. For them, wealth means having enough silver in their purses to fill their bellies, drink themselves half stupid and stick their dicks up something warm and wet. Your men don’t care about who the emperor is, or who gets seated where at dinner, they worry about the real problems in life. And right now they’re stood waiting for an army of sun-worshipping heathens with twice their strength to come at them with fucking great long spears. What fighting skills can you gentlemen add to their strength?’