Authors: Peter Darman
The Parthian (87 page)
Dobbai pointed a finger at Sinatruces. ‘The fantasies of tired old men are pathetic to behold. Do you think that this woman, this beauty whom Prince Pacorus has crossed oceans and vanquished armies to be with, could be traded like a cheap trinket?
‘You may cut down this young man where he stands, but to do so would cause a storm to descend upon you such as the world has never seen. Do you know, Sinatruces, that even as you sit on your throne men flock to Hatra to serve under Prince Pacorus? They have heard of the manner of his return, and from all lands the brave, the fanatics and the pious flock to Hatra to serve him. Some say he is a god, while others say that this young girl is a goddess who has been sent from the heavens to protect him. To touch even one hair on his head would be enough to conjure up a mighty army under King Varaz that would destroy you and reduce your city to dust. To dust, Sinatruces.
‘All this will come to pass if you seek to possess her, for many are saying that he, and she, are beloved of the gods.’
Sinatruces, clearly alarmed, shook his head and professed his innocence.
‘I did not think to imprison her,’ protested the king. ‘I merely wanted to see her. I meant no harm.’
‘Well,’ snapped Dobbai, ‘you’ve seen her.’
Dobie took Gallia’s hand and led her from the dais, then placed her hand in mine. Sinatruces sat and looked crestfallen.
Dobbai then stared at the king. ‘And if you are thinking of retracting your gift, the price that your devious mind had settled upon for her, to Pacorus, then think again.’ She jabbed a bony finger at him. ‘The gods are watching us at this very moment, watching your every move. And for one whose time on this earth is coming to an end, and who will be standing before them soon enough, I would choose your words carefully.’
The king looked at Dobbai then to me, then at Gallia. He sighed and looked down at his feet, and appeared like a man who had let a great prize slip through his fingers.
‘Of course, we are glad to see you. Both of you. It is a miracle that you have returned safely to Parthia. My wedding gift to you, Pacorus, is this.’
He clapped his hands and the eunuch chancellor came from behind us to stand beside the dais. He unrolled a scroll and began to speak in his high-pitched voice.
‘Sinatruces, king of kings, lord of Parthia from the banks….’
‘Get to the meat of it,’ snapped the king.
The eunuch frowned. He was not having a good day. ‘Pacorus, Prince of Hatra, is hereby created King of Dura Europus, said position to be held by him and his offspring for all eternity. This is the word of Sinatruces, and is the law.’
I was stunned. Dura Europus was a city on the left bank of the Euphrates positioned on cliffs high above the river, looking west across the Syrian plain towards the city of Palmyra. It was a large, bustling place protected by a curtain wall and towers. And it was just across the river from my father’s kingdom. It had always been the domain of the king of kings of the empire.
I was lost for words, for this was indeed a great gift.
‘I do not know what to say, majesty,’ I stammered.
‘Then say nothing,’ replied the king, in no mood to indulge me, ‘it is often better to stay silent.’
Dobie sat in the chair next to Sinatruces and looked at us both. ‘They will make a fine couple, Sinatruces, and he will be a great general for Parthia. Better a friend than a terrible foe, I think. You have made a wise decision. And the gods will be pleased with that decision.’
Sinatruces had had enough of our company and waved us away. We bowed and walked from the room.
‘I am a king and you will be my queen,’ I whispered to Gallia as I enclosed her hand in mine.
She suddenly stopped, turned and walked back to the dais. She bent down and kissed Sinatruces in the cheek, then asked one of the Scythians for his dagger. The man suspected foul play but Sinatruces was enraptured and waved his hand to get the fellow to acquiesce. Gallia took the blade and cut a lock of her hair, then placed it in the reptile-like hand of the king. Dobbai was delighted and clapped her hands. Gallia then walked back to me.
Dobbai called after us. ‘Keep your sword blade sharp, young prince, for the eagles will come looking for you.’
‘What does that mean?’ asked Gallia.
‘I have no idea, my love, but the words of that filthy old woman having a nasty habit of coming true.’
But in truth I did not care about the utterances of the old crone, for I had my beloved by my side and my own kingdom to rule. And I would have my own army to lead, and I would make that army the greatest in the whole of the Parthian Empire.
The next day we made preparations to leave Ctesiphon, for I felt that we had out-stayed our welcome. In any case I had no wish to see Sinatruces, who had lured us here on false pretences. Enius had come to see me earlier and had asked if we required an escort from the city, but I dismissed him curtly as I was strapping my saddle onto Remus back in front of the stables. Gallia and the others were likewise preparing for the journey back to Hatra, and she looked at me as the figure of Enius ambled away with hunched shoulders.
‘That was rude.’
Remus was in a fidgety mood and wouldn’t let me buckle up the last strap. ‘Stay still.’
Gallia frowned. ‘There’s no need to take it out on your horse.’
‘Take what out?’
‘You’re in a sulk, though I do not know why?’
‘Do you not?’
‘No. I was the one who he wanted to imprison here and make one of his wives, not you.’
I gave up trying to fasten the strap and walked over to her. ‘I would never have let that happen. Disgusting old man. He’s eighty years old.’
Gallia put her arms round me and kissed my cheek. ‘My gallant knight. Even if he had locked me up here I would have escaped back to you; no walls can keep me from you. But I’m not a prisoner, so there’s no need to rebuke poor Remus for an old man’s lust.’
She began stroking his neck, and after a coupe of minutes had fastened his strap.
‘A fine horse, young prince.’
I felt the cold rush of fear run down my spine as Dobbai spoke her words. I turned to see her walk from one of the stables. She grinned at Gallia and then once again took my love’s hand.
‘You are not going to say farewell to Sinatruces before you leave?’
‘No,’ I snapped.
‘He is old ad may not live to see you again.’
‘Well,’ said Gallia, ‘I don’t suppose it would hurt.’
‘No!’ I was insistent. ‘I am a king now and not a boy to be ordered about. And this is my future wife, a princess in her own right and my future queen.’
Dobbia threw her head back and cackled loudly. Then she looked at Gallia. ‘You see, my child, how quickly they are seduced by titles and positions. It is the doom of men. Well, let us talk no more of Sinatruces, for he is but a feeble old man.’
‘He is also the king of kings,’ remarked Gallia.
Dobbai cupped Gallia’s cheek with her right hand. ‘Yes, princess, he is, and he desired to make you his queen of queens, to rule as such when he had left this life. You hear that, son of Hatra? Had it been so, you would have been kneeling before her err long. But, my child, your destiny lies elsewhere. And now we come to it, for I have a message for you both.’
I had had enough. ‘If it’s from Sinatruces, then you can tell him…’
Dobbia let go of Gallia’s hand, turned and glared at me, her eyes suddenly filled with rage and her face a visage of cold fury. ‘Do not bandy words with me, boy. I have not come here to be lectured to, but to convey a message. So you will be quiet!’
I stood frozen to the spot, slightly alarmed that a frail old women had suddenly turned into a fierce demon. Then the anger in her eyes abated somewhat.
‘Stand before me, both of you.’
Gallia moved to be beside me and I held her hand. Suddenly it felt as though we were the only two people left in the whole world, for our attention was fixed wholly on Dobbai, who now spoke to us in a calm, authoritative voice.
‘She came to me last night in a dream. She said that she is pleased with you both, especially you, Pacorus. She told me that she is happy and you are not to worry about her, and that you must tell all your friends that this is so. She watched over you during your voyage to Parthia, and now that you are both safe she can go and join her husband with a happy heart.’
I felt Gallia’s grip on my hand tighten.
‘Her husband?’ I enquired.
Dobbia smiled. ‘Yes, son of Hatra, her husband; your lord and friend. For Claudia told me that you had fulfilled your oath to her by bringing her son to this land.’
I saw that Gallia had tears running down her cheeks. ‘And she is happy, lady?’
‘Yes, child,’ replied Dobbai, ‘for now she does not have to linger but can join her husband. You know his name, don’t you, son of Hatra?’
I nodded and felt my mouth speak the name of my lord, my general and my friend.
‘Spartacus.’
Epilogue
T
he villa of Marcus Licinius Crassus was bathed in autumn sunlight as Lucius Furius made his way up the Palatine Hill and entered the abode of his lord. Crassus had risen high since he had crushed the slave rebellion. He had come to Rome’s aid when others had failed her, and had raised armies from his own pocket that had crushed Spartacus. The common people did grumble, though, about the smell caused by the crucified slaves, whose bodies along the Appian Way had been left to fester and rot for weeks, on the express orders of Crassus himself. Most had been picked clean by fat crows, but the sight and smell were unpleasant and there were frequent protests. In recognition of his achievements Crassus had been made consul, a post he shared with his rival General Pompey. The two men disliked each other intensely, but had seen fit to enter into an alliance to keep an eye on each other, as well as to ensure that Rome would not be weakened by civil strife. During the triumphs that had followed the crushing of the slave rebellion, Crassus had paid for ten thousand tables for the common people to feast off, and had also given them each a free gift of three months’ supply of corn to fill their bellies. Such largesse made him very popular among the masses.
Lucius was shown into Crassus’ study where he was seated opposite the consul and served wine. Crassus smiled at his young protégé, who still walked with a limp.
‘How are you, Lucius?’
‘Well, thank you consul.’
Crassus picked up a scroll that had been lying on his desk and passed it to the younger man.
‘I thought you might be interested to see this. It arrived early today.’
Lucius took the parchment and unrolled it. The words were Latin.
‘To Marcus Licinius Crassus.
Greetings.
It has been some time since our last meeting, and I thought out of politeness that I would update you on the state of affairs since I left Italy. The son of Spartacus is a fine young boy and continues to thrive in Parthia, where those who journeyed with me also enjoy a life of freedom and prosperity. I have heard that you have also prospered since our game of cat-and-mouse that we played in Italy. I am pleased for you and salute your fame. I trust that your high position among the people of Rome will satisfy your ambition and not tempt you to cast your eyes to the east, where a mighty army stands ready to defend the Parthian Empire. Should this not be the case, I cannot promise that the same courtesy you extended me in allowing me to depart Italy unmolested will be extended to you and your legions should you be tempted to cross the Euphrates.
I wish you long life and happiness. May Shamash smile on you.
Your friend.
King Pacorus of Dura Europus.’
Lucius Furius threw the letter on the table. ‘This is an outrage. What is Parthia but a collection of mud huts, bandits and renegades? They must be punished.
He
especially must be punished.’
Crassus sat back in his chair and observed Furius. He was fond of the young tribune; after all, his father had been a loyal supporter in the Senate. But his son had cost him a lot of money, not least the hundreds of horsemen he had lost during the slave rebellion.
‘Lucius, your bravery and valour are undoubted. But a wise head is called for at this moment. It took us three years to crush Spartacus and his army, and in the last battle I lost nearly ten thousand dead and you lost all of your cavalry, if my memory serves me right. And now Pacorus, King Pacorus, has returned to his homeland where there are tens of thousands of horsemen who fight like him.’
Furius looked aghast. ‘Then we do nothing?’
Crassus stood up and walked over to his balcony that overlooked the Tiber. ‘No, Lucius. We take our time and make thorough preparations for our campaign to conquer the Parthian Empire.’
‘And Pacorus?’
Crassus smiled to himself. ‘I will bring him back to Rome in an iron cage.’
Copyright 2011 Peter Darman
All rights are reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means without written permission of the author.
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.
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