Companions (The Parthian Chronicles) (35 page)

Surena’s expression was hardening and I knew that if the Roman boy lover carried on he would probably strike him. I stared at Domitus to get his attention and nodded at Surena. Fortunately he too was aware of the danger.

‘Would you like to be introduced to my other fighters, magistrate?’

Ceukianus’ rising lust was rudely interrupted. He moved his plump face towards Domitus, his massive double chin wobbling as he did so.

He looked at me with barely disguised disgust.

‘This one has a scar on his face. Most unattractive.’

‘He’s a good fighter, sir,’ said Domitus. ‘A Thracian.’

‘I prefer the
Retiarius
. How much do you charge for a private display?’

Surena’s nostrils flared with anger as the
editor
licked his lips.

‘We can have a display here, sir, now,’ said Domitus.

Ceukianus waved forward a slave holding a towel who used it to dab his porcine face with it.

‘No, I am finished here. I would prefer a more intimate setting. Besides, this heat is intolerable. An official from High Priest Kallias will assign you quarters for your stay here during the games.’

He gave Surena a lusting glance. ‘There is plenty of time for private amusements.’

With that he waddled across the deck and descended the gangplank to his
lectica
. He broke wind loudly as he bent down to sit on his overstuffed mattress, the slaves remaining stony faced as he disappeared behind a curtain and the litter bearers hoisted his bulk above their shoulders. As he and his entourage disappeared Drenis and Arminius doubled up with laughter.

‘The only Romans I have seen of late have been legionaries wanting to kill me,’ said Drenis. ‘I had forgotten that Italy is also filled with fat, lecherous homosexuals with a penchant for handsome boys.’

Arminius placed an arm around Surena’s shoulders. ‘If you are a bit more polite you could be going to Rome as a magistrate’s plaything.’

Surena was far from amused, though, shaking off Arminius’ arm.

‘I should have thrown him overboard.’

Drenis feigned horror. ‘It is not the magistrate’s fault that you are young and pretty.’

‘That’s right,’ said Drenis, ‘you should not have enticed him.’

‘I did not entice him,’ said Surena loudly.

Alcaeus rolled his eyes. ‘It is amazing what amuses the minds of children.’

As the morning gave way to afternoon and the sun rose in the sky we were paid a visit from a representative of High Priest Kallias. In stark contrast to the attitude of the Roman officials this man was both friendly and informative. He came in the company of a score of slaves who were to transport our clothes and equipment on two-wheeled handcarts to our quarters.

He asked to speak to the
lanista
of the
Ludus
Palmyra, saying his name was Lysander and that he had been sent by High Priest Kallias to convey the
lanista
and his fighters to the accommodation that had been set aside for them for the duration of the games. Everything about Lysander was big: his round face, full head of curly black hair but most of all his personality. He never stopped smiling and laughing, welcoming Domitus and Gallia and shaking the hand of Athineos. He smiled when he saw the lions and congratulated the captain on bringing them to Ephesus in such a healthy state. He extended a warm welcome to myself, Surena, Drenis and Arminius and wished us good fortune in the days ahead. We took an instant liking to Lysander and felt at ease in his company.

After the slaves had loaded our chests onto the carts Lysander invited us to accompany him to our new home.

‘A nice terrace house on the hill near the theatre,’ he informed Domitus. He looked at us gladiators. ‘I have been informed that your fighters are not what the Romans call “condemned to the games”,
lanista
?’

Damnatio
ad
ludos
meant ‘condemned to the games’ and denoted a criminal who had been given a life sentence in the arena, though usually the sentence would be a short one unless the individual was an accomplished fighter. Those who were under this sentence were not allowed beyond the confines of the
ludus
, as they were often violent criminals who would abscond at the first opportunity, whereas other categories of gladiators, especially those who had volunteered to fight in the arena, were allowed a certain amount of freedom.

‘Don’t you worry about them,’ Domitus told Lysander, ‘my boys are all volunteers, freemen who wanted to experience life inside the arena.’

‘That’s not how I remember my time at Capua,’ said Drenis in a hushed tone to Arminius.

‘Me neither,’ said Arminius, ‘I was captured by the Romans after a battle then hauled off to Italy in chains.’

‘I’m a free man,’ said Surena, ‘no one has ever put me in chains.’

‘That’s because the marshlands where you grew up are too inhospitable for armies to campaign in,’ I said.

‘Right, then,’ announced Domitus, ‘let us go to our new home.’

Lysander smiled and Domitus took Gallia’s hand as he led her down the gangplank. I was the last to leave the ship, Athineos pulling me aside before I went down the gangplank.

‘Now listen, I still think you are engaged in a mad scheme that has no hope of success. I will be staying here for the duration of the games but no longer. But I can leave at any time before that if you come to your senses.’

I offered my hand to him. ‘Thank you but no. You should have more faith, Athineos.’

‘That is what your slave general, Spartacus, said to me once. And look what happened to him.’

‘Hurry up, Nikephorus,’ shouted Domitus, ‘don’t dawdle.’

I hurried down the gangplank and joined the other three ‘gladiators’. Behind us the slaves pushed the carts containing our possessions. It took a while to exit the port, which was filled with wagons, dockers loading and unloading goods, slaves on their way to be sold, port officials, sailors and Roman marines. There was also the unusual sight of pilgrims leaving two ships that had just docked, long lines of white-clad men and women either singing prayers or mumbling chants as they shuffled down gangplanks.

‘Pilgrims from the mainland,’ Lysander informed us, ‘visiting the Temple of Artemis.’

‘Is it in the city?’ asked Gallia.

‘No, lady. It is situated just beyond the city walls. It was built on the spot where an ancient temple devoted to the Goddess Cybele was sited.’

‘The mother of the gods,’ said Alcaeus.

Lysander nodded. ‘Yes, sir.’

The great warehouses were filled with wine, olive oil and grain for shipment to Greece and Rome, while pallets stood along the dockside stacked with slabs of marble for shipment to Athens. I had never seen the harbour that supplied Rome with its everyday needs but it cannot have been bigger than the one at Ephesus. Moving through the crush of people and goods we eventually reached Harbour Street, which was the main entrance to the city from the docks. It had obviously been designed to impress visitors because the slabs under our feet were marble and there were marble colonnades on either side of the thoroughfare.

Lysander told us that the street was six hundred yards long and twelve yards wide, with monumental arches along its course and shops on either side along its whole length. He informed us with pride that beneath the marble flagstones were water and sewage channels, the latter carrying the city’s waste to the river where it would be carried out to sea. But his moment of supreme pleasure came when he pointed out the street lights positioned along the whole length of Harbour Street.

‘At night watchmen light the oil lamps so the street is illuminated for pedestrians and charioteers alike,’ said Lysander who was revelling in his position of tour guide. ‘This street is but one of the twenty-six others that are paved with marble, though the others are lined with statues rather than street lights.’

‘Street lights,’ I said in wonderment to Drenis. ‘I have never seen such a thing.’

‘This place is dripping in wealth. No wonder the Romans wanted it.’

‘The same reason they want Parthia,’ I said bitterly, ‘they would love to control the Silk Road.’

‘Why isn’t the city called Artemis if the temple was the first building here?’ asked Gallia.

‘A good question, lady,’ replied Lysander. ‘But according to myth the city itself was established by the queen of the Amazons, Ephos Hippo, hence the name Ephesus.’

He looked at my wife, her head covered by a
shemagh
. ‘Have you heard of the Amazons, lady?’

All eyes turned to Gallia, which was noted by Lysander.

‘Vaguely,’ she replied.

‘They were fearsome women warriors,’ said Lysander, ‘famed for their courage and mercilessness in battle.’

‘They sound most interesting,’ remarked Gallia casually.

We continued along Harbour Street, Lysander offering Gallia and Domitus litters to take them to their quarters but they declined. He made no offer to us; clearly the notion that gladiators were at the bottom of the social order had reached Asia. We passed shops selling food, clothes, pottery, gold and silver jewellery, wine and olive oil. Many of the buildings were two-storeyed, the ground floor being a shop and the first floor containing living quarters.

We saw few Roman soldiers, Lysander informing Domitus when pressed that for the most part the governor restricted his men to manning the walls and four gates into the city.

‘Of course High Priest Kallias has his own temple guards,’ said Lysander, ‘who maintain security at the Temple of Artemis and the other temples in the city.’

‘How many Roman soldiers are there in Ephesus?’ probed Domitus.

‘I have heard that there are two cohorts,
lanista
,’ replied Lysander, ‘plus the marines who when they are not at sea provide harbour security.’

When we reached our accommodation – a large house just below the houses of the rich on the slopes of Korressos Hill – we found a detachment of Roman legionaries waiting for us. The house had been built according to the peristyle school, with a gated entrance in the surrounding wall leading to a two-storey building with a central courtyard, around which were rooms for dining, relaxing and entertaining guests. There were also secure storerooms where the gladiators were expected to sleep under lock and key. The bedrooms were on the second storey. Happily there were no outward-facing windows, which would give us a degree of privacy, though I had reckoned without any guards.

A sour-faced centurion with a red transverse crest spoke first to Lysander and then to Domitus. He pointed his vine cane at us four gladiators.

‘All those condemned to the games are to be confined to barracks during the games.’

Domitus smiled at him. ‘They are all free men, centurion, and as I have lavished a considerable amount of money on them I would prefer that they stay where I can keep an eye on them. Don’t want them getting a knife in the back before the games.’

The centurion examined each of us in turn. ‘As you wish. But in that case I am ordered to allocate guards to stand sentry outside your accommodation at all times. And I would advise keeping them locked up at night.’

Domitus jerked a hand at us. ‘They are professionals. You won’t get any trouble from them.’

The centurion’s hard visage cracked a smile. ‘It’s not them I’m worried about. Many of the locals don’t like the idea of the games, reckons it offends their dainty Greek heritage.’

He placed the end of his cane under Lysander’s chin. ‘Isn’t that right, Greek?’

‘As you say, sir,’ smiled Lysander.

The centurion kept his cane in place. ‘That bearded bastard Kallias is itching to incite a riot to prove he’s the ruler of Ephesus rather than the governor.’

‘I would not know of such things, sir,’ said a still smiling Lysander.

‘I appreciate the offer of sentries, centurion,’ said Domitus. ‘I don’t want to interrupt you but my wife is tired and eager to rest after her journey.’

The centurion took his cane away from Lysander’s chin. ‘Of course. Well, I hope your stay here is a profitable one. The papers we received from the Greek priests said you are from Palmyra.’

‘That’s right,’ smiled Domitus.

The centurion stared at him. ‘You don’t look eastern.’

Domitus removed his
shemagh
. ‘Me? No, I’m Roman through and through.’

The centurion relaxed instantly. ‘Thank Jupiter for that. I’ve had a gutful of these eastern types. I spent three years in Syria marching across never-ending deserts.’

‘Yes,’ said Domitus, ‘the area can be taxing.’

The centurion tucked his cane under his arm. ‘I remember once we got caught in a sandstorm that lasted for days. Gave us a right battering. And then immediately after we came face-to-face with a Parthian king and his army.’

Domitus looked earnestly at him. ‘Really, what king?’

The centurion thought for a moment. ‘He’s the ruler of a city on the Euphrates. King Pacorus, that’s it. Palmyra is near Dura, isn’t it?’