Companions (The Parthian Chronicles) (61 page)

‘By whom?’

‘Dobbai.’

I pulled on my boots and strapped on my sword belt. ‘Dobbai? What does she know of affairs of the heart?’

‘You would be surprised.’

I stood, pulled her towards me and kissed her lips. ‘You’re right. I would.’

Outside our room the steward who had met us at the palace’s entrance waited with a worried expression. Clearly the approach of the Romans had filled him with dread, not least because he had probably heard what happens to cities that refuse a Roman summons to surrender. Perhaps he was thinking of ways to escape the palace before they arrived. But perhaps I was doing him a disservice in questioning his loyalty.

The balcony was actually a large terrace similar to the one we had at Dura, though this one was on the roof of the palace, giving uninterrupted views of the bay, the Black Sea beyond and the large plain that surrounded Histria. The steward escorted me into the king’s presence, Akrosas leaning on the white stone balustrade that ran round the edge of the balcony. Guards stood at the entrance to the two doors that gave access to the balcony and others stood sentry near the king himself. He turned and held out an arm to welcome me as the steward bowed and left our presence.

‘King Pacorus, may I offer you some refreshment?’

There was a large table filled with savouries, meats, bread and fruit and nearby it stood slaves holding jugs of wine.

‘No, thank you,’ I replied.

He continued to hold out his arm. ‘Come, let me show you something.’

He turned back to the balustrade, resting his hands on its smooth white top. I stood beside him and looked towards the west where there was an ocean of green. I saw fields, what appeared to be vineyards and villages and farmsteads. Beyond the cultivated land appeared to be unending forest as far as the eye could see.

‘When my ancestors arrived many generations ago,’ Akrosas began, ‘this land was a vast wilderness filled with even wilder people who lived in the forests and spent their time hunting and killing each other.

‘Gradually, over time and after forging friendships with the locals, the land was tamed and civilisation was established. Learning and culture were planted along with crops.’

He held out an arm towards the vast area of cultivated land.

‘Greeks and Getea worked in harmony to create this city and the land that feeds it. They cut down the forests to build the ships that allowed us to trade with other colonies in the Black Sea, as well as with Greece itself.’

His arm fell to his side.

‘But then the Romans came. They conquered Greece and all the islands in the Aegean and our trading links were cut. And with the decline of trade came a decline in Histria’s prosperity. And now a Roman army marches from the west to conquer us, to undo the work of generations and erase the memory of my forefathers from history.’

‘You will fight, lord king?’

He looked at me with sad eyes.

‘Admiral Arcathius informs me that you have spent many years fighting the Romans, King Pacorus, and that you have won many victories over them.’

‘I have fought and beaten them, yes,’ I answered. ‘They are tenacious foes.’

‘In the next few days I will lead my army against the Romans.’

The tone of his voice did not give me any belief that he would be able to defeat them.

‘You are waiting for allies, lord king?’ I said.

He nodded and looked back towards his lands. ‘Fellow Thracians, though whether I can call myself a Thracian with Greek blood in my veins is a debatable point.’

He suddenly turned and looked at me intently. ‘Would you fight, King Pacorus, or would you seek to evacuate as many of your people as possible before the Romans came?’

‘I would fight,’ I answered. ‘Not to do so gives them an easy victory whereas if you engage them there is always a chance of victory.’

‘And if I fail?’

I pointed at the stone wall that surrounded the city. ‘Your walls are stout, lord king, and with the harbour you have the ability to bring in food and soldiers to withstand a siege.’

He too pointed, at the agricultural lands beyond the city walls. ‘But the Romans would have my lands, King Pacorus, and what would I have? A starving city that would eventually fall to the enemy.’

He continued to stare at his lands, a look of resignation on his face. After a few seconds he sighed gently.

‘But that does not concern you, King Pacorus. Admiral Arcathius has told me your remarkable tale and I asked you here to inform you that I have ordered a ship to be prepared to take you east to Pontus. Once there you can travel overland south to Parthia and your home. I will also provide you with money so you and your companions may purchase horses once you reach Pontus. I believe that you lost all your money during your flight from Ephesus. Kings should help each other in these trying times.’

‘We did, lord king. You are generous indeed. But know that when I reach Dura all monies loaned will be repaid.’

He gave me a thin smile. ‘It would be a poor show if I could not assist a man who has done so much to fight the power of Rome.’

Seemingly tired of looking at lush farmlands that would soon be in the possession of the enemy, the king asked me to accompany him to the Temple of Apollo a stone’s throw from the palace. On the way I engaged in trivial conversation with him concerning palace architecture. But he was in the grip of a deep melancholy and I was glad to be out of his company when we reached the square and he informed me that he was going to pray to the god.

‘Perhaps you would like to join me, in prayer I mean.’

‘You are most kind,’ I said, ‘but my god is Shamash, the Lord of the Sun who has been my guide since childhood. It would be disrespectful to sacrifice to another god, I think.’

He nodded solemnly. ‘Of course, you are right. Well, this is where we say goodbye. I have arranged for a banquet in your honour tonight before you and your queen leave us. I hope you will be able to attend.’

‘We would be honoured, lord king.’

He smiled vacantly and departed for the temple, a man with the weight of a crumbling kingdom on his shoulders. I was immediately cheered when I spotted the delicious figure of Hippo gliding from the Temple of Bendis and was even happier when she gave me a dazzling smile and headed towards me. The pristine white robe she was wearing clung to her body and accentuated every curve of her frame. I could understand why Cleon had fallen in love with her.

‘You have been praying, Hippo?’

‘I have been begging the goddess for forgiveness, lord,’ she replied.

‘The king has arranged for a ship to take us to the East,’ I told her. ‘I would like you and Cleon to come with me. Unless you are thinking of staying here.’

She too now looked sad. ‘I think that we would not be welcome here, lord. If the people found out that I used to be a high priestess of Artemis but broke my vows they would wish to be rid of us lest the gods became angry with them.’

I looked around the citadel. ‘I think the gods became angry with these people long before you broke your vows, Hippo.’

I reached out and took her hand. ‘Then come back to Parthia with us. There is a home for you both there, that I promise.’

She looked pensive.

‘The thought of travelling to Parthia does not appeal to you?’

‘It is not that, lord. I believe that the gods brought us here for a purpose but I do not know what it is. The goddess is still angry with me and has thrown a veil over Her plans.’

‘It was good luck that brought us here, Hippo,’ I said. ‘How else do you explain the timely arrival of Admiral Arcathius? Surely Artemis herself sent him?’

‘The gods may give mortals a reprieve so they can prepare for their next trial, lord,’ she answered. ‘Their divine minds are always many steps ahead of ours.’

I walked with her back to the palace and though her beauty and personality were most attractive I thought her analyses of what might or might not happen unnecessary. I escorted her back to her room and told her that she should not trouble herself unduly. We were free, uninjured and tomorrow would be taking ship back to Parthia. She rewarded me with a kiss on the cheek and another wonderful smile before she entered her quarters. Sometimes it was most excellent being a king.

I informed the others of the Akrosas’ generosity and his invitation to the banquet that evening. On the way to the feasting hall Domitus pulled me to one side.

‘Did he say how close the Romans were?’

‘No. Why?’

‘All they have to do is arrive and knock on the gates and this city will fall into their laps, that’s why. If they make an appearance tomorrow there will be panic and chaos that we will be caught up in. You heard that steward. We should get on our ship tonight.’

I frowned at him. ‘We will attend the banquet that is being given in our honour. It would be the height of impoliteness not to attend.’

He was unconvinced. ‘As opposed to the height of stupidity not to see the warning signs.’

‘What warning signs?’

‘The rank stench of fear and defeat that hangs over this city.’

I sighed. ‘Sometimes, Domitus, I fear we will never make a Parthian of you.’

He looked mortified. ‘The day I grow my hair long is the day I open my veins.’

The palace’s banqueting hall was a mixture of Greek style and local customs. The walls and low ceiling were decorated with frescoes depicting ancient myths and gods, especially Apollo, but there were no couches for reclining on. Rather, there was a top table raised on a dais where the king and queen sat and tables arranged at right angles before it. Those at the top table sat in chairs whereas the guests at the other tables sat on benches. A blast of trumpets heralded the arrival of King Akrosas and Queen Rodica, both of them again attired in pure white and wearing gold crowns on their heads. The queen was also wearing gold earrings and gold rings on all her fingers. They sat in the two richly adorned chairs in the centre of the top table, myself being invited to sit next to the king and Gallia next to Rodica.

When everyone was seated a white-haired man with a long beard of the same colour walked to stand before the dais and ordered everyone to rise. The king, queen and guests did so as the High Priest of Apollo called on the god to bless the feast and Histria. Everyone stood with heads bowed in silence as his thunderous voice filled the chamber.

‘Sacred silence.

Let the sky, the earth, the sea and the winds sound.

Mountains fall silent.

Sounds and birds’ warbles cease.

For Phoebus, the Light bearer King shall keep us company.

Apollo, King of the Sun and the Idea of light,

Send Your rays and light the sacred torch.

Apollo God of the Sun and the Idea of light,

Send Your rays and light the sacred torch,

for this Your city of Histria.

Send Your arrows to strike down the enemies of Your people.

And give victory to Your servant Akrosas in his coming trial.’

The king thanked his high priest and invited everyone to sit and eat the food that Apollo had provided, and in truth the god was most generous. A steady procession of slaves brought bread, cheese, a thick bean soup, cabbage, mushrooms and fresh peas. Others placed silver plates heaped with freshly cooked beef, goat and wild boar, all washed down with the delicious wine that Akrosas informed me with pride was the product of local vineyards. We were also served fish caught in the Black Sea, including mackerel, blue fish, mullet, sprat and turbot. I refrained from suggesting to the king that as long as the harbour remained open neither he nor his people would starve if the Romans laid siege to his city. But as the wine flowed and the guests relaxed the mood in the hall, previously polite but tense, became calm and even carefree. Rodica chatted to Gallia and Domitus was resting an elbow on a table deep in conversation with Arcathius opposite. Drenis, Arminius and Surena seemed happy enough, the latter laughing loudly as he shared stories of heroism with one of the admiral’s officers. It was turning into a pleasant evening when it was suddenly interrupted by the arrival of an uninvited guest.

A guard entered the hall and walked to the dais, bowing and announcing to the king that Radu was outside. I had no idea who this person was but Akrosas certainly did, ordering the soldier to allow him to enter. I noticed Rodica rolled her eyes and said something to Gallia but what it was I could not hear. The king ordered the flute players to cease playing and waved away the jugglers who were throwing brightly coloured small balls in the air in front of the dais. The soldier exited the hall and seconds later a large, stocky man with a round face and white beard and hair stomped into the chamber. He was an imposing individual, his barrel chest enclosed by a thick leather cuirass and a long sword in a red scabbard strapped to his belt. He wore a short-sleeved white tunic and gold bracelets on his wrists. Akrosas rose and held out his hands to him.

‘Welcome Radu, King of the Bastarnae and our most valued ally.’

Radu looked around at the assembled lords, priests and commanders of Histria. He winked at the queen and was surprised to see two other women present – Gallia and Hippo – before nodding at Akrosas.