Companions (The Parthian Chronicles) (71 page)

‘They may, lord king, but your victory has given you time to organise the defences of this kingdom and form an alliance between Thracians and Dacians. There is strength in unity.’

The rest of the afternoon was spent in polite conversation, Rodica questioning Gallia about Claudia and our quest to find and free Burebista.

‘And he will return to Parthia with you, King Pacorus?’ asked Akrosas.

‘He will. I intend to make him a senior commander in my army,’ I said with satisfaction.

The next day we took our leave of Akrosas in the palace before being escorted by Arcathius from the citadel to the docks. The streets were filled with traders and citizens going about their business, small children marching alongside us and even one or two stray dogs. There was a slight easterly breeze that freshened the air, which became decidedly salty as we approached the harbour. The fish market was already bustling, baskets of fresh catch being purchased from the boats that had landed them. Merchants were overseeing bulk purchases for salting and smoking and tax collectors haggled with irate captains who pleaded poverty. By the amount of baskets of fish that filled the quay I doubted that poverty was a threat to any of the captains of Histria’s fishing vessels.

As well as the original seven of us that had travelled from Dura our number included the grumbling, irritable Athineos who was at least sober and who had made a partial effort to tidy himself up. We reached Captain Hestiodorus’ ship, a merchant vessel with two masts, one amidships, the other at the prow. It was also equipped with oars.

‘It is a merchant galley,’ Arcathius told me. ‘The king chose it especially because its combination of sails and oars will get you across the Black Sea more speedily.’

‘The king is most generous,’ I said.

We had few belongings, having lost our possessions in Ephesus, and we carried our swords strapped to out belts and our bows slung over our backs. Akrosas had provided us with fresh clothes and spare footwear, and had even given us full quivers for our journey, though I hoped that we would not have need of them. As the others filed up the gangplank I waited on the quay for the rest of our party. Minutes later Cleon and Hippo appeared, both of them looking cleaner and happier than they had appeared in the hospital.

‘If your offer is still open then we would like to accept passage to Parthia,’ said Cleon.

‘We have no home and our only friends are departing on this ship,’ stated Hippo pitifully.

‘When you walk up that gangplank,’ I told them both, ‘your new lives begin.’

Hippo dazzled me with a smile and Cleon looked relieved and grateful as he followed his high priestess up the wooden platform. There were only two left. I began pacing up and down on the flagstones as slaves began to load the ship with food and water. Towards the stern of the vessel Arcathius chatted to Hestiodorus, both of them leaning on the gunwale as they watched the supplies being brought aboard. Then I saw them – Burebista and Anca – and joy gripped me. I walked up to them, grinning like a child.

‘We are not coming, lord.’

Burebista’s words struck me like arrows.

‘Not coming? Why?’

‘I, that is we, wish to return to Dacia, lord,’ he said softly. ‘I never thought that I would see freedom again, let alone Dacia, but I wish to return to my homeland. King Decebal has promised me a position in his army.’

Disappointment enveloped me like a thick fog.

He looked uncomfortable, even ashamed. ‘I hope you do not think ill of me.’

Part of me wanted to berate him for his ingratitude and to order him aboard the ship. Did he not know that I offered him power, position and riches if he so desired? But then I was ashamed. Ashamed that I could think such thoughts. What were riches and position compared to the greatest prize of all – freedom? Had I freed him from the Romans only to make him my slave? I placed a hand on his shoulder.

‘How could I think ill of my finest dragon commander? You must follow your heart, Burebista.’

The anger and disappointment melted away and were replaced by great sorrow because I knew that I would never see him again. But he was a Dacian and his homeland was but a few days’ ride from Histria.

‘During my years of slavery,’ he said, ‘the thought of freedom and seeing Dacia again kept me alive. Then they were dreams but now they are reality, thanks to you, lord.’

I insisted that they both went on board to say their farewells to the others. I remembered a time, in Italy, when Gallia had been scathing about Burebista but now she embraced him fondly and wished him well, Anca too. When they had finished saying their goodbyes I kissed Anca on the cheek and embraced Burebista like a brother. He was my brother, a brother-in-arms. As Arcathius said his farewells and the ship was pushed away from its moorings and the rowers dipped their oars in the harbour’s water to take us out to sea, I stood on the stern and raised my hand to Burebista and Anca as they stood on the dockside. I kept my eyes on them until they were barely discernible shapes in the distance and then vanished altogether.

‘The gods be with you both.’

‘That’s the thing about freedom. Those who have it often do what you do not want them to do.’

I caught site of Domitus’ short, thick fingers being placed on the gunwale beside me.

‘Are you disappointed, Pacorus?’

‘A little. But Burebista must follow his heart. At least we gave him the opportunity to do so.’

I looked at him. ‘By the way, King Akrosas asked me if you would be prepared to stay on at Histria as his high general, a task for which you would be handsomely rewarded.’

‘What did you tell him?’

‘I lied and told him that you were far too valuable to lose.’

He spat over the side. ‘Is there any chance of turning this boat around?’

The combination of oars, sails and no cargo except for us meant that the ship achieved a good speed as it headed east towards Pontus. It looked like a trireme but the captain explained that its pointed prow made cutting through the water easier and was not for ramming. As we got under way Athineos rediscovered some of his old enthusiasm. No doubt being back at sea reinvigorated him as he lectured us on the ins and outs of shipbuilding. Apparently the ship’s hull was caulked, which meant that it was covered with a mixture of pitch and beeswax so it was waterproof. In addition, the underwater surface of the hull was sheathed in lead as a protection against sea worms.

‘The thin lead plates are nailed over a layer of tarred fabric using lead-dipped copper nails,’ he informed us as we sat on the deck in the sunshine. ‘You see cargo ships are normally always kept afloat rather being hauled ashore like warships, so without the lead sheathing the worms would eat away the hull.

Gallia and Hippo had been given the small cabin at the stern of the ship, the rest of us and the crew sleeping on deck in tent-like structures that were erected at night when we pulled into shore. There were twenty oars on each side of the hull, each one powered by a rower. Though they were free men the conditions inside the hold were very cramped and because it was also very hot the rowers sat at their oars in only their loincloths.

The summer was nearing its end but the winds were fair, the sea calm and so we made good progress, hugging the southern Black Sea coastline as we journeyed east towards our destination: the port of Trapezus. Hestiodorus was a talkative fellow and each day, as the linen sails billowed and the oars dipped in the blue sea, I visited him at the stern as he steered his ship. After being happy that we were finally travelling back to Parthia I became concerned that we were heading for a Roman port, Pontus having submitted to the Romans following the death of Mithridates.

‘There is no need to worry, majesty,’ he said, gripping the steering oar as seagulls glided on the wind overhead, ‘Pontus is now a Roman client. There aren’t any Roman soldiers in the country, at least not yet.’

‘Are you sure?

‘Only Roman merchants in Trapezus, majesty, welcomed by King Pharnaces, their new friend.’

It took us ten days to reach Trapezus, a fortified city nestling at the base of the foothills of the Pontic Mountains. Greek settlers had established the city over six hundred years before but now it was wholly Pontic, lion banners hanging from port offices and from the towers of the fort. In the airless humidity they hung limply from their flagpoles, a poignant symbol of how a once great kingdom had been emasculated by the Romans. With the money provided by Akrosas we were able to purchase horses, tents, food and fodder for our onward journey south. Once more we donned flowing robes and headdresses to disguise our faces, not that I expected our identities to be discovered.

We left Trapezus the day after we had landed in the city. I thanked Captain Hestiodorus and wished him fair winds on his voyage back to Histria. I wondered how long it would be before Roman merchants and officials would be resident in that city. The power of Rome seemed like a great shadow that was spreading remorselessly over the known world. It was the first time that Hippo had ridden a horse and she was distinctly nervous as she tried to wrap her shapely thighs around the saddle’s horns, having exchanged her dress for a pair of leggings that clung to her legs in the humidity and raised the morale of the male members of our party. Not that we needed cheering. We were going home and as soon as Hippo, flanked by Cleon and Gallia, had become accustomed to sitting on the back of her mature grey mare, we commenced our journey south through the great passes of the Pontic Mountains. Our destination was Zeugma, the former Parthian kingdom that was now also a client of Rome, ruled by the decrepit King Darius, who I had once met when I had been a headstrong prince of Hatra.

We rode through dense hazelnut forests, the trees extending up into the mist-wreathed mountains. At night we camped by the side of gushing rivers, streams and crystal-clear lakes. The mournful howling of wolves could be heard outside our tents every night and occasionally a brown bear would approach our camp in search of food, to be driven off by whoever was standing guard. There were many travellers on the road as we headed south, like us making camp on the outskirts of the cities we journeyed through – Satala, Melitene and Samosata – before reaching Zeugma.

The humidity had disappeared when we reached Darius’ capital but it was still hot, the lush landscape of Pontus being replaced by arid desert as we crossed into Roman Syria and headed southeast towards Dura. We were going home.

Chapter 17

Four months to the day after leaving my kingdom we trotted by the spot where Pompey and I had agreed the boundaries of Dura and Syria, a
kontus
and
gladius
arranged side by side on top of a stone obelisk. Surena, Drenis and Arminius gave a cheer as we passed the marker, Domitus reaching over and shaking my hand as we rode past it. There were no other riders on the road as we continued on into the Kingdom of Dura, the blue waters of the mighty Euphrates on our left flank. I began to think of Claudia and seeing my old friends when I heard Domitus’ voice.

‘A reception party.’

His eyes were keener than mine as I stared into the shimmering heat haze. But then I spotted them: riders approaching at some speed.

I turned to the others behind me. ‘Some of my horse archers.’

There were nine of them, all dressed in white tunics and riding well-groomed horses that shone in the sun. My chest filled with pride as I watched them approach, three flanking left, three flanking right as the others slowed their horses in front of us. Our party of ten must have appeared suspicious to the young, confident junior officer who commanded the horse archers, our robes caked in dust and our faces and heads covered.

He raised his hand to us. ‘Halt!’

The two riders behind him rode their mounts up to his side as those on our flanks nocked arrows in their bowstrings and turned their horses to face us.

‘No sudden movements,’ I said to the others.

The officer looked at me and then at my companions.

‘Wise words. State your business.’

‘We are travelling to the city of Dura.’

He leaned forward in his saddle. ‘I asked what was your business, not your destination.’

‘Are not travellers welcome in the Kingdom of Dura?’

‘I have my orders to intercept any suspicious-looking parties,’ he said curtly, ‘especially those coming from Syria. Very few traders come from Syria, much less parties of armed horsemen with no goods.’

‘Are we at war with the Romans?’ I asked, concerned.

The officer looked at his subordinates and laughed. ‘
We
? What would a shabby looking individual like you know of the affairs of the Kingdom of Dura?’

His smile disappeared as his tone became menacing.

‘Remove your headdresses and identify yourselves.’

The two either side of him nocked arrows and held the bowstrings in their fingers. I was very aware that they could shoot their bows with deadly accuracy in the blink of an eye. I held up my hands and slowly moved them to my
shemagh
to remove it, announcing after I had done so.

‘I am Pacorus, King of Dura and son of Varaz, King of Hatra.’

I heard Gallia’s voice behind me. ‘And I am Gallia, Queen of Dura.’