[Gaius Valerius Verrens 06] - Scourge of Rome (8 page)

Valerius almost had to shield his eyes as he strode into the room to meet the Sun King. Frescoes covered in gold leaf lined the walls and every ornament shone with the same buttery glow. A cunningly sited opening in the high domed ceiling allowed the sun’s rays to illuminate a golden throne and its occupant. A bull of a man in the prime of life, King Sohaemus was dressed more simply than his chamberlain in a robe of golden silk, but looking into his dark eyes was like staring into an empty tomb. They glared from coarse, pitted features, deep-set beneath a heavy brow. He had a beard of oiled black ringlets in the Parthian style, and a beaked nose hung threateningly over a mouth like a bear trap.

‘Advance five paces and throw yourself upon the Sun King’s mercy,’ Helios commanded.

Valerius marched forward the required distance, a soldier in bearing if not in uniform. He met the obsidian eyes and kept his face emotionless as he bowed his head in a nod of respect. Helios emitted a hiss of outrage, but Sohaemus’s features broke into a broad smile that seemed out of place on the fearsome mask.

‘So this is your protector,’ the king said to the room’s only other occupant, who sat in a chair behind a screen to one side of the throne, at the outer limit of Valerius’s vision.

‘I owe him my life and my honour, majesty,’ a familiar voice replied quietly.

Tabitha.

The crimson dress had been replaced by virgin white, but of a much finer material and cut in a style that left one silken shoulder bare. A golden brooch in the shape of a sunburst held the cloth at her other shoulder and a belt of gold links circled her narrow waist. Only the bandaged hand looked out of place. Her sapphire-blue eyes studied him with the cool appraisal of one entirely at ease in her surroundings and he felt fire in his cheeks at being so easily deceived. No lady’s maid this, but a princess or a priestess.

‘My lady,’ he bowed, placing an emphasis on the second word that brought the shadow of a smile to her lips. He wondered why she’d maintained her guise for so long when it would have made more sense to announce herself for what she was. Nothing about her was what it seemed, a fact confirmed by the king’s next words.

‘My sister’s daughter,’ the sombre voice announced. ‘A wayward child who charmed her way into my affections and whom I have never been able to marry off. But she has her uses and it seems I am in your debt. Name your reward and if it is within my power I will grant it, Gaius Valerius Verrens.’ The king stood up and studied Valerius for a moment, nodding to himself. ‘Your bearing and the marks you wear tell me you are a military man. Your confidence in my presence that you have held a position high enough not to be overpowered or awed by kings. Yet you travel alone, more or less, and in little state, which I find intriguing. I would offer you a position at the head of one of my regiments, but I fear it would be an insult to a man who has commanded Roman soldiers. Come, gold I have in plenty, or land; an estate on the Orontes and the revenues that go with it?’

It was a generous offer and one that would go a long way to restoring his fortunes, but Valerius felt Tabitha’s eyes on him and it made him uneasy. No matter how perceptive the Emesan ruler was, Sohaemus knew far too much about him to be justified by such short acquaintance. The question was where he had got his information. Valerius had talked to Tabitha on the ride to Apamea, but only in the most general terms. He’d never discussed his past or his current situation. Yet here was the king of Emesa offering him gifts that could be as valuable as life itself to a fugitive. He tried to think back. How much time had she spent with Ariston? Only Serpentius and the Syrian knew he was on the run, but even Ariston didn’t know why.

‘All I ask, majesty, is that I be allowed to continue my journey.’ Valerius bowed again. ‘My thanks for the offer of a place in your service. If the fates had dictated otherwise I would have been proud to accept, but I have made a pledge to join the Imperial forces fighting in Judaea.’

The king returned to his throne and exchanged a glance with Tabitha. Valerius was certain some unspoken message passed between them, but he had no idea what it was. Eventually, Sohaemus nodded. ‘Very well,’ he said. ‘But I insist that you do so in a state that befits your rank and your deeds. You travel to join the Romans in Judaea? In four days I will have gathered a force of five hundred archers and cavalry to send to General Titus as a signal of my fealty to Rome. I had hoped it would be more,’ he looked to Tabitha again with a frown, ‘but King Aristobulus insists that Chalcis has none to spare. His spies report Parthian cavalry massing on his border, and it is true that King Vologases has had little to occupy him since your General Corbulo taught him such a harsh lesson in tactics at Cepha.’

‘Aristobulus is afraid of his own shadow.’ Tabitha’s interruption took Valerius by surprise. ‘He is like a child hiding behind his mother’s skirts in a storm. If we had supported Gaulan against him as I suggested, I would have returned with ten times the number of cavalry.’

‘But Rome supports Aristobulus,’ Sohaemus said reasonably. ‘And it would have meant risking the wrath of your mistress, who would hardly thank me for aiding a man who removed her uncle from the throne. Gaulan is young and ambitious. It will do him good to take out his frustrations on the Zealots. If he impresses General Titus he might end up with a kingdom of his own. The father is no longer young; who knows—’

‘And that is why it is important to provide the general with as much aid as possible.’ The king acknowledged Tabitha’s new intervention with a curt nod. It had been designed to prevent further indiscretion. Any discussion of the Emperor’s age or health was dangerous ground even for a client king like Sohaemus. She went on smoothly: ‘Of course it would help if we had a champion at the heart of his court. Do not be too angry with Ariston,’ she added, confirming Valerius’s suspicions. ‘He is garrulous and susceptible to flattery, especially from a woman, but so are many men. I feigned an interest in you, and how much more impressive to have a master who is an intimate of the Emperor’s son than a mere desert wanderer.’

‘He is a gossip and a fool,’ Valerius growled. ‘I should have him whipped.’

‘Perhaps it is I who should be whipped?’ She rose smoothly to her feet and approached so close that he scented a wisp of perfumed oils. ‘For the fault is mine. No?’ She smiled at the startled expression on Valerius’s face. ‘Then I plead for mercy on his behalf. Should I kneel?’

‘That won’t be necessary.’ The turmoil in his breast made the words gruffer than he intended. ‘But I will ensure he knows whom to thank for his escape, and of course,’ he turned to bow to the king, thankful to escape relatively unscathed, ‘I will be happy to carry any message you wish and to ensure it reaches General Titus’s hands.’

‘Good.’ Sohaemus clapped his hands and the chamberlain reappeared. ‘Arrange for food to be brought: our guest will eat with us. And send for my armourer.’ He smiled at Valerius. ‘If you will not accept a reward at least you will travel as a prince of the East in the finest armour and on the finest horse my stables can provide.’ He waved away the Roman’s protests. ‘If you are to escort my sister’s daughter to Jerusalem, you must be suitably armed.’

Valerius frowned as Tabitha walked towards her uncle. ‘But I thought—’

‘Where would I be if not at my mistress’s side? And where General Titus is my mistress will not be far away,’ she said, mystifying him even more.

‘Then it is settled.’ The king rose from his throne. ‘You will move into the palace until my soldiers are ready to leave. Now we will feast.’ As they were leaving the throne room, Valerius’s eyes slid to a stack of scrolls on a table positioned to get the most light. Sohaemus noticed his interest and beamed proudly. ‘Of course, you are an educated man. After we have eaten I will show you my library.’

To Valerius’s disappointment Tabitha didn’t join them for the sumptuous banquet Sohaemus provided. There were questions he wanted to ask her and it would have made it easier to disguise how little of the king’s food and wine he actually consumed. After months on the road eating the most simple of foods, he found that his stomach rebelled at the sight of the thick sauces and heavily spiced meats served from golden platters. Even the wine, a sweet, heady vintage from one of the king’s vineyards on the coast, couldn’t tempt a palate more accustomed these days to the thin vinegar served to servants and slaves.

But if the meal wasn’t to his taste, the aftermath was a feast for the mind.

For a man who loved books the library at Emesa was like stumbling on an oasis after a ten-day ride through the desert. King Sohaemus led him into an enormous room illuminated by tall windows. Row after row of stone niches rose the height of the walls. Each opening held at least a single leather-cased scroll, but most contained several. Many of them could only be reached by the polished wooden ladders which stood ready for the purpose. The musty scent of ageing leather and decaying papyrus tickled the nostrils and a dozen clerks toiled at wooden desks drawn up in lines. Valerius’s father had kept a small collection at the family estate at Fidenae, but the villa had been destroyed during the civil war. In Britannia, he’d never been without his copy of Thucydides’
History of the Peloponnesian War
. It too had burned, in the sack of Colonia Claudia Victricensis, and he’d never been able to replace it. Fortunately, before he left Rome, Valerius’s friend Pliny – Gaius Plinius Secundus – had managed to smuggle him the early chapters of Xenophon’s
Anabasis
. The old soldier’s adventures on campaign with mighty Cyrus of Persia had relieved the boredom of the long trip east. Before he died, Corbulo had created a fine library in his palace at Antioch, but it was dwarfed by the collection Sohaemus had amassed here at Emesa. Not a single room, but three or four echoing halls, linked by doorways guarded by soldiers in light armour.

Sohaemus smiled at Valerius’s puzzlement. ‘They are not here for my protection, or even the books’,’ he explained, ‘but to save them in event of a disaster. Some of these scrolls survived Caesar’s destruction of the library at Alexandria – see, this copy of Plato’s
Apology
still bears the scars. There are books here in Latin, Greek and Hebrew, Aramaic and Phoenician, Egyptian and a dozen other languages we have yet to decipher. Each man is tasked with the preservation of certain treasured works in the event of fire or earthquake.’

‘It is wonderful,’ Valerius said sincerely. ‘A marvel surely to rival Alexandria itself.’

‘Ah,’ Sohaemus smiled modestly at the compliment, ‘but did Seneca not say: “What is the point of countless books whose titles the owners cannot possibly read through in a lifetime”?’

‘The learner is not instructed, but burdened by the mass of them.’ Valerius quoted his old mentor.

‘You are familiar with him?’ A row of white teeth shone through the ringlets of the king’s beard. ‘Then you will also know he was not in the least impressed with Alexandria. Livius may have praised it as the most distinguished achievement of the good taste and solicitude of kings, but Seneca bemoaned the collection of books not for learning but to make a show – decorations for the dining room, as he put it.’

‘But he too had a great collection.’ Valerius smiled at the memory. ‘And I doubt he ever read more than half of them.’

Sohaemus’s dark eyes twinkled. ‘Would he have been embarrassed, do you think, by his hypocrisy?’

‘No.’ Valerius thought back to the Seneca he had known. Bombastic and secure in the knowledge of his own greatness, but never arrogant. A man who, for all his faults, had always been able to laugh at himself. ‘I think he would have pointed out that his own situation was the irrefutable proof of his genius. He never paraded himself as an example of perfection, either as a Stoic or in the way he lived his life. His duty, as he saw it, was to point out the contradictions and imperfections others did not, or would not, see.’

‘You are something of a philosopher yourself, I find.’

Valerius shook his head. ‘My father had ambitions for me in that direction and I was guided by a master. But I found that though I could memorize and repeat the views and conclusions of others, I never once found a way to contribute something of my own to a debate. Spending your days mouthing another man’s words soon becomes like digging the soil from one hole only to fill another. Seneca recognized it and pointed me towards the law.’

‘Yet you became a soldier?’

Valerius smiled. ‘Sometimes a man’s fate is not his to decide.’

‘Seneca?’

‘Gaius Valerius Verrens.’

When Sohaemus had finished laughing he showed Valerius some of the treasures of his collection. Calling on a servant to climb a ladder to this alcove or that, he directed them to retrieve the scrolls with an obvious knowledge of their whereabouts and contents.

‘I try to heed Seneca’s exhortations that books are tools of learning and not mere decoration,’ he assured Valerius. ‘Clearly, I cannot read them all, but much of the knowledge contained here is duplicated and some of it discredited. My clerks seek out the gems among them and bring anything of interest to my attention: new information or innovative approaches to a philosophical problem.’ He pointed to a table where a clerk was working with a papyrus scroll, copying the contents to a long strip of soft leather using a sharpened reed and a bowl of black ink. ‘Goatskin,’ Sohaemus said proudly. ‘Expensive, but parchment is so much less fragile than papyrus. The third book of Herodotus, I believe, Philippus? One of nine. He has been working on it since the festival of Elah Gebal. Where have you reached, Philippus?’

‘I am transcribing the passage where Cambyses goes mad, majesty,’ said the clerk, clearly at ease with his master despite the ferocious scowl Sohaemus affected.

‘A timely reminder of the consequences of the cares of state,’ the Emesan ruler nodded ruefully. ‘Is it true that Nero went mad?’

Valerius hesitated, remembering a warm night and the garden of a villa outside Rome; blood spurting black in the moonlight and the final sigh of an actor leaving the stage. Despite the time that had passed since Nero’s death, this was treacherous ground. The young Emperor had been more popular in the East, where his excesses were less visible, than among his own people. Vitellius, whom Vespasian had just displaced, had been in the process of declaring his predecessor but two divine, and it was just possible his successor might fulfil his wishes.