Parthian Dawn (18 page)

My father ate little, and only a short while after we had started the meal he began to speak to us.

‘I have asked you all here tonight because the issue of the election needs to be settled.’

Balas put down his silver cup. ‘You mean you want to make sure that we all vote for Phraates?’

‘Yes,’ snapped my father.

‘He is a good man,’ said Vardan, ‘but does he have the steel to enforce his will?’

‘With our bows and swords behind him he will have enough strength to secure his rule,’ retorted my father.

Aschek screwed up his lips. ‘It would be better to have an overlord who has the respect of all, and if not all then at least the majority.’

My father was already showing signs of exasperation. ‘My friend, who among the kings has that?’

‘Varaz of Hatra,’ offered Balas casually.

My father held his head in his hands, and then looked up. He suddenly looked old. I had never thought of my father as old before. ‘I support Phraates because he offers continuity and stability. He is known to all the kings, and has been his late father’s voice in the empire for many years. Parthia must have unity for the troubles that are to come.’

‘What troubles?’ asked Gotarzes

‘The Romans,’ I said.

‘Yes,’ reiterated my father. ‘Darius has, as expected, defected to Rome. Word reached me of this but two hours ago. The Romans menace our frontiers, and for that reason alone we must have stability within the empire.’

‘We all knew the old admirer of young boys would do so, it is of no consequence,’ said Balas.

‘The Romans will have heard of the death of Sinatruces,’ I said. ‘They will try to exploit any opportunity to increase their domains at our expense.’

Balas shrugged. ‘If you want Phraates so badly then I will vote with you, Varaz. But only because there is not a more suitable candidate.’

My father smiled, then looked at the other kings. ‘And you, my friends?’

They all fell into line, as did I of course. In the few times I had seen Phraates he had always struck me as a conscientious, earnest individual who took his responsibilities very seriously. I was sure that the other kings would feel the same way.

Before we attended the council there was time to visit one of the holiest places in the Parthian Empire, the resting place of Arsaces, the first Parthian king and the founder of the Arsacid dynasty. The tomb itself was a granite sarcophagus set in the middle of a high-domed mausoleum near the centre of the city, a mile to the north of the great square. The mausoleum was surrounded by a high wall and had a small square in front of its main entrance, which was flanked by two white stone lions. The flagstones of the square were also brilliant white, and we had to shield our eyes from the glare as we walked across them to enter the tomb. There were five of us that day — myself, Gallia, Nergal, Praxima and Domitus, who had taken a keen interest in the history of his adopted homeland. We wore baggy leggings and loose-fitting tunics, though Domitus wore his customary white tunic and mail armour and had his helmet on his head. With its white plume he looked like a king and we his retinue. We all wore swords and daggers at our hips. The entrance was flanked by spearmen, with more guards posted around the grey sarcophagus. The interior of the building was quiet and cool, with a white marble floor and white marble columns around the sides. Domitus took off his helmet and we all walked over to the tomb, the sides of which were adorned with carvings of archers on horseback fighting and hunting. It was a most peaceful place.

‘Arsaces was the first Parthian king,’ I said in hushed tones. ‘His blood flows through my veins, so I like to think.’

‘Do all Parthians come here to pay homage, lord?’ asked Praxima.

I shook my head. ‘Unfortunately, most Parthians are too busy facing life’s hardships to make the trip here. But all have heard of him and I am glad that you, my friends, are here with me.’ I reached over to hold Gallia’s hand.

‘A most touching scene.’

There are very few men who I dislike when I first see them, for I like to think of myself as a fair-minded individual. But with Mithridates it was different. I disliked him on sight. No, that is incorrect; he invoked my animosity when I heard his voice, before I had even clapped eyes on him.

I turned to see a man about my age with long, shoulder-length black hair that was as straight as an arrow. He was tall and slim, though certainly not gaunt, his face long with wide cheekbones. His neatly trimmed beard came to a point just beneath his chin accentuating the narrowness of his visage, so that he resembled a snake. As I was to discover, it was a most appropriate analogy. He was dressed in a rich black tunic with silver edging around the neck and cuffs, black leggings and black boots studded with silver. He wore a black leather belt, from which hung a sword in an expensive scabbard, also adorned with silver leaf.

His soulless black eyes glinted with mocking arrogance as he bowed his head to me. ‘The whole empire has heard of King Pacorus. I salute you. How are you finding my kingdom?’

‘Your kingdom?’

‘Of course, did I not introduce myself? How rude of me. I am Prince Mithridates, former ruler of Dura.’

He had five companions with him, all men about his age and all wearing expensive clothes and haughty expressions, save one at the end who seemed embarrassed by it all.

‘Long have I wanted to meet the hero of children’s stories and the friend of slaves.’ His voice was condescending and I felt an anger rise in me.

‘So, you are Prince Mithridates,’ I said.

He smiled, revealing a row of perfect white teeth, the serpent’s fangs. ‘Indeed, majesty.’

‘It would have been good manners to have handed over your kingdom to me when I arrived at Dura, do you not think?’

His smiled disappeared, to be replaced by a mask of contempt. ‘My grandfather was old and robbed of his senses when he saw fit to give you my throne.’

His effrontery was breathtaking. ‘And you earned the throne through merit, did you?’

‘I certainly did not win it by consorting with slaves and other low-borns.’

‘Have a care, prince,’ I snarled, ‘your words may lead you into trouble.’

He ignored my veiled threat and leered at Gallia.

‘So this is your queen. For once the street talk and brothel gossip do not lie. A rare beauty indeed. Such a waste to live in the scorpion-infested frontier outpost of Dura, though. A queen deserves a proper palace and kingdom befitting her great beauty.’

Gallia smiled and glided towards him, stopping inches from him. His eyes were alight with lust.

‘And would you give me such a palace, lord prince?’ she purred.

His eyes darted from hers to her long blonde hair, to her breasts and then back again to her blue eyes.

‘I would make you a queen among queens.’

She moved her face slowly towards his, her full lips parting ever so slightly as if to kiss him. Time seemed to slow as we all stared, transfixed, by the scene. Then her right hand shot forward into his groin as she grabbed his genitals and held them in an iron grip. Pain contorted his face. Praxima squealed and burst into laughter while Nergal and the companions of Mithridates looked stunned.

Gallia’s face was a mask of cold contempt as she held the prince’s most precious possessions firmly in place. ‘I have heard lots about you, little boy, and none of it is good. You are not fit to be called a prince, let alone a king, you who makes war upon small children. Did you think that I would be interested in such a poor specimen of a man?’

Now his friends had recovered from their shock and moved menacingly towards Gallia, hands on their sword hilts, except for the embarrassed one, but like lightning Domitus whipped out his
gladius
and had the point at the throat of the foremost man, a youth with a large nose and gold bracelets around his wrist. He looked alarmed as this cropped-haired barbarian pressed the point of his Roman sword into his neck.

Gallia released Mithridates and he slumped to the floor in great pain. I stepped in front of my wife and folded my arms in front of me.

‘You defile this holy place with your presence, Mithridates. Leave us and go play with your toys.’

Wincing, he staggered to his feet. I thought he was going to skulk away, but at that time I did not know his capacity for hate. He glowered at me, drew himself up to his full height and then drew his sword. I likewise drew mine, but before either of us had a chance to cross blades the embarrassed companion of Mithridates with the kindly face was between us. He grabbed Mithridates by the shoulders and pushed him away.

‘You cannot fight here, in this revered place.’

‘Get out of my way, brother,’ hissed Mithridates.

So he was Mithridates’ brother. They were utterly different in looks and manner.

As Mithridates sulked but made no attempt to attack me, his brother turned to face me.

‘Lord king, please forgive my brother’s intemperance. I would beg that you do not fight him for I have heard of your prowess in battle, and if you kill him then my honour will demand that I must avenge his death, and I would much rather get to know you as a friend rather than as an enemy.’

He then went down on one knee before me and bowed his head.

‘Get up,’ I said, ‘and take your brother and his pets away.’

Mithridates and his companions stood in a group behind the one with a sword at his throat. Their eyes still burned with hatred towards me, though none of them made any threatening moves.

‘Release him Domitus,’ I ordered. The commander of my legion sheathed his
gladius
and stared at the man with the gold bracelets, daring him to draw his sword. He did not.

Mithridates’ brother bowed his head at Gallia. ‘Your beauty is truly stunning, majesty. Please accept my apologies for any offence my family has given you.’

‘I accept your apology,’ replied Gallia, ‘yet I do not know your name.’

He bowed his head again. ‘Princes Orodes, majesty.’

‘Well, prince,’ I said, ‘we are pleased to make
your
acquaintance.’

Behind him Mithridates and his other companions were striding from the mausoleum, leaving his brother alone with us. Around us, nervous-looking guards had gathered into a group and approached, led by a young officer with a wispy moustache.

‘Majesty, forgive me, but it is not permitted to draw weapons inside this place.’

‘Of course, officer, please accept my apologies. We shall be leaving now.’

His face wore the expression of a man who had been reprieved on the gallows.

‘Thank you, majesty.’ He waved his men away, who returned to their stations around the room. I linked arms with Gallia.

‘Walk with us, Orodes.’

As we ambled from the dimly lit mausoleum into the bright sunshine I probed Orodes about his brother.

‘Were you with your brother at Dura?’

‘No, lord. Being the younger brother I stayed at Susa with my father.’

Susa was the capital city of the kingdom of Susiana, which was the domain of King Phraates. The palace at Ctesiphon is the capital of the empire, reserved as the grand residence of the King of Kings, but Phraates was the King of Susiana, though these past years he had spent most of his time at Ctesiphon running errands for his father, Sinatruces.

‘I was sorry to hear about the death of your grandfather,’ remarked Gallia.

‘Thank you, majesty,’ said Orodes, ‘he lived long and in peace, what more can one ask for?’

A wise answer, I thought. ‘Indeed,’ I remarked. ‘Let us hope that the reign of the next King of Kings is likewise blessed.’

‘I hope so, lord.’

‘The council sits tomorrow, so we shall soon know.’

Orodes had an agreeable nature, which made it hard to believe that he was the brother of Mithridates. As he said farewell to us and made his way back to the villa of his father, an uncomfortable thought crossed my mind.

It was Domitus who articulated my thoughts.

‘So that Mithridates was the little toad who ruled Dura before you.’

‘Indeed.’

Domitus pulled out a cloth from his tunic and wiped his neck, for the day was hot and there was no wind. ‘When I served Rome I saw a lot of his type during my days as a centurion. They were mostly tribunes, the sons and grandsons of important people, and all spoilt, arrogant little bastards, begging your pardon ladies. We usually sorted them out, though.’

‘How did you do that, Domitus?’ asked Gallia.

‘Well, if we were on the frontier then they would be ordered to lead punitive raids against bandits. They always relished the chance of slaughtering a few locals and earning some glory, but they invariably went too deep into hostile territory and came back with their tails between their legs, that or a few arrows in their backs.’

‘And what if you were not on the frontier?’

Domitus shrugged. ‘They they would spend time drinking, gambling or whoring, anything to keep them out of camp.’

‘That Mithridates, he’s the eldest son of Phraates?’

‘Yes,’ I said.

Domitus shook his head. ‘So if Phraates is elected head king, the toad becomes king in his place?’

‘I’m afraid so,’ I answered.

Domitus turned to Gallia. ‘You should have cut his balls off, lady, for that one’s going to cause a lot of trouble.’

The day of the council was hot and still. Again there was no wind, and though the tent was large and all the side flaps were open, inside the heat was oppressive. Slaves brought great jugs of cool water for us to drink but it was still uncomfortable, and it was only early morning. There were many fine buildings in Esfahan, but tradition dictated that the Council of Kings be held in a tent, just as the first one had many years ago.

‘Tradition? My aching back says tradition can go hang.’ Balas was already in a bad mood, and though everyone was seated in high-backed wicker chairs with cushions, he took a dim view of the assembly. All the kings were arranged in a wide circle, each monarch in front with his followers behind. I was seated between Balas and my father, with Aschek, Vardan, Farhad, Gotarzes and Chosroes to his left. It was the first time that I had clapped my eyes on Chosroes, the King of Mesene, a land to the south of Babylon. He was a strange-looking individual with a bald head and a long, thin face that was dominated by a huge long nose. His eyes, cold, calculating and narrow, were almost obscured by thick black eyebrows. Dressed in a red flowing gown adorned with strips of gold, my instincts told me that he was untrustworthy, but he was cordial enough if a little curt. Phraates, his hair greyer now and his expression serious, sat on Balas’ right side. He was clearly nervous as he continually looked to his right and left and smiled at anyone who caught his eye. Immediately behind him sat Mithridates, looking daggers at me, and Orodes, who nodded his head in greeting. I smiled and nodded back, which earned him a look of fury from his brother.