Parthian Dawn (8 page)

He recognised me instantly. ‘Lord, I not expect to see you in this part of the city.’

He smiled, one of the few times I had seen him do so in the years that I had known him. He still looked the same as when I had first clapped eyes on him before the fateful raid into Cappadocia. He had been hired as a guide and my first impression of him was far from positive. Dressed in scruffy clothes, I had, I am ashamed to say, looked down on him. But he proved his worth in Cappadocia and afterwards the more so when he became the chief scout in the army of Spartacus. He collected a ragged band of like-minded and similarly attired individuals, fifty in all, who became the eyes and ears of the army. They operated in small groups, riding ahead and reporting back on Roman garrisons and any armies that might be heading our way. And then, after that terrible spring day when Spartacus fell in battle, the scouts had simply melted away like they had never existed. All except Byrd, who elected to travel back with me to Parthia. Since my return to Hatra I had seen him little.

‘I close early today, lord. Come inside.’

He threw an old brown blanket over the pots on the bench and beckoned me to enter his shop, which in reality was a small space with a table on one side. A drawn curtain barred the entrance to what I assumed was a bedroom. He gestured at one of the stools tucked underneath the table. I pulled it out and sat down and he did the same. He filled a cup with water from the jug on the table and handed it to me.

‘You want to buy some pots, lord?’

I laughed. ‘Not quite. I have come to see if I can interest you in coming on another journey.’

He drank some water. ‘Journey?’

‘I have a new kingdom to go to.’

‘I know, lord. You travel to Dura soon.’

‘So, I see your old skills have not deserted you.’

He looked disinterested. ‘It is common knowledge.’

‘I would like you to come with me, to be my chief scout, or anything else that you might like to be.’

‘You very kind, lord, but I have a new life.’

I looked around his miserable quarters and his threadbare clothes. I could not believe that he was happy living such an existence, and then I remembered that the Romans had killed his family in Cappadocia when he had been away on the road selling pots. Perhaps he felt guilty that he had lived and they had died. Maybe living in misery was his way of atoning for the wrong that he felt he had committed, but perhaps I was thinking gibberish.

‘We miss you, Byrd,’ I said absently.

‘Who “we”, lord?’

‘Well, Gallia for one, and Diana and Gafarn.’

A smile spread across his lean face. ‘They are fine people. And the child, it thrives?’

‘He thrives. He is strong, just like his father.’

‘And Gallia, she is well?’

I drained my cup. ‘Strong, proud and defiant as ever, Byrd, just like in Italy.’

‘I came to temple when you were married. She very beautiful woman.’

‘You were at my wedding, why didn’t you come to the banquet afterwards?’

‘I stay at back of temple, lord, make no fuss.’

I laid a hand on his arm. ‘There are no barriers between those who served Spartacus, my friend, always remember that. It matters not if you are a king or a pauper; those of us who were in Italy are brothers. Nothing will ever change that. Please think about my offer.’

I took the purse hanging from my belt. ‘Take this. There is enough money for you to purchase a good horse and a saddle. We leave for Dura the day after tomorrow. I would feel a lot safer knowing that you are with us.’

He shook his head. ‘Hatra not like Italy, lord, no Romani here.’

I stood up and we shook hands.

‘Please give the matter some thought, Byrd. If you decide to stay, then please go to the palace and see Gafarn and Diana from time to time.’

‘They stay in Hatra?’

‘Yes, my mother likes having a young child in the palace, and everyone loves Diana too much to see her go.’

‘It will be hard on Gallia to leave her friend.’

‘It will.’ I pointed at him. ‘That is why your presence is all the more important. She will want as many of her old friends around her as possible.’

I walked back to the palace not knowing if I had convinced him, but hoping I had said enough, if only to give him a better life. But then, perhaps he was contented.

‘So, will he come?’

Gallia was checking her bow and the arrows in her quiver and her mail shirt was hanging on a wooden frame by the side of our large bed.

I shrugged. ‘You know Byrd, he’s a law unto himself.’

She pulled her sword from its sheath. Like mine it was a Roman cavalry weapon called a
spatha
. Its blade was straight and each edge was sharpened. My
spatha
had been a gift from Spartacus and was one of my most treasured possessions. My most treasured possession was standing next to me, examining the razor-sharp edges on her own sword.

‘You said he was selling pots.’ She gingerly stroked one of the edges with a finger, smiling in approval at its lethality.

‘That’s right, down in the south of the city, in one of the less salubrious districts.’

‘You should have commanded him to come.’ She slammed her sword back in its scabbard.

‘And you think he would have obeyed?’

She looked at me. ‘Of course not, but it would have got you used to issuing commands. Isn’t that what kings do?’

I ignored her jibe. ‘In any case, I don’t want anyone who doesn’t want to be with us. How do you feel about Diana staying here?’

She pulled her dagger from its sheath and examined its blade. ‘I will miss her, but she likes it here and everyone adores her, especially your mother. I think she sees the baby as a sort of grandchild. And knowing that Diana is happy and safe is a weight off my mind.’ She giggled. ‘Who would have thought it, a Roman kitchen slave who has become a princess? It’s a strange world.’

A loud knock on the door startled us. ‘Lord king, a courier has arrived with a package for you. He awaits you in the throne room.’

We followed the guard from our bedroom, through the palace’s private chambers and along a long corridor that led to the rear of the throne room. Kogan’s guards stood around the room at intervals of ten paces, looking like bronze statues in their breastplates and helmets. My father sat in one of the high-backed chairs, my mother in another. Assur stood to one side of the marble-covered dais, along with Kogan and Vata. Gafarn, Aliyeh and Diana were standing on the other side, all of them looking at a distinctly nervous soldier who held what appeared to be a large bundle of hides in his hands. The silence was oppressive as we entered the room.

‘Ah,’ said my father, ‘perhaps now the mystery can be solved.’

I was bemused. ‘Mystery, father?’

‘Indeed. This man,’ he pointed at the soldier stood in front of him, ‘has brought a gift for you. Tell him.’

The soldier wore red leather boots, red leggings and a yellow tunic. He cleared his throat.

‘Thank you, majesty.’ His eyes darted between me and my father, who began drumming his fingers on the arm of his throne, until a disapproving look from my mother persuaded him to desist. The soldier continued. ‘This package is to be delivered to King Pacorus in person.’

My father pointed at me. ‘Here he is, so you may deliver it, finally.’

The soldier bowed his head at me and laid the bundle at my feet. He then reached into his tunic and pulled out a tightly rolled parchment, which he handed to me. ‘I was also instructed to give you this, majesty.’

I took the parchment, which had a wax seal. ‘Instructed by whom?’

‘The sorceress of King of Kings Sinatruces, majesty.’

My father suddenly looked interested, as did everyone else. He waved the courier away.

‘Open it Pacorus,’ said my mother.

I broke the seal on the parchment and unrolled it. The writing was in a language I did not recognise. ‘I do not know these words.’

‘Let Lord Assur take a look.’

Assur walked over to me and took the scroll. He peered at it for a long time.

‘I believe it is written in ancient Scythian, majesty, though I recognise only a few words. However, there is a clerk in the temple who is an expert on languages. I will bring him.’

He then handed me back the parchment and marched from the room. My father pointed at the bundle on the floor.

‘Perhaps Dobbai herself is in there, ready to spring out at you. While we wait for Assur to return, we will see what’s in it.’

‘It is Pacorus’ gift, Varaz, so he should open it,’ said my mother.

I pulled my dagger from its sheath and cut the cords wrapped round the hides.

Inside was a rolled piece of cloth. I gestured to Vata and Gafarn to give me assistance as I unrolled it. It was a large square standard, white in colour with gold edging. Vata held one corner and Gafarn the other as they held it aloft in front of me. It was as high at both of them, and Gafarn was over six foot in height. In the centre of the banner was a red mythical beast, with the head and talons of an eagle and the body of what looked like a lion. It also had wings.

‘How magnificent,’ remarked my mother.

‘There’s enough gold in that edging to pay for a palace,’ noted my father.

‘How long do we have to hold it here,’ complained Gafarn, ‘my arms are aching?’

‘What is it?’ asked Gallia.

‘It is called a griffin if I am not mistaken.’ Assur re-entered the chamber with a small, portly man scurrying beside him, who walked over to stand beside me and peered at the banner. He smelt of old scrolls and leather.

‘Mm, yes indeed. A griffin. Head of an eagle and the body of a lion.’

Assur handed him the scroll that came from Dobbai. ‘And this?’

The archivist held it close to his face and started mumbling to himself.

‘You were right, holiness. It is ancient Scythian. I haven’t seen this language written in an age.’

‘Would you care to read it to us,’ requested my father.

‘Read it?’ The archivist looked up and realised where he was. He blushed. ‘Yes, of course, majesty.’ He bowed awkwardly, and then bowed again to my mother. My father waved his hand for him to continue.

‘Can we put it down?’ asked Gafarn.

‘Lay it down on the floor in front of me,’ said my father. As they did so the archivist read the letter. His voice was crisp and a little high pitched.

To Pacorus, King of Dura Europos and son of Hatra, greetings.

Just as you have ended one journey, so you and your bride are about to begin another. Those who are beloved of the gods do not know what path has been set for them, and those of us who are close to the gods are given only glimpses of what they have in store for you. So it is with you, son of Hatra. The gods have given you a great gift in the form of your new bride, and to prove that you were worthy of her you had to throw off your chains and defeat your enemy in the heart of his kingdom. You have fulfilled that part of your quest, but know that it is only one part.

Behold your banner, which is the image of the Griffin, a creature that inhabited the land when the world was young, and when life and death were but a dream. I saw you riding upon this beast in a vision, and knew that it had been chosen for you. The Griffin makes his nest on the high peaks, overlooking his kingdom, safe from his enemies. He has the head and front talons of an eagle and this is appropriate, for your destiny is entwined with the eagles of Rome. You fight them but they are a part of you. The Griffin has the body of a lion, for you will be a lion of the desert when the time of troubles comes. The Griffin has wings to carry him far and wide, just as you will be called upon to go hither and thither to assist those who have need of you. Let the Griffin be your symbol to show the gods that you honour and respect them, so that you are allowed to keep your queen, who has been sent by them to be by your side.

Know you this as well. The white of the background is a symbol of the purity of your cause, and the red of the Griffin will be the blood that will be spilt in your quest. Heed these words, son of Hatra, and obey the gods. For they are watching you.

The archivist handed me back the parchment, then shuffled nervously on his feet. Assur waved him away, leaving us all in silence. All eyes were on me now. My mother looked alarmed, my father bemused, while Assur stared at the banner intently, almost as if he expected it to spring to life.

My father spoke first.

‘It would appear that Sinatruces’ sorceress still takes an interest in you.’

‘So it seems.’

‘You should send it back,’ urged my mother.

‘It’s just a piece of cloth, mother. Besides, I like it. I shall have Domitus inform the legion of its arrival.’

Assur nodded in approval. ‘A wise choice, majesty.’

‘Soldiers are a superstitious lot,’ offered Vata, ‘they’ll see it as a symbol of luck.’

‘Then let us hope that it brings you luck, my son.’ My father stood up and held out his hand to my mother. ‘We are finished here, everyone is dismissed.’

Afterwards I wrote a short letter to Domitus telling him of the banner and instructing him to pass on the information to his centurions, who would inform their men. Then I took it to the armouries to have it fastened to a lance, and afterwards it was rolled around the shaft and covered by a waxed canvas sleeve.

As Gallia fell asleep in my arms I stared at the furled banner propped up in the corner of the bedroom.

In the morning it and we would be marching to Dura.

Chapter 4

W
e rose before dawn and said our goodbyes on the steps of the palace. The legion would already be packing up its tents and workshops and marshalling into its centuries and cohorts, Domitus barking curses and issuing orders as his subordinates organised their men into their ranks. Gallia was dressed in her war gear of mail shirt, leggings and boots, her
spatha
in its scabbard hanging from her belt, with her dagger tucked into the top of her right boot. Her bow was safe in its case hanging from her saddle, quiver at her hip. Her Amazons, similarly attired, were mounted behind her as she said farewell to my parents, sisters, Gafarn and Diana. The latter was in floods of tears as she hugged her friend. They had been together since the gladiator school in Capua and were now to be apart for the first time in years. Gallia embraced her friend tightly, kissed her on the cheek, put on her helmet and then vaulted onto Epona, her mare that she had brought with her from Italy. If there were tears in her eyes I did not see them, though I noticed that she quickly closed her helmet’s cheekguards, then dug her knees into Epona’s sides and trotted from the square without looking back, followed by her Amazons. My Parthian horsemen, Nergal at their head and my new banner carried behind him, waited on the far side of the square. A guard held Remus’ reins.