The Parthian (41 page)

‘I will do as you ask, lord,’ I replied.

‘Thank you, Pacorus. Upon your shoulders rests the hopes of the whole army.’

‘And don’t worry,’ added Crixus, ‘when they lop your head off, I promise to find it afterwards and give it a decent burial.’

‘If that happens, Crixus,’ said Spartacus, ‘then you and your Gauls will be the first to assault the city, and we will keep on assaulting the walls until we have battered them down stone by stone. And then we will pull down the buildings brick by brick. This I swear.’

Afterwards Spartacus pulled me aside and spoke to me.

‘I hope you do not think that I do not hold your life dear, Pacorus.’

‘No, lord.’

‘This plan either succeeds or I will be forced to attack the city. If we attack we will lose thousands.’

‘I will do my best to bring you success.’ I said.

‘Remember, the Romans are ruthless but they are also a pragmatic people.’

I doubted that, but I knew that we could not remain idle before this Roman city forever. In the next two days Godarz briefed me on what to expect when I met the city’s officials, if I met the city’s officials! He told me that each major city was ruled by a municipal council called a
curia
, which was named after the Roman Senate itself. This council administered the food supply, public services, religious festivities, town finance and local building projects. The silver mine, though, would be owned by the Senate in Rome itself, as its valuable ore was used to pay for the legions fighting in foreign lands. Nevertheless, it would be administered on behalf of Rome’s Senate by a powerful local individual, who presumably was resident in the city. I asked whether it was a possibility that the city’s élite would have fled the city by boat, but Godarz assured me that Roman civic leaders usually prided themselves on their courage and their responsibility to the citizens they ruled over, and as such they would never want to be seen fleeing the city. Godarz also told me that Roman civic leaders often built public baths and other buildings at their own expense, both as a sign of their wealth to the lower orders and as a display of power to their fellow senators, who were often bitter rivals.

I decided that I would look my best to meet the dignitaries of Thurii; after all, I was a member of the Parthian aristocracy and therefore a representative of the empire, albeit in strange circumstances. Therefore I wore a white tunic edged with blue, a silk vest underneath, leather boots, brown leggings, my Roman helmet with a new goose feather plume and a white cloak. Nergal said I should have refused to be an envoy, as did Burebista, though Godarz, rational as ever, suggested that it was probably the best hope to resolve the situation quickly, and he added that there was no guarantee that an assault would succeed in any case. He said Spartacus probably knew this and that’s why he wanted to find another way out of his predicament. And he had no interest in taking a city that he would have to abandon come the spring when we marched north. All things considered, therefore, it seemed perfectly sensible to treat with the city. I just hoped that the city was in a reciprocal mood. The one good thing about my new mission was that Gallia was greatly concerned that I might be killed and became very tactile, linking arms and resting her head on my shoulder as we walked through the cavalry camp in the early evening. I have to confess that I deliberately played on her fears, which served to tighten her grip on my arm and send my spirits soaring. 

‘It was unfair of Spartacus to ask you to go.’

‘The interests of the many outweigh the interests of the few,’ I said solemnly.

‘The Romans may kill you.’

I shrugged. ‘That can happen any time in battle.’

‘But you will not be in battle, you will be alone.’

I stopped and faced her. ‘If I have your affection, I will never be alone.’

Her eyes filled with tears and I moved closer to her to kiss her, but she instead threw her arms around me and embraced me in a vice-like grip. Failed again!

‘Promise me you will be careful,’ she whispered.

‘Of course,’ I replied, finding it difficult to breathe. 

That night Spartacus sent a messenger to the city walls, a man on horseback who shouted up at the western gatehouse, announcing that we would be sending an envoy in the morning to open negotiations that would be mutually beneficial. The messenger was not shot by an arrow, which was hopeful at least. But then the Romans could have simply ignored him.

The morning dawned bright and sunny, though because it was winter the air was cool and I felt chilly. I ate breakfast in my tent with those who I held dear for company. They included Gallia, Diana, Praxima, whom I had grown to like as she kept Nergal very happy, Byrd, Gafarn, Godarz and Burebista. Rubi sat on a stool behind Gallia, hissing at all the men. The mood was subdued and everyone ate little, but I was glad of their company. Afterwards I told Nergal that he would command the cavalry in the event of my death. I emphasised to him that his over-riding duty was to get those in his charge back to their homelands, and himself and the rest of my Parthians back to Hatra. Gallia sat white-faced at the table as I told her that she would have Remus if I failed to return. There was nothing else to say. I stood and buckled on my sword belt and went outside.

My eyes misted as I saw rank upon rank of horsemen drawn up each side of the main avenue that led from the camp, Rhesus saluting me with his drawn sword. I knew that if I looked at even one in the eye I would blubber like a baby, so I paced stony faced through the middle of them, out of the camp and towards the palisade. I felt cold, but perhaps it was the cool embrace of fear. Behind me walked my breakfast companions, but I did not turn to look at them. Spartacus, Castus, Akmon and Claudia met me at the palisade, though not Crixus. I was glad; I had no desire to see his leering visage on what might be my last day on earth. Spartacus looked troubled as half a dozen of his Thracians removed some of the tree trunks that had been sharpened to a point and made up the palisade, to let me through. 

‘Are you sure of this, Pacorus? I do not command you to go.’

‘Yes, lord,’ I knew he was giving me an opportunity to save myself, but by now the whole army would know of my task and what would they think of me if I turned back now? Besides, I was a Parthian and we were not raised to run away from danger. I embraced Claudia and shook the hands of Castus and Akmon. The posts had been removed and my route to the city was open. The distance from the palisade to the western gates of the city was about half a mile, a wide expanse of empty space in which nothing moved, apart from today. I turned to look at the people I classed as my friends and the one who I hoped was far more than that. I took off my helmet and walked up to Gallia, clasped her hands in mine and kissed her on the lips.

‘I love you,’ I said to her, then turned about, put on my helmet and strode away.

I felt strangely calm as I walked alone towards the walls, which seemed higher and more formidable the nearer I got to them. But I wasn’t thinking about the Romans, I was thinking about Gallia, my darling Gallia. I had told her the feelings in my heart and that was all that mattered. If I died today then at the very least she would know how I felt about her, and as I walked along I started to smile to myself. Any guards watching me probably thought that I was mad, and they may have entertained the thought of putting some arrows into me rather than letting me enter their city. I carried on walking. It seemed that I was the only person on the face of the earth as I walked onto the bridge across the ditch and finally reached the western entrance, two huge wooden gates separated by a stone arch, each one studded with iron spikes. The gatehouse itself comprised two large square stone towers topped with tiled roofs, each tower having two high-mounted rows of ports for archers and slingers, which were now covered by wooden shutters. The top of the wall between the towers was deserted, but my sixth sense told me that I was being watched by many eyes.

I went over in my mind what Spartacus had told me, that I was to negotiate on his behalf, and to remember that we might only be freed slaves but we possessed the province’s wealth. No wonder the leading citizens of Thurri were rich. The province of Bruttium was prosperous indeed, not only because of its silver mine but also due to its large herds of sheep that produced wool and that were taken into the mountains in the summer to avoid the intense heat of the plains. The province also produced excellent wines from its many vineyards, plus massive quantities of olives from the great estates that littered the coastal plain. All of these were now in our hands, presumably much to the consternation of their owners. We had come across few villas, leading Spartacus to speculate that the owners lived in Thurri itself. The province was also home to a beautiful breed of horse that was characterised by a thin head, strong and well-proportioned neck, high withers, strong back, a slightly inclined rump, powerful joints and broad, solid hooves. Godarz told me that the stock had come about because of cross-breeding between Italian horses and those brought from Africa by a general called Hannibal, who belonged to a people called Carthaginians from Africa. Apparently he had campaigned for twenty years against the Romans in their own homeland before being finally defeated. But his legacy was a superb breed of horse that was raised in Bruttium and then sold throughout the Roman Empire. And now these fine horses were being drafted into my cavalry. I also discovered that they had a patient nature, which made the training of new recruits much easier. Spartacus had given strict instructions that no unwarranted destruction should be inflicted on the province, though the Gauls had unsurprisingly ignored these orders until Spartacus himself had marched over to Crixus’ camp and demanded that they desist their activities. 

I had halted a few feet from the gates and there I stood, for what seemed like an eternity. I said a silent prayer to Shamash that I might have a quick death at the hand of a skilled archer, but instead one of the gates slowly opened inwards. I remained stationary as the gate was fully opened and a Roman officer, wearing a red-plumed helmet and scarlet cloak, strode onto the wooden bridge across the ditch, halted and shouted ‘follow me’, before he about-turned and marched back into the city. I swallowed and walked forward at a brisk pace. I was nervous but determined not to show it as I left the bridge and entered the city of Thurii.

I walked under the gatehouse and onto a paved street that was flanked with two-and three-storey buildings, many of which were shops that opened up onto the street. I was immediately surrounded by a group of legionaries, ten of them, with a centurion standing at their head. Their commander patently ignored me as he gave the order to march forward, and so I began my journey through the city. It appeared to follow the usual Roman town layout, with streets bisecting the one I was walking along at right angles. I noticed that many of the buildings were large and well maintained, with ornate, over-hanging balconies. The streets were filled with people and all the shops seemed to be open. Clearly the port area was still bringing in supplies of food and other essentials. Few people bothered to pay me any attention as the legionaries shoved aside any who got in the way. After about fifteen minutes we came to the forum, a massive square enclosed on three sides by colonnaded passages and the fourth fronted by a massive basilica with whitewashed walls and a terracotta-tiled roof. My silent escorts and I marched across the square and up the steps of the basilica, then through its main entrance, which was framed by two enormous marble columns. Godarz had told me that the basilica was both a business centre and law court, but today I had the feeling that it was definitely the latter as my escort halted at the entrance. I was left alone to walk towards the dignitaries assembled at the far end of what was in effect a large rectangular central aisle, flanked by two other aisles, one either side of the main one. The central aisle was taller than the sides and there were windows in its top section, through which poured light. The central aisle was supported by thick stone columns and arches, and in front of every column stood a guard in full war gear. I took off my helmet and walked across the grey marble-tiled floor towards the raised apse at the far end of the basilica, upon which were seated three men in chairs. A fourth chair beside them was empty. When I reached the apse I saw that more guards stood against the wall behind the chairs and clerks sat at tables to one side. I halted a few paces in front of the apse and bowed my head to the three seated men. An awkward silence followed. Finally, the man in the middle, dressed in a white toga, addressed me. He was about fifty years of age, with a long, lean face and dark, receding hair flecked with grey. His voice was slightly effeminate as he looked at me with pale grey eyes.

‘I am Gnaeus Musius, the governor of this great city. Your name?’

‘I am Prince Pacorus, son of King Varaz of Hatra, and I speak for General Spartacus.’

The governor looked surprised. ‘And where is Hatra?’

‘In Parthia, lord.’ I replied.

The man next to him, who looked twenty years younger and who had curly light brown hair, was clearly agitated by the way he fidgeted in his chair. The governor looked from me to him.

‘You have something to say Titus.’

The younger man, dressed in an officer’s tunic with a muscled cuirass and a red cloak hanging from his shoulders, leaned forward and looked at me intently.

‘I am Titus Sextus, garrison commander. Why is a Parthian in my country?’

I bowed my head to him, too. ‘The simple truth is, sir, that I was captured in Cappadocia and find myself a guest in Italy, albeit a reluctant one.’

‘You mean you are a slave,’ he said.

‘I
was
a slave,’ I replied. ‘Now I am making my way back to my homeland, along with others who have the same desire.’

‘We do not treat with slaves, we own them, we command them, and when it suits us, we execute them. That will be your fate, slave. What is to stop me killing you right here, right now?’

‘Nothing,’ I replied, calmly. ‘Though you must also ask yourself what is preventing those camped outside your walls from attacking and putting you all to the sword?’