The Parthian (47 page)

‘We leave at dawn,’ I whispered to him. ‘I hope you have eaten and drunk your fill.’

He must have noted the sarcasm in my voice. ‘I have, thank you slave.’

I hardly slept at all that night, and as the dawn broke cold and grey I trudged over to wash my face in the horse trough and waited for Domitus, who emerged clean-shaven and smiling from the inn. My fellow sleeping companions were also stirring, and so I pulled the hood over my head to hide my long hair and we left the courtyard. Domitus led as we walked into the street and paced briskly along a narrow pavement.

‘The rich houses are in the northern part of the city,’ said Domitus. ‘Marcus Aristius lives in a villa called the Merchant’s House, apparently. But we’re not going there.’

‘Why not?’ I asked.

‘Because Abundantia has spread her legs for you today.’

‘Have you been drinking?’ I said.

‘Abundantia is the goddess of luck. Last night I was chatting to one of the sailors and he told me that a batch of African slaves is being auctioned today at the market. Now what I’ve heard about this Marcus Aristius, I think there’s a good chance that he will be there.’

He was right, especially if young boys were being sold, and so we went to the slave market. The smell of human misery and unwashed bodies met our nostrils before our eyes beheld the dozens of men, women and children who were on sale.  Hundreds of citizens, ranging from the very wealthy to the decidedly ordinary, were present, observing, bidding for and examining the slaves with sticks. Some slaves, mostly women, stood naked on revolving stands so potential buyers could see exactly what they were purchasing. Others were stood on raised wooden platforms, their heads down and blank expressions on their faces. Some slaves had one foot whitened with chalk, which Domitus told me meant they were new arrivals from abroad. Others had placards hanging from their necks, upon which were written details concerning their nationality, origins, good and bad characteristics and any skills they possessed. A brisk trade was being conducted, with buyers and sellers haggling and arguing over the prices of individual slaves or whole batches. I still had my hood over my head and my cloak tied in front of me to preserve my anonymity, but as I followed Domitus around the market I looked out for Aristius. I was beginning to think our journey was in vain when I caught sight of him, an effeminate fat man dressed in an expensive toga with gold rings on his flabby fingers. As far as I could tell he was alone, though no doubt he had slaves nearby to carry his litter. I saw immediately why he was at this particular spot, for in front of him were arranged half a dozen young black boys, no more than sixteen years old. Each had a whitened foot and wore only a loincloth.

‘That’s the bastard, there, looking at those boys. So let’s get nearer to the fat oaf,’ I whispered to Domitus who walked slowly in front of me. He ambled over to stand next to Aristius, who was in the middle of a heated debate with the seller, another fat man who was going bald and who spoke in a curious accent that I could not place. 

‘Six thousand denarii is an exorbitant price,’ said an irritated Aristius. 

‘Fresh young boys from north Africa don’t come cheap, so they don’t,’ retorted the seller, standing his ground.

Aristius was clearly drooling over the young slaves and could obviously afford the goods on offer, but was determined to drive down the price. A small crowd had gathered around him as he haggled over the slaves, and so I edged closer towards him.

‘They might be something wrong with them,’ he said, waving a stubby finger at the boys.

‘They’re nearly naked,’ said the seller, ‘you can see that they be just about perfect.’

‘I need to see them naked,’ announced Aristius.

The slave trader sighed and nodded to one of his assistants, who indicated that the boys should remove their loincloths. They did so and Aristius’ eyes nearly bulged out of their sockets as the boys stood naked before him. I turned to Domitus.

‘Give me some coins.’

He passed me a handful of silver coins as I moved to stand behind Aristius. Others crowded around to see what was going on.

‘As you can see, there’s nothing wrong with them,’ said the slave trader.

‘They may have been interfered with on the journey. I know what these sailors are like. Get them to turn round.’

‘What?’ The slave trader was starting to lose patience.

‘If I am satisfied that they have not been violated and are still complete, then you will have the asking price,’ said Aristius.

The slave trader sighed again and signalled to his assistant, who placed his stick on the back of the first slave’s neck and forced him to bend over. Aristius leaned forward to stare at the boy’ backside.

At that moment I threw a large handful of silver coins onto the ground in front of him. Instantly there was a mad scramble as all and sundry made an attempt to grab the money, including Aristius. For all his property and wealth he was, in the final analysis, possessed of an insatiable greed for money. However, those around him had a similar idea and he was ignominiously barged aside and shoved face-down on the ground. I stood over him in the commotion, bent down and drew my dagger across his throat, then stood up and walked briskly away without looking back; Domitus followed. It was a few seconds before I heard the screams and shouts as people realised that the rich, fat merchant had had his throat slit. Many think that murderers commit their crimes in the dark and in the shadows, but in truth it is easy enough to kill someone in broad daylight in front of hundreds of potential witnesses and not be noticed. As we left the market I made sure there was no blood on my cloak, and checked that my dagger was safely hidden. The journey back to the docks was uneventful. We were a master and his slave making their way through crowded streets filled with shoppers and traders. When we arrived at the docks, the quays and warehouses were teeming with activity and small boats and larger vessels were exiting and entering the crowded harbour. City life was carrying on as normal and we were just two insignificant individuals going about our business. I resisted the temptation to keep glancing behind me lest I draw attention to us, but I still had a nagging doubt that we would be arrested at any moment. To my great relief we made it back to the fishing boat that had brought us into Thurri, and which remained moored to the jetty awaiting our return. In the light it looked even more disgusting than I had imagined, with fish heads littering the floor and the inside of the boat smeared with fish scales and what looked like blood. As I descended the steps to board the boat, its fetid odour made me recoil.

Once we were settled in the boat the captain demanded his money, only to be told in no uncertain terms by Domitus that he would have it when he had delivered us back to the beach from where we had been picked up. The captain grumbled and screwed up his pot-marked face but duly agreed, and within minutes his crew had unfurled the dirty brown sail and was rowing us out of the harbour, past warships and assorted cargo vessels that were sailing the other way. Looking at the hive of activity, I doubted if our half-hearted siege was having much effect on the citizenry. We did, however, posses the city’s silver mine, though I wondered how long we would have that, for with the coming of spring the army would be striking camp and marching north. The day was warm and the sea breeze light and pleasant, and the gentle rocking of the boat as it glided across the calm sea made my eyelids heavy. The lack of sleep the night before and the excitement of sending Marcus Aristius to the underworld suddenly made me feel very tired. I drifted off to sleep, only to be rudely awakened by being drenched in seawater. I awoke with a start and glared at the captain who stood with a leer on his face, holding an empty leather bucket. 

‘You should get rid of him,’ he said to Domitus, ‘a slave’s no use if he’s lazy. Why don’t you let me throw him over the side.’

Domitus stood and took the captain’s bucket and threw it down. ‘I will punish my slave as and when he requires it, no one else.’

The captain sniffed and spat over the side of the boat. ‘Suit yourself, but I can see he’s a defiant bastard. You should use your vine cane on him more often.’

I debated whether to slit the captain’s throat, too, but decided that it was far less trouble to endure his taunts and remain silent. In any case, I could not sail a boat and I doubted if Domitus had any nautical skills. The final part of the journey entailed having to endure the other two crew members throwing fish heads at me to amuse themselves, as the wind had increased and the boat was now under sail power only. I kept my hood up and my face down as they taunted me. Domitus smiled awkwardly while this was going on and just as I thought that I could tolerate no more and that I would have to kill them all, the captain told them to stop their playing and trim the sail, for we were nearing the beach. He dropped the small, rusty anchor a hundred yards or more from the shoreline and said he would go no closer.

‘Vast horde of slaves on land,’ he said. He had shown no such reluctance the previous evening, and suspected that the real reason was that he wanted to see me discomforted some more, for when I jumped into the water it came up to my shoulders, and I had great difficulty remaining upright as I waded ashore with Domitus, who had paid him his fee, on my shoulders, as befitting my ‘master’. I was incandescent with rage when he finally jumped down onto the soft sand and waved farewell to the captain and his miserable vessel. 

‘Sorry about that, sir,’ said Domitus. ‘Not worth breaking the pretence over a few words.’

‘I was seriously thinking of killing all of them.’

He smiled. ‘At least you only had to put up with it for a short time. Imagine having to live the life of slave until you die.’

‘I would rather not.’

‘Do they have slaves in Parthia?’ he asked.

‘Yes.’

‘Not much difference between Rome and Parthia, then.’

I started walking back to camp, which was some miles away. ‘A great deal of difference,’ I replied, irritably, but in truth there was not, not if you were a slave. I did not like to be reminded of the fact, or that my father had sold the Roman legionaries we had taken captive at Zeugma all those months ago. What was their life like now? Were they even still alive?

‘No offence, sir,’ said Domitus. 

I raised my hand to acknowledge his apology, but I was still thinking about the slaves in the royal palace at Hatra. Dozens of them, all individuals who presumably had their own hopes and fears. Even Gafarn had been a slave. Well, at least he was now free. The thought cheered me little as Domitus and I walked into camp. I invited Domitus to eat with me that evening and he seemed pleased that I had done so. At my tent I penned a short note to Spartacus and asked Domitus to deliver it. I offered him a horse from the stables that had been built in the middle of the camp but he refused.

‘Can’t ride, sir. Never fancied being in the cavalry. I prefer to fight on my own two feet.’

‘You should learn. Speak to Gafarn and he will give you some lessons. It’s a useful skill to have.’

After he had left I saddled Remus and rode out to the archery field. There I found Gallia, her women and Gafarn, all sharpening their skills. They stopped when they saw me and Gallia rushed over and embraced me, but recoiled as she went to kiss me.

‘You smell bad, you should go and bathe.’

‘Perhaps you would like to bathe together,’ I suggested, but she grimaced and pushed me away.

‘I’m glad you are safe, but you should burn those clothes.’

Gafarn approached then also recoiled from me. ‘Dear me, highness, the conditions in Thurri must be atrocious. I trust your mission was successful.’

‘Marcus Aristius has paid for his treachery. I will now take my leave to make myself more presentable.’

I acquired a fresh tunic and trousers and found a fast-flowing stream filled with melt water from the mountains. The water was cold when I jumped in and took my breath away, but it was good to feel the filth of Thurri being washed from my body. I shaved the stubble from my cheeks and combed my hair, which had become matted with fish scales. Afterwards I burned the tunic and cloak that I had worn in the city and rode back to camp. That night it felt good to be back in the company of my close companions. There was Nergal, his arms wrapped around Praxima, joking and cajoling Burebista, who was explaining to everyone how Dacians were better horsemen than Parthians because Dacia had large forests that required riders to weave around individual trees, whereas Parthia was flat and treeless and therefore required no skill at all in the saddle. Gafarn and Diana sat next to each other and held hands all evening, thinking they had concealed this from everyone. Godarz sat next to Domitus, who suggested that we should all have a piggy-back fight though warned everyone that I had an unfair advantage, and then proceeded to recount the journey to and from Thurri. Gallia, my Gallic princess, looking like a golden-haired goddess from the heavens, laughed and teased me, her blue eyes alight as she laughed and joked. She wore a dress the colour of her eyes with gold bracelets on her wrists and a gold leaf headband in her hair. I toasted her beauty and she blushed, and when I whispered in her ear that I loved her she brushed my cheek and said she felt the same about me. I wanted that night to last forever as we ate good food, drank excellent wine and basked in fine company. But only the gods can freeze time and live in a bubble of permanent happiness, and sure enough the dawn came and with it the cold reality of what had to be done. For in the morning I received a messenger from Spartacus summoning me to a council of war. Spring was in full bloom and the coming of the new season mean that our time here was done. We had spent the winter turning raw recruits into soldiers and making weapons with which they could fight. The period of preparation was over; the time for fighting had arrived. We were going to war again.

I took Godarz, Nergal and Burebista with me as befitting their status as my senior officers, though Godarz was also the quartermaster for the whole army and so technically he could attend without my permission. By now the army filled a vast area between the foothills of the Sila Mountains and the Gulf of Tarentum, the coastal plain playing host to thousands of men, women, horses and livestock. Mounted patrols were sent north as far as Siris and south to Paternum, and I established several smaller camps between those two places and the main camp, both to provide a defensive screen for the army and also to save the area around Thurri from being laid waste, for an army is a ravenous beast and can strip a land bare quicker than a plague of locusts. Temporary log stables and workshops had sprung up alongside tents and earth banks surmounted with palisades. Spartacus had insisted that all the main camps should be constructed in the Roman fashion, with blocks of tents arranged in a grid arrangement and protected by an earth rampart, ditch and palisade. Entry and exit was via four gates, each guarded and defended by two tree trunks, each one covered with many long iron spikes that could be thrown across the entrance and which would impale anyone foolish enough to try and climb over them. We lived like Romans, our soldiers were armed and equipped like Romans, drilled like Romans and fought like Romans. At least my cavalry used Parthian tactics.