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Authors: Peter Darman

The Parthian (71 page)

BOOK: The Parthian
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‘You know why I stay. To be with you.’

‘Ah, so if I said I wanted to leave tomorrow would you accompany me?’

‘To where?’

‘What does it matter? Would you leave with me, leave the army, leave Spartacus and your horsemen?’

‘Yes.’

She studied me for a moment. ‘Are you giving that answer because you know I would never ask that of you?’

‘No, it is the truth. If you asked me to leave with you then I would go, because I could not live without you.’

My answer obviously delighted her, because she rose from her chair and wrapped her arms around my shoulders. ‘You must love me if you are willing to sacrifice your honour for me.’

‘I love you more than life itself, Gallia.’

She kissed me tenderly on the cheek. ‘I promise that I will never ask anything of you that would compromise your honour.’

At that moment the flap of the tent was thrown open and a sodden Claudia stood at the entrance, the wind flapping her sodden dress that clung to her body, emphasising her large belly. Gallia and I were momentarily stunned by the apparition that was before us, before Gallia leapt from her chair and wrapped Claudia in her cloak. She ushered her into the tent while I secured the flap. Before I did so I shouted to one of the guards huddled in an eight-man tent feet away that he should take the horses that had been pulling Claudia’s cart to the temporary stables made from wood and canvas. It was raining so hard that I could see barely fifty feet in front of me. Why had Claudia made a journey in such inclement weather? Inside the tent Gallia was drying Claudia’s hair by the brazier with a towel and ordered me to fetch some hot broth. So outside I went again and commanded another guard to fetch us a pot of hot broth from the field kitchens. I returned and was told by Gallia to wait outside until Claudia had changed into one of my tunics and leggings. This was ridiculous! I was kept waiting just long enough for the wind and rain to soak me to the skin, before being summoned back inside, though I did relieve a thoroughly sodden and unhappy spearman who was struggling with his spear and shield while carrying an earthenware pot containing food.

‘Are you ill, lady? I asked, handing Claudia a plate of steaming thick broth.

‘Of course she isn’t,’ snapped Gallia, glaring at me and placing another dry towel around Claudia’s neck.

‘Thank you,’ Claudia said, rather weakly, ‘you are both very kind. I needed to see you both.’

‘You should have waited until this storm passed, lady. You don’t want to make yourself ill in your condition.’

‘I needed to see you both today, before you left.’ She put down her wooden plate and looked at Gallia, tears welling coming to her eyes. ‘You two are my only hope.’

Gallia embraced her and tried to comfort her as Claudia sobbed, about what I did not know, and feared to ask a simple question lest my head was bitten off once more. Eventually Claudia composed herself and gobbled up all her broth. Then we all sat in silence for what seemed like an eternity, the only sound being the wind toying with the sides and roof of the tent. Gallia was content to sit while Claudia decided to reveal her mystery, while I drummed my fingers on one of the tent poles, until Gallia froze me with a look that told me to desist. I was putting on a new tunic when Claudia began to speak, in a low monotone voice that made her sound as though she was in a trance. 

‘Last night I had a dream in which I saw the whole of this army destroyed and the earth soaked in its blood. I was walking barefoot among the broken, lifeless bodies, pierced by arrow, sword and spear. Black eyes stared up at me and gore engulfed me on all sides, but as I walked among the fallen I felt no sensation in my feet. Though I glided through horror no mark was made on the pure white dress I wore. And then I realised that I too was dead, and was but a wraith moving unseen among the dead. 

‘I wandered for a great length of time, and still the ground was covered with dead, both Roman and slave, but as I moved I saw ahead a warrior on a mighty black horse. It was the Thracian Horseman. As I got near to him I saw that the warrior was dressed wholly in black, black boots, leggings, tunic and helmet. And though his helmet was open I could not see his face, only hear his deep, commanding voice. I asked him where I was and he said that I was near to heaven, but he told me that I could not enter until I had asked the rider on the white horse to take my most precious gift to the land of the sun. I asked the horseman where my husband was, and he replied that he was waiting for me under a tree, around which was coiled a serpent. I knew this was Spartacus and that he was also dead, for when he was an infant a snake had coiled itself around his head while he spelt, but had caused the babe no harm. This he told me many years ago. I also knew that I was no longer pregnant and that my most precious possession was my newly born child.’

Claudia turned and looked deep into my eyes, her intense stare unnerving me. 

‘Are you my friend, Pacorus?’

‘You know that I am, lady.’

‘Then if I asked you to do something for me, would you respect my wish?’

‘I would always strive to do your bidding, lady.’

She paused for a moment, seemingly looking into my soul for the answer. But then she spoke. ‘Then I ask you this. When my child is born, I want you to promise that you will take the infant with you back to Parthia, for you are surely the rider on the white horse of which the Thracian Horseman spoke. Will you do this for me?’

I was confused, and thought her words the ramblings of a pregnant woman, for I had heard that when females are with child they are prone to bouts of lunacy.

‘But, lady,’ I said. ‘Spartacus will take care of you and your child.’

At this she grew angry. ‘Have you not heard my words, do you think am I some sort of imbecile? Do you hold me in such low esteem that you treat me with such contempt?’

I took her hand to calm her. ‘Lady, I would lay down my life for you, surely you know that.’

She snatched back her hand. ‘Then accede to my wish, young Parthian.’

Once more she held me with her gaze, only this time her eyes flared with anger, daring me to refuse her. I did not. ‘If that is your wish, then it is my command and I will do so. I swear it.’

At once the rage within her disappeared and a wave of relief swept through her. She grabbed my hand, then Gallia’s.

‘Thank you, thank you, my friends.’

When the storm had abated I had Claudia taken back to the tent of Spartacus under escort, for I was sure that her mind was still unbalanced and that she might harm herself if left to her own devices. But when she embraced me before her departure and kissed me, she seemed truly happy and carefree, almost like a child. Gallia stayed behind, for she and her women had to prepare for the following morning. She examined me loosely as we drank a cup of warm wine together in the early evening. The wind had dropped by now and the rain was but a light drizzle. The air was still cool and fresh.

‘Well?’ she said.

‘Well what?’

‘You gave your word; are you going to keep it?’

I laughed. ‘It won’t come to that.’

‘Will it not?’

‘She had a bad dream, the storm upset her and…’

‘And you choose to ignore the truth.’

I drained my cup. ‘I’m sure Spartacus would be most unhappy if he knew what Claudia had said.’

Gallia rose and made for the entrance. ‘I need to ensure my women are prepared.’

‘We leave an hour before dawn.’

‘I know. And I also know that Spartacus had heard Claudia’s words before we did. Goodnight, Pacorus.’

We moved out of camp in the pre-dawn gloom of a winter’s morning, the mist hanging over the land and sea, clinging to the earth and our bodies. Even though I wrapped my cloak around me I still felt cold, though maybe it was fear. For Claudia’s words had unnerved me and I had slept but little. I tried to dismiss what she had said, but she had been right about my coming to the army and about the ambush on the beach at Thurii. So why not now? I dismissed the thought from my mind. The night before, after Gallia had left me, I had ridden over to the see Afranius, where I found his men busy with preparations for the attack on Crassus. The air reeked with the smell of leather and the grating sound of blades being sharpened on stones. I found Afranius in his tent surrounded by his officers, most Spaniards like himself, all of them young and eager to get at the Romans. He was immensely proud of his three legions, and rightly so, and had trained them hard over the last year, though I feared that his desire to prove that they were the best in the army, better even than Akmon’s Thracians, would lead him to an early grave. 

‘Remember,’ I told him after he had dismissed his officers. ‘You are making merely a diversion. Don’t get yourself killed.’

‘It may be just a diversion, but we can make an impression on this Crassus that he is unlikely to forget in a hurry.’ He cast me a sidelong glance. ‘Besides, why should the cavalry grab all the glory?’

‘You think I lust only for glory.’

‘Of course, what else is there?’

I suspected that he was talking about himself rather than me. ‘Are we not fighting to win our freedom?’

‘I thought we were fighting Romans, but I accept that for some freedom is enough.’

‘But not for you.’

He displayed an uninterested expression. ‘My homeland is under the heel of the Romans, or most of it. So there is little appeal in going back to scratch a living on some sun-blasted mountain and existing like a bandit. Here, we make the Romans dance to the tune we play. War is work I like.’

‘We cannot remain an army in Rome’s breast forever.’

He sat back in his chair and filled a cup from a jug. He offered to me while he filled another. To my surprise it was water. ‘Why can’t we? Have you heard of Hannibal?’

‘He was an enemy of Rome, I believe.’

‘He and his army roamed Italy for twenty years. Twenty years! Can you imagine.’

I shook my head. ‘I do not want to remain in Italy for twenty years.’

‘Of course not. You are a prince with a kingdom to go back to. But you are not like the thousands who fight in this army. They have no homes, or if they do they are either under Roman rule or so miserable that they not worth going back to. That’s why no one wanted to go over the Alps last year. Spartacus has shown us another path, that we can stand tall and be someone.’ He stared at his cup. ‘I shall stay with Spartacus when we get to Sicily, so will my Spaniards. We have all discussed it and it is agreed. And your horsemen, what they do?’

‘They are free to follow their own conscience.’

He looked up at me. ‘And you? Will you go back to Parthia?’

‘Of course, I have a duty to my father and to my people. But not before this army is safely on Sicily.’

‘If it were up to me I would stay on the mainland and destroy the Romans, all of them.’

I decided that it was time to leave, for Afranius’ head was full of notions of great victories. ‘Keep safe Afranius, and remember that your attack is only a diversion.’

‘Ride well, Pacorus, and don’t be disappointed if we Spaniards steal a little of your glory.’

The sound of three thousand horses moving out of camp produced a low rumble, like distant thunder. In addition, accompanying us on our journey were a hundred and fifty four-wheeled carts, each one pulled by horses that were the mounts of cavalrymen, their riders sitting on the carts. And each cart was piled high with either fodder for the horses or spare arrows, tools and clothing. Each man carried a month’s rations in a bag tied to the rear of his saddle, and we would take what we could find along the way, either by hunting or looting. Each company had five carts, and I ordered that the horses pulling them should be changed every day. This meant that at any one time there were ten men not riding with their company but sitting on the carts, but it was a necessity. Each company of one hundred horses consumed a ton of fodder a day, and it was three hundred miles to Brundisium. It would take us fifteen days to reach our destination, averaging twenty miles a day. Burebista wanted us to go faster.

‘We could move at least thirty miles a day, lord, maybe more. We could be roasting the backsides of Brundisium’s citizens within nine days, maybe less. We waste time hauling these carts.’

‘They hold food for the horses,’

He was riding beside me at the head of the column. In front of us, Byrd and his scouts were as usual making sure we would not be surprised by any enemy forces along the route. Burebista himself had just returned from a flank patrol that we deployed every day. Our column was strung out over many miles and was extremely vulnerable to any sort of assault. 

‘We can feed the horses along the way, there are plenty of Roman farms with fat owners in these parts.’

‘Are there, Burebista? The harvest would have been collected in the autumn of last year, and any grain and hay can easily be hidden or destroyed before we get to it. I want the horses and their riders fresh for the attack on Brundisium.’

Gallia was riding the other side of me and was taking a keen interest in what was being discussed, though she kept her counsel. Her Amazons also undertook scouting duties, and sometimes I and the rest of the men forgot that they were women. This was one such occasion.

Burebista was unconvinced. ‘There are no Romans in these parts, lord, and my dragon can take any town or village before the inhabitants have risen from their beds.’

He had obviously caught the same fever that infected Afranius, the one that banishes reason and replaces it with delusions of glory. 

‘Let me tell you an old Parthian tale, Burebista. Two bulls atop a hill are looking down on a valley filled with cows. One of the bulls, young and bursting with lust, says to the older bull, his father. “Let’s run down the hill and ravish a couple of them.” The older bull then says: ‘Son, why don’t we walk down and ravish them all?” You understand what I am telling you?’

‘That Parthian bulls are in desperate need of being castrated,’ said Gallia dryly.

Burebista leaned forward and looked at her in confusion. ‘Is that what the story means, lady?’

I shook my head. ‘It doesn’t matter. But we will maintain this rate of march until we reach Brundisium. Just make sure we don’t have any nasty surprises along the way.’

BOOK: The Parthian
2.69Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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