The Parthian (83 page)

‘You take the stag on the right and I’ll drop the one on the left,’ I whispered to Gafarn.

Seconds later the two stags were dead and the rest had bolted away, as Gafarn and I walked our horses over to the carcasses and tied them to our mounts’ saddles.

‘You and Diana should look after the child,’ I said to him as we rode back to camp hauling our prizes behind us.

‘Did not Spartacus and Claudia wish for you to take him?’

‘I vowed I would take him back to Hatra, but when I do, I don’t think my father would look favourably on me raising the child of a slave general.’

‘I suppose not. You think it better that two slaves should look after him?’

I halted Remus and looked at him. ‘You stopped being a slave long ago, Gafarn. And Diana I class as a friend. You and Diana shall live like royalty when we get back, that I promise you. And,’ I hesitated, ‘I would like to be considered your friend.’

‘I would like that too, highness. Of course all this depends on us getting back to Hatra.’

Gafarn, ever the realist.

Seven days later we were in the Sila Mountains, having escaped the notice of the Romans thus far. Godarz and Byrd took me into the thick forests that blanketed this region and led me to small clearing surrounded by chestnut trees. The day was still and warm and the forest was filed with the sweet scent of wild herbs and flowers.

‘This is the spot?’ Godarz said to Byrd.

‘This is the spot, yes. I cut notch in that tree.’ He jerked his hand towards one of the chestnuts, which had a diagonal gash across its truck.

They dismounted and walked over to the tree, before disappearing behind it.

‘Bring the spades from my saddle bag,’ shouted Godarz. I pulled the shovels from the leather bag and took them to where they were standing, ten paces into the forest from the chestnut. I passed one of the two spades to Godarz who handed it to Byrd. He pointed to a spot directly in front of him.

‘You two can dig. I’m too old and my back is too weak for such youthful labour.’

I was confused. ‘Dig for what?’

‘The sooner you get started, the sooner you will find out.’ Byrd and I dug for the next hour, creating a hole five foot square as we cut into the dark earth. It was hard work, and soon I was stripped to the waist and sweating profusely, while Godarz stood and watched us.

‘I didn’t realise we buried it so deep,’ he remarked.

Then Byrd’s spade hit something solid and he stopped digging and fell on his knees, scraping away at the earth with his hand. Then I saw that he had uncovered some sort of box. I helped him clear away the soil from its top and saw that it was a solid wooden chest with iron fittings. Though its top measured only nine foot square, when we tried to lift it I realised that it must have been filled with lead.

‘Not lead,’ said Godarz, who disappeared and then returned with his horse. He tied a rope to its saddle and then threw the other end at us. We tied it around the chest and together with the horse we managed to haul it out of the hole and onto the ground. Byrd and I stood with our hands on our knees, panting and dripping with sweat. We looked like a pair of miners, covered in dirt and with grime on our faces. Godarz smashed the lock on the chest with a hammer and then opened the lid. I stood speechless as I saw that it was filled with silver denarii. There must have been thousands of them.

‘Enough money to pay around two thousand Roman soldiers for a year,’ said Godarz. ‘And, more importantly, enough money to get us all back to Parthia.’

He must have caught my puzzled expression.

‘It’s quite simple. A year ago we were awash with money, the result of a string of victories. But what did Spartacus want with money? Nothing. But I had lived among the Romans for too long to be fooled by the fantasies of a dreamer. And, for all his gifts as a general and leader of men, and the fact that I like him, that was what Spartacus was. And dreamers always wake up and face cold reality, eventually. So I enlisted the help of Byrd and I invested in what you might call some insurance.’

‘You did not believe that we could win?’ I asked him.

He thought for a few seconds. ‘When we stood in northern Italy with the road to the Alps open, I dared to believe the unbelievable, but when we turned back south I knew it was over. This is Italy, Pacorus, not a desert. You can beat the Romans over and over again, but in their homeland they always win the last battle.’

‘You think we can just buy our way out of Italy?’ I asked.

‘Actually, yes.’

And that is what happened. Domitus and Godarz rode into Thurri and made contact with Athineos, the Cretan sea captain whom I had dealt with all those months ago. And so it was, on a spring day on a deserted shore south of Thurii, that we boarded ten ships to take us across the eastern Mediterranean. The ships were commanded by Athineos, who embraced me with a great bear hug when he saw me.

‘Good job you’ve got a man like Godarz with you, young prince,’ he said as we both watched some of the horses being loaded onto the boats, their legs dangling beneath great canvas sheets that were slung under their bellies. They whinnied in alarm as they were lowered into the hold, where they would be tethered in place for the next fifteen days. It was not ideal for them, though they would be groomed, fed and watered, their dung would be tossed overboard and their quarters kept as clean as possible during the voyage.

Athineos frowned. ‘You sure you don’t want to leave the horses behind? I could get a good price for them.’

‘A Parthian never leaves his horse,’ I told him. ‘Are your men trustworthy? I mean, can they be relied upon to keep their mouths shut?’

He threw his head back and roared with laughter. ‘This lot will slit your throat as much as look at you. But I’ve already given them a hefty load of money upfront for the trip, so you have no worries. I’ve told them you’re a bunch of rich pilgrims on the way to the Orient to worship some strange god. I’ve also told them that they will each make more money on this little jaunt than they would normally make in year, so they are quite content. In any case, we all learned long ago that as long as a client pays his money, what he’s up to is his business.’

‘That’s a very Roman way of looking at things.’

‘I suppose it is, but money is money.’

Godarz had paid him half of the monies before we set off, the rest to be paid when we arrived near Antioch, a prosperous trading city where a group of travellers would pass unnoticed. It was not part of the Roman Empire, but the Romans had many agents in and around the city and I did not want to take any chances.

‘No doubt there is a price on my head.’

‘Probably is,’ he said, ‘but the Romans have got their hands full rounding up the rest of Spartacus’ army. They are vindictive bastards, though. I heard Crassus had six thousand slaves crucified all along the Appian Way, all the way to the gates of Rome itself, to make an example of them, you see.’

So Afranius had made it to Rome after all, though not in the manner he would have hoped.

‘They are savages,’ I said.

He cocked me a wry smile. ‘I heard that you yourself killed a few Romans on your travels up and down Italy.’

‘That was war, it was entirely different.’

‘Not to the people of Metapontum or Forum Annii it wasn’t.’

The last of the horses were being loaded onto a large, wide-beamed cargo boat and the remaining guards I had posted along the beach were wading through the water to the boats.

‘That Crassus must be rich,’ mused Athineos.

‘Why do you say that?’

‘Well, see, normally when there is a slave revolt they make an example of the ringleaders and the like, but return the rest of the captives to their masters. But six thousand is a big number to nail to crosses, and he must have paid a lot of Roman slave owners a lot of money in compensation, otherwise they’ll be chasing him through the courts for years.’

We sailed on that evening’s tide, the wind filling the sails as the sun went down on the western horizon like a huge red fireball. I stood on the deck with Gallia and watched it disappear. Myself, Godarz, Gallia, Diana, Gafarn, Byrd, the infant and ten others travelled on Athineos’ vessel, the rest being divided between the other nine boats. I had been worried about Cilician pirates, but Athineos assured me that these waters were clear of them, as they had moved all their ships north to convey Roman troops from Greece to Brundisium, the same troops that I had attacked on the shore several weeks previously. I had asked Athineos for writing paper and then sat down to compose a letter to my father, explaining what had happened during the past three years.

‘Do you mention me in this letter?’ asked Gallia.

‘Of course.’

‘And what do you say of me?’

I smiled at her. ‘That I never knew how empty was my life until you filled it.’

She shook her head. ‘Tell me the truth.’

I pulled her close and kissed her. ‘That is the truth. I am nothing without you and I do not wish to live in a world that does have you in it.’

‘Still the dreamer, Pacorus. You should have been a poet rather than a warrior.’

‘Perhaps I will be now that the fighting is done,’ I slapped her behind. ‘That and siring children, of course.’

She suddenly looked serious. ‘You think the Romans will forget you?’

‘I think the Romans will not dare to come to Parthia. If but a handful of Parthians can rampage through their homeland for three years, think of what a whole army and empire could do to them.’

She smiled. ‘Perhaps.’

The voyage east was uneventful and even pleasurable. It was certainly infinitely more enjoyable than my journey to Italy. We were blessed with fine weather and good winds, though several of my Parthians were seasick and several of the horses suffered diarrhoea, which caused the crews to complain bitterly. It was cured when Godarz realised that the beasts were being fed twice their daily intake of hay by sailors wishing to be kind. This was soon stopped and the unpleasant side-effects disappeared. Of the Romans or Cilicians we saw none. When we reached Syria it took us a whole day to offload and horses and acclimatise them to movement once more. The days spent in a stationary position had weakened the muscles and joints in their legs, so once they were hoisted out of the holds and into the sea; each rider spent two hours walking them in the water. That night we camped on the shore and slept on the sand, with the ships anchored in the water.

The next day we said goodbye to Athineos and his crews. Godarz paid the balance owed him and he put one of his massive arms around my shoulders.

‘If you want my advice, young prince, you will stay in Parthia from now on. You’ve brought back a beauty, that’s for sure, so concentrate on keeping her happy and you’ll be fine.’ He suddenly looked serious. ‘Remember, the Romans are like a bad-tempered cobra. You don’t want to antagonise them.’

‘I’ll try to remember that, captain.’ But in truth all I was thinking about was Hatra and my parents.

As we watched the ships disappear over the horizon, I inhaled the air into my lungs. It smelt and tasted like my homeland, and I swore I could smell the spices of the Orient on the eastern breeze. I sent Gafarn and Godarz into Antioch to purchase camels, tents, food and fodder for the horses. Six Parthians went with them for protection. While we waited for them to return, we camped just off the beach beneath a cluster of apricot trees. The day was hot and dry, but we pitched our Roman tents in the shade of the trees and the gentle eastern breeze made our location pleasant enough. Diana, with the infant in her care, and the rest of the Amazons grouped their tens together, while the various races also stayed together. I posted a screen of guards two hundred yards inland from our camp, but we saw no one that day. Antioch was at least ten miles away and Athineos had disembarked us on a stretch of coast that had no villages nearby. Nevertheless, I was worried that his ships had been seen, and I had bad memories of being once surprised on a beach.

In the early evening Godarz and Gafarn returned, bringing two dozen spitting and ill-tempered camels with them, each one loaded with supplies. Many of our party, including Gallia, had never seen a camel before and she was filled with joy, patting their long necks and faces. She found them amusing, but camels take themselves very seriously and do not like to be mocked, and a particularly angry looking one spat in her face, which mortified my love but prompted many of the Parthians to smile. We had learned long ago to treat these beasts of the desert with respect.

‘They are disgusting creatures,’ she said, wiping her face with a towel.

‘Welcome to the East, my sweet.’

We no longer needed the Roman shelters, for that night we slept in tents that were far removed from the Roman variety. Each one was made from strips of cloth woven from goat or camel hair and vegetable fibres, sewn together and dyed black. They were large enough to provide a place to sleep, to entertain guests, and also a place to prepare and eat food. And that night we ate roasted goat, bread, cheese, figs and drank local wine, which was surprisingly palatable. We sat round a giant fire with the tents arranged in a large circle at our backs. After we had all eaten I addressed the assembly.

‘Friends, this is our first night free from the shadow of tyranny, the first occasion when we will sleep on ground that is not part of the Roman Empire. And while we live, the memory and legacy of Spartacus and Claudia still live.’ They banged their wooden platters on the ground in acknowledgement of this. I raised my hands to still them.

‘We are less than one hundred miles from my homeland, and so in a week you will all be free citizens of the Parthian Empire, each one of you at liberty to decide how you will live your lives. No longer will you be the property of a fat, idle Roman landowner, chained and whipped like a dog. You have shed blood and lost friends to earn that freedom, and I know that each one of you is worth ten Romans. All of you are welcome to come and live with me and my future wife in Hatra.’ I smiled at Gallia.

‘The son of Spartacus and Claudia will be raised in the royal palace at Hatra by Gafarn and Diana, but I would like to think that we are all, in our own way, parents to the boy. And so let us drink to our lord and general, Spartacus, and to his wife Claudia, that we promise to keep their memory alive and tell the truth about his life and fight for freedom. And let each of us swear loyalty to his son, who shall be brought up to learn about his parents and who is, and forever shall be, free.’