Traitors of Rome (Eagles of the Empire 18)

by Simon Scarrow

  ‘You have my word that what is spoken between us now will not be repeated outside this room.’

  ‘I am unlikely to trust the word of a Roman when I can hardly trust a single man amongst my servants. For all I know, your purpose here is as much to do with spying as it is to do with making peace. In the same manner, there are many others here in my palace who claim to serve me, while feeding information back to their master in Ctesiphon. Some of them I know about, and I make sure they hear exactly what I want them to hear and pass on. But I am certain there are many others I have yet to discover. Men, and women, who are very close to me. So you will understand why I am reticent about discussing any matter pertaining to my loyalty to the king.’

  ‘I understand perfectly, my lord,’ Cato replied. ‘So then, let us talk in more abstract terms. If, say, Rome was to offer an alliance with any given Parthian lord that would guarantee his position as ruler of his domain and free him from the concerns of whatever fate Vologases might intend for him, I would imagine the individual concerned might be inclined to consider such an offer very carefully.’

  Haghrar met his gaze firmly for a few beats before responding deliberately, ‘I imagine so.’ Then he eased himself back on his divan and folded his arms. ‘Now, I am tired of your games, my Roman friend. You need to leave me now. Go and tell your men to prepare for our journey to Ctesiphon.’

  ‘Very well, my lord.’ Cato wondered what Apollonius would make of Haghrar’s divided loyalties when they had a chance to discuss the matter. ‘I am sure there will be plenty of opportunities to resume our conversation during our journey.’

  ‘Yes. That is more than likely.’ Haghrar closed his eyes and waved a hand towards the door. ‘Go, Tribune. You have taxed my patience enough for one day.’

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  It was dawn five days later, and Cato watched from the aft deck as the crew of the flat-bottomed barge used their sweeps to thrust the craft away from the riverbank into the current. They had passed beneath the great trading city of Dura Europus the day before and were nearly halfway to the place where they would land and cross the narrowest point between the Euphrates and the Tigris before reaching the Parthian capital.

  The spare hands and the passengers had all been ushered towards the stern by the captain to raise the bow and make the work easier for the men poling the ship out of the muddy bed of reeds. The slender stalks of green rustled against the timber sides, and then they were free and gliding slowly along a short distance from the bank. The captain cupped his hand to his mouth and shouted another order, and the men with the sweeps trotted to the waist and slotted the long oars into the pins on either side, straining as they rowed the ship out of the shallows towards the middle of the river.

  A thick mist hung over the water so that the sun was an indistinct orange orb low to their left. A moment later, the reeds dissolved into the mist as the craft moved further out, and Cato felt the hairs on the back of his neck tickle as he looked round the smooth surface of the water stretching out around them before it merged into the haze. There was an eerie atmosphere about the scene, and it occurred to him that this was how the crossing of the Styx might look when death came for him.

  He made his way forward and leaned on the bow rail, looking down at the glassy swirl of water around the stem as the sweeps propelled the ship steadily along. A lookout joined him to scan ahead for shallows and call corrections to the sailor on the steering paddle at the stern.

  ‘It’s an unworldly setting, isn’t it?’ Apollonius said quietly as he joined Cato and stared out at the mist.

  Once again, Cato had the feeling that the man had been reading his thoughts, and he had to stifle his irritation before he could respond in a neutral tone.

  ‘What’s the matter, Apollonius? Losing your nerve?’

  ‘Far from it. There’s something quite serene about it all. As if we are cast off from reality into some timeless void, without direction, where anything is possible. If anything, I feel excited.’

  ‘Excited?’ Cato looked at him, wondering if the man had lost his mind. ‘We’re prisoners on a voyage into the heart of the empire of Rome’s most bitter enemy. I would say that our chances of persuading Vologases to accept peace are no more than one in four. And if he chooses war, I doubt we will ever see our homes again. Even if he lets us live and keeps us as prisoners. Frankly, I don’t see much scope for excitement in our situation.’

  ‘No? I’m surprised. I’d have expected a soldier with your experience to revel in the risks we are taking. You’ve faced graver dangers than this, surely?’

  ‘I’ve faced danger in battle. I’ve faced the dangers of becoming embroiled in politics. But I had a measure of control over my actions. This, though?’ Cato gestured vaguely at the mist. ‘I am at the mercy of events and live on the whim of these Parthians. I do not care for it. What I feel is fear, Apollonius. Fear that I may never see my son and my friends again. Fear that they will never know what has become of us if Vologases chooses to make us disappear. I imagine it’s different for a man who has no family. No friends.’

  It was a calculated remark to test the agent. Apollonius returned his stare coldly.

  ‘How do you know there is no one waiting for me, Tribune?’

  ‘I don’t, but I think I know you well enough now to believe that there is no one you care about, or who cares for you. All you have to live for is the excitement of putting your life at risk, and of course the arrogant delight of counting yourself somewhat above the rest of us in terms of intelligence and calculation.’

  Apollonius’s lips pressed together in a tight line for a moment, and Cato nodded with satisfaction. ‘It is not terribly pleasing to have someone see inside your mind, is it?’

  ‘You think you know me? Perhaps you even think you understand me.’

  ‘Yes, I reckon I am beginning to.’

  ‘Then you are mistaken, Tribune. Don’t fool yourself, or it will not end well for you. It is better that you do not attempt to fathom my nature or why I choose to be as I am.’

  Cato frowned. ‘Are you threatening me?’

  ‘Consider it a warning. Never assume that you understand a person, no matter how close to you they are, or you will be in danger of letting your guard down just when you need it most. In the situation we are in, that could cost you your life, and the lives of your men.’ He half turned to gesture towards the Praetorians clustered around the foot of the mast. Some had settled back down to sleep, while others talked quietly, as if afraid of being overheard by any dangerous creatures lurking in the mist. The two wounded men, Quintus and Grumio, lay on mats, their backs propped up against the mast. Without their sword belts or even their daggers, the soldiers looked vulnerable. Further aft stood the Parthians assigned to guard the Romans. They, by contrast, were armed with swords, and their bow cases lay at the foot of the small stern deck, close at hand.

  As Cato regarded them, the door of the cabin beneath the deck opened and Haghrar emerged. He stretched his shoulders and yawned before he turned and spoke to the captain. The latter bowed his head as he replied, at some length. Seemingly satisfied with the captain’s reply, Haghrar gave him a curt nod and strolled forward. His men backed out of his way as he passed by, making for the bow. The Praetorians did not stir, but merely regarded him quietly.

  ‘Good morrow, Tribune.’

  ‘Sir.’ Cato briefly dipped his head in greeting as Haghrar glanced at Apollonius.

  ‘And to you, Greek.’

  Apollonius bowed deeply. ‘My lord. I trust you slept well.’

  ‘As well as anyone can in this mosquito-infested stretch of the river. But the captain tells me we will soon be clear of the reeds. He says we should reach our destination in three days. Sooner if there is a breeze across the river.’ Haghrar looked out at the mist. ‘I shan’t be sorry when this voyage is over. I detest travelling over water. It’s unnatural.’
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br />   ‘This is nothing compared to the conditions at sea,’ said Cato. ‘Have you ever gone to sea, my lord?’

  ‘No.’ Haghrar stroked his jaw. ‘I have never seen the sea.’

  Cato was surprised. ‘Truly?’

  ‘Why would I? The land I rule is far from any shore. I was raised to be its lord from youth and my duty has taken up nearly all my time and strength.’ He paused. ‘I would like to visit the coast once before I am taken from this world. You have travelled across the sea, Tribune?’

  ‘Yes, sir. Many times.’

  ‘What is it like? I have heard that it is filled with terrible beasts, and that when the gods are angry, the waters are whipped up into mountainous waves that destroy many of those who dare to set sail. Is that the truth?’

  For a moment, Cato was startled by the questions. Could Haghrar really have so little idea about the sea? Perhaps it was only surprising because the extensive nature of Cato’s travels had long since inured him to such novelties. The oceans held little mystery for him any more. Yet here was a chance to try and win some respect for Rome’s reputation.

  ‘It is true that there are monsters in the deep. And that there are storms that wreck many ships and drown their crews. But the sea beyond the coast of Syria is Rome’s domain. Our fleets have tamed it. The writ of Rome extends even over the oceans. There is no other navy to challenge us, and every ship that crosses the sea does so under Roman protection and control. Just as our legions control the land.’

  Haghrar looked at him sharply. ‘Not all the land. Not Parthia. Never Parthia. Have you forgotten what happened to your General Crassus at Carrhae?’

  ‘I have not forgotten, my lord. No Roman ever will, which is why there will always be some who yearn to avenge Crassus. And they will have their way, unless we can achieve a lasting peace.’

  One of the lookouts suddenly turned and called back along the deck. The captain came forward quickly and there was a hurried exchange in low voices before the lookout thrust out his hand and pointed to the right. Both men stared intently into the mist. Then the captain turned and snapped an order to the men at the sweeps. At once they raised their blades and held them poised above the surface of the river as the ship glided on.

  ‘What is it?’ Cato asked softly.

  ‘The lookout says he caught a glimpse of another vessel,’ Haghrar replied.

  ‘Surely that’s no surprise? We’ve passed plenty of vessels since we left Ichnae.’

  ‘They don’t generally put out from shore when the mist is this thick. We’re only here because I am anxious to get to Ctesiphon as swiftly as possible.’

  ‘So who could be out there?’ Cato nodded towards the mist.

  ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘Shh!’ the captain hissed at them, heedless of the difference in station between himself and the Parthian lord.

  Everyone on deck was now keeping quite still as they stared anxiously into the surrounding milky shroud. Cato strained his eyes but could make out nothing, and all he heard was the mournful cry of some marsh bird away in the mid distance. For a while the ship drifted on the smooth water, and then he heard voices not far off. He turned quickly towards the sound, but saw only the impenetrable mist. And then, just for an instant, a skein of grey parted and he saw the outline of another craft off the starboard quarter.

  It was hard to judge the precise distance, but they were close, and now he could make out the ghostly shape of figures standing on the foredeck. A tiny flickering glow of orange appeared and rose above the men, and then shot up into the air, flaring as it arced between the two ships. There was no need to shout a warning, as all on board were now looking in the direction of the other vessel. In any case, it was clear that the fire arrow was going to fall short. But not by much. It plunged into the water fifteen feet from the side with a soft splash. At once there came the sound of a horn from the other vessel, joined a moment later by another from ahead, and a third from off the port beam. Then Cato heard the oars, splashing through the water as the craft he had caught sight of surged through the mist, its features quickly becoming more distinct as it closed on them.

  ‘Look there!’ Apollonius cried out, pointing ahead as another vessel loomed out of the mist, driven against the current by rowers. ‘Who in Hades are they?’

  ‘Pirates,’ Haghrar growled.

  ‘Pirates?’ Cato shook his head. ‘River pirates?’

  ‘Of course,’ Haghrar responded angrily. ‘Don’t you have pirates on the sea?’

  Before Cato could respond, Haghrar turned to bellow orders to his men. At once they snatched open their bow cases and began to string their bows. The captain was also shouting instructions, and his crew quickly shipped their oars. Those that had them readied their weapons, while the rest snatched up boathooks and belaying pins.

  The third pirate boat had emerged from the mist, and all three were now closing on the barge. Cato turned to Haghrar.

  ‘What about me and my men? You can’t leave us defenceless. Give us our weapons and we can fight too.’

  The Parthian nobleman hesitated, and Cato pointed towards the nearest boat, clearly visible now. Its deck was packed with men brandishing weapons and shouting war cries as they closed in on their prey. Haghrar gritted his teeth and nodded. ‘Very well. Come!’

  Cato and Apollonius dashed after him towards the soldiers and crew around the mast. Haghrar spoke to one of his men and pointed to the hold, and the Parthian swung himself over the open cargo hatch and scuttled between the jars of wine and garum the barge was taking down to the capital city. Cato called his men to him.

  ‘They’re going to return our swords to us, lads. Make sure we give a good account of ourselves; let’s show these Parthians how real soldiers fight.’

  ‘How about us, sir?’ said Grumio. ‘Me and Quintus can do our bit.’

  Cato glanced at the wounded man and grinned. ‘You can’t keep a good Praetorian down, eh?’

  The Parthian returned and heaved a small chest up onto the deck. Cato bent over it and flipped the bolt back, swinging the lid open. His sword lay on top, and he snatched it up and drew the blade before dropping the scabbard by the chest. The other men hurriedly retrieved their own swords and handed the wounded pair their weapons, then formed a loose group around the mast. Cato saw that Haghrar and his men had readied their bows and were already nocking their arrows, taking aim on the nearest pirate boat.

  Even as they drew back the strings, the enemy unleashed the first volley. The shafts rattled home before there was any chance to shout a warning, whirring past, splintering wood and striking down two Parthians. One of Haghrar’s men spun round, dropping his bow to the deck and clasping at the shaft that had pierced his side. A sailor was the other casualty; an arrow had torn through his left hand as he brandished it in a fist, and pinned it firmly to his chest. There was no time to look after either man, as the rest of those on deck lined the sides and prepared to defend the barge.

  More arrows rained down from the archers on the boat approaching from the other side. Cato shouted to his men to take cover, and repeated the order in Greek. They ducked behind the side rail as the shafts struck the hull and whipped overhead. Cato squatted beside Apollonius and watched Haghrar and his men bravely loosing arrows as swiftly as they could. One more of the Parthians was downed as an arrow ripped open his throat; he fell onto his back and lay writhing as blood pooled on the deck around his head.

  With a jarring blow that caused those standing to stumble, the first of the boats crashed against the barge’s side. Unlike seagoing vessels, the river craft had low freeboards, and there was no need to climb up the sides. Instead, the pirates vaulted over the rail and landed on the deck, ready to strike down the defenders. Haghrar dropped his bow and snatched out his sword, and his men followed his lead, joining the crew as they charged at the boarders.

  Cato snatched a breath and rose up, shouti
ng, ‘Up, Praetorians, and at ’em!’

  With a roar, his men sprang to their feet and hurled themselves at their enemy. Cato made for a wiry man in a worn and stained linen cuirass with bronze plates stitched to front and back. The pirate carried an axe with a long haft, and he swung it back and raised a buckler in his left hand ready to parry Cato’s blow. With blood pounding in his ears and every muscle and instinct tensed for instant action, Cato rushed forward, keeping his centre of balance low. Instead of making the amateur’s mistake of striking out at the buckler, he twisted and grabbed at the rim with his left hand and wrenched it towards him with all his strength. At the same time he stabbed low with his sword into the pirate’s guts, just above the pelvis, where there was no protection. The impact made the pirate stagger to the side and his axe arm wavered a moment, before he recovered his wits enough to try and strike back. It was an awkward angle to make a killing blow, but Cato was only wearing a tunic, and he knew that almost any blow that landed would deal a terrible wound. He braced his boots and launched himself forward, inside the reach of the axe, thrusting the man back against the ship’s rail. The pirate’s torso went slack, and with a final shove, Cato sent him over the side to fall back onto the deck of the attackers’ boat.

  Glancing quickly about him, he saw that the barge’s deck had become a battlefield, as soldiers and crewmen duelled with pirates and the cool, damp air filled with the clatter of weapons and the grunts of men fighting for their lives. As bodies parted, he caught a glimpse of Grumio and Quintus slashing at the legs and groins of the nearest pirates. Then he spotted a man climbing over the side two paces away and rushed towards him, stabbing him in the ear in a burst of blood and bone. The pirate spasmed and then slumped forward across the rail, dropping his sword and a round shield. Cato snatched the latter up and covered his body as he turned to see that his men were holding their ground just forward of the mast. Haghrar and his men were fighting it out closer to the stern, while the crew were scattered across the deck, their lack of armour and swords distinguishing them from the pirates.