by Peter Darman
‘You are right,’ I agreed. ‘Still, it should be relatively easy for the four of us to leave the city under the pretence that we are visiting Hatra.’
Dobbai looked at Samahe, the latter pursing her lips.
‘Unfortunately it cannot be just the four of you.’
‘There must be seven,’ insisted Dobbai.
‘Why?’ asked Gallia.
‘Because, child,’ answered Samahe, ‘that number is auspicious and is beloved of the gods. There are seven moving objects in the sky: the sun, moon and five planets. They are called “wandering stars” and act as the messengers of the gods.’
‘It is particularly significant to the Goddess Inanna,’ added Dobbai, ‘and since the queen has decided that she will be accompanying you, son of Hatra, you both need to enlist the goddesses’ support.’
‘I thought Inanna is the Queen of Heaven,’ said Gallia.
‘She is also the Goddess of Warfare,’ replied Samahe, ‘and like you, majesty, is equally fond of making war as She is of making love.’
Gallia blushed at this but I smiled.
‘I believe that the Babylonians knew Inanna as Ishtar,’ I said.
Samahe smiled and Dobbai seemed surprised.
‘Very good, son of Hatra, perhaps we will make a thinker out of you yet. When Inanna descended into hell she was forced to pass through seven gates, at each of which She was required to remove one of Her garments, until She stood before Her sister Erishkigal, the Queen of the Underworld. Naked and defenceless, Inanna was struck dead by seven plagues. Resurrected, upon her return from hell She passed through the seven gates once more, this time putting on one of Her garments that She had left at each gate. So you see that the number seven holds a very personal meaning to the goddess.’
‘It is no coincidence that Her symbol is the seven-pointed star,’ added Samahe.
‘The goddess also has power over rains and storms,’ said Dobbai, ‘so you would do well to enlist Her aid to prevent you being drowned in heavy seas before you reach Ephesus.’
I was convinced. ‘And who shall be the other members of our party.’
Dobbai shrugged. ‘How should we know? It is for you to choose them, son of Hatra. My only advice would be to take the marsh boy.’
Gallia was appalled. ‘Surena?’
‘He is tedious,’ agreed Dobbai, ‘but it is no coincidence that your husband met him when he did. His star rises and his arrogance may be of use.’
‘That is all the help we can give you,’ said Samahe, ‘but I have written to one of our sisterhood who will aid you during your journey. I will explain more when your departure approaches.’
‘And in the meantime,’ said Dobbai sternly, ‘be careful what you say at all times. And if you do decide to take Surena make sure the young idiot does not blab his mouth off.’
Gallia smiled cruelly. ‘You have no need to worry about that.’
Life went on at Dura as usual: the caravans arrived at the city carrying silk and other precious commodities to satisfy rich Egyptians and the army trained and recruited. Messages arrived from Uruk that the eastern and southern borders of Mesene were quiet. My father sent me a terse note congratulating me on the relief of Uruk, though he urged me not to provoke either Mithridates or Narses. I received a similar missive from Vardan at Babylon, though his language was much more polite and diplomatic. I paid visits to newly arrived caravans and talked with their chiefs, asking them what they had seen and heard on their travels to Dura. They told me that the roads were full of caravans and travellers but no armies. I already knew that because any hint of conflict and the roads emptied as if by magic. What I was more interested in was any plans and schemes they might have heard of. But they all reported that they had heard nothing. It all amounted to a quiet Parthia, for which I gave thanks to Shamash.
Gallia kept pestering me as to who else, aside from Surena, Alcaeus and Domitus, would be accompanying us to Ephesus. I told her I had no idea and asked her for suggestions. She shrugged and said that as it had been my idea in the first place I should be the one to select those who would go. Two more to complete our band of seven. I had not yet asked Surena but I knew he would not refuse. Our lucky escape from Roman horsemen in Hyrcania had convinced him that he was invincible, and such faith would serve him well at Ephesus. I considered asking Viper but dismissed the idea. If she came Surena’s mind would be focused on her rather than more important things. In the end it was Domitus who provided the answer, though it was not his intention.
I received an invitation to his command tent on the following afternoon. In the morning I had taken part in a joint training exercise with a thousand of Hatra’s horse archers that had been sent to Babylon following my relief of Uruk. My father had been worried that the attack on Mesene was the prelude to a general offensive that would be launched by Mithridates and Narses and had wanted to stiffen Babylon’s defences. Hatra, meanwhile, mobilised its entire army but then stood it down when it became apparent that Mithridates was content to remain idle at Ctesiphon. So when the horse archers returned to Hatran territory the commander sent his compliments to me when his force camped for the night just across the Euphrates. I sent a message back inviting him to take part in a joint exercise the next morning. The sight of three thousand horse archers and five hundred cataphracts thundering across the desert was most impressive. Afterwards I invited the Hatran commander and his officers to dine in the palace that night.
Domitus’ invitation arrived when I was relaxing on the terrace playing with Claudia. Dobbai was sleeping in her chair in the shade and Samahe was conspicuous by her absence. Gallia had no idea where she was. Claudia fell asleep in my arms as the messenger walked onto the terrace and gave me a crisp salute.
‘General Domitus sends his compliments, majesty, and requests your presence in his command tent.’
‘On what business?’ I asked.
‘I do not know, majesty.’
‘Very well, you may go.’
He gave another salute and departed. I stood with Claudia in my arms and handed her to Gallia.
‘She’s getting bigger,’ I said, kissing her forehead as I passed her to my wife. ‘Where is Samahe? I hope she is not wandering around the city causing trouble.’
‘She is in her room preparing for her journey, son of Hatra,’ said Dobbai, ‘as you should be instead of showing off to your father’s soldiers.’
I rolled my eyes at Gallia, kissed her on the head and left the terrace. As Remus had already been ridden hard that morning I took another horse, a young mare, from the stables and rode her from the Citadel escorted by a dozen horse archers. There was much traffic on the city’s main thoroughfare and at the Palmyrene Gate there was a great congestion of carts, camels and donkeys, all loaded with wares for sale in the markets. The temperature was high and so were tempers as the guards at the gate tried to establish some order. Our presence only added to the chaos.
‘Make way for the king,’ shouted the commander of the horse archers.
His order was greeted with pleas and shouts as traders and their families threw up their arms and berated those in front of them. The centurion on duty at the gates blew his whistle and ordered his men to use their shields to clear a path for us. But moving a line of carts and camels loaded with goods is not an easy thing, and soon men and women were screaming and hurling abuse at the legionaries as they and their animals were shunted aside. I gave the order to dismount and lead our horses through the press as camels spat and grunted and legionaries cursed.
The centurion was trying hard to keep his temper in check as a small, rotund man in brown robes berated him, oblivious to the fact that he was facing a man nearly a foot taller and twice as broad.
‘Your soldiers dare to threaten me and my goods. I have to pay the city’s officials for the hire of my stall, for the collection of my rubbish and have a tax levied on the sale of my goods. And for what? So I can be abused in the street like a common criminal?’
‘Move your camels immediately
,’ ordered the centurion, ‘they are blocking the street.’
‘They will not move while your soldiers are threatening them, son of a thousand desert warthogs. They are sensitive and do not respond to threats.’
The centurion’s grip tightened on his cane. ‘What did you call me?’
‘Centurion,’ I shouted.
I handed the reins of my horse to the commander of my escort and walked over to him. He saluted.
‘Majesty.’
The trader squinted up at me and then realised who I was. He placed his right hand on his chest and bowed to me.
‘Majesty, forgive me, I did not realise you were here.’
‘Your camels seem to be causing some congestion,’ I said.
‘They do not respond to threats, majesty,’ he said, his head still bowed. ‘I am just an honest trader trying to earn a living.’
The centurion eyed him suspiciously and placed the end of his cane on the man’s shoulder.
‘Move your camels or I will have you arrested.’
The trader looked at him with alarm and then at me, a pleading expression in his eyes.
‘I’m sure we can settle this without the need to arrest anyone,’ I told the centurion, ‘and can get this man’s camels moving without the recourse to violence.’
The trader smiled. ‘Darius, majesty, named after the Persian king.’
‘And what is on your camels, Darius?’
‘Pots, majesty,’ he replied, ‘all shapes and sizes and very popular with the women of the house.’
He saw a legionary jab the blunt end of his spear into the rump of one of his camels.
‘Don’t do that to my babies, you stupid heathen.’ He bowed his head to me and scuttled off to console the camel.
‘Try to get this mess sorted out,’ I told the centurion, ‘and do not beat or arrest anyone. That’s an order.’
‘Yes, majesty.’ He looked at Darius and shook his head. ‘A good flogging often works wonders, majesty.’
‘Men like Darius are the lifeblood of this kingdom, centurion. Their taxes pay for the army’s wages, weapons and equipment. We are all connected, you see, like a giant spider’s web.’
He looked at me in confusion. ‘Majesty?’
‘It doesn’t matter. Just do not flog or arrest anyone.’
We threaded our way through the press of people and animals and mounted our horses outside the Palmyrene Gate. I saluted the griffin and then we rode to the legionary camp, the vast complex of neatly arranged lines and rows of eight-man tents that could house up to ten thousand soldiers. In the centre of the camp stood the imposing structure of Domitus’ command tent, behind it the smaller tents that housed the golden griffin standard of the Durans and the silver lion standard of the Exiles. Sentries guarded them night and day for the totems were semi-religious icons, revered and loved by the soldiers.
The escort took my and their horses to the stabling area as I took off my helmet and went inside the command tent. I found Domitus in the main reception area in the company of Drenis and Arminius. All three stood as I placed my helmet on one of the side tables.
‘Here he is,’ said Domitus, ‘the champion of the arena.
I gave him a disapproving look but he raised his hands submissively.
‘Calm yourself. They both know of your new trade and have offered their services.’
‘Please be seated,’ I said, helping myself to a cup of water. Even though the ventilation flaps in the roof were open it was still hot inside the tent. Domitus walked to the flaps and tied them together to ensure our privacy. Soon it would become even hotter. Sweat was already running down the face of Arminius, the strapping German ex-gladiator who was one of those who had escaped from the ludus in Capua with Spartacus. One of those beside him had been Drenis, smaller in stature and his body covered in scars collected in the arena and on the battlefield. Like Spartacus he was a Thracian, his swarthy features indicating his race. And like Spartacus he had short-cropped hair whereas Arminius kept his light brown hair shoulder length.
‘You are making a mistake, Pacorus,’ said Drenis bluntly. ‘Burebista is dead.’
I went to one of the chairs placed opposite Domitus’ desk and sat in it.
‘You are wrong, Drenis. Burebista lives.’
‘What he meant, Pacorus,’ said Arminius, ‘is that though he might be alive at the moment Burebista is certain to die sooner rather than later.’
‘He is a Companion,’ I said, ‘and as such I will not abandon him.’
Drenis sighed. ‘So you plan to impersonate a gladiator and then what?’
‘And then I will gain access to him and we can work out a plan to free him.’
‘Not if you are fighting him,’ said Arminius.
‘I do not intend to fight him, Arminius,’ I replied.
‘So you have decided on what type of gladiator you shall be?’ queried Drenis.
This was turning into an interrogation. ‘What type?’
‘If you choose to be an Eques then you will be fighting Burebista,’ said Arminius.
‘What types of gladiator are there?’ I asked. ‘As I have no wish to fight my former subordinate I will not be an Eques.’
‘Then you have a choice between Thracian, Provocator, Samnite, Murmillo, Retiarius, Secutor or Hoplomachus,’ said Drenis.
I was totally perplexed but he and Arminius spent the next few moments explaining to me the difference between the categories of gladiator. There was the Thracian who fought with a short sword and small rectangular shield; the Secutor whose shield was larger, as was that of the Provocator; the Murmillo, the ‘fish man’, who usually fought a Retiarius, the ‘net man’ who was armed with a trident and net.
‘What about this Hoplomachus, the “hoplite fighter”?’ I asked.
‘He is based on the old Greek hoplite warriors,’ said Drenis. ‘Armed with a thrusting spear, short sword, dagger and carries a small, round bronze shield. He fights a Murmillo or Thracian.’
‘This is madness,’ Arminius said suddenly. ‘You may be a great warlord and king, Pacorus, but you have no knowledge of the arena and what is involved to be a part of it. I commend your loyalty to Burebista but I have to tell you that your scheme will end badly.’
‘You waste your words, Arminius,’ said Domitus, ‘because he is determined to go. Is that not correct, Pacorus?’
I nodded gravely.
Domitus leaned back in his chair. ‘You see. Hopeless.’
‘Do you believe in destiny, Arminius?’ I said. ‘Do you believe that a man’s life is mapped out by the gods?’
‘Not really,’ replied Arminius. ‘I don’t believe in the gods.’
I ignored his blasphemy. ‘Consider this. Fate took me to Italy where I fought beside Spartacus. The gods decreed that I should live when thousands of others died, not only live but escape back to Parthia where I became King of Dura. I believe that it was no accident that I met Spartacus.’
‘We can all say that,’ said Domitus.
‘You have been spending too much time with your witch,’ stated Arminius bluntly.
‘I believe that it is my destiny to go to Ephesus,’ I said firmly, ‘where I will free Burebista from slavery. I do not think it was an accident that Athineos came here to tell me that Burebista is still alive and inform me of the forthcoming gladiatorial games.’
‘Which brings me neatly to another matter,’ interrupted Drenis. ‘Athineos.’
I was at a loss as to what he was implying. ‘What about him?’
‘You say that it was divine intervention that brought him here, which may or may not be true. But I suggest another, more human, reason: greed. Have you considered that it might be a ruse to lure you away from Parthia where you can be captured?’
‘Captured, by whom?’ I asked.
‘The Romans,’ said Arminius. ‘I am sure that your head commands a high price in Rome, not least because you are a living survivor of the slave uprising and also defeated and killed one of Crass
us’ protégés not so long ago.’
‘It would be a way to make a lot of money,’ added Drenis.
I discounted the notion. ‘Any assassin can attempt to kill me, be it one sent by Crassus or Mithridates. In addition, I could have been killed recently at Uruk or in any battle. I do not suspect Athineos of treachery and neither did Dobbai and she has a nose for such things.’
I looked at them. ‘All I ask is that you assist me in preparing for the games at Ephesus. I do not ask any of you to come with me.’
‘It’s too late for that,’ said Drenis. ‘We are all coming with you, whether you like it or not.’
Domitus informed me that as a number of gladiatorial schools would be sending their fighters to Ephesus, he had come up with the idea that we would be masquerading as representatives of the Ludus Palmyra.
‘Palmyra is not under Roman rule,’ I told him.
Domitus tapped his nose with a finger. ‘Neither is Egypt, at least not directly, but the Egyptians will be sending fighters to Ephesus.’
‘Why don’t we call ourselves the Ludus Dura?’ I queried.
‘Because we don’t want to draw attention to Dura or its king,’ answered Drenis.
It all seemed unnecessary but as they had given the matter some thought and I had not I went along with their plan. At least they had a plan. I left the tent feeling confident that I could snatch Burebista from the Romans and now had seven members of our little band. As I intended to speak to Surena about him accompanying us that left only one more to speak to. I was certain that my former squire would wish to be a part of the venture.
Chapter 6
Surena’s eyes lit up. ‘Yes, lord.’
I held up a hand. ‘Wait, before you say yes you should hear what it entails.’
The day after the gathering in Domitus’ tent I had visited my former squire in his quarters just beyond the Citadel’s walls. As he was married to Viper they had rented two small rooms a short walk from the gates, though as both of them were on duty most of the time and had very little spare time they were rarely used. However, I insisted that they spend at least one evening each week alone in each other’s company. I knew that as the Amazons were quartered permanently in the Citadel they saw each other often, but fleeting moments and embraces were no substitute for periods of privacy that every newly married couple should enjoy.