Casca 6: The Persian

by Barry Sadler

  Shapur was somewhat puzzled by the Egyptian. He was used to overawing everyone about him, not only by the virtue of his throne, but also by his own strong personality. He was not just a king, but a warrior to be reckoned with.

  But this calm, elderly man with his shaved head showed no sign of fear or apprehension. Shapur had known few that had not feared him and they were either mad or one of the holy hermits who lived in the trackless wastes of the desert. This man, like the holy ones, was at peace with himself. Shapur knew that here was one who would speak the truth, though it may cost him his head. And that was a man to be valued or destroyed there was no middle ground for such as the Egyptian standing before him.

  Shapur stroked his square cut beard with long, graceful fingers. "Egyptian, it is told me by my Vizier that you are a man of great learning and wisdom who has devoted his life to study. Now I would pose a question for you."

  Imhept raised his face to look in the eyes of Shapur. "I will answer if able, Lord."

  Shapur pursed his lips, thoughtful for a moment, phrasing the question properly in his mind before speaking. "Scholar, the question is this: Of all the achievements of mankind throughout the ages, from all the known races and lands, what has been the single most significant achievement of man since his beginnings?"

  Imhept closed his eyes and nodded slowly once, twice then opened his dark eyes and smiled as a teacher would to a beloved but wayward child. Shapur shifted uneasily on his throne. A small smile played around the lips of Imhept. "Lord of Hosts, King of Kings. The single greatest achievement of man, that has permitted all else to come forth is the plow."

  Shapur shook his head as if throwing off a bothersome thought. "Do not take liberties with me, scholar."

  Imhept bowed his head again. "I do not say this in jest, Lord."

  Shapur was still confused. "The plow? But what of the great pyramids and temples of your own land? What of the libraries where the knowledge of man is accumulated that others may learn from the past? What of the great kings who brought prosperity and glory to their nations? Do you say these are of less importance than the common plow that peasants use to till their fields?"

  Imhept nodded. "As you have said, Lord, so it is. One must not start at the end of a thought but at the beginning. All that you have said would not have come to pass without the lowly plow to till the fields. For with the plow man began to grow. With the plow man was able to plant more than he could eat and the threat of starvation was removed for the most part. This gave man time to organize, to build cities over which kings could rule. For with cities there had to come law and order.

  "And from the plow came many of the other achievements of man. For example, if there is a surplus of grain to be stored, then there is need for containers to store it in hence pottery. From storage there had to come a means to count and determine how much would be needed to last a village until the next season and how much would be available for trade. Hence, mathematics were needed. And writing, so that one could keep track of what went where and what agreements were reached between buyer and seller. This is naturally a simplification, as the actual total of arts and sciences that came from the plow would take days to enumerate. But suffice to say that the leisure time the plow afforded man gave rise to those sciences and arts by which the great temples and structures were built. For the early village beginnings, where leaders were needed to rule, did give rise to the great houses and empires. Lord, all this would not be if the ordinary plow had not been."

  Shapur was impressed. The logic behind the thought progression was clear, the extrapolation easy to follow. The very simplicity of the idea made it complicated. Shapur was satisfied with the answer.

  "Scholar you have pleased us. It is by my command that you are made advisor to the court and given jurisdiction over the fields and waters of my lands. I will call on you from time to time. Do as you have done now and always speak the truth and you will find your rewards will be great." He regretted instantly the automatic promise of reward and the next statement would have been the threat of punishment for failure or lying. He knew that neither would have any effect on the Egyptian. He was what he was, a man committed to the truth and to learning. He could not be induced to be other than that.

  "You may go scholar. Travel where you will and return to me in three months, and tell of what you have seen and what needs to be done to the plains and sands so that Persia may bear fruit again, as it did when Cyrus the Acmeanid ruled. The land has been too long barren. Go and help bring back the fields and orchards." The Egyptian was dismissed and left the hall. Casca watched the thin figure leave and wondered at the minds of men who saw things so clearly without emotion or pride.

  It was his turn. The Vizier, reading from a scroll, called out his name and motioned for him to step forth in front of the throne and kneel. While on his knees, the Vizier read off his titles and honors accorded him by the Emperor of Chin.

  Shapur snapped his fingers and motioned for Casca to rise. Casca stood at attention as Shapur looked him over. He felt as if the Persian king was eating into his soul with his dark eyes, and he knew something of what the thief had felt. This man would order you sliced into pieces without a second's hesitation.

  Shapur spoke. "You are Casca Longinus, Baron of Khitai and warlord to the Emperor of Chin." A statement, not a question. "It is strange that one from Rome would have such honors. I welcome the Emperor's words and the warning about the resurgence of the Hephalites. We will tend to them. But what of you, Roman?" The last word was spoken bitterly.

  Casca knew he was walking on thin ice and picked his words carefully. "I am what the missive from the Peacock Throne says. A man who has served his master well with loyalty and the sword."

  Shapur grinned thinly. "And what of Rome? Is not your first allegiance to the Caesars?"

  Casca shook his head. My first loyalty, Lord, is to those that show the same to me. True, I have served in the legions of Rome but have been ill-rewarded for it." With that he pulled his silk robes down over his shoulders and bared his back to the King.

  Shapur wet his lips at the sight of the crisscrossing of scars on the muscled back, mixed with deep cuts from edged weapons. Casca turned back around to face the King. "Those, and my years on the slave bench of war galleys, have paid off any debt I have to Imperial Rome. I am my own man."

  Shapur liked the scar faced man's answers. That he was a warrior was obvious and as one fighting man to another, Shapur had to respect him "Where would you go from here, Casca, Baron of Khitai?"

  Casca shrugged. "I but follow the threads of my fate, Lord."

  Shapur thought for a moment. "I would speak further with you. As a warlord it might prove of interest to learn how the warriors of Chin conduct their battles. You will dine with me this evening."

  Casca was dismissed. Bowing, he backed away from the imperial presence and was taken back to his quarters, a feeling of relief surging over him. He knew that it had been close and perhaps. wasn't over with yet. He would find out his fate tonight.

  An hour after the sun had set, he was sent for and escorted once more through the winding labyrinth, then up several flights of stairs and finally out onto an open courtyard, set three stories above the main floor. Shapur waited in loose robes of cool linen. Full grown palm trees and other flowers and plants Casca couldn't name decorated the rooftop garden. He understood why the King preferred the rooftop garden to take his evening meal – the evening breeze cooled the air. Guards remained unobtrusive at their posts, just out of earshot. Slave girls came and went, setting the low table with sweetmeats and delicacies. Shapur motioned for Casca to join him on the couch opposite the table. Torches and lamps lit the scene and Shapur was at ease. "Sit down, warrior, and we'll talk of the things men do."

  Casca obeyed and reclined on the couch. Shapur motioned toward the food. "Help yourself, Roman."

  Casca tried a couple of jellied plover's eggs, washing them down with a wine he hadn't tasted before, smacking his lips over the taste.
"Good, damned good." Tearing off a piece of roasted antelope, he sunk his teeth into the meat and chewed slowly as Shapur looked on and ate nothing.

  Shapur watched his guest eat, noting through veiled eyes, every detail about the man before him the way he moved, the thick cords in his wrists, the scars. How could he use this man who came from behind the Wall of Chin? For him to carry letters stating he was a noble of the court and a warlord of the Hosts meant he had value. True, he was of Roman origins, but Shapur would not deny himself the usage of capable men. If the Roman became troublesome, he could always be easily removed. Shapur rinsed his mouth with a sip of spring water. Patiently, he waited until his guest had finished his meal.

  "Tell me of the land behind the Wall. Take your time, we have all this night. Tell me of the land, the kings, the women, and especially of their methods of warfare." He noticed a slight movement on Casca's part when he mentioned speaking of the Chinese way of war. Good. The man was reluctant to give away information concerning those to whom he had given his loyalties.

  Shapur eased Casca's mind. "I have no designs on Chin. It is enough that I can control my own lands and keep the barbarians at bay. If ever I turned my armies to the East, how long do you think it would be before I had another Roman invasion force coming at me from the rear? Only a fool fights on more than one front."

  Casca understood what the King meant and began to talk, telling him of the Court of Ch'anang, of the cities and rivers, of lands reaching so far that a man could not ride across them in a year, of high mountains and deep valleys. And he spoke of the thinking process of the Chinese and of their tacticians. One in particular was named Sung Tzu: Casca regretted again his inability to read the ideograms of the Chinese, for he would have liked to have brought with him a copy of Sung Tzu's writings, the Art of War. He had had the book read to him by slaves and friends and much of it he remembered, but not all. The Chinese were the world's best record keepers and he had also heard of other stratagems that showed how the Chinese loved to use the oblique approach to battle and delighted in outwitting their opponents more than they did in. killing them. Shapur was also interested in the Huns, so Casca related a tale about how a Chinese general used three thousand condemned men to defeat a Hunnish army of fifty thousand.

  Shapur, for the first time, broke into a short laugh of appreciation at the tale. His dark eyes sparkled with the closest thing he had to a sense of humor. "Lord Casca, I have been most pleased by you and your stories this evening. I would make a bargain with you. Are you interested?"

  Casca said that he was. There was power about Shapur and his curiosity about the man made him reluctant to leave Persia.

  Shapur nodded. "Good. This is what I would have. Stay in my court and render me the same service you did to the land of Chin. We have many of the same enemies. I would put your mind at ease where Rome is concerned. In the event of another war with Rome, I will release you from your oath so that you may not be divided in your loyalties. I know you say that you have no great love for the Caesars, but it is still best if I relieve you from ever having to make a choice between us. It is true that a child may speak harshly of his parents and even rebel against them, but the child will, even if he feels he has been badly abused by the parents, more often than not, come to their aid when danger threatens. And you are still a child of Rome."

  Casca was dismissed, leaving Shapur to watch the dawn rise over the flat roofs of his city. Casca knew that before he left the rooftop, Shapur's mind had already left him far behind and was now on some other matter.

  But Shapur had by no means forgotten what he had spoken to Casca about. The next afternoon a messenger delivered a scroll carrying Casca's commission in the royal forces and assigning him to the Household Guard with the rank of regimental commander. He was moved forthwith into new quarters. It was a small house, sparsely furnished, but already staffed with four slaves, consisting of a cook, a personal body slave, and one who was to advise him on the customs of the land and to oversee the household. The last was a soldier from the armies of Shapur who had been given a reprieve from death in order that he might familiarize Casca with the order of battle of the Persian forces. He was given no immediate duties, other than to keep in readiness for whatever his new master might require of him.

  Shapur was a solitary man given to spending long hours alone. Even his favorite concubines knew not to disturb him when he was in his thoughts. Most of these had to do with retrieving the lands still in the hands of Romans or any others that he felt were his. He knew in time he would move to the west after he had secured his borders to the east and north. Then he would be free to mount a major campaign against Rome and regain the lands granted Rome by the treaty of Narses. Shapur would never forgive his grandfather for giving in. True, Narses had suffered a severe reverse when he had lost a major campaign in Armenia, in which the Romans captured not only his treasury but also his harem. Narses had ceded to the Romans, Armenia and the steppes of Mesopotamia with the hill country, and Singagara, on the west side of the Tigris and reaching as far as Gordyene. In exchange for this outrageous payoff the Romans returned his household to Narses.

  If Shapur had been in the same situation, there would have been no doubt in his mind that he himself would have slit the throats of his children and wives before surrendering one yard of land to anyone.

  Shapur grinned bleakly at the remembrance of how he came to the throne after the death of Ormized II, the son of Narses. A rebellious clique had put all the sons of Narses to death with exception of Ormized, who escaped to the Romans. They'd used him as pretender to the throne for their own purpose, to counter this threat from what many of their people would consider the legitimate successor to the throne, and used him as a rallying point for rebellion. The clique brought to the throne Shapur II, himself a son of Ormized, but born after his father's death.

  In Shapur, they thought they had a perfect figurehead. The young man would be easy enough to control. But Shapur was cut from stronger cloth than his so called advisors would have thought. At fourteen, he organized among young men of the nobility a secret guard sworn to him alone. One by one, these young nobles came into positions of power inside the infrastructure of the palace and when the time was right and Shapur not yet seventeen they struck. All that long night riders went forth carrying the sword and torch. Each of the young men had recruited five others who, in their turn, did the same until there were over five thousand young warriors, the oldest of whom had not reached twenty.

  These young lions removed for all times any threat to the throne of Shapur II. He himself took the heads of the Vizier and his sons, then personally supervised the torture of all surviving prisoners. In an act of piety he permitted them to die by the light of Ahura mazda. He staked them out in the courtyard, forced water down their throats to prolong the agony, and let them bake in the sun until their flesh cracked open. The sun blinded them (he had also cut their eyelids off so they could look directly into the glory of God). Shapur was king and none who contested his will would be permitted to live, not anyone, not his wives or even the flesh of his flesh. A king cannot rule by compassion where power is concerned. Power is the only reason for living; to be weak is to give up that reason. And one could always sire more children.

  Casca was taken by members of the household guard to the armory, where he was fitted for his armor of gilded iron scales. The rippling metal resembled the scales of the golden carp. The helmet was likewise decorated with a steel mesh neck guard; the helmet was of one piece, basically no more than a round conical cap with ear flaps of steel that could be tied under the chin. A cloth of green silk was wrapped around the brim of the cap to show his rank in the Guard. The armorers, and others present, gave him questioning, slightly hostile looks, as if his fair hair and light colored eyes didn't belong. With the casting out of the Greek Parthians, those with his features were not readily welcomed in the armies of the new empire. But they also knew better than to question one that had obviously been favored by the King.


  For Casca's part, he didn't give a rat's ass if they liked it or not. He had more on his mind. On his way' over from his quarters he had run into the Vizier, Rasheed. The way the sneaky looking little bastard smiled and bowed to him gave him shivers up his spine. He had been around long enough to know that the kind of look he had been given didn't mean anything good for him. But what had he done to earn the Vizier's enmity? Well, as the saying went, time would tell. For now, he just wanted to know what Shapur had up his sleeve.

  It was three weeks before Shapur summoned him to his presence again. This time they were to meet on the city parade field where Casca had been told a small ceremony was to take place to finalize his acceptance into the ranks. As ordered, Casca appeared in his new armor and was given a bay mare to ride to the grounds, escorted by twenty of the King's own personal guards.

  Once on the parade grounds, Casca saw the field was lined with mounted troops, all fully armed, lance heads held erect. There were two ranks facing each other. In the center was a burning pyre, about which were gathered what were obviously priests and nobles of the court.

  Casca went to face whatever it was they had in mind for him. He didn't think they were going to jail or try and kill him; there would have been no need to go through this much trouble. His escort guided him to a pavilion of multicolored fabrics where Shapur waited. Once there, he was permitted to dismount and kneel before the King. Shapur rose from his field chair and stood before him, dressed in plain soldier's armor.

  "Casca Longinus, my Vizier has made a request that before you are permitted to command troops of the Empire it would be well if you would now reject the gods of Rome and all others, including the gods of those who follow the Christus. For in my lands, the supreme deity is the Sun in the manifestation of Ahura mazda. All others are lesser entities and only Ahura mazda is supreme. Will you reject all worship of any other gods and put none else before the holy light of Sun?"