Blood of Kings

by Andrew James

  Beside him, the herald looked up at the white sandstone walls and flinched at the glare. ‘Offer your king earth and water as tokens of submission, bring out the High Priest of Ammon and the God’s Wife! Do these things and the King of Kings promises the city will be spared.’

  A shaven-headed priest poked his face over the parapet and shouted down: ‘The spirits of our brothers from Mennefer cry out to us. They say you promised to spare them, but burst in to the city and killed everything that moved. Why should we believe you?’

  The flustered herald looked back to the King of Kings for an answer. Impatiently, Phanes strode forward, like Ares the war god in his burnished cuirass and bronze helmet. ‘Because you have no choice,’ he said flatly. ‘Do as the King of Kings commands, or Thebes will suffer the fate of Memphis and Pelusium.’

  Tight-lipped and pale-faced, the priest withdrew to confer. Darius stood so long in the sun his head began to swim. At last a small door was opened in the main gate and an old man and a young woman came out. The man was shaven-headed, wearing a white kilt and a magnificent pectoral of gold studded with emeralds. He stared at the ground as he shuffled forward. The woman was beautiful, her large soft eyes ringed with kohl, dressed in a close-fitting tube of embroidered linen and dainty silver sandals. Standing near her, Darius smelt spices on her body and noticed her skin as a pink bloom through the sheer linen of her dress. He admired her courage, chin held high as soldiers seized her and led her before the King of Kings.

  Phanes looked her up and down before leaning forward to advise Cambyses. ‘She is the one I spoke of, Great King. Sister of Pharaoh and ritual Wife of Ammon. Astonishingly wealthy, hugely powerful. She is virgin. Humiliate her. Have your men shame her in front of the walls then impale her on a stake. Let the defenders see Ammon cannot save her.’

  The girl swallowed hard, her pink lower lip beginning to tremble. Seeing shades of Parmys’s fear in her face, Darius tensed with anger. Looking at the blank faces around him he wanted to yell. Everyone was just standing there! Couldn’t they see it was wrong? As Cambyses ran hungry eyes over the helpless girl, Darius was suddenly very conscious of the spear in his hand. One thrust and it would be over.

  Fighting to hold the urge in check, Darius acknowledged that perhaps his father was right: he was an impulsive fool at times. With tens of thousands of soldiers watching, this was not the moment for a pointless gesture that would see him killed. Hating the feeling of being powerless, in desperation he looked at Otaneh. The man’s face was blank, just a muscle twitching in his neck. Envying the spadapati’s cool head, Darius mouthed at him to do something.

  Otaneh took a deep breath, then stepped forward to object. Instantly, Cambyses silenced the spadapati with an irritated swipe of his hand. ‘Do it.’

  The girl hooked her fingers like claws and shrieked curses as Phanes seized her by the neck. She kicked and screamed, trying to bring her knee up into his groin. Laughing, Phanes slapped her, grabbed her by the hair and ripped the dress from her back. Standing on the sand, she covered her breasts and crotch and threw back her head defiantly. ‘Spill your seed now and your hearts and souls will be damned for eternity. Touch my body and yours will be butchered in the sand, your corpses hacked up!’

  ‘She’s a witch!’ someone shouted. Men shrank back in fear. But others jeered. Two soldiers pulled her hands away and dragged her down onto the sand. Naked, she began struggling violently as strong arms threw her onto her back and forced her legs apart. The soldiers cheered. The Egyptians on the battlements cried in horror as the sunlight displayed the God’s Wife’s pale, sacred body to the world. Men queued to rape her, while mallets pounded wooden stakes into the ground.

  Almost hidden beneath a massive guardsman, his body pumping over her, she began screaming, a wild unrestrained terror that filled the desert. Otaneh turned away rather than watch. Again Darius caught his eye. Since the crucifixion of Timotheus’s children they had often met surreptitiously outside the camp, Megabyzus acting as go-between. Both men agreed that Phanes’s obsession with destroying Egypt’s gods was being taken too far, and this latest atrocity strengthened that conclusion. But with Phanes always at the king’s side, and Cambyses strong after his victory, they must bide their time.

  As the girl’s screams subsided into sobs, and her struggles into a numbed acceptance of her fate, Darius’s one comfort was that Phanes would soon leave to cross the desert. Then they would strike.

  The Royal Palace, Thebes

  Darius’s footsteps rattled across the courtyard. Above him soared a forest of fluted stone columns, the capitals edged with bands of green, red and gold, the pillars carved and painted with vivid hieroglyphs. Ahead, a statue of a baboon god guarded a door set into a thick wall. Darius nodded a greeting to Zamasp, the Spearbearer on duty, who rapped his golden spear butt on the ground before swinging the door open. Inside, the air was cool on Darius’s face, smelling of stone and ancient dust. The light was dim, just a few scattered lamps illuminating a spacious hall of white sandstone decorated with alabaster, ebony and ivory. When his eyes adjusted he felt the disgust as a sourness in his stomach. Cambyses was lying naked on a purple couch beneath a fan of white ostrich feathers, his lower half covered by a hastily thrown linen sheet. He was surrounded by concubines, most bare above the waist, some completely naked. A slim pale girl was lying beneath him, attempting to squeal with delight as he sucked wine off her breasts. Eunuch boys were lounging in various states of undress, eating from a table covered with roasted meats, saffron cakes and sweetmeats laid out on beaten gold platters. On the table lay a carving knife, the only blade Darius could see in the hall. Instinctively he judged the distance between himself, the knife and the king. It was too far, and anyway, lying on another couch between the knife and Darius was Phanes, his hard body naked except for three big-breasted girls entwined around him. The air reeked of spilt wine, rosewater perfume and hot flesh. Darius was appalled. Cambyses had turned the hall of the ancient palace of the Pharaohs into a bordello.

  Otaneh was standing near one of the couches. Fully clothed in a blue Medean tunic, trousers and rounded felt hat, his face was long and his arms folded defensively across his chest. Neither Phanes nor Cambyses paid him any attention. Wondering how long he had been forced to endure this debauchery, Darius coughed and prostrated himself. ‘You summoned me, Great King?’

  Cambyses sat up, slapped the girl’s naked buttocks and pushed her off the couch. She started to walk away but he caught her arm and pushed her roughly to the floor, where she sat with her head bowed. A half-naked eunuch offered Darius wine. He declined.

  Darius waited for the king to speak. Since his victory at Pelusium, Cambyses had been a calmer man. As his confidence had grown he had painted his face more elaborately and encouraged his court to do the same. Now Darius noticed his eyebrows were lined in black and his cheeks rouged, the red clashing garishly with the gold hoops in his ears. Some of the eunuchs had gone further, with bright red gloss on their lips and vivid red spots on their cheeks. Cambyses had been drinking less, but Darius saw that today the kohl-rimmed eyes were glazed. Several empty wine flasks were scattered on the floor.

  Cambyses cast his eyes around the mess and gave Darius an almost apologetic smile. ‘A harmless diversion to recover from the toils of kingship. Only those who have experienced it can know how lonely it is. So many petitions to be answered, so many decisions to be made. Fates to be decided. Sometimes I wonder if it is worth all the effort.’ He slurped some wine.

  Darius hid his distaste with a solemn nod, then looked curiously at the massive war bow leaning against the wall. Made from a grey wood of a type he had never seen before, it was easily half as big again as any bow he’d ever drawn.

  ‘Ah. The bow of the King of the Kushites,’ Cambyses said. ‘When we took Memphis I sent envoys to his land down south, far beyond the cataracts of the Nile. They have just returned. They say the land is scorching hot, with many savage beasts, and the men have skin as black as ebony. This was
a gift from their king.’ He waved a hand in invitation and watched Darius pick up the bow and bend it, his muscles burning as he forced the wings close enough to take the string. Once it was strung Darius felt an astonishing power in the taut weapon.

  Cambyses watched with awe. ‘Few men here have managed to do that. Yet he claimed that all his archers draw bows of that size.’

  Darius unstrung the bow, placed it against the wall and rubbed his aching arms. ‘I doubt it, Your Majesty.’

  ‘So do I. I believe he sent it as a warning. Apparently, gold is so common there even the prisoners are bound with chains of the stuff, and he fears we may invade. An insolent man from the sound of it, spurning my gifts and accusing my envoys of being spies!’ Cambyses drank again. ‘I have decided to teach these insolent people a lesson. It is time they felt the tip of a Persian spear.’ He leant down and pinched the girl’s cheek. ‘Like you, my gorgeous, eh?’ She recoiled. Cambyses seemed not to notice. ‘Of course, Otaneh here is clucking around like a mother hen, telling me it can’t be done.’ He cruelly mimicked Otaneh’s high, cultured voice. ‘ “Not if I want to attack Siwa as well. Not safe to divide our forces. No time to arrange supplies.” Heard it all before. Said it all last time, didn’t he?’ Cambyses’ words were slurring badly. He looked at the embarrassed spadapati. ‘Wrong then, weren’t you, you shrivelled old stick? And wrong again now.’

  Otaneh shuffled uncomfortably on his feet but spoke with great dignity. ‘No, Great King. I do not believe I was wrong. At Pelusium we were fortunate.’

  Cambyses wrinkled his nose in displeasure at being contradicted. Darius’s hackles rose as Phanes turned on his couch, his face hard with drink, and jabbed a finger at the Persian general. ‘Shut up, you pompous oaf.’

  Cambyses laughed gleefully and clapped his hands. ‘It’s time someone said that. Had to put up with his miserable face for years, but can’t get rid of him or there’ll be trouble.’

  Phanes bared his teeth. ‘My advice, Great King, if you must have him around, is remove his nose and ears. He’ll look better without them.’

  Feeling violence simmering, Darius flicked his eyes back to the knife. A slim, girlish-looking eunuch had stopped carving and was holding it limp in his hand, watching the conversation. Darius’s mind raced as again he calculated distances and times.

  Cambyses giggled nervously, as though he wanted to follow Phanes’s suggestion but didn’t have the nerve to give the order.

  Otaneh drew back his shoulders and stood proudly, echoing the fighting man he had been in his youth. Even now, as he calculated the odds, Darius could see he would be a formidable opponent. Darius could deal with Phanes if Otaneh dealt with Cambyses … but he had no idea whose side the Spearbearers outside would take.

  Cambyses hiccoughed. ‘I say the Nile is as much water as any army can drink, and if the men get hungry they’ll fight all the harder. Said that last time, didn’t I? Was right too.’ He drank again. Oddly, it seemed to make him more sober. ‘But didn’t call you here for that, son of Hystaspes. As you know, I can refuse my good friend Phanes nothing he asks for. Alas, he has asked for you to join his staff when he marches on Siwa. Got to punish this heathen Prophetess. Apparently he thinks you have some skill as a soldier.’

  Darius struggled to hide his horror. Was Cambyses sending him away because he had wind of the conspiracy? From the corner of his eye, Darius saw Otaneh’s head snap up, felt the spadapati’s gaze on his face and knew the same fear had gripped him too. The temptation to meet Otaneh’s gaze was almost overwhelming but Darius resisted it, knowing the gesture would be seen. His head filled with images of a vast, unexplored desert, of swirling sand and thirsting men and savage tribes. The last thing he wanted was to march off with Phanes on some fool’s mission to kill a prophetess. Especially not now, when Cambyses’ end was so close, and his departure would throw their plans into disarray. He opened his mouth to refuse … but it wasn’t a request, it was an order. Like a drowning man clutching at the riverbank, Darius scrabbled in his head for an excuse to stay. But couldn’t find one.

  Cambyses was watching, drink-bleary eyes looking puzzled as he waited for an answer. Darius had to say something. ‘I would be sorry to leave, Great King.’

  Cambyses raised his eyebrows. ‘My! How things change. I do believe you meant that. At least you’ll be among friends,’ he added, showing a flash of his old malice. ‘Vinda has recovered from his wounds. For his bravery I have raised him to the rank of hazarapatish, and you shall serve under him.’ He lifted a hand to cut off Darius’s protest. ‘Obey him in all things. If he harmed you in the past it was on my orders, and for the greater good. Do not hold it against him.’

  Darius pressed his lips into a thin line. ‘You ask a lot of me, Great King.’

  ‘That is my privilege. Vinda has served me faithfully. It would please me to see the two of you at peace.’

  ‘As Your Majesty commands,’ Darius said flatly.

  ‘No, no, Darius.’ Cambyses waggled a finger at Darius so emphatically the linen sheet around his waist began to slip. He grasped at it and pulled it back. ‘I hoped you would do it because it was your pleasure to serve your king, not because you are compelled.’

  Darius smiled blandly. ‘I shall try, Your Majesty.’

  ‘Good! In time, if the Wise Lord wills it, you may even rise to the rank of hazarapatish yourself.’

  Darius bowed and backed away, trying to hide his fury. Eight of his ancestors had been kings leading entire armies in battle. Did this drunken fool really think he would be impressed by the command of a thousand men?

  Zamasp had nodded politely to Darius as he went in, but deep down he was appalled that Cambyses had allowed the man to become a Spearbearer. However royal his family may once have been, they were now as poor as peasants, living in a small mud-brick house in a lowly district of Pathragada. It was demeaning to have to mix with him. He didn’t even have the tact to keep a low profile among his betters. The way he walked around with that calm, self-assured air, smiling and being familiar with the other Spearbearers as though he were their equal.

  Zamasp had listened with interest as the conversation turned heated, hoping he would have an excuse to rush in and spear the cocky sod. Alas, it had all calmed down. At least he had had the satisfaction of hearing Darius taken down a peg, and when he came out his face had been like thunder. Otaneh had followed a few moments later, looking just as angry after Cambyses had rudely dismissed him.

  Zamasp was just about to move away from the door when he heard Cambyses speaking to Phanes again, sounding very serious. ‘So it is true after all. You saw their faces. Whatever it is they are up to, they are in it together.’

  Phanes didn’t sound convinced. ‘Perhaps, Great King.’

  ‘Well, it is very simple. For the moment I still need Otaneh, but not Darius. Take him with you to the desert. By all means, make use of his talents if you insist. But ensure he dies out there.’

  Zamasp smiled.

  17

  Closeted in the private quarters of the palace he had commandeered, with trusted guards outside and his slaves banished, Otaneh pulled a kidskin pouch from his gown and held it out. With fingers that trembled, Darius undid the drawstring and extracted a piece of obsidian from the soft leather. It was smooth, shiny, midnight-black. Carved into it was an image in reverse. When rolled across damp clay, it would leave an imprint. Darius looked at it with longing. Few men ever touched the seal of the King of Kings.

  With it they could have authorized a minor change to the guard rota. Perhaps Cambyses granting leave to a favoured courtier, or punishing one who had fallen out of favour. An administrative decision, the sort no one would look twice at if it bore the king’s seal. But one that would bring all the conspirators together in the king’s tent, with no hostile Spearbearers present.

  ‘It is not genuine, of course,’ Otaneh said. ‘But it is a bloody good copy. I doubt even Cambyses could tell the difference.’

  ‘How on earth did you
…?’

  Otaneh raised a hand to cut Darius off. ‘Better you don’t know. Much gold has been spent, many lives risked.’

  Darius tipped the cylinder seal back into its leather pouch. ‘And all wasted,’ he said bitterly. ‘Just another month and we could have struck.’ The final step in their preparations, the cylinder had arrived too late.

  Otaneh looked crushed. ‘Let me speak to him. When he’s sober he sometimes listens.’

  ‘And tell him what? That it’s not convenient for Darius to leave right now because we were plotting to kill you before you march south? No. I will have to go. It’s the last thing in the world I want, but a man doesn’t disobey a direct order from the King of Kings. Still, you could carry on without me?’

  Otaneh put his hand to his chin, stroked his beard. ‘Neither Megabyzus nor Gobryas will do it without you. And who can blame them? They want to survive.’ Unable to bear arms in the king’s presence himself, Otaneh needed some of Cambyses’ Spearbearers at the cutting edge of his plot. Megabyzus and his nephew were willing … but only if Darius was there too, to fight their way out after the deed was done.

  ‘I’ll be back, friend,’ Darius assured Otaneh, gripping his arm. ‘Next year.’

  ‘A lot can happen in a year, Darius … And by all accounts that desert is evil.’

  Knowing it was true and having no answer, Darius turned to leave.

  Otaneh called out. ‘Before you go … Any message for your father?’ The general coughed delicately. ‘Er, just in case …’

  Darius smiled. ‘In case I don’t return? No. No message.’

  Otaneh clicked his tongue fatalistically. ‘Like father, like son. The pair of you, as stubborn as mules.’ He embraced Darius with uncharacteristic emotion, and Darius realized he would miss the wise old general who had become his ally.