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by Peter Darman

  ‘All married, majesty,’ smiled Hippo. ‘I am a grandmother now.’

  ‘There will be no “majesty’ here,’ I said. ‘First name terms only. Is Charax still without a king.’

  Cleon laughed. ‘It is, majesty, er, Pacorus. Charax elects its leaders from the free citizens of the city. It is a system that would work well in Parthia and elsewhere, I think.’

  Nergal scoffed at the idea. ‘People electing their leaders? Nothing would ever get done. At least with a king everyone knows who is at the top of the tree.’

  Charax was lucky in that it was well out of the way and surrounded by an inhospitable terrain of great marshlands where the marsh people, the Ma’adan, lived. Formerly part of the Kingdom of Mesene, Nergal had granted the Ma’adan their freedom and in doing so had surrendered nearly a third of his realm. But his gesture had earned the eternal friendship and respect of the Ma’adan and had resulted in peace between the marsh people and Uruk.

  ‘We heard about Mark Antony’s recent invasion of Parthia,’ said Hippo. ‘It must have been very frightening for you at Dura.’

  ‘The Romans were in the north, far away from Dura,’ Gallia told her, ‘and in truth we never felt threatened by them. Their army was small and it was swiftly dealt with by Pacorus’ nephew, King Spartacus.’

  ‘You must be very proud of him,’ said Cleon.

  ‘He is a very able general,’ I told them, ‘though a little headstrong.’

  ‘That is putting it mildly,’ said Nergal. ‘Is he coming to Dura?’

  I nodded. ‘He will be here, as will Rasha.’

  ‘What about their eldest son?’ enquired Praxima. ‘We heard he fled Gordyene with an Armenian girl.’

  We told them about Akmon’s flight to Palmyra and my efforts to convince him to travel to Dura when his parents arrived. There was no guarantee he and Lusin would come to Dura, though.

  ‘Probably just as well,’ opined Nergal, ‘you don’t want your birthday spoiled by the wrath of Spartacus. He’s so like his father.’

  ‘It is like he walks the earth once again,’ said Praxima admiringly.

  ‘Stalking the earth, more like,’ added Nergal. ‘Changing the subject, we have brought you a present from the Ma’adan, Pacorus.’

  I groaned. I had issued specific orders that no one was to bring presents to Dura. I had never been a collector of items that were useless, such as gold drinking vessels, silk garments or exotic perfumes and spices. The only gift I desired was to reverse the aches and pains my body was subject to as the years passed, that and my thinning hair, deteriorating eyesight and the other afflictions associated with the advancement of age. I had asked Claudia if she and the other Scythian Sisters could concoct an elixir or spell to make me young again. My daughter’s reply was she would not dignify the question with an answer.

  ‘What present?’ asked a curious Gallia.

  ‘Fifty water buffalo,’ laughed Praxima, ‘we left them outside the city.’

  I rolled my eyes. ‘Dura is becoming a zoo. I already have an elephant from Sakastan and now a herd of water buffalo from the marshlands. What next, a pride of lions?’

  We talked, ate and drank long into the evening, Claudia, Isabella and Salar joining us on the terrace as we swapped stories about our time in Italy, of the Companions, the trip to Ephesus and the recent wars against Mark Antony. I drank too much and when we got back to our bedroom I fell into a deep slumber, Gallia’s words receding as I drifted off into sleep.

  ‘So much for continuing the conversation, you old fool.’

  Over the following days the other guests arrived, and their banners joined the red griffin flag atop the Citadel. The first was the yellow banner of Mesene showing a double-headed lion sceptre crossed with a sword. Next to fly in the hot breeze was the four-pointed star of Elymais. Silaces arrived with six hundred horse archers and a striking woman with skin as smooth as silk, black as night and teeth as white as snow. She was at least half the age of the old fox, who had a glint in his eye when he slid off his horse and embraced me and Gallia on the palace steps in the courtyard. He slapped me hard on the back when I caught sight of the exotic beauty sliding off a magnificent black stallion, her shapely legs encased in tight leggings and her large breasts threatening to burst forth from the white silk tunic that covered most of her upper body. Her hair was arranged in braids, the strands falling down her back. All eyes turned to the vision of grace and beauty that stood tall and defiant in the courtyard. Ashk, knowing Silaces was unmarried, clicked his fingers to two Durans standing by the columns of the porch to descend the steps, just in case.

  Silaces saw the legionaries grip the hilts of their swords. ‘What, you would arrest the Queen of Elymais?’

  ‘Halt!’ I commanded.

  Gallia looked at the woman and Silaces. ‘You are married, lord?’

  He winked and extended an arm to the beauty, who bounded up the steps to take it.

  ‘May I present Queen Cia of Elymais,’ he announced loudly and proudly.

  I took Cia’s hand, bowed my head and kissed it. ‘Dura extends a warm welcome to you, lady. May your marriage be long and happy.’

  She gave me a dazzling smile. ‘Thank you, lord.’

  ‘My throat feels like a camel’s arse,’ complained Silaces, ‘I need a drink.’

  He held Cia’s hand as they walked into the porch through to the reception hall. He shook Nergal’s hand, the King of Mesene speechless at Silaces’ announcement.

  ‘Good to see you, Nergal, and you, Praxima. Did you hear about Phraates’ fathering a child, a bastard just like him? Never thought he had it in him.’

  ‘Phraates is not a bastard,’ I said.

  Silaces’ laughter echoed around the reception chamber. ‘Nearly sixty years old, Pacorus, and you are still as naïve as a newborn. There’s no hope for you, none at all.’

  He was brimming with life and vigour and I wondered if Cia was a sorceress who had discovered the elixir of youth. Whatever she had, I wanted some. They were shown to their room in the palace, so they could rest and refresh themselves, but no sooner had they disappeared than Silaces reappeared in the throne room while I was arbitrating between two traders who had come to blows over the allocation of market stalls. Normally such disputes were handled by the guild of market traders but these two were the head and deputy of said organisation. They were also among the wealthiest citizens in Dura, so the squabble needed settling speedily to avoid violence in the markets. A concerned Governor Rsan stood beside the dais, propping himself up with his walking stick. A stickler for protocol, he had refused my offer of a chair to sit in. The two plaintiffs stood before me with heads bowed.

  ‘The governor has briefed me concerning your dispute and I have to say that I find the notion of the head and deputy of the guild of market traders fighting like two wild dogs most troubling. The penalty for causing a public nuisance is a fine.’

  I saw their lips crease into smiles. What were a few coins to them?

  ‘Or a flogging,’ I added. Their smiles disappeared.

  ‘Flog them both and have done with it.’

  Silaces’ voice echoed around the throne room, causing the two traders to look at him.

  I frowned at my friend. ‘I am busy, Silaces.’

  He stopped to look at the two rich traders; both dressed in fine clothes and expensive leather shoes. Silaces sniffed the air.

  ‘Do I detect perfume? Is Dura going soft?’

  He squared up to the two, ignoring me, much to Rsan’s chagrin. One was tall and haughty, the other short and tubby.

  ‘You do both know it is the king’s birthday? He wants to spend time with his old friends, but you have diverted him from that happy activity. You should both be ashamed of yourselves.’

  He pointed back at me while still holding their gaze.

  ‘That man has shed blood so people like you can enjoy good and profitable lives, free from foreign invaders and bloodshed. And how do you repay him? By spoiling his birthday. Is he no
t entitled to at least a few days of peace in his dotage? I say again, you should be ashamed of yourselves.’

  The heads of the two dropped in shame. They glanced at each other and then at me.

  ‘Forgive me, majesty,’ said the taller of the two.

  ‘We are foolish old men, majesty,’ offered the shorter one, ‘I ask your forgiveness and also the forgiveness of my friend Feroz, here.’

  ‘I am ashamed, majesty,’ said Feroz, ‘ashamed that I stand before you after behaving as I did and ashamed I have wronged my friend Zubin standing beside me. I await your judgement, majesty.’

  I shook my head. ‘If you both pledge to refrain from any further brawling, then you are free to leave. I expect you both to make a contribution towards the relief of the city’s poor, though.’

  ‘It shall be so, majesty,’ said Feroz.

  ‘The donation will be large, majesty,’ pledged Zubin.

  I waved them away, both retreating and bowing as they did so. Dear old Rsan also bowed and hobbled from the chamber. Silaces flopped down on Gallia’s throne. He nodded at the wizened figure of Rsan.

  ‘Time for a new governor, I think.’

  ‘Rsan was the first citizen of this city to greet me when I came to Dura. He probably should be retired but I have no heart to tell him so.’

  He beamed at me. ‘So, what do think of her?’

  ‘Cia? A real beauty, my friend, and young.’

  He put his hands behind his head and stretched out his legs.

  ‘The gods sent her to me, Pacorus, of that I am certain. I had resolved myself to a life of solitude. Oh, I could bed the odd good-looking slave now and then, but I never believed an old bastard like me would find a queen.’

  ‘The noblewomen of Elymais are not enticing?’ I joked.

  ‘Oh they are enticing enough, it is the baggage that comes with them that is less appealing.’

  ‘Baggage?’

  ‘Their families,’ he replied. ‘Grasping fathers, mothers and siblings who see marriage to the king as a means to enrich themselves. The snakes and scorpions outside the walls of this city are tame compared to them.’

  ‘Cia is not from Elymais, then?’

  ‘She is from Nubia, or so the slave trader who owned her told me.’ He glanced at me. ‘I could pretend she is nobility, but I know you have no problem with slaves, having been one yourself.’

  I laughed. ‘The whole world knows I was once a Roman slave, as was Gallia, Gafarn, Diana, Nergal and Praxima. My nickname, among others, is the Slave King, so no, I have no problem with slaves, only those who own them.’

  ‘Cia was a slave and now she is a queen.’ He shrugged. ‘I will kill anyone who says she cannot be Queen of Elymais.’

  ‘I am happy for you, my friend. Tell me more about Phraates’ son. Who is the mother?’

  He shrugged a second time. ‘No one knows, which means she is probably a slave. It’s common knowledge he likes to abuse young slave girls. Nothing wrong with that but proclaiming one of his bastards his heir is a risky business.’

  ‘How so?’

  ‘When Phraates came to the throne, one of the first things he did was to proclaim his policy of Parthian purity. Your sister played a large part in that.’

  ‘I remember.’

  He scratched his nose. ‘Well, after carping on about how pure he is, Phraates undermines himself by fathering a mongrel.’

  I winced at the term. ‘Perhaps he has married a noblewoman in secret. There are enough of them at Ctesiphon, after all.’

  He chuckled. ‘Enough of the bastard and his little bastard. Is Spartacus coming to your birthday celebration?’

  ‘He is.’

  ‘He’s forgiven us for stopping him seizing Irbil, then?’

  ‘Probably not,’ I said, ‘but Rasha will want to visit Dura to see her brother and sister-in-law, not to mention Claudia who saved Prince Haytham’s life recently. Besides, it is in Spartacus’ interest to visit Dura.’

  I told him about Akmon and Lusin being at Palmyra and my hope the prince would at least meet his parents before the latter departed back to Gordyene.

  ‘That’s the entertainment sorted, then,’ he grinned.

  Malik and Jamal arrived with Byrd and Noora two days after Silaces, a great column of camels wending its way from the west on the desert road that led from Palmyra to Dura. They stayed in the palace rather than Byrd’s mansion but when I searched the black-clad riders on camels in the courtyard after Gallia and I had greeted the Agraci king, I could not see Akmon or Lusin.

  ‘They are not here,’ Malik told me.

  ‘Byrd told you, then. I only learned of Akmon’s whereabouts when he informed me. Before that only Claudia was aware he and Lusin were in Palmyra.’

  ‘I should be angry with her, but I am not. My father would have had them forcibly taken back to Gordyene, but I am not him.’

  I put an arm round his shoulders. ‘Come, let us get out of the heat.’

  How he had changed from the first time I had met him. Then he had been a fierce Agraci prince and his father, King Haytham, had been infamous throughout all Parthia. The Agraci were devils incarnate, feared and despised by decent society. But the truce I had brokered with Haytham had resulted in peace west of the Euphrates. Trade and prosperity had followed that peace and now Palmyra was no longer an abode of merciless raiders but a place of commerce and stability. Whereas before the Agraci tortured and killed outsiders who ventured into their territory, now they welcomed them, as long as they caused no trouble.

  ‘Where is Riad?’ I asked, searching for Malik’s son.

  ‘In Damascus,’ he answered, ‘learning Greek, Latin and philosophy. He is staying with one of Byrd’s agents.’

  ‘Philosophy?’ I was astounded.

  He raised his eyebrows. ‘The Governor of Syria invited Riad to avail himself of his private tutor, a Greek by all accounts. His province has benefited from trade through Palmyra and he is a friend of Byrd’s.’

  I was surprised. ‘Does the governor know Byrd’s history?’

  ‘Oh, yes. Apparently when Byrd stays at his villa, he insists on Byrd recounting in full his exploits in Italy when scouting for Spartacus. The governor wants Byrd to live in Damascus.’

  How times had changed. Once a hunted fugitive, now Byrd was a very wealthy businessman feted by the Romans. Even the Agraci were being civilised. It was all very strange. And yet some things remained the same.

  It was good to have occupants filling the palace bedrooms and very gratifying to show those guests who had visited Dura many years before the sights of the city to refresh their memories. Cleon and Hippo were taken on tours of the legionary camp, the mud-brick forts along the river, the caravan park and the armouries, Cleon enjoying the latter more than his wife. But she loved riding out to the training fields with the Amazons and dining with Scelias and Alcaeus, the Greeks who were in charge of the Sons of the Citadel scheme and the army’s medical corps respectively. She also wanted to visit the stone griffin standing on top of the Palmyrene Gate at the entrance to the city, the totem that guarded Dura day and night.

  ‘It looks just the same as all those years ago,’ she remarked, stroking the smooth stone.

  She looked very striking today, her white silk tunic barely encasing her shapely breasts, which my eyes rested on as she touched the griffin alluringly. Lucky beast!

  ‘Your sorceress once told me no foe would breach the walls of this city as long as the griffin remained here. Do you miss her?’

  I thought of Dobbai’s caustic tongue and sarcastic manner, her dismissive attitude and her pouring scorn on my commanders and city officials.

  ‘I do.’

  ‘I have forgotten her name.’

  ‘Dobbai,’ I told her.

  She turned and gave me a dazzling smile. ‘Perhaps she still watches over you. Your eldest daughter is like her in many ways, though my memory is hazy concerning the appearance of your sorceress. Not in looks, for Dobbai was old, but in mannerisms.’
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  ‘I will inform Claudia, she will be delighted.’

  A guard presented himself and bowed. ‘Word from the Citadel, majesty. The rulers of Hatra and Gordyene have been sighted to the north.’

  ‘Bring our horses to the foot of the tower,’ I instructed.

  I felt an odd sense of trepidation when we rode back to the Citadel, citizens waving and bowing as we passed them, Hippo waving back and treating them to her lovely smile. She really was a most alluring woman. I was not smiling, thinking as I was about the mood of the King of Gordyene. The fact he and Rasha were riding with Gafarn and Diana suggested parents and son had healed any rift between them. That was something at least. Whether he would be well disposed towards me and Gallia after the confrontation at Irbil remained to be seen.

  ‘Well, what do you think?’ said Silaces, arm around Cia’s waist as they and we waited for the new guests to ride into the Citadel. ‘Do you think Spartacus will cut off your head with his fancy new sword?’

  ‘Me?’ I protested. ‘What about you? You were at Irbil, too.’

  He grinned mischievously. ‘Everyone knows you twisted my arm, Pacorus.’

  A colour party of Durans snapped to attention when the rulers of Hatra and Gordyene rode into the courtyard, trumpeters sounding a fanfare to greet them. Gafarn and Diana were both wearing smiles and Rasha grinned at Gallia, who had been like a mother to her when she had been growing up. Spartacus’ face was a mask of stone, his eyes flitting between our group at the top of the palace steps and the guard of honour. He slowly dismounted, stable hands walking forward to take his and the others’ mounts. He looked up at the banners flying above the gates and slowly walked up the steps. I looked at Malik who rolled his eyes.

  Spartacus waited until Gafarn, Diana and Prince Pacorus had greeted everyone before standing before me.

  ‘Uncle.’

  ‘How are you, Spartacus?’

  ‘Surprised.’

  ‘Oh?’

  ‘I had expected to see the army of Dura arrayed before your city, ready to bar entry to me and Rasha, like the last time you prevented me from entering a city. Tell me, is your sister here?’