I sipped at my cup of warm milk. ‘As many who wished to kill me.’
Zand stood and walked round the bench to stand in front of me with his back to the fire.
‘I cannot decide if you are very brave or very stupid for coming here, King Pacorus of Dura. You are a man who has many enemies in this place,’ he declared in a loud voice.
There were murmurs of assent and several hateful stares were directed at me.
I remained calm, sensing that he was testing as opposed to threatening me. ‘All warlords have enemies, King Zand. How many fathers and sons have you killed during your reign with the sword that hangs from your belt? You decided to send warriors to aid Mithridates, my enemy, at Susa. Most of them died. On another day perhaps they would have lived and I would have died. Men die in battle. It is the way of things.’
I stood and spread my arms. ‘You can slay me now if you wish to avenge the deaths of your men. It makes no difference to me.’
I took off the bag that hung from my shoulder and emptied its contents onto the bench.
‘You can kill all of us with ease and take this gold, our horses and our weapons. Your people and mine have always waged war against each other and no doubt always will while there are men in the world.’
He folded his arms. ‘Why should I, Zand, king of the Sagartians, extend mercy to you, King Pacorus of Dura?’
‘Perhaps because I will give you gold for your men and with it you may purchase weapons to arm your people against their enemies,’ I answered.
He said nothing for what seemed like minutes but then nodded his head and roared at his warriors to stop staring at me and to continue feasting. They were soon emptying their cups and demanding the female slaves bring more wine as Zand returned to his seat.
‘And horses,’ he said before belching loudly once more.
‘Horses?’
‘You want two thousand warriors. Then you will have to pay gold and supply me with two thousand horses as well. The coming winter may be harsh and our enemies, the Lors and Kashkai, press on my borders.’
‘You wish to raid their lands?’ I asked.
He grinned savagely. ‘I wish to empty their warehouses. They will starve if they have no food for the winter.’
There were a number of tribes who inhabited the Zagros Mountains but in the western region the Sagartians held sway against the incursions of the Lors and Kashkai. It would appear that after their losses at the Battle of Susa Zand’s people had lost territory at the hands of the other two tribes.
‘Very well,’ I agreed. ‘Two thousand horses. When can you supply the warriors?’
He smiled. ‘You can have them as soon as you bring me the gold and horses. What will you do with them?’
‘They will be sent to a place called Judea, to fight the Romans.’
The blank look on his face told me that he had never heard of Judea or the Romans. How lucky he was.
He looked surprised. ‘You do not have enough warriors to fight these Romans?’
‘My warriors will be needed elsewhere.’
What I did not tell him was that his warriors were ideally suited to the type of warfare that Alexander waged in Judea. Having been defeated in battle he had been forced to live the life of a bandit leader, launching hit-and-run raids from the hills of eastern Judea. The hill men of the Zagros Mountains had been carrying out such raids since time immemorial. It was in their blood.
At the end of the evening the benches were cleared from the hut and Zand his warriors slept on the floor while we were escorted back to our lodgings. Spartacus and Scarab were both drunk and Domitus and I had to help them stagger back to our quarters, after which they both collapsed on the floor in a deep sleep. The men who had escorted us from Zand’s hut stood guard outside our own as I sat on the floor propped up against my saddle while Domitus secured the animals skins over the entrance. He came and sat by my side, talking in hushed tones.
‘I thought that chief was going to kill you.’
‘He needs gold and horses more than my head,’ I said. ‘The losses he suffered at Susa have dented his power. The other tribes are increasing their strength as his diminishes.’
‘Why does he need horses?’
‘To raid his enemies’ villages before winter to destroy their stores so the inhabitants will starve. In this way he will re-establish the Sagartians as the region’s strongest tribe.’
‘Have you thought that he might also use them to mount raids against Orodes’ lands?’
‘It is easier for Zand to raid the lands of the other Zagros tribes,’ I replied.
‘Let us hope you are right,’ Domitus commented dryly.
The next morning a subdued Spartacus and Scarab doused their bodies in the cool waters of the stream as I stood bare-chested nearby and used my dagger to shave the stubble from my chin. Another two guards stood nearby as villagers went about their daily affairs. I saw no one coming from Zand’s hut and assumed that he and his warriors were still deep in slumber. Looking round at the different-sized huts and animal pens I realised how poor these people were, especially as this was the home of the tribe’s chieftain. I also realised that two thousand horses to mount raiding parties would greatly increase their power.
‘What is that, uncle?’
I turned to see a wet Spartacus wading to the bank who was looking at the lock of hair around my neck.
I clutched the chain. ‘A lock of Gallia’s hair. I wear it always.’
He came out of the water and sat on the earth. ‘I will ask Rasha to send me a lock of her hair and then I too can wear it close to my heart.’
I slid my dagger back in its sheath. ‘Just make sure you do not wander into Agraci territory.’
He smiled and pointed at Scarab ducking his head in the water. ‘Perhaps Scarab can ride to Palmyra and bring it back.’
I shook my head. ‘Are you determined to get him killed as well as yourself?’
He peered up at me. ‘My parents told me that you killed Gallia’s father.’
I put on my shirt and sat next to him. ‘Not quite right. It was in fact your father, the king, who killed him, with a shot that I have never seen bettered in all the years since. That was a good day.’
Scarab walked from the stream and stood with the early morning sun warming his muscular torso.
‘What did Gallia, I mean Queen Gallia, say about it?’ asked Spartacus.
‘She has never said a word about it to me then or since, but I like to think that she approved.’
Spartacus looked surprised. ‘Of killing her father?’
‘King Ambiorix, Gallia’s father, was a cunning, ruthless bastard who sold his own daughter into slavery, something that Haytham would never do whatever you think of him. Besides, Ambiorix sided with the Romans against us and deserved his fate.’
I looked at Spartacus. ‘You should concentrate on staying alive rather than filling your head with dreams.’
‘If I take an eagle my dreams will become reality,’ he said with conviction.
‘I think,’ I said, ‘that the key word in all of this is “if”.’
‘The gods must have placed Spartacus in a position where he could save King Haytham for a reason,’ remarked Scarab, to the delight of my nephew who grinned at him.
‘Really, Scarab?’ I said. ‘And what reason would that be?’
‘I am not in the confidence of the gods, majesty,’ he replied, ‘but all things on earth happen for a reason.’
I looked at him. ‘Do you believe that you were sent to me for a purpose?’
He flashed his white teeth. ‘Yes, majesty.’
‘And what is it.’
‘I do not know, majesty.’
I stood up and buckled my sword belt. ‘Listen to me, both of you. The gods meddle in the affairs of men but do not believe that they do so for the benefit of mortals. They do so for their own amusement, of that I am certain.’