Gallia stayed with her and Alcaeus returned to his quarters but was later urgently recalled when Dobbai developed a fever. One minute the sweat poured off her and she could not bear a blanket to be over her, the next she was shivering and desperate for warmth. This continued into the late afternoon and early evening. She could only ingest small amounts of water and then with great difficulty, her throat closing as she was wracked by violent spasms. Gallia held her hand, ashen faced, while Claudia became distraught and had to be taken from the room.
Alcaeus was at a loss what to do. He ordered her bedding to be changed and the straw in the mattress to be taken and burnt, and then sent orders to the kitchens to soak two small pieces of cloth in egg whites and bring them to him. When they arrived he wrapped them around the soles of Dobbai’s feet. We all looked at him as though he had gone mad.
‘An old Greek trick. The egg whites draw the high temperature down from the brain to the feet.’
It worked as Dobbai’s temperature began to fall and she became lucid once more.
‘Thank you, doctor,’ she said weakly, ‘but your skills, great as they are, will not work here.’
Alcaeus stayed for another hour, in which Dobbai slept and he suggested that we leave her to get some rest. I sat with him on the palace terrace as Claudia burned dragon’s blood resin, which was resin from a palm tree, in Dobbai’s room to both purify it and protect her from evil influences
‘She is a remarkable young girl,’ said Alcaeus, ‘her knowledge of herbs and medicines is amazing.’
‘I did not know you had been teaching Claudia your craft,’ I said.
‘I have not. She visits me often and questions me about the workings of the human body but when it comes to treatments she needs little tutoring.’
‘She has been close to Dobbai since she was an infant,’ I said, ‘perhaps too close. How ill is Dobbai?’
He shrugged. ‘She is old, Pacorus, and like all elderly people is more susceptible to ailments. She has caught some sort of fever that I have not seen before but the next twenty-four hours should determine whether she survives or not.’
‘It is not a fever.’
As we sat in the dark with oil lamps illuminating our faces I told him about the ceremony that Dobbai had carried out and my participation in it, along with the others, about the celestial mist and the howling hounds. He was naturally sceptical and told me that all these things had a rational explanation.
‘Drenis and Kronos both took part in the ritual and they are both dead,’ I told him.
‘They were both soldiers killed on the battlefield; it happens.’
He smiled at me. ‘When Dobbai recovers, all these thoughts you are having will disappear. I advise you to get some rest.’
But Dobbai did not recover: over the next two days she got worse. The fever returned and with it violent convulsions that wracked her old body and made her progressively weaker. She drifted in and out of consciousness and visibly diminished before our eyes. The servants were frightened by her sunken cheeks and eye sockets and refused to enter her room. An angry Gallia told them to leave food, water and fresh bedding outside in the corridor and performed all their duties herself. With the help of Claudia she washed Dobbai, changed her soiled bedding and recited prayers that her daughter suggested. It was all to no avail. On the third day Dobbai’s hair began to fall out and her breathing became extremely shallow.
That afternoon I stood beside Alcaeus at the foot of the bed staring at the shell of what had been a fierce, determined woman and felt a chill sweep over me. Gallia sat beside her dabbing her forehead with a damp cloth and Claudia sat on the other side of the bed holding Dobbai’s hand, her young face pale and her eyes bloodshot from tears and lack of sleep.
‘It won’t be long now,’ he whispered to me.
Dobbai opened her eyes and looked at Claudia, speaking words to her that I was unable to hear. My daughter leaned forward and Dobbai spoke into her ear as tears ran down Claudia’s cheeks. She next spoke to Gallia who held the old woman’s skeletal-like head in her hands and gently kissed her on the forehead. My wife was also deeply upset and shaking with anguish, trying to suppress the heartache that was threatening to erupt like an angry volcano. Dobbai whispered something to Gallia and my wife nodded. She rose from her chair and walked over to me.
‘She wants to speak with you.’
Alcaeus smiled at Gallia and gently placed his arm around her shoulder, reassuring her that she was doing everything she could. My drained and distraught wife looked far from the fearless warrior the world knew.
I sat in the chair and leaned forward as Dobbai once again opened her eyes to look at me.
The fire had gone out of them and they were now dark pools of world-weariness. She moved her hand towards me and I reached out and took it, the fingers cold and bony.
‘My time has come, son of Hatra. My ancestors are waiting for me on the great eternal steppe.’ Her voice was very faint. ‘It will be good to see them again after so many years. Burn my body on a northern wind to quicken my journey.’
Her grip tightened slightly. ‘You must stay strong and determined to save the empire. Have faith in the gods, son of Hatra, for they have not forsaken you and will give you what you most desire when all has been settled. That will be your reward for your service to the empire.’
Her voice became even fainter and I had to place an ear next to her mouth to hear her words.
‘Thank you, Pacorus, for allowing me to share your home and your family, I have known peace here and for that you have my gratitude. Everything I have done has been for your and their welfare. The gods keep you safe.’
I continued to hold her hand as she close her eyes for the last time and Dobbai, a woman of the Scythian people and sorceress of King of Kings Sinatruces, departed this world. Claudia buried her head in her hands and sobbed as a distressed Gallia comforted her.
We burned the body the next day after Gallia and Claudia had washed it and dressed it in a white silk gown. Thousands gathered on the other side of the Euphrates, opposite the Citadel, where the great funeral pyre was sited. Dobbai had spent countless hours sitting on the palace terrace gazing across the river and so it seemed fitting that she should be cremated on this spot. I held the torch as an ocean of faces stared at me — civilians, merchants, servants, legionaries, cataphracts, squires and horse archers. Though none of them had known her they had all known of her and her reputation. They knew that she had commissioned the stone griffin statue that stood sentry at the Palmyrene Gate and had heard of her prophecy that no army would take the city while it remained there. And every legionary in the Durans knew that his beloved golden griffin standard had been Dobbai’s brainchild, as I knew that it was she who had given me the griffin as an emblem when she had sent me my battle flag even before I had seen Dura. The Durans and Exiles sported griffin wings on their shields and the kontus of every cataphract flew a griffin pennant. So they all came to pay their respects and say farewell to her.
I stood with an ashen-faced Gallia and our children, along with Alcaeus, Domitus, Chrestus, Vagharsh, Vagises, Marcus, Aaron, Peroz and Rsan. The light was fading by the time everyone had gathered around the pyre. It had been a warm, windless day but as I held up the lighted torch I saw the flame flicker and felt a slight breeze on my face. A wind from the north increased as I thrust the torch into the great pile of logs soaked in oil. I stood back as flames erupted around the pyre and the wind picked up to carry her soul back to the resting place of her ancestors.
‘Farewell, safe journey.’
I watched the flames consume her body and stayed until nothing was left but a great pile of ashes as the crowd dispersed. Gallia took our children back to the palace and the soldiers went back to their duties.