‘She was very old, you know,’ the words of Alcaeus came from behind me.
‘I know.’
‘What I mean is,’ he continued, ‘old people die and when they do so it does not mean that the gods have taken her as payment for their favours.’
‘I know,’ I replied without conviction for I knew that the gods had taken Dobbai just as they had seized Drenis and Kronos. I was suddenly fearful for Domitus, Vagises, Thumelicus and Vagharsh who had also taken part in the ceremony. I prayed to Shamash that He would take me before them should the gods demand more souls. Alcaeus placed a reassuring hand on my shoulder and then departed to leave me standing alone in front of a pile of ashes. I bowed my head to the ash, turned and walked with head bowed back to the city. There was a sudden gust of wind that buffeted my cloak. I looked back and saw that there were no longer any embers where the funeral pyre had stood, just a patch of black earth.
As I wandered back over the pontoon bridge and then along the edge of the deep wadi that stood in front of the city’s northern wall, I decided that Peroz and Roxanne could make their home in Dura should his father disown his son. Orodes had been a landless prince once and had made his home here so why not Peroz? I walked through the Palmyrene Gate and looked up at the stone griffin above mounting his unceasing guard over all of us.
That night a pall of gloom hung over the palace as I sat with Gallia and we ate in silence. She picked at her food and snapped at servants who went about their duties with heads bowed. Claudia had locked herself in her room as soon as she had returned to the palace and Isabella and Eszter had also been taken to their rooms.
Gallia shoved aside her plate of meat and rice and leaned back in her chair.
‘Life here will never be the same.’
I nodded. ‘Her departure leaves a void that cannot be filled, I agree.’
‘Do you think that her magic died with her?’
‘I do not know,’ I replied.
‘The ritual, I mean, when she sent the girls and me away. Do you think that now she is dead the gods will not honour her spells?’
I thought of Crassus’ legions in Syria and the Armenian hordes in the north. ‘I hope not, I sincerely hope not.’
Chapter 13
Soon after Dobbai’s death the old year also died and Byrd rode to Dura with news that Crassus had taken some of his legions south to crush a rebellion that had suddenly flared up in Judea. I asked Aaron to be present as we sat with Domitus and Gallia in the headquarters building and Byrd recounted what he had heard from his sources in Antioch and Damascus, of how Alexander’s rebels had terrorised the local population and had been forced back into the hills by Crassus, who had gone on to sack Jerusalem and its temple. I avoided Aaron’s eyes as Byrd related how Crassus had plundered the temple and taken away gold to the value of eight thousand talents. It was an incredible sum and a gross insult to the Jewish people and I knew that it had been my fault because I had sent mercenaries to Judea so that Alexander could continue his war against the Romans. I also knew that I did not care and was glad that Judea was being laid waste and not Parthia.
A visibly shaken Aaron left the meeting after Byrd had relayed his tale of woe and we relaxed and talked about Haytham, Malik and Emesa.
‘Fat king very subservient to Haytham,’ said Byrd, ‘send him gifts and offer of one of his daughters, one very young and a virgin.’
‘How disgusting,’ spat Gallia.
‘Haytham said no,’ said Byrd, ‘he say she probably fat like her father.’
‘So the border is quiet?’ I asked.
Byrd shrugged. ‘It is common knowledge that Crassus will cross Euphrates into Parthia as soon as Judea is quiet. He says he will conquer Palmyra after he has subdued Parthia.’
‘How many men has he recruited in Syria?’ I asked.
‘Three thousand horsemen and four thousand foot. He also awaits his son who will bring a thousand more horsemen.’
‘His son?’ complained Gallia. ‘Is not one Crassus enough?’
Byrd cracked a smile. ‘His name is Publius Crassus. My office in Antioch inform me that he has been fighting with another Romani named Caesar in Gaul.’ He looked at Gallia. ‘Your people are still killing Romans.’
‘They are not my people, Byrd,’ she replied, ‘the citizens of Dura are my people.’
Byrd reached into his tunic and pulled out a piece of folded calfskin.
‘This is for your squire, Spartacus’ son.’
‘What is it?’ I enquired.
He twisted his mouth. ‘Not know.’
I called for a guard and told him to go and fetch my squires who would be in the stables after their morning training sessions. They arrived a few minutes later, with dirty faces and smelling of horse dung. I pointed at Byrd.
‘Byrd has something for you, Spartacus.’
He wiped his face on his sleeve and took the piece of folded calfskin.
‘From Rasha,’ said Byrd.
Grinning like a halfwit, Spartacus carefully unfolded it to reveal it contained a lock of hair. He smiled at Gallia and then held it up to Scarab.
‘It is a lock of Rasha’s hair. She said she would send it to me. Now I can wear it around my neck just as the king wear’s a lock of the queen’s hair.’
Gallia smiled back at him and Byrd looked totally disinterested.
‘You still banned from Haytham’s lands.’
But Spartacus was elated and stated that he would take the lock of hair into the city this very day where a silversmith would place it on a chain, and afterwards he would wear it around his neck where it would remain until the day he died. This touched Gallia and Scarab embraced him but I reminded him that he might have a piece of Rasha’s hair but he still had much to do if he was to take possession of the rest of her. But his high spirits could not be dimmed and he went back to his dung shovelling a happy young man.
‘You think he will capture a Romani eagle?’ asked Byrd.
I thought for a moment. ‘You know, Byrd, the young fool just might.’
His chances of doing so improved slightly at the end of the following week when he was formally inducted into the ranks of the cataphracts. He had served his apprenticeship and now my nephew, the adopted son of King Gafarn and Queen Diana of Hatra, became one of Parthia’s élite horsemen. I asked him if he wished to return to Hatra to be inducted into its Royal Bodyguard but he was insistent that he wished to take the oath of allegiance at Dura. I pointed out to him that when he returned to Hatra he would have to take a new oath of allegiance to Gafarn and the city but he replied that he would always be loyal to his father and the city he had been raised in, but that he believed that if he took the oath at Dura it would increase his chances of marrying Rasha because it was nearer to her. I agreed but immediately wrote to Gafarn and Diana informing them of his decision and also begging their forgiveness. Strictly speaking I should have sent him back to Hatra but I had grown fond of him and in truth wished to keep hold of him a little longer.
I need not have worried because Gafarn and Diana answered my despatch with their arrival at Dura. They left young Pacorus in the care of my mother and their city in the capable hands of Vistaspa and Kogan. I stood with my friends on the palace steps as twenty former squires stood on the flagstones of the Citadel’s courtyard and became cataphracts. The gates were closed and the guards on the walls faced inwards to bear witness to the sacred ceremony.
A priest from the city’s Temple of Shamash conducted the oath taking. His building was a far cry from the grand structure of the Great Temple in Hatra but his authority was no less diminished for it. He stood in front of the row of young men and waited until the sun was at its zenith to honour Shamash, then ordered them all to kneel and bow their heads. In front of each squire was laid his suit of scale armour, complete with leg and arm protection, his helmet and his weapons: kontus, sword, dagger, mace and axe. I remembered when I had taken the oath all those years ago at Hatra when I had knelt beside my friend Vata and where my father and his general, Lord Bozan, had stood on the palace steps looking on with pride. How long ago that seemed.