‘Don’t you worry, it’ll come back,’ Magnus reassured him as Hormus stripped the guard nearest to Vespasian’s size.
Within a few moments Vespasian was slipping on the tunic, trousers and boots that Hormus had acquired and then they set off down the corridor. Being clothed again, even though it was in the eastern style, gave Vespasian a feeling of security and he no longer needed to hold Hormus’ hand as all three of them broke into a jog as they veered to the left into a wider passage. Halfway down they made a right turn, Hormus somehow navigating his way through the labyrinthine building, took another right turn, then a left and then mounted a further set of steps. All the while the air was becoming fresher and warmer and for the first time for a very long time Vespasian allowed himself to imagine the sun in a blue sky because he knew that soon he would see it.
And suddenly, as another door opened, there it was and he had to close his eyes because of the brightness of it but he did not mind for he could feel it on his face and that alone was the most beautiful sensation he had ever experienced. Keeping his eyes shaded, he followed Hormus and Magnus out into a street and then, sticking close together, they blended into the crowd and Vespasian finally felt like a free man.
The city was far more crowded than he remembered but then, after so long alone, he assumed that it was just his mind playing tricks on him. They threaded their way through streets both wide and narrow and still filled with rubble from the earthquake, always heading south, moving at a good pace, fast enough to get away quickly but not so fast as to draw attention to themselves. Vespasian managed to frame a question in his head asking how they had found him but then was unable to transfer that into coherent sound.
Magnus, however, seemed to understand what he wanted to know. ‘It was simple, really: when you didn’t come back from Radamistus’ camp as his army started crossing the bridge I assumed that he’d kidnapped you. So me and Hormus followed, attaching ourselves to the baggage train. Anyway, after a few days I managed to get Paelignus by himself for a nice quiet chat.’
Vespasian raised his eyebrows at the sound of the procurator’s name.
‘He’d gone with Radamistus because he felt safer there than with his prefects after they had relieved him of command,’ Magnus explained. ‘Also he seemed to enjoy playing the kingmaker. Anyway, I happened to catch him on his own one night and after not too much persuasion he told me that Radamistus had given you to Babak as surety against him keeping his word. Well, as it was obvious that Radamistus had as much intention of keeping his word as a Vestal has of not opening her legs as soon as her thirty-year vow is up, I asked Paelignus why he, as the Roman procurator of Cappadocia, had allowed such a thing to happen.’ Magnus paused for a grin. ‘Even after his second finger had slopped to the floor he couldn’t come up with a decent explanation and continued to insist that he had tried to prevent it. I let him go eventually. I thought that if he had betrayed you then you would enjoy killing him and I wouldn’t want to intrude on your pleasure; and if he hadn’t, well, two fingers was a fair price for doing nothing to stop Radamistus.’
Vespasian nodded, grateful that Magnus had left the cowardly runt alive for him; it would be a sweet day when they met again.
They stopped outside a three-storey house that showed little signs of damage, right next to the south wall; Hormus knocked thrice and then repeated the signal. After a few moments the door was opened by a youth of considerable beauty. Hormus embraced him and then spoke to him in a language that Vespasian did not understand. He shot Magnus a questioning look.
‘That’s Mindos’ replacement, as it were; we disposed of Mindos when he tried to warn Paelignus that we were travelling with Radamistus’ army. Hormus met this one soon after we arrived here a couple of months ago.’
Vespasian shook his head and pointed to his mouth as the youth stepped back and opened the door for them.
‘Oh, I see; the language? It’s Aramaic.’ Magnus informed him, stepping into the house; Vespasian followed. ‘It turns out that it was Hormus’ mother tongue that he had forgotten after his mother’s death. Remember he said he came from somewhere around Armenia? Well, it must have been here or close by. Anyway, it’s very useful because we can get around without anyone noticing us. That’s how we managed to rent this house and that’s how we managed to sell Hormus to the gaoler after his previous slave met with rather an unfortunate end on his way to the market.’
Vespasian looked around the entrance hall; it was well appointed and light. At the far end was a rickety staircase. Magnus headed upstairs. ‘Come on, sir, we need to get you cleaned up; there’s a cistern of rainwater up on the roof. Once you’ve washed all the shit off and tidied up a bit, we’ll think about getting out of this city, if we still can.’
Vespasian wondered why Magnus seemed to think that leaving was so difficult as he followed him up two flights of stairs and then up a ladder to the flat roof. As he eased himself out of the hole and stood up, he looked to the south; the roof was higher than the wall, just five paces away, and Vespasian had a clear view over it. Out on the plain he could see the reason for Magnus’ misgivings: an army was camped before the gates of Arbela.
The city was under siege.
‘Shit!’ Vespasian exclaimed, surprising both himself and Magnus.
‘They arrived a couple of days ago,’ Magnus explained as Hormus scrubbed Vespasian’s skin with a wet cloth. ‘It’s Vologases’ army.’
‘The Great King of Parthia?’ Vespasian’s voice felt raw and it sounded strange to him having not heard it in a long while.
‘The very same.’
‘What’s he doing besieging one of his vassals?’
‘Well, two years ago, after Radamistus went back on his oath to Babak and declared for Rome …’
Vespasian put his hand up to stop him. ‘Say that again.’
‘Which bit? Two years?’
‘Yes, that bit.’
‘It’s been two years, sir. That’s how long you’ve been here; didn’t you know?’
Vespasian stared at his friend, incredulous. ‘Two?’
Magnus nodded.
Vespasian tried to think; he could certainly remember it starting to feel colder and then warm up again, but those were the only changes he could remember. Anything up to a year would not have surprised him; but two? ‘They’re going to think that I’m dead back home.’
‘No, Hormus wrote to your brother when we found out where you were. After we got the information out of Paelignus, we had to go back to Cappadocia because Babak had blocked the pass into Adiabene; and then Vologases arrived with the main Parthian force. He defeated Radamistus, took Artaxata and put his brother Tiridates on the throne. There was no way through so we waited and then winter came and we were stuck in Cappadocia. When spring arrived, Paelignus turned up again so we decided to make ourselves scarce. The passes were still blocked so I reckoned that the best way into Adiabene was through our province of Syria. And that’s what we did, but once we got there we had to wait for winter before we could safely cross the desert to the Euphrates and then get across that to the Tigris and then over that to get here, only to arrive in the chaos of the aftermath of an earthquake. So here we are, two years later.’
‘Two years?’ Vespasian was having difficulty letting the information sink in. He took the wet cloth from Hormus, dipped it in the water and began to rub at his groin. He looked out at the army before the city. ‘So Vologases has put his brother on the Armenian throne?’
‘It would seem that way; but last winter was very harsh and he was forced to withdraw his army from Armenia, so how long Tiridates will stay on is anyone’s guess.’
Vespasian allowed himself a small smile; his first for a long time — two years. ‘That’s excellent news; either Radamistus or a Roman army will have to come in to remove him; the war will rumble on. So what’s Vologases doing camped out there?’