‘The master wonders if our guest would like to bathe and change his clothes before he eats.’
‘Perhaps a bath and message before dining, Prince Pacorus?’ Ajax said.
‘Thank you, that would be most welcome,’ I replied.
The massive villa had its own baths, a beautiful tiled structure with a steam room and an adjacent pool of cool water. After washing and steaming the dust and grime of the journey from my limbs, a small, muscular Numibian massaged my body, his strong, bony fingers reaching deep into my joints and sinews. I emerged from his hour-long session feeling refreshed and invigorated; indeed, not since I had felt in Hatra had I been so relaxed. I was then led to my room, a large, sumptuous area with a white stone balcony with an intricate stone balustrade that had an impressive view of the city of Rome. The city was huge, its buildings sprawling into the distance. In truth I had never seen such a large city, and at that moment I feared for Spartacus and his army. I also remembered the words of King Ambiorix that Rome never seemed to run out of armies. I understood this now, for you could fit ten cities the size of Hatra inside Rome.
Fresh clothes had been laid out on the bed, a white silk tunic, sandals and a belt of black leather. After I had changed into them a slave came and took my old clothes away to be cleaned, while Ajax also appeared to escort me to dinner. We walked along corridors adorned with marble busts of stern-looking Roman gentlemen on columns and walls painted with beautiful frescos depicting mythical scenes from Rome’s ancient history. Ajax ushered me into a medium-sized room that was occupied by a number of large sofas piled with cushions, upon which reclined a man dressed in a white toga, who upon my entering rose and walked towards me.
Ajax stood stiffly to attention. ‘Prince Pacorus, may I present to you my master, Marcus Licinius Crassus, senator and general of Rome.’
The man who stood before me was perhaps forty years old, of average height with a full head of neatly cut brown hair. He had a broad forehead, long nose and large ears. His visage was rather severe, accentuated by his rather thin lips. I bowed my head to him, as befitting his rank.
‘An honour, sir.’
‘The honour is mine, Prince Pacorus.’ His voice was deep, his tone serious. He gestured with his right hand towards the sofas. ‘Please, be seated so that we may eat.’
I knew that rich Romans liked to eat whilst reclining on sofas, a habit that I found curious but not unpleasant. I reclined on my left side whilst Crassus, his sofa at right angles to mine, reclined on his right side. Ajax clapped his hands and a procession of servants served us a variety of exotic dishes. First we were served salad with asparagus and salted fish. Then followed combinations of game and poultry. The wine we were served was truly wonderful, no doubt made from the finest grapes. I was aware all the time that Crassus was observing me as I was eating, and noted with surprise that I thanked each slave who offered me a tray of food.
‘You find the food to your satisfaction, Prince Pacorus?’
‘Very much so, sir.’
‘And your room is comfortable?’
‘A most impressive view of the city.’
He nodded and sat up on his couch. ‘Good. You must be wondering why I asked you here.’
‘I assume it was not just for the pleasure of my company.’
‘Mm. Let us then get to the matter in hand. I have been entrusted by the Senate and people of Rome with the task of destroying the slave army led by the criminal Spartacus. This being the case, I thought it prudent to meet the man who is responsible for that army being able to vanquish so many of Rome’s legions.’
‘You flatter me, sir. But I am just a small part of that army.’
‘Indeed. Your cavalry is but a small part of the whole, but it is like the keystone in the structure of a bridge. Small, but essential. Take that stone out and the whole edifice collapses.’
The thought suddenly crossed my mind that he intended to have me killed here, today. ‘My death will avail you not, for my commanders are all competent and will lead the cavalry without me.’
He was hurt by my suggestion. ‘Roman senators are not assassins. If I had wanted you dead I would not have invited you to my house.’
‘My apologies. But why did you ask me here?’
He clicked his fingers and held out his silver goblet, which was filled by a slave holding a jug of wine. ‘To make you an offer, Prince Pacorus. I am willing to pass over your campaign of rapine in Italy, on condition that you leave this land. Should you agree, I will arrange for your passage and safe conduct back to Hatra. I will even organise a safe passage for your woman.’
‘My woman?’ He seemed to be well informed.
He sighed, as though disappointed by my underestimation of him. ‘I have in my study reports from the provinces of Bruttium, Lucania, Campania, Apulia, Samnium, Picenum and Umbria of a long-haired warrior riding a white horse with a blonde-haired woman riding with him, who with their band of mounted archers have cut a trail of destruction throughout Italy. They call him, that is to say you, “the Parthian”, and your woman “blonde everto”, the blonde demon. Were you a mere brigand leading a band of raiders you could be easily dealt with, but this Spartacus has trained his slaves well, and you are the instrument that gives him victory.’
‘I think you overestimate me…’
He rose from his couch and waved his right hand at me. ‘Do not insult me, young prince. I have studied the battles that you have won and the methods you use. Your cavalry is his eyes and ears and the thing that makes this villain victorious.’
I was immensely proud. He noticed my pleasure. ‘That this is a source of pride to you is understandable, though I wonder what your father would say if he knew that his son was in an army of cutthroats and criminals, a highborn prince cavorting with lowly slaves.’
‘My father? What do you know of my father.’
He regained his seat and his composure. ‘I know that King Varaz is a mighty warrior who over two years ago led a great raid into Syria, attacking the towns of Hierapolis, Boroea and Chalcis. He reached the sea at Antioch before returning to Hatra. He too left a trail of destruction; unlike you he did not get captured. It seems that laying waste a country runs in your family.’
‘That expedition was in retaliation for a Roman invasion of my father’s kingdom.’
A wry smile crossed his face. ‘That is a moot point, but let us put it aside for the moment. Surely you wish to see your father and homeland again?’
More than he could ever imagine. ‘I do, but to abandon my men would be dishonourable.’
He laughed. ‘Honour, you speak of honour? Was there honour when Spartacus burned and looted Forum Anii or Metapontum? Would you speak of honour to the relatives of those who were butchered in those and other places by his soldiers and your horsemen? This man you follow, this Spartacus, is nothing more than a deserter from the Roman Army, a man who took to banditry who, after he was captured, was given a second chance. Instead of being condemned to be a galley slave or to work in the mines, he was given the chance to atone for his misdeeds by becoming a gladiator. But what does he do? Spits in the face of Rome a second time and instigates a rebellion.’
‘Spartacus saved my life,’ I said coolly. ‘And I count him as a friend.’
‘Then you should be more careful in the choice of your friends. Be that as it may. As I said earlier, I have been tasked with suppressing this slave revolt, and I intend to do so. I am first and foremost a businessman. I own silver mines in Spain, landed estates in Italy and Greece, some of which you and your compatriots have burned and liberated, so-called, the slaves who worked on them, as well as a number of properties in Rome itself. Spartacus and his slaves have thus directly harmed my interests, therefore the coming campaign is both personal as well as being in the service of the state.’