‘That’s how I came to be here. In truth he was good to me,’ said Godarz, eating a grape as we relaxed on plush couches in the dining room. ‘And he loved his horses. I’ll show you them tomorrow, the stables back onto the house.’
That was the first time in weeks that I slept in a bed, and when I awoke the next morning I thought at first that I was back in Hatra. But the grunts and shouts of Germans brought me back to reality. I dressed and joined my men in the kitchen, where twenty Parthians were eagerly feasting on porridge, bread, cheese and fruit. Godarz had risen early in preparation for our departure.
‘I’m afraid you’ll be sleeping on the ground from now on,’ I said, breaking off a piece of cheese.
‘At least I will be free,’ he replied, cheerfully.
We had tethered our horses in the courtyard for the night, and they had used the opportunity to eat many of the flowers and plants. Godarz asked me to follow him into the street, which was filled with dirty looking Germans driving heavily laden carts towards the forum. The two- and four-wheeled carts were piled high with anything that might be of use to us: cooking utensils, garden tools, kitchen implements, anything and everything. The carts were pulled by pairs of mules, some of which were proving reluctant to obey their new masters. Ill-tempered Germans beat the beasts and cursed them as Godarz led me to the rear of his master’s walled house and into another walled area, through high iron gates and across a wide courtyard. On the other side was a large white-walled stable block with red roof tiles. I followed him into the stables and was amazed at their luxurious layout. They would not have been out of place in Hatra’s royal stables. Each of the stables had half-doors leading onto the central alley and grills between stalls to allow horses the feeling of space. And inside every stall was a hayrack and water tub. The stables were clean and airy and had a wonderful smell of horseflesh that reminded me of home.
‘You tend these stables on your own?’ I asked him.
‘No, highness,’ he turned away from me. ‘You can come out now.’
From the far end of the block five figures emerged, all dressed like Godarz, though all were younger than he, men in their late teens or early twenties.
‘They have been hiding here. They were fearful of the Germans and expected to be captured, but your arrival saved them. ‘ He cast me a glance. ‘At least for the time being.’
‘It’s quite safe,’ I shouted at them. ‘You will not be harmed.’
They shuffled towards us with heads bowed.
‘Thank you, highness,’ said Godarz. ‘Let me show you the horses.’
The horses were immaculate and were a credit to their carers. The last stall held a beast of rare beauty, a white stallion with blue eyes. I stared in wonder at him, admiring his muscular shoulders, thick neck and erect head. He stood proud and looked directly into my eyes.
‘He’s of Carthaginian stock. My master called him Remus,’ said Godarz.
‘An odd name,’ I replied.
‘Remus was one of the twins who founded Rome many centuries ago, or so I was told. He should be yours, highness, for he has a haughty and stubborn nature and he requires a true horse lord to tame him.’
I extended my hand slowly to Remus and stroked the side of his head. He seemed to like it.
‘We must leave this place,’ I said. ‘You told Spartacus that you would join him?’
‘Yes, highness.’
‘What about these other men?’ I asked Godarz.
‘I speak for them also.’
‘Very well,’ I said. ‘We will take these horses with us. We leave at once.’
I looked at Remus. ‘And you, my fine friend, will be my horse from now on.’
Godarz and the stable hands rode behind us, leading the spare horses as we made our way back to the forum, which was now choked with wagons and carts of every description, each waiting to join the main road west out of Nola. I saw a flustered Castus standing with Cannicus at the head of a logjam of vehicles, all trying to get onto the road. I rode over to him. Before we left the rich house we had plundered it of anything of value. I had found a silk vest and an expensive white tunic edge with red and gold. I took both items and put them on, plus a pair of riding boots and a white cloak. I got rid of the red plume on my helmet and replaced it with a long white plume of goose feathers. I was a Parthian not a Roman, and wanted to look like one. I also took time to comb my hair and shave, instructing my men to do likewise.
Castus looked up at me. ‘Nice horse.’
‘How long have the wagons been leaving?’ I asked.
‘Since dawn. At last count we had nearly four hundred piled high. The town armoury yielded a thousand spears and shields, plus a couple of hundred mail shirts.’
I looked at the German warriors on the carts and others standing guard around the forum. They seemed as ill dressed and armed as yesterday.
‘Have you re-equipped others of your men?’ I asked.
He shook his head. ‘Everything goes back to Vesuvius, to be distributed according to need. Spartacus is insistent on that.’
‘Where is he?’
‘At the amphitheatre. Cannicus will show you the way.’
Cannicus was glad to be away from the melee in the forum, and led my men and myself into the western suburbs of Nola, to a large wooden stadium. We dismounted and I ordered my men to remain outside as Cannicus led me through one of the open gates. Inside was an elongated, sand-covered space surrounded on all four sides by wooden stands filled with benches. There was no protection from the elements, aside from the stand at the far end which did have a roof supported by wooden pillars, under which were placed elaborate chairs. Spartacus sat on the edge of the covered stand, his legs dangling over the side of the high wooden sides that enclosed the arena. I thanked Cannicus and made my way to him along the rows of benches. He didn’t look up as I sat beside him. He was silent for a long time, looking at the sand surface below.
‘I fought here a few times,’ he said at last. ‘It was always full and always hot. They kill the criminals first, in the morning, and then they like to have animal fights. By the time the gladiators fight each other it was the afternoon and the place stank of blood, piss, vomit and shit. The used to cover the blood with more sand but the stink always got in my nostrils. That’s the thing I remember most, not the killing, or the shouts of the crowd, but the disgusting smell. No matter how grand or ragged the arena, the smell was always the same.’
He stood up and looked skywards. ‘I had thought of burning Nola, but seeing as it’s been most generous to our cause I think I will be merciful. Do you think I should have killed the inhabitants?’
I was shocked. ‘Lord?’
‘The Romans respect strength. They see mercy as weakness.’ He looked at me, his eyes wild. ‘But most of all they like blood, lots of blood. Why else would they watch men butcher each other for sport? I promise to give them what they desire most.’
‘It was right to let the inhabitants leave, lord.’
He shrugged and walked away. ‘We leave today. Time to get back to Vesuvius. This will have stung the Romans into action, and they will be sending another army to wipe us out soon enough.’
It was late afternoon before I and my men left the town, walking our mounts along the western road out of Nola. Ahead was a long line of carts as far as the eye could see, intermingled with Castus’ warriors. We too had commandeered some carts, which we had filed with all the equipment from the stables that Godarz had tended, plus others we had plundered. He was happy to be with us, and even happier when I mounted Remus and asked him to attend me as I went to find Spartacus, leaving my men to guard the wagons. We found him two miles ahead, sitting on his horse atop the crest of a hill that overlooked the plain in which Nola sat. He saw us and nodded, then peered past us. I turned and saw a large plume of black smoke rising from the town into the cloudless sky.