‘Highness?’
I cleared my throat and stood up. I must appear calm and collected, I told myself, even though my insides were turning to mush. I bowed my head.
‘Your servant, lady.’
‘We wish to join your cavalry.’
At that moment I noticed that she had brought a companion, another woman of similar age though slightly smaller in stature, and of a more fragile build. She had light brown hair, a round face and brown eyes, with an altogether more vulnerable appearance. She too wore knee-length breeches beneath a light brown tunic. I recognised her, it was Diana. She was attractive, I suppose, though next to the fierce and untamed beauty of Gallia she diminished greatly. I told Nergal what she had said, as he as yet understood only a few words of Latin.
‘Join the cavalry?’ he laughed. ‘You have more chance of sprouting wings.’
Gallia did not understand what he said, but she understood his mocking tone well enough.
‘What did he say?’
‘He thinks it would be inappropriate for you to join the cavalry.’
‘I was told that Prince Pacorus was the leader of the cavalry,’ she said. ‘Perhaps I was misinformed.’
‘I can assure you that I command here,’ I replied.
She jerked her hand towards Nergal.
‘Then shouldn’t he be shoveling dung or doing something else useful?’
I put my hands up in a conciliatory manner. ‘He meant no offence, lady.’
‘He should engage his brain before he opens his mouth,’ Gallia’s blood was obviously stirred. Nergal jumped up.
‘What did she say, highness?’ I told him.
‘I do not take insults from a woman.’
I could see that neither would back down, which made me admire her even more. Clearly she had no fear. She was some creature, that’s for sure, this woman from Gaul.
‘Leave us, Nergal,’ I said.
‘Women do not fight. Women cannot fight,’ he sneered, before saluting me and stomping off.
‘I apologise for Nergal,’ I said to Gallia. ‘He’s a little hot-headed.’
‘Clearly,’ she purred. She looked at me with her blue pools for eyes. Her anger disappeared as her manner became conciliatory, almost seductive. ‘Spartacus says that you are a great warrior, so I thank you for being at his side. He is my friend and I count as friends all those he holds dear.’ Her voice was soft and inviting, and I was a willing victim. ‘So I ask you, Prince Pacorus, son of Hatra, to let me fight by your side so I too can serve Spartacus. What is your answer?’
I knew that I would not, could not, refuse her; knew that had she asked me I would have given her anything in that moment.
‘I would be honoured, lady.’ I heard myself saying the words, yet it was as if something had taken control of me.
She nodded. ‘And this is my friend, Diana, and she’s joining too. We will await your instructions.’
With that Gallia turned and marched from the tent, Diana trailing in her wake.
‘I would say that is a victory for the fairer sex,’ remarked Godarz, who had sat in silence throughout the exchange.
‘Probably just a show to try and impress me,’ I shrugged.
‘Really? From where I sat I could have sworn that it was the other way round.’
‘Nonsense,’ I said.
‘I think she is serious about fighting.’
I shrugged. ‘I doubt she can even ride.’
Godarz looked at the disappearing figure of Gallia. ‘I think that one has many talents, young prince, and she certainly knows her own mind and how to use her charms to get what she wants.’
And so it was that two women became the first females to enter the hallowed ranks of the Parthian cavalry, in the land of my enemies, in an army of slaves.
I told my men of my decision that night and most of them thought it was a joke. Nergal was furious, Gafarn amused, Godarz confused and Byrd unconcerned.
‘In any case,’ I told them when we were eating cooked lamb around a blazing fire.
‘She is obviously trying to impress Spartacus and will drop out soon enough.’ I looked at a still fuming Nergal.
‘What woman can ride like a Parthian warrior?’ he spat.
But in my heart I hoped she would stay with us.
It was high summer now and the recruitment and equipping of the cavalry increased apace. We all knew that the Romans would soon be sending an army to crush us; for all we knew it was already marching south from Rome. I had scouts riding as far north as Capua, as far south as Salurnum and west to Beneventum, and thus far no signs of enemy activity had been seen. The scouts were organised by Byrd who was advised by Godarz, who told me that he had ridden far and wide scouting for horses for his master’s stables, so he was well acquainted with the region.
‘You were under guard during those trips?’ I asked him.
‘Of course not,’ he replied, somewhat surprised. ‘My master trusted me.’
‘What stopped you escaping, then?’
‘Nothing. But where would I go?’ he said. ‘My master could not conceive of me running away. He fed me, didn’t beat me and let me care for his horses, which he knew I loved. So you see, I was a loyal dog to him. That’s what he regarded me as, you understand, not a real person, only a slave.’
It was now time for us to make our Scythian bows for which we were famous throughout the known world. Parthian bows are double-curved, with recurve tips at the end of the upper and lower limbs, and a set-back centre section that was grasped by the left hand. The limbs themselves are thick in proportion to their width. We selected yew for the wood, which is the best for bows, having excellent tension and is also able to withstand the compressive forces when the bow is in use. Thus the base of each bow is yew, with sinew on the outside of the limbs and greyish horn on their inner side. These parts were mated to each other with a glue made from bitumen, bark pitch and animal grease, and the whole bow was then wrapped in fibres — derived from the tendons of slaughtered animals. We would have liked to have used lacquer to have made the bows waterproof, but lacquer came from China and was very expensive. We would have to make do without. Each bow was just over four feet in length.
It took two months to make a thousand bows, which were kept under cover in the rooms of the villas we occupied. The large, empty villas of Campania with their many rooms and voluminous outbuildings were ideal workshops for are bow-making industry. We guarded them fiercely, for these were the weapons that would give us victory in battle.
While we Parthians constructed the bows, Godarz set about making thousands of arrows. The shafts consisted of two-foot lengths of pine with three-bladed bronze arrowheads. Each day he set off early in the morning with two hundred men to cut down saplings to make the arrow shafts. Only the straightest saplings were selected. It could take up to six months to dry the wood, but the heat of the Italian summer meant we could do it quicker. The cut saplings were tied together in bunches and left for two to three weeks, after which they were unwrapped and any remaining bark was peeled, then they were wrapped again for a further two weeks until they had dried.
Once cut to the required length, each arrow was fitted with three feathers that guided it in flight. I told Godarz not to make the feathers too large, big feathers caught more air and shortened the range. We used goose feathers, not the tail feathers but ones from the wings. Tom feathers are preferred because they are heavier and last longer. When glued to the shaft they were positioned at even intervals from each other. After two months he was sick of cutting wood, but I knew his endeavours would reap dividends in the months ahead.