‘Fetch me your master,’ I told him.
‘Who shall I say is calling?’ he replied in a firm voice.
‘Pacorus, prince of Parthia, and be quick about it.’
‘Well, Prince Pacorus, as I have your name it is only proper that you should know mine, despite the fact that you have arrived at my house uninvited and with armed men at your back.’
‘Your house?’
‘Of course.’ He stepped forward. ‘I am Gaius Labienus, one time general of Rome and now a pensioner living quietly in the country.’
I looked around at the marble columns, decorated walls and floor mosaics. ‘A rich pensioner, it would seem.’
He shrugged. ‘A present from a grateful senate for services rendered,’ he said. ‘Would you like some wine?’
He clapped his hands and moments later a servant dressed in an immaculate white tunic edged with blue arrived carrying a tray holding two silver goblets. The slave offered me the tray first. I took a goblet and nodded my thanks to Gaius. The wine tasted excellent, being obviously of the finest quality.
‘What services?’ I asked, for surely such wealth was not given lightly.
‘Twenty years fighting Rome’s wars overseas, in Macedonia, Phrygia and Syria.’ He drained his goblet and the slave took it away.
‘Your slaves are well trained,’ I said with disdain. He noticed the inflection in my voice.
‘They are not slaves but freedmen, slaves that I have freed and thus are part of my family.’
‘All of them?’ I asked.
‘All of them. Those in the fields and the ones in my household. All are free to go anytime should they wish it so. That being the case, young prince, I doubt you will find any recruits here.’
‘Am I looking for recruits?’ I asked, innocently.
‘I may be old but do not take me for a fool. I know that you serve under the outlaw Spartacus and that you have killed a Roman tribune.’
I must admit that I was pleased that he had heard of me, but I resisted the temptation to boast.
‘He was killed in battle,’ I said, ‘and his army was destroyed.’
‘I know that, and I also know that the slave army looted Forum Annii and now lays siege to Metapontum, and that horsemen ride hither and thither freeing slaves and robbing innocent people. Is that not why you are here, Prince Pacorus? To rob me, perhaps kill me?’
‘I am not a murderer,’ I bristled.
He was silent for a while but stared at me unblinking. ‘No, I do not think you are. But you fight alongside murderers, and when Rome’s vengeance is turned against you, and it will be, it will make no distinction between those who fought with honour and those who fought for vengeance and loot.’
‘All I want is to get home,’ I said.
‘An admirable objective, but many of those who fight with Spartacus have no homes. Some are the children of slaves who were born in Italy. Where is their home?’
‘At least they are free now, not chained like animals.’
‘Are there slaves in the Parthian Empire, Prince Pacorus?’
‘Yes,’ I admitted.
‘And are the chains that bind them any less cruel than Roman shackles? Perhaps chains in Parthia are made of gold, but even if they are I’ll warrant they chafe just as severely.’
‘I have never killed a slave,’ I said indignantly.
‘Neither have I,’ he replied. ‘And neither do I own any slaves. But you were quite prepared to kill me when you marched into my house, were you not, for the sole reason that I was a Roman? Is that not correct?’
‘I am not a murderer, neither are my men. Bu I am an enemy of Rome.’
‘Of that I have no doubt,’ he said. ‘But you should not hate your enemies, prince of Parthia, for it will surely cloud your judgment. Above all, a general must remain aloof from such emotions. You fight for freedom, but the freedom you talk of is the liberty to rule your kingdom and command armies, the freedom to live like a god in a palace. Freedom to most means back-breaking work and trying to stay alive day-to-day. Do not confuse the freedom of privilege with the freedom to starve. You have little in common with those you fight alongside.’
‘Did you have anything in common with your soldiers when you were campaigning with them?’ I shot back.
‘Of course, the strongest bond of all, the bond of blood, for we were all Romans.’
‘That may be, Gaius, but there are thousands, like myself, who were taken fighting Rome and are bound by a burning desire, the wish to return to our homelands.
‘And now, sir, I must depart. Have no fear of your person or property being molested. My men are under strict orders.’
He followed me out of the villa to where my men sat in their saddles. When he appeared a group of around twenty of his servants armed with wooden clubs and pitchforks ran over from one of the fields. In an instant my men had arrows in their bowstrings ready to fire. Gaius held up a hand to calm his men.
‘I am unhurt,’ he shouted.
I likewise indicated to my men to lower their bows. The two groups eyed each other resentfully. Gaius walked with me to Remus, whose reins were held by Gafarn.
‘The famous Parthian bows. I remember them from my time in Syria, though not with affection,’ said Gaius. He stroked Remus’ head. ‘A beautiful horse.’
‘His name is Remus,’ I said, vaulting into the saddle.
Gaius laughed. ‘Somewhat ironic, is it not?’
‘Farewell, Gaius Labienus,’ I said.
‘Farewell, Prince Pacorus,’ he raised his right arm in salute. ‘From one soldier to another, I hope you eventually find peace.’
I saluted him and wheeled Remus away. My horsemen followed, leaving an old Roman in front of his lavish villa.
‘We are not plundering him, highness?’ asked Gafarn with surprise.
‘No,’ I said. ‘We are soldiers, not robbers.’
I decided that we had finished with playing at being brigands. Gaius was right. If we carried on down that route we would be no better than murderers. And I was not a murderer. I was a Parthian prince and better than any Roman. But I had to prove that worth, for actions speak far louder than words. I sent riders to the columns Nergal and Burebista were leading, instructing them to desist their activities and rendezvous with me at the coast, ten miles north of Metapontum on the coast of the Gulf of Tarentum. We made camp in a small, sheltered inlet that had a sandy beach. While we waited for the other cavalry to join us, we exercised the horses in the sea and practised our archery skills in the dunes. I came across Gallia and Diana showing Rubi how to use a bow, and the young girl appeared to be enjoying herself shooting at a tunic stuffed with grass that had been fastened to a post. All three were under the watchful eye of Gafarn. The sea breeze made Gallia’s untied locks blow wild and Rubi’s eyes were wide with excitement as she shot arrows into the target, all the while making grunting noises as she fired Gallia’s bow.
‘How’s she doing?’ I asked Gallia as Gafarn showed Rubi how to hold the bowstring correctly.
‘Her progress is slow, but physically she is well. But I fear her mind may be damaged permanently. But I am glad that she is with us.’ She eyed me, daring me to contradict her.
‘Well, lucky we found her when we did.’
‘I suppose,’ she mused. She looked at me again with her piercing blue eyes. ‘Why did you leave that old Roman at the villa alone.’
‘I do not wage war on old men.’
‘He would not hesitate to have you nailed to a cross if the roles were reversed.’