The king gestured to a warrior standing against one of the giant oak pillars, who brought me a chair to sit it.
‘Sit.’ King Ambiorix’s voice was deep and severe.
‘Thank you.’ As I sat I noticed that the warrior who stood behind Gallia, thick set with a high cheek bones, must be another of her brothers, as he had the same demeanor. He was slightly taller than she and he too was covered in tattoos. ‘You have something that belongs to me, sire.’
He looked surprised. ‘Do I? Please enlighten me.’
I looked at Gallia. ‘My future wife sits in your throne room as a prisoner. I would ask why she was taken by your men against her will.’
He placed his goblet on the tray and I did likewise, and waved the girl away, then leaned forward.
‘You speak of my daughter and yet I do not recall agreeing to her marrying you. In fact, your decision to marry her without my consent may be construed as gross insolence.’
‘I do not mean to give offence, sire.’ I think he liked me addressing me thus, but I had the feeling that we were only dancing around the real reason for this meeting.
‘Prince Pacorus, I am sure that you do not mean to offend me. But you come into my land at the head of an army without my permission, you camp on my land, you take what livestock you want for food and lay waste great tracts of my territory. And not one emissary have I received from you.’
‘Sire, I do not command the army.’
‘Indeed you do not, for I know that the slave called Spartacus leads your band of ragtag murderers and thieves. You think that your activities have gone unnoticed in these parts? You loot all of southern Italy and then come north like a plague of rats, no doubt to carry out the same activities that you have perfected this past year.’
‘We are merely attempting to leave Italy and reach our homes.’
He swiped the air with his right arm. ‘What home does a slave have who was born to slaves in Italy? None. What homes did Crixus and his band of cutthroats have when they were camped on Mount Garganus and raided the surrounding area? None. Have you any idea of the trouble that I have had because fellow Gauls are running amok in Italy? Of course not, you are only concerned with your own desires and have no consideration for others.’
This was ridiculous, and I was rapidly losing patience. ‘What do you want of me?’
His eyes narrowed. ‘You do not ask the questions, prince of Parthia. This is my land, not yours. Imagine my surprise when I learned that a foreigner, a Parthian no less, on a white horse was leading a group of horsemen who were spreading fire and rapine throughout southern Italy. And imagine my horror when I further heard that his woman was a blonde-haired Gaul who rides and fights like a man.’ He looked disapprovingly at Gallia. ‘My daughter, who had escaped from her master, her murdered master, and was now shaming my good name.’
Gallia laughed at that.
‘Silence!’ Ambiorix rose from his chair and began pacing up and down on the dais and then pointed at me with a bony finger. ‘You and your slave general have put me in a very delicate situation. She,’ he jabbed a finger at Gallia, ‘I once sold to a Roman for her refusal to marry the chief of another tribe. I will not tolerate insolence, you see.’
‘He was old and fat, and it was more pleasurable being a slave.’ Gallia’s words were like javelins hurled at him.
Ambiorix was now seething with rage but kept it under control. He regained his seat and smiled at me. ‘If you want your woman back you will have to buy her back.’
Now we were getting to the crux of the matter. ‘Buy her back?’
He sat back in his chair. ‘A somewhat delicious irony, is it not? I sold her once and now I will sell her once more.’
‘I have no money, sire.’
His eyes flashed with rage. ‘Do not take me for a fool, boy. I know that you paid the city of Thurri handsomely in silver and gold. I also know that every Roman legion has its own gold when it marches, gold that your slave general now possesses after destroying the Roman armies in Umbria.’
I looked at him contemptuously. ‘How much gold will buy your daughter back?’
He smiled. ‘Do not be so quick to judge me, young prince, for I have a kingdom to rule whereas you have no responsibilities save charging around like some tragic hero in a Greek play. You despise me? Why not, you have blazed a trail of infamy through this land and take what you want. But I have to live in the real world. This was our land once, a long time ago when we came over the Alps south and made northern Italy our home. Rome was just a collection of villages then. Three hundred years ago a mighty army of Gauls sacked Rome and its citizens paid homage to us. But now Rome is like a hungry wolf and seeks to swallow us whole.’
‘Then why don’t you fight?’ I asked, a question that drew murmurs of anger from those around him. Ambiorix silenced them with a raised hand.
‘Fight? We are just one tribe. I am not so stupid to provoke a war that I cannot win. That road that your army has just marched up is like a spear though our hearts. Every year we are forced to pay tribute to the Romans, and every year they send more and more of their citizens to live on the land that they have cleared. Farms spring up where once there was forest, canals are dug to drain marshland and more roads are built across our land.
‘The city of Mutina sits in our land like a nest of vipers, ready to strike at us at the slightest provocation. The governor is an individual named called Gaius Cassius Longinus. He has two legions under his command, but the mere whiff of trouble and he will squeal like a stuck boar and there’ll be more legions flooding in to support him.’
‘What of the other tribes?’ I enquired.
‘They are cowered by the Romans, but there are some among them who still dream of a Roman-free world. It was one such man, the chief of the Lingones, whom my errant daughter was going to marry. And if they join me then the other tribes, the Insubres, Cenomani, Boii and Salassi, will follow.’
I wave of naivety suddenly swept over me. ‘Join with us, sire, and we can rid your homeland of the Romans.’ There was silence, then Ambiorix began to chuckle.
‘How many Roman armies have you defeated thus far, prince of Parthia?’
‘Three,’ I replied, proudly.
‘And have you noticed that they when you defeat one army, another one takes its place, and another and another? Romans are like cockroaches — difficult to kill. There is only one way to defeat the Romans, and that is to destroy Rome itself. You and your slave general do not have the strength to take the city. As I said, the Gauls did that once, three hundred years ago. If the tribes were united then it could be done again. But to attempt such a thing requires a great deal of persuasion.’