Companions (The Parthian Chronicles) (19 page)

‘I would trust no other man to safeguard my city and kingdom, my friend,’ I said.

His eyes still blazed with anger. ‘I know that. And you know that I would gladly lay down my life for you and your family without a moment’s hesitation.’

Domitus shifted uncomfortably in his saddle. ‘Is there any point to this?’

I held up a hand to him. ‘What is troubling you, Orodes?’ I asked again.

‘I cannot have my authority undermined, Pacorus,’ said Orodes firmly. ‘I may be an exiled prince with no lands or money but I still have my honour.’

‘You have more than that, lord prince,’ said Gallia softly, who was concerned that Orodes was in a state of distress. ‘You have the love and loyalty of your friends who will never abandon you.’

Orodes smiled at her but then fixed me with a determined stare as I racked my brain trying to think who had undermined him. Godarz? I dismissed the idea. For one thing they were friends and my governor would never interfere in the day-to-day running of the army. Rsan? It was inconceivable. My treasurer was loyal and conscientious but would never challenge a prince of the empire, even less the son of the late High King Phraates.

‘Your sorceress,’ said Orodes.

‘Dobbai?’

‘She has sent two companies of horse archers to the Syrian border,’ said Orodes through gritted teeth. ‘Two hundred horsemen despatched without my knowledge or authority. It makes me a laughing stock, Pacorus. It is intolerable.’

He was right and I was angry. But why would she do such a thing? Domitus was also not amused.

‘She risks starting a war with the Romans,’ he said. ‘In which direction did the horse archers go?’

‘West to Palmyra,’ said Orodes.

‘Malik,’ I said, ‘I would ask you to ride to your father’s capital immediately and try to find out what has happened to two hundred of my men.’

Malik raised his hand and wheeled his horse away.

‘I go to,’ stated Byrd as he tugged on his horse’s reins and followed his friend.

The calm, relaxed atmosphere that had hung over the column changed to anxiety and haste as we rode hard for Dura. Orodes was on my left and my wife on my right as the scouts followed Byrd west into the desert and Orodes’ bodyguard rode in column formation beside the Amazons.

‘When did the horse archers leave Dura?’ I asked.

‘First thing yesterday morning,’ said Orodes. ‘I was carrying out an inspection of the forts north of the city when a courier arrived from Godarz informing me that they had left the city. By the time I had returned to the Citadel it was late afternoon. I sent a messenger to recall them but they had not returned by this morning.’

‘You should burn the old witch for this,’ spat Domitus, who was finding the speedy journey very uncomfortable. Orodes noticed his discomfort.

‘Are you wounded, Domitus?’

Gallia laughed. ‘He has blisters the size of camel spiders.’

‘Glad you find it funny,’ said Domitus.

Orodes looked concerned. ‘My sympathies, general.’

We arrived at Dura two hours later, our horses panting and sweating and our bodies soaked in sweat. We cantered through the Palmyrene Gate and up the city’s main road to the Citadel, the trumpets of an honour guard celebrating our arrival. The horse archers left us to ride to their barracks in the west of the city, just beyond the walls of the Citadel. I jumped from the saddle as a stable hand came forward, took Remus’ reins and led him away. Epona was likewise removed as the Amazons and Orodes’ cataphracts dismounted and led their mounts to the stables. Domitus eased himself out of the saddle and dismounted gingerly, saying a silent prayer of thanks and raising his cane threateningly to his mare.

‘Domitus,’ I barked, ‘leave her alone.’

The chief steward scuttled down the steps and bowed his head.

‘Where’s Dobbai?’

‘On the palace terrace, majesty. Will you and the queen be requiring refreshments?’

I walked past him up the steps with Gallia, Orodes and Domitus following.

‘No.’

Servants cleaning the throne room’s floor got off their knees and bowed as we raced by them towards the door in the far corner giving access to our private quarters. A guard standing sentry by it opened it to allow us to enter. We walked into the corridor leading to the palace’s sleeping quarters and continued through another door that led on to the terrace.

It was another blisteringly hot day but Dobbai was seated in her wicker chair, her legs resting on a footstool and a large shade positioned over her to offer protection from the sun’s rays. We walked over to find her eyes closed. I cleared my throat.

She opened one eye. ‘Ah, so you have returned, son of Hatra, and with another victory under your belt, I hear.’

‘We are not here to discuss that.’

She sighed, opened both eyes and sat up.

‘I see, then what other reason can you have for disturbing an old woman’s mid-morning rest?’

She held out her arms to Gallia who walked forward and embraced her.

‘Sit, child. You look tired and thirsty.’

Dobbai waved over one of the servants standing near the door which had a large awning over it to provide them with shade.

‘Bring water and fruit for our returned heroes.’

I held up a hand to stop them. ‘I am king here.’

‘As you wish,’ remarked Dobbai unconcerned.

The servants stood and looked at each other, unsure what to do as the chief steward came on to the terrace.

‘Very well,’ I said, ‘bring refreshments.’

The servants bowed and left for the kitchens as the steward organised others to arrange chairs and sunshades for us.

‘Very kingly,’ Dobbai said to me.

‘I have heard,’ I said in a stern voice, ‘that you commanded two companies of horse archers to be sent to Syria without Prince Orodes’ authority.’

Dobbai sighed and rose to her feet. ‘So now we come to the real reason that you are acting like a precocious child, son of Hatra.’

‘You risk war with Syria,’ I said loudly.

‘I was left in charge of the army,’ added Orodes, ‘and only I had the authority to send soldiers outside the kingdom.’

‘If this was Rome your head would already be decorating the gates of the Citadel,’ said Domitus with relish.

‘How short your memories are,’ she retorted. ‘The gods send me a vision that allows you to save the Kingdom of Mesene and yet you threaten my life. That’s gratitude for you.’

‘No one threatens your life,’ stated Gallia firmly, daring Domitus to contradict her.

Dobbai walked to where I, Orodes and Domitus were standing in line.

‘Like small boys you think that because you wear swords and bellow commands at other boys you are like gods.’

‘Not gods,’ I said, ‘just men eager to avoid war with Roman Syria while we face the possibility of further conflict with Mithridates.’

Dobbai shook her head and returned to her chair.

‘Do you really think that I would initiate any actions that would endanger your kingdom, son of Hatra?’

‘By sending horse archers to Syria you do just that,’ said Orodes, becoming increasingly frustrated with Dobbai’s nonchalant attitude.

Dobbai eased herself back in her chair. ‘First of all, prince, I did not send the horsemen to Syria. I sent then to the Syrian border, there to await the arrival of a sister who is coming to Dura.’

I took a seat under a shade and indicated to Orodes and Domitus that they should do likewise. The heat was oppressive.

‘Sister? You have a sister?’

‘One is bad enough,’ whispered Domitus.

‘I did not say I had a sister,’ snapped Dobbai. ‘I use the word in the context of a feminine associate, who like me is a member of an ancient sisterhood.’

Gallia’s ears pricked up at this. ‘Sisterhood?’

Dobbai nodded. ‘The Scythian sisterhood, child. Now more than eight hundred years old, and during that time our order has seen empires fall and kings rise.’

The chief steward retreated towards the entrance as servants brought refreshments to the terrace and served us cool drinks and slices of melon and apple.

‘You have said nothing of this order before,’ I said.

‘Do I enquire about the workings of your army or the topics of the conversations you hold with your commanders?’ she asked. ‘I do not.’

‘You still have not explained why you sent two companies of horse archers to the Syrian border without my permission,’ said Orodes.

‘To provide an escort for my sister, of course,’ replied Dobbai matter-of-factly. ‘As a man of honour, lord prince, I would have thought that you more than most would appreciate that a solitary woman travelling through Agraci territory is risking her honour at the very least, if not her life.’

Orodes looked at me and shook his head in exasperation.

‘Well,’ I said, ‘at least they aren’t invading Syria. We have that to be thankful for at least. But you must apologise to Prince Orodes, Dobbai.’

‘You would have me apologise for carrying out the wishes of the gods, son of Hatra?’

‘Wishes of the gods?’ said Domitus derisively. ‘You send horsemen to escort one of your fellow witches here and you say it is the work of the gods.’

‘What do you know of the thoughts of the gods, Roman?’ she shot back.

‘What message from the gods does your sister carry?’ I asked her.

She looked at me as though I was deranged. ‘How should I know?’

Domitus started nibbling a large piece of melon, the juices dripping down his chin as he spoke. ‘She has been sitting on this terrace in the sun too long, Pacorus. It has obviously roasted her brain.’

‘Are you certain that the gods are at work?’ Gallia asked Dobbai.

‘Quite sure, child. Consider this. A member of our order suddenly writes to me saying that she is coming to Dura to visit me. We do not gather every year like your ridiculous Companions, so why else would she suddenly declare her interest in me and Dura?’

We all looked at her in expectation of an answer. But she merely settled back into her chair and closed her eyes.

‘All will be revealed.’

Orodes rose, bowed to Gallia and then me and strode towards the door, stopping only when he heard Dobbai’s deep voice.

‘Prince Orodes.’

He turned.

‘If I caused you offence I apologise. It was not my intention.’

He nodded. ‘I accept your apology.’

‘Like small boys,’ said Dobbai under her breath as Orodes left us.

Samahe was her name.

It meant ‘dark haired girl’ and was an accurate reflection of her appearance, though she was certainly no girl. Like Dobbai it was difficult to place an age on her but she was certainly advanced in years. Her arrival had become the main topic of palace gossip. So when word came from the Palmyrene Gate that a column of horse archers and camels was approaching the city from the west, servants, stable hands, legionaries and horse archers not on duty gathered in the courtyard to catch a glimpse of Dobbai’s ‘sister’. Indeed, the route from the Palmyrene Gate to the Citadel was soon lined with curious spectators when word spread that Dura was to be graced by a second sorceress.

I stood at the top of the palace steps with Gallia, Godarz and Rsan as the horse archers trotted into the courtyard. Directly opposite curious scribes stood in the open windows of the headquarters’ building and treasury. Burly, squat blacksmiths drifted from the armoury to look as well. I had never seen the courtyard so crowded.

‘Even kings do not receive this kind of reception,’ I said to Gallia.

‘People are curious, Pacorus. They believe that Dura is doubly blessed by one of Dobbai’s sisters visiting us.’

I looked around. ‘And where is Dobbai?’

Gallia shrugged as Domitus and Orodes walked from the headquarters building and strode across the courtyard. Both were dressed in full war gear, Domitus wearing his helmet that had a magnificent white crest and Orodes carrying his helmet in the crook of his arm. The horse archers saluted as they passed and walked up the steps to us.

‘I thought you said you had better to things to do,’ I said to Domitus.

He nodded to Gallia as Orodes bowed deeply to her. ‘I wanted to see what all the fuss is about. Where is the old witch?’

‘Careful, Roman,’ I heard the voice of Dobbai behind us. ‘Samahe is regarded as a powerful sorceress who can bend men’s minds to her will.’

‘Not this man,’ he growled.

As the horse archers deployed into line facing the palace a camel sauntered into the courtyard accompanied by the horsemen’s commander. All eyes were on the black-clothed figure riding on the camel as the commander escorted it to the foot of the steps and signalled for the companies’ horns to be sounded. The camel grunted in disapproval as the Citadel was filled with the sound of horn blasts, followed by the rasping sound of two hundred swords being pulled from their scabbards as the horsemen saluted me. The commander jumped down from his horse and tugged on the camel’s reins. The beast spat at him before bending its front legs and then its rear legs to sit on the stone slabs. The commander stepped forward to assist our visitor off its back.