Companions (The Parthian Chronicles) (32 page)

On the third morning, with the sun at our backs and the sea resembling an endless shimmering blue carpet, we saw Paphos for the first time. To the sound of snarling lions
The
Cretan
edged its way towards the long breakwaters that enclosed the harbour. As at Tripolis the anchorage was filled with
corbitas
, triremes, biremes, coasters and small fishing vessels. Ships were entering and exiting the harbour, sails being furled and unfurled depending on their destination. I stood with Gallia and the others at the prow as Athineos barked orders at his crew and the other two ships followed us into the harbour. Outside the port, on the white sand beaches that flanked the city, were shipyards and stone slipways positioned side by side for hauling vessels out of the water. At other stations ships were being constructed, surrounded by wooden scaffolding.

The port of Paphos was around twice the size of Tripolis and three times as busy. Athineos had told me that the eastern breakwater was six hundred and fifty yards long and fifteen yards wide, and like the western breakwater was made of stone blocks. The western breakwater was three hundred yards long and the opening between the two measured sixty yards. The result was a large anchorage that had two long wharfs inside it, in addition to the berths along the docks.

Because we already had our cargoes
The
Cretan
and Athineos’ other two ships were able to dock stern first at one of the wharfs, after which he sent his captains to report to the port authorities and fetch fresh food and water for the crews and animals. Two soldiers wearing red tunics, bronze helmets with red plumes, mail shirts, sandals and carrying white oval shields and short spears, ambled past our vessel.

Gallia curled her lip at them. ‘Romans.’

‘They’re not Romans, lady,’ said Athineos behind her. ‘They are Egyptians. This is the pharaoh’s island.’

A portion of the gold I had given Athineos for our passage was paid to the port authority for docking fees, with more going to purchase supplies for our onward journey to Ephesus. Though we had thus far enjoyed a pleasant voyage it was nice to feel earth instead of wood beneath my feet as we walked into the city that afternoon.

Paphos was a noisy, sprawling place that extended inland from the harbour, most of its teeming population living inside the high sandstone walls that surrounded the city. Like Dura Paphos had been constructed according to Greek doctrine, with a grid system of streets surrounding square blocks of buildings. And like the blocks the individual buildings were square, most white walled with red tile roofs. The city itself was divided into well-defined zones: public, residential and commercial areas, the latter being concentrated around the port. Beyond the city, to the north, were hills covered with cedar and pine trees, which had been used by Philip of Macedon and the Ptolemies to build their great fleets of warships. The hills were also dotted with white-walled villas – the country residences of the city’s wealthiest citizens.

Arminius had stayed on the ship to tend to Adad and to allow Alcaeus to walk among his countrymen, as had Drenis who said he had no interest in wandering around a crowded, stinking city. But in truth the air of Paphos was mostly fresh, the breeze that either blew in from the sea or from the tree-lined hills blowing away the smells of crowded humanity. The people appeared to be well fed and healthy, though most walked around barefoot and were dressed in simple linen tunics called
chitons
.

As we walked among market stalls selling food, clothes, ceramics and jewellery, Alcaeus explained to us why Cyprus was such a prize for empires.

‘The soil on the island is very fertile. This means that you can grow not only an abundance of tree crops such as vines, olives, citrus fruits, figs and pomegranate, but also barley and graze cattle and sheep. Cyprus is famous for its wines.’

‘The buildings of the city resemble those of Dura,’ observed Surena.

‘That is because both Paphos and Dura were designed by Greek architects,’ said Alcaeus, ‘the best in the world.’

‘You obviously haven’t seen Rome, Alcaeus,’ said Domitus. ‘Its architecture is far grander.’

‘Grander, yes,’ I agreed, ‘but perhaps not as functional. There is a beauty in simplicity, I think.’

Domitus looked at me with narrow eyes and pursed lips. ‘I hope you are not turning into a poet or some sort of Greek boy-lover.’

Gallia laughed but Alcaeus stared at him with a look of mild disgust.

‘I would remind you, Domitus, that it was Greece that gifted civilisation to the world and Greek is the language of choice among even Rome’s ruling classes.’

Domitus was not convinced. ‘The Romans have a phrase, “the Greek custom”, which sums up Greek civilisation perfectly.’

‘What is this custom?’ enquired Surena.

‘Sodomy,’ replied Domitus bluntly. ‘Too much exercising naked has resulted in most Greek males preferring young boys instead of women. That’s why their armies are always defeated. Greek soldiers are more interested in molesting the man next to them in the battle line instead of sticking a sword in the man facing him.’

Alcaeus rolled his eyes and waved a dismissive hand at him. ‘It may come as a shock to you, Domitus, but not everything in the world revolves around battles and fighting.’

‘Only the most important things,’ retorted Domitus.

‘How are we going to find Julia?’ asked Gallia, clearly bored over this trivial boys’ talk.

‘A good question,’ I said.

‘An enquiry at the office of the port authority would be a good starting point,’ offered Alcaeus, ‘and if that fails then perhaps we could ask in the temple district.’

‘I would start at the squares where the beggars gather,’ said Domitus. ‘If Pacorus’ witch is anything to go by I have no doubt that this Julia will be some foul-looking old hag without a pot to piss in. Jupiter knows what use she will be.’

‘You must learn to trust Dobbai, Domitus,’ said Gallia. ‘She is beloved of the gods.’

‘Unlike you, Domitus,’ said Alcaeus.

‘Beloved of the gods or not,’ I said, ‘finding her among this multitude might prove difficult.’

But when we returned to the docks we found a man waiting for us aboard Athineos’ ship, a tall Greek with thick black hair and a heavy beard. He was dressed in a white silk
chiton
with red edging on the sleeves, a leather belt round his waist and expensive leather sandals on his feet. He was talking to Drenis when I stepped off the gangplank on to the deck, the Thracian pointing at me. The Greek turned and bowed his head.

‘Greetings, majesty. My name is Talaos and I am here on the orders of the Lady Julia, who invites you to her house tomorrow.’

Gallia came to my side and removed her
shemagh
, shaking her long locks free. Talaos bowed his head to her.

‘Welcome to Cyprus, Queen Gallia, my mistress looks forward to meeting you tomorrow.’

‘You are well informed, Talaos,’ I said. ‘I hope our arrival is not common knowledge among the citizens of Paphos.’

‘Your arrival is known only to my mistress and those whom she trusts, majesty,’ Talaos replied.

I wondered about the relationship between this handsome young man and the seer. But he did not proffer any information regarding his position and I decided not to ask. But I did enquire about the location of his mistress’ home.

He turned and pointed at the green-covered slopes beyond the city walls.

‘She lives in the hills, majesty.’

‘And how do we get there?’ I asked.

‘I will bring horses for you tomorrow morning, majesty.’

He looked at Gallia. ‘My mistress assumed that Queen Gallia would prefer to ride to her house.’

‘Your mistress is correct,’ smiled Gallia.

He bowed his head to us once more and then took his leave. Athineos sauntered over as Talaos walked down the gangplank and strode along the wharf.

‘This seer must be a person of some importance, Pacorus, if she has a house in the hills.’

‘She is probably the sorceress of some rich lord,’ I said.

‘Just like Dobbai is at Dura,’ remarked Drenis.

‘You should not go alone,’ growled Domitus. ‘You will be vulnerable.’

‘We will be fine,’ Gallia assured him.

‘This is Cyprus, Domitus,’ said Alcaeus, ‘not a den of assassins like Rome.’

The next morning Talaos presented himself at
The
Cretan
holding the reins of three horses, all of them well-groomed mares. Gallia and I still wore our
shemaghs
to hide our faces but had discarded our Agraci robes and wore loose leggings and our white tunics instead. We both wore our sword belts and Gallia had her dagger tucked into her right boot, but we left our bows on the ship. Talaos was bemused by Gallia’s manlike appearance but was all courtesy and bows as we walked the horses along the wharf before mounting them when we had passed through the mass of sailors and dockers who were working on the main quay where cargo ships were being loaded and unloaded. I also saw slaves toiling under the watchful eyes of overseers with whips. Gallia saw them too but said nothing.

It was good to be back in the saddle and even better when we had ridden through the city’s northern gates and travelled through copses of well-tended olive, carob and almond trees. Talaos was an accomplished rider and on the journey provided information regarding the island’s commerce.

‘Because it is an Egyptian colony, majesty, the majority of the island’s trade is with Alexandria.’

We had left the main road to ride along a track that wound its way up a great tree-lined hill, giving us excellent views of Paphos and the glittering Mediterranean beyond.

‘And what does the island supply Alexandria with?’ asked Gallia.

‘Timber and copper mostly, majesty,’ said Talaos.

We continued on and came across a great vineyard that had been planted on terraces cut into the hillside. It covered many acres and dozens of slaves were working among the vines.

‘Vineyards on the southern slopes mean good exposure to the sun and thus a greater yield,’ Talaos told us. ‘We are nearing the end of our journey, majesties.’

‘Your mistress lives on the estate of the lord who owns this vineyard?’ I asked him.

‘This is my mistress’ vineyard, majesty,’ he informed me.

We ended our ride at a large two-storey white villa surrounded by neat rows of date palms, the cedars and pines extending up the hill behind the house. Barefoot slaves in immaculate white
chitons
came forward with heads bowed to take our horses as Talaos dismounted and ordered the slaves to take them to the stables. He invited us to accompany him inside the villa, the entrance to which was guarded by two soldiers who were armed and equipped similar to the ones we had seen patrolling the port.

‘This Julia is either a shrewd businesswoman or has the patronage of a rich lord,’ I said to Gallia. ‘These slaves are better dressed than the servants in our palace at Dura.’

‘But they are still slaves, Pacorus.’

Our entrance into the villa only confirmed to me that the seer enjoyed an opulent lifestyle. The house had been built according to the peristyle school, with a large central courtyard enclosed by a colonnaded porch on all four sides. The walls of the entrance hall were covered with frescoes depicting scenes from Greek myths, or so Talaos told me. I initially thought that we had walked into a brothel with depictions of naked men and women being chased by half-humans and half-animals in various states of arousal. The floor was a mosaic showing the Greek god Dionysus, the deity of wine, which I thought was more apt.

Talaos spoke quietly to an older man in a red
chiton
and then invited us to walk with him into the garden, taking us through a library that occupied both storeys and was dedicated to Athena, the Goddess of the Arts and Literature. The air was filled with the aroma of rose incense as we walked into the spacious courtyard. My first impression was the sound of running water coming from four large fountains standing among statues and flanked by immaculate flowerbeds containing irises, daffodils and Abyssinian roses. Even though the courtyard was large there were paintings of landscapes on the walls to create the illusion of even more space. The atmosphere imparted a sense of order and calm. Gallia took off her
shemagh
and smelt the air, closing her eyes and taking in the pleasing aroma.

‘I too have often found this courtyard a haven from the bustle of the world.’

We turned to see a woman no more than five feet in height standing next to one of the fountains. She was dressed in a blue silk gown adorned with gold brooches, her dark brown hair arranged on top of her head and held in place with scented wax. She wore gold rings on her fingers and long, thin strips of gold dangled from her ears. Surrounding her dark brown eyes was shadow made from olive oil mixed with ground charcoal. Her bare arms were tanned and shiny, probably due to having olive oil rubbed on them. I detected a whiff of myrrh perfume coming from her. She clearly had very expensive tastes.

She smiled, her teeth white and complete. ‘Welcome King Pacorus and Queen Gallia. I have been expecting you. Talaos, bring wine for our guests.’