Companions (The Parthian Chronicles) (62 page)

‘Hail, Akrosas.’

He looked at the slaves standing around the walls of the hall holding jugs of wine.

‘Has Histria run out of wine?’

Akrosas gestured that Radu should be served. Two slaves rushed forward, one with a jug and the other with a tray of silver cups. Radu grabbed the jug and began drinking from it, wine spilling down his beard and cuirass. Many of those seated at tables were appalled by his behaviour. He threw the jug at the slave, who managed to catch it, and then belched loudly.

‘I have come, Akrosas, in answer to your plea, but unless you can raise a great army then I say that Histria is doomed.’

There were murmurs around the hall at his impudence. I got the impression that the citizens of Histria viewed the other Thracian tribes as being inferior to themselves. Radu wiped a muscular forearm across his mouth.

‘Ten days ago a great army of Bastarnae, Maedi and Dacians met the Romans in battle. All day long we fought them and at the end of it our dead covered the valley floor like fallen leaves in autumn.’

The murmurs in the hall died away as the guests took in this dire news.

‘What is left of our army is falling back to Histria to be reinforced by the army of King Akrosas.’

‘Where are the Romans now?’ said Akrosas.

‘Around fifty miles west of here, amusing themselves with pillaging local villages and taking slaves,’ replied Radu. ‘Those who have the means have fled into the forests, the rest are either dead or enslaved.’

Akrosas rose from his seat. ‘I will be leading the army of Histria in person to give battle to the Romans.’

Polite applause greeted this declaration, which seemed to delight Akrosas but made little impression on Radu.

‘How many men will march under your banner, Akrosas?’

‘I think that is a matter for a council of war, Radu,’ replied Akrosas irritably. ‘But be assured that it will be enough to overpower the Romans.’

‘I doubt that.’

I heard with surprise the voice of Domitus and looked up to see him standing beside his table. Several of the guests were whispering to each other, trying to identify this strange crop-haired individual who had dared to speak out of turn in the king’s presence. Radu turned to look at him.

‘Who are you?’

Domitus looked at Akrosas. ‘With your permission, lord king, I would like to speak to King Radu.’

There were gasps and sharp intakes of breath from the other guests. This was unheard of and clearly marked out this clean-shaven man with the mean features as a barbarian. Akrosas, though, perhaps finding Radu’s appearance and utterances irksome, nodded and retook his seat.

‘My name is Lucius Domitus and I am the general of the army of Dura.’ He pointed at me. ‘That is my king, Pacorus of Dura, who has spent years fighting the Romans.’

‘Dura?’ spat Radu. ‘Never heard of it.’

‘And I have never heard of the Bastarnae,’ said Domitus calmly, ‘but let me tell everyone here how you fought your battle, lord king.’

‘Ha,’ bellowed Radu, ‘I was there and you were not. What could you tell me that I don’t already know?’

Domitus regarded him with his cold eyes. ‘You outnumbered the Romans so you believed that victory would be easy. You and your fellow tribal leaders thought that storming the enemy camp would also be easy, until you discovered that the ditch that surrounded it was littered with spikes that inflicted terrible injuries on your warriors. But no matter, when the day of battle arrived you were confident that your numbers would simply overwhelm the invaders.

‘So you mustered your army and the tribes gathered round their banners in a great mass that made the Roman force appear small and insignificant by comparison. Please feel free to interrupt me if what I am stating is incorrect.’

Radu said nothing so Domitus continued.

‘And your warriors banged their spears against their shields and raised their war cries in an attempt to intimidate the enemy, which stood in silence in their ranks. But then you noticed that among the war cries and chanting there were high-pitched screams and you discovered that the Romans were shooting at your packed ranks with machines. They are called scorpions and they shoot iron-tipped spears that can impale three men at once. But then you already know this.

‘After being goaded by the Roman machines your warriors could take no more of being cut down without reply and so you ordered a mass charge. Your men surged forward, many still being cut down by the scorpions but also being killed and wounded by slingers and archers as they got nearer to the Roman ranks. And then, just before your warriors reached the front rank of the enemy, there was a volley of Roman javelins that cut down hundreds of your men. This broke up the momentum of your charge and then the Romans themselves charged, hacking into the ranks of your men with their short swords, forcing them back until they broke and retreated.’

Domitus stopped to pick up his cup and took a sip before continuing.

‘And then the Roman horsemen charged into your disorganised and demoralised men, who ran for their lives and left the field to the enemy.’

Radu’s green eyes narrowed and I could see that he was enraged by Domitus’ words. But there was also a part of him that recognised that what my general had said was correct so he kept his emotions in check. The silence in the chamber was deafening as all eyes turned to Radu.

The king took a deep breath. ‘How do you know of such things?’

‘How, lord king?’ answered Domitus, ‘because I am a Roman and I have trained my men to fight and think like Romans.’

Radu drew his sword and walked towards Domitus, who stood his ground, unconcerned. I jumped to my feet, followed by Akrosas who shouted at Radu.

‘Lucius Domitus is a guest in my palace, Radu, and may not be harmed.’

Radu pointed his sword at Domitus. ‘You allow a Roman to drink your wine and eat your food? He and his kind are responsible for nearly four thousand Thracians that fell in battle. I can still hear their screams and see their shattered bodies.’

‘And if you fight them again the result will be more Thracian dead,’ said Domitus.

‘I must ask you to put away your sword, Radu,’ warned Akrosas as nervous guards approached the hulking brute.

The king of the Bastarnae looked contemptuously at the guards before slamming his sword back in its scabbard. Akrosas, relieved, waved them back and sat down. I did the same as Radu folded his arms across his chest.

‘You may think, Roman,’ he sneered at Domitus, ‘that your race is invincible but Thracians will never kneel to Rome. We may face defeat but we will die fighting.’

The guests applauded his words and some of Akrosas’ commanders banged their fists on the table to show solidarity with their fellow Thracian. Domitus remained calm and waited for the hubbub to die down.

‘The Romans are not gods, lord king. They can be defeated easily enough. It is just a matter of out-thinking them and not dancing to their tune.’

‘You might want to listen to my general, lord king,’ I said, ‘he has never lost a battle.’

Radu turned his large head to peer at me, naked contempt in his eyes.

‘I don’t need any help to crush my foes.’

I smiled. ‘As you wish, lord king.’

The arrival of Radu meant the feast was at an end as Akrosas announced that he would regrettably have to cancel the festivities to consult with his fellow king. He and Queen Rodica left the hall in the company of Radu and all the guests followed them, filing out of the chamber in haste so they could return either to their homes or their soldiers. Domitus was in a reflective mood as we wandered back to our quarters.

‘This time next week that big king will be dead, most likely, along with our host and thousands of his men.’

‘I thought he was going to kill you, Domitus,’ said Gallia.

‘You did take a chance speaking like that,’ I agreed.

Domitus looked at Drenis. ‘Yes, I forgot I was among wild Thracians who will slit your throat if you even look at them the wrong way.’

Drenis raised a thin smile but I could see that he was distracted.

‘You are troubled, Drenis?’ I probed.

‘You heard that big king mention the Maedi?’ he said to me. I nodded.

‘They are my tribe, and the tribe of Spartacus and Claudia. Never thought I would even hear their name again.’

‘I am sorry that they face defeat, Drenis,’ said Domitus, ‘but you can see what is going to happen. They will raise a great host and fling it against the Romans and thousands will be cut down and the legionaries will have another easy victory.’

He shrugged. ‘We do the same against our enemies, do we not? In any case we will be leaving tomorrow so it’s not our concern.’

When I wished the others goodnight I could see the pain on Drenis’ face and the frustration etched on Cleon’s visage. I could read their thoughts like they were written down on papyrus. Drenis wanted to stay and fight beside his fellow tribesmen, Cleon wanted to kill Romans and Surena just wanted to fight. Arminius for his part looked a little disappointed that we were departing Histria.

‘I for one thank the gods that we are departing before any more fighting,’ announced Alcaeus. ‘We have been extremely lucky thus far but I don’t want to tempt fate, or test the patience of the gods. This is not our fight.’

He was right of course. But as Gallia lay in my arms later that night after we had made love I stared at the ceiling, unable to sleep. Eventually I untangled myself from her limbs and left the bed to stand on the balcony of our bedroom. The night was fresh but not cool. Autumn had yet to arrive and so the days were warm and the evenings pleasant. The balcony faced west, the direction from where the Roman army would approach the city. The crops had yet to be harvested but there would be no one to work in the fields when Akrosas mustered all the young men to fight the invaders. I knew that many would not return to see their homes or their families. Perhaps none would. I looked into the moonlit sky and asked for directions from the gods.

‘It is not our fight, Pacorus.’

I nearly jumped out of my skin when I heard the voice before recognising it. I turned to see Gallia wrapping a robe around her body. She looked like the Moon Goddess herself as its pale light highlighted her fair skin and blonde locks, turning them silver.

I turned back to look west. ‘I don’t know what you mean.’

She laughed mockingly. ‘You think I did not see your face when we said goodnight to our companions? You think I did not see the anguish in your eyes when you looked at Drenis.’

‘Drenis is a soldier,’ I said sharply, ‘he obeys orders.’

She glided to my side. ‘Of course. He will take ship with the rest of us tomorrow, even though he desires more than anything else to stay and fight beside the members of his tribe. And we will leave this city, even though you think it is dishonourable not to offer King Akrosas your advice and your sword.’

I said nothing.

‘When that savage of a king was enthralling us with the tale of his heroic defeat,’ she continued, ‘I was watching Burebista. I saw his face light up at the mention of Dacians arriving at Histria. He too does not want to leave, Pacorus, and neither do you.’

‘Domitus wants to be away from this place,’ I said.

‘Lucius Domitus hates the Romans more than you do and would relish the opportunity to rub their noses in dung. But being Roman he maintains the air of a consummate professional. With Domitus you have to scratch the granite exterior to see what lies beneath.’

I turned face her. ‘And you? What do you desire, my sweet?’

She took my hand. ‘For you to come back to bed. As you are awake I can think of better things to do with your time than stare into the darkness.’

‘But what of tomorrow?’

She led me from the balcony. ‘It is already tomorrow.’

In the morning we dressed and were served breakfast in our rooms. Our nervous steward conveyed the apologies of the king but reported that Akrosas had weighty affairs of state to attend to and could not invite us to share breakfast with him. But the monarch would see us before we left to wish us a safe journey. Slaves brought our cleaned clothes and I strapped on my sword, picked up my bow in its case and walked to meet the others who had assembled outside the palace. Akrosas came to us there, dressed for war in a magnificent burnished bronze cuirass and a sword with a silver pommel in a scabbard decorated with silver strips. With him was Admiral Arcathius, resplendent in his bronze scale armour, bronze greaves and feathered helmet.

The citadel was now bursting with activity as the king embraced me and wished us all a safe journey back to Parthia.

‘The admiral will escort you to the docks,’ he said.

At that moment I heard the clatter of horses’ hooves on the square and turned to see a score or more riders attired in red tunics, beige leggings and equipped with javelins, round shields and bronze helmets. One carried a dragon windsock and on their shields they carried a serpent symbol.

‘Maedi,’ said Drenis.

The king smiled. ‘That is correct. The man at the front is Draco, the leader of their tribe. And now I’m afraid I must bid you all farewell.’

He nodded to me, smiled at Gallia and then departed to speak to the newly arrived Maedi. We walked to the gates of the citadel that was now filling with soldiers, or rather civilians turned into warriors. I looked behind to see the blank faces of Arminius and Drenis, the disappointed expressions of Cleon and Surena and the resigned look of Domitus. Only Alcaeus appeared happy.