The Parthian (31 page)

‘Very quiet, don’t you think?’ observed Akmon.

As we approached the town I could see that the gates were open, with smoke and flames pouring from the gatehouse above. As we got nearer I saw two dead bodies lying on the road near the gates. Akmon ordered his men to adopt a close formation and to be on their guard. I passed the word to my horsemen to have their bows ready, in case we met any resistance. Akmon’s men went into the town first and we immediately followed with arrows on our bowstrings, ready to provide covering fire if needed. But as we passed through the gates and into the town it became apparent that we would meet no resistance; indeed, I wondered if we would encounter anything alive. For bodies lay everywhere. The corpses of people killed by swords, with their tunics stained with blood where they had been run through and slashed by sharpened blades; bodies that had been bludgeoned by axes or clubs, and bodies that had been skewered by spears, the shafts left in their torsos. Blood was splashed on walls and flowed in rivulets in the streets. Some residents had been nailed to their front doors, though whether they had been alive or dead when this had been done to them I did not know. Dogs and cats had likewise been slaughtered, their carcasses lay strewn on the pavements and streets. I had never witnessed such a scene, and by the stunned silence of my men, neither had they. The stench of excrement and offal made my stomach heave, and Remus began to flick his head in alarm. I tried to calm him down as we made our way though the slaughterhouse that was once a town. We rode past a row of houses, each of which had a first-floor timber balcony supported on stone columns that extended over the pavement. From these balconies hung entire families: men, women, children and babies. Some of the bodies had been stripped naked, the women’s breasts having been severed and the men’s genitals hacked off. Blood was everywhere: on the balconies, staining the columns and splattered over the walls. So much blood.

As we neared the centre of the town we heard noises ahead. We continued on and came to the forum, as usual a large square surrounded on three sides by rows of shops and covered colonnades. A long, red-tiled building that towered over the surrounding houses occupied its fourth side. A large group of Gauls was gathered on the far side, cheering wildly, though at what I could not see. I dismounted and gave the order for the others to do the same.

Akmon and his Thracians had also filed into the forum and had formed up into two centuries in open order.

‘Looks like the Gauls are indulging in the favourite sport,’ he said. ‘Killing people.’

‘I’m going to put a stop to it.’

He eyed me with curiosity. ‘Their blood is up, and they won’t take kindly to you interfering.’

‘It doesn’t matter,’ I said. ‘I cannot allow innocent people to be slaughtered while I stand by and do nothing. It is dishonourable.’

He laughed. ‘Very well, then. Me and my boys will lend a hand if your expertise at diplomacy is found wanting.’

‘Thank you.’

‘Don’t thank me yet, young Parthian. You may still end up on the end of a Gaul’s spear.’

I marched over to the commotion. I had my bow in my right hand and my quiver slung over my shoulder. Burebista walked a few paces behind me as my men formed a line across the forum and readied their bows. The cheering died away instantly as the Gauls became aware of our presence. Their ranks parted and I could see Oenomaus sat in a large, ornate chair that had been placed in the square. He had one leg draped over one of its arms and was drinking from a richly decorated cup. He was obviously drunk. I also saw with horror a line of headless corpses lying nearby on the gravel with their severed heads lying next to them. Three grinning Gauls with bloody axes stood over the corpses, while behind Oenomaus, tied together and terrified, was a group of around twenty Romans. Obviously citizens of the town, their apparel seemed to be rich, though it was difficult to tell as they had obviously been beaten severely and their garments were ripped and bloody, and the women were naked, no doubt having been raped by their captors.

Oenomaus jumped up when he saw me. He drained his cup and held it out with an outstretched arm. One of his men refilled it. ‘You have no business here, Parthian,’ he said, menacingly. He had the thick muscular neck and curly moustache and eyebrows of his race, with blue tattoos on his arms. His voice was deep and harsh. His overbearing insolence reminded me of his master, Crixus.

I looked at the headless corpses. ‘Have not you seen enough blood, Oenomaus?’

‘We are having a competition, to see if Nammeius, Orgetorix and Epasnactus can sever a head with a single blow. So far they have done well and Orgetorix is ahead by miles, so to speak.’ There was uproarious laughter.

The Gauls banged their spears against their shields in salute. The clatter made the Roman captives shake and whimper. Akmon made his way over to where I stood facing Oenomaus.

‘It is time for the killing to stop,’ I said.

Oenomaus began to laugh. ‘Do you hear that? The prince has spoken and we must all obey. Do you want me to wipe your royal arse while I’m at it.’

More laughter erupted as the Gauls mocked me.

‘Be careful, Pacorus,’ said Akmon, ‘he’s a sly bastard and useful with a sword.’

‘So am I,’ I said, putting my bow and quiver on the ground and drawing my sword. Talking was obviously futile, so I pointed my sword at Oenomaus.

‘Fight me here, now,’ I shouted.

He wiped his mouth across his face and drew his sword. His men began cheering loudly for my death, while behind me the Parthians and Thracians responded with shouts of their own. Oenomaus had a Roman
gladius
and he knew how to use it. He attacked immediately, coming at me with a slightly crouched stance. My
spatha
was longer but it wasn’t a jabbing weapon, being designed to slash at opponents from horseback. Oenomaus believed he had the better of me at close quarters, and in truth he was no mean swordsman, delivering a succession of thrusting attacks that I deflected with difficulty. But I kept circling him so he had to keep moving. I lunged at him and he tried to disembowel me with a scything swing, but my reach was longer and his sword only sliced air. The onlookers were hurling encouragement and insults at the top of their voices, and Gauls, Parthians and Thracians had formed a large circle around us.

The minutes passed and Oenomaus began sweating heavily. He had probably been killing all morning and drinking for a long time after that, and his rapid attacks were obviously sapping his energy. I continued to keep out of his reach, waiting for my moment. He started to curse me now, demanding to know why I wouldn’t fight like a man, why I was a woman? He worked himself into a frenzy and slashed at my head repeatedly with his
gladius
. I caught the last blow with the edge of my blade, held his sword momentarily in place, moved forward and kicked his left knee with my foot. He screamed in pain as I jumped back and his balance faltered. In that instant I thrust the point of the
spatha
forward into his left thigh. He screamed again and I knew he was beaten. His face was contorted in pain and hate, but he could barely deflect my attacks as I rained down a succession of swings and thrusts. The last one knocked the
gladius
out of his hand, and before he could retrieve it I had the point of my sword at his throat. The cheers died down instantly.

Oenomaus looked defiantly at me. ‘Do it.’

‘Why soil this fine blade with your blood?’ I replied.

‘You’re a gutless son of a whore.’

‘Release the prisoners to me, now!’

The Gauls began to gather behind their leader, their weapons drawn and ready to use, but my men raised their bows, ready to loose a hail of arrows into their ranks, and the Thracians also stood with my men. This clearly deterred them and made Oenomaus think again. Still looking directly at me and unflinching, he gave the order for the Romans to be released. The ragged band of terrified prisoners was roughly manhandled over to where I stood with my sword at the Gaul’s throat and they instinctively huddled behind me. Oenomaus smiled.

‘Take them, Parthian, no doubt you will take one of the men to warm your bed.’

Several of the Gauls sniggered and whooped with joy. I was seriously tempted to ram my sword through his throat. I resisted the temptation.

‘Go now, Gaul,’ I said, calmly, ‘back to the cesspool that you crawled from.’

He spat on my boots, turned and limped away. His men followed sullenly. Moments later the forum was devoid of Gauls and I sheathed my sword. 

‘You should have killed him,’ said Akmon, who now stood by my side. ‘He’ll come for you again, without a doubt. Make sure you sleep with one eye open. The next time it will be a dagger in the dark.’ He barked an order for his men to form a column and slapped me hard across the back. ‘Nice work with that sword, though. We’ll make a gladiator out of you yet.’

As the Thracians marched in step from the forum one of the Romans, an elderly man with white wispy hair and pale skin nervously stepped forward from the group. 

‘Thank you,’ he said in a low voice, his eyes looking at the ground.

‘You are welcome.’

I gave the order for clothing or blankets to be found to restore the women’s dignity. The elderly Roman, seeing that he and his group were not about to be killed, relaxed a little.

‘My name is Quintus Hortonius, and I thank you on behalf of myself and my family and friends.’

There were ten men of varying ages, six women, two of them of teenage years, two small children and a baby. They were all very pale. It appeared that all the women, young and old, had indeed been raped.

‘We were hiding in my house when we were captured,’ Hortonius continued. ‘They must have thought we were rich for they demanded to know where our treasure was. They took all the gold and silver we had, then marched us to this place and…’

He stopped and stared at the bloody corpses that had been beheaded. Tears welled up in his eyes. 

‘You must leave this place,’ I said.

‘And go where?’

‘There is a Roman army near. I will give you an escort to ensure you all stay out of danger, but you must leave now.’

I told Burebista to give them food and water for their journey, then detailed six of his men to escort them from the town and back down the road we had earlier travelled along. I told him that he and his men should abandon them if any Roman soldiers came into view. As my men rode from the forum the aged Roman approached me.

‘I don’t know your name, friend.’

‘My name is Pacorus, prince of Hatra.’

He extended his hand for me to take. ‘Then I thank you, Prince Pacorus, for sparing our lives.’ I took his hand, it seemed churlish not to, and he smiled.

‘Perhaps we shall meet again, when I will be able to return the courtesy.’

‘I doubt it,’ I said, taking Remus’ reins, ‘for my destination is Parthia and that’s a long way from here.’

‘What is a prince doing among such a rabble?’

‘It is a long story, sir, and I do not have the time to tell it to you.’

‘Romans are brought up to believe that all foreign races are barbarians,’ he said. ‘And yet today you have shown that there is nobility in Parthia. I bid you a safe journey, young prince.’

‘Thank you, sir. My men will ensure that you and your companions are not molested. I bid you farewell.’

The Gauls had started several fires in the town, and by now they were taking hold and spewing dense black smoke into the sky. I watched the survivors being escorted down the road, a sad band of homeless wretches trudging over the flagstones. At least they had their lives and were in their homeland.

We caught up with Akmon and his men about a mile from the town. There was no sign of the Gauls. Three hours later we found the army, camped around fifteen miles south of Forum Annii and spread across the plain from one side of the tree-covered slopes of the mountains to the other. As usual, and which always made me smile, the Roman camp had been erected in the dead centre, with its neat avenues and blocks of tents. After dismissing the men and instructing them to find our camp, I rode into the Roman camp. 

I found Spartacus in his tent, sitting in a chair. He looked tired and drawn, his face showing signs of stubble where he had not shaved and there were dark rings around his eyes. He put up a hand in recognition when he saw me and beckoned me to sit. Claudia appeared from the back of the tent, looking equally exhausted.

‘Long journey?’ I asked as she poured me cup of wine then sat beside her husband. 

‘Endless,’ he replied.

‘Where’s Gallia?’ I asked

That raised a smile from Claudia. ‘Have no fear, little one, your beloved is safe and well protected by your horsemen. She and Diana are with your cavalry.’

I felt myself blushing. ‘Well, I meant to say, is Gallia and everyone else safe?’

‘Of course you did,’ said Claudia, teasingly.

Spartacus was in no mood for levity, though. ‘Where are the Romans?’

‘No sign of them, lord,’ I replied.

He looked at me searchingly with narrowed, bloodshot eyes. ‘Word reached me that you passed through Forum Annii.’

I wondered what other words he had heard.

‘I did, what was left of it.’

‘You disapprove of Crixus’ methods?’

‘I disapprove of Crixus entirely,’ I replied. 

‘So do I,’ added Claudia.

‘You may be interested to know that he suffered a nasty head wound when taking the town. Seems the garrison put up more of a fight than was expected. That’s why his men went on a rampage when they got inside. They lost nearly four hundred dead before they managed to scale the walls. At this moment Crixus is lying in his tent with a mighty headache.’

‘Pity his head wasn’t split open,’ I said.

Spartacus smiled. ‘What would you both have me do with him? Kill him, banish him? If I did that I would lose a quarter of my army. The problem I have is that there is a Roman army approaching and I need every man I can get hold of, especially one that likes killing Romans.’

‘He certainly likes that,’ I added bitterly.