The Parthian (52 page)

I placed my hand on his shoulder. ‘You are a good friend and a fierce enemy.’

‘You and your men fought as well.’

‘It is only right that your Germans receive the recognition they deserve. Carry them proudly back to Spartacus.’

Byrd rode into camp as Castus was trying on a Roman bronze muscled cuirass decorated with mythological designs. It was a beautiful piece of armour, though he complained that the arrow hole in its back spoiled the overall effect. Byrd dismounted and handed me a piece of folded paper. I opened it and read the scribbled message.

My friend

Byrd brought joyous news of your victory. I am pleased to report that we too were victorious against the Romans. I look forward to celebrating our joint triumphs when you return. Claudia sends her love.

Spartacus

I related the wonderful news to Nergal, Burebista and Castus, and soon the whole army knew that Spartacus had also vanquished the Romans. I rode off to inform Gallia, whom I had instructed to remain at our camp as I did not want her or any of her women on this field of carrion. I told her and the others about the note from Spartacus and they, like me, were delighted. It was a far happier camp that night, as everyone gathered round fires, drank, ate and talked of what they would do when they left Italy. Suddenly Rome seemed far away and insignificant. We allowed ourselves to dream, and in the intoxication of that warm summer’s evening I asked Gallia to marry me. She was standing with Diana and Rubi next to a roaring log fire, her long hair turned orange by the glow of the flames, when I pulled her away and asked her to share my life with me. She whispered yes and we kissed long and tenderly.

The next day we broke up fifty of the Roman carts as the rest, loaded with supplies and equipment, were driven north to Spartacus. We used the wood to make a funeral pyre, and added to it those Roman shields that were beyond repair. Then we heaped the bodies of our dead upon the whole, doused them with oil and set it alight. We stood in ranks, both horse and foot, as the fire consumed the bodies. I prayed to Shamash that the spirits of our fallen be allowed into heaven, there to dwell for all eternity. We left the Roman corpses to the crows. Before we departed Castus brought me a fine leather cuirass that his men had taken off a Roman officer, a general he said, and by the look of the armour I did not doubt it. The man, whoever he was, had taken an arrow through his eye that had killed him instantly. The black two-piece cuirass was muscled in the Roman manner and was embossed with a splendid golden sun motif on the upper chest, with two golden winged lions immediately beneath it. It had fringed strips of black leather over the thighs and shoulders, which were adorned with golden bees. It was a beautiful piece of armour. He also presented me with the general’s helmet, a fine steel piece that was padded inside, had large, hinged cheek plates and a polished brass crest. It had a large red plume, which I would replace with white goose feathers in due time.

‘My men want you to have them, for giving us victory,’ he said after he had fastened it over my white tunic.

‘I accept, convey my thanks to your men.’

In my new finery I took my place at the head of the army as we marched north to rejoin Spartacus. Beside me rode Gallia on my right and Nergal on my left, with Gafarn, Diana and Praxima immediately behind us. The mad Rubi also rode with us, humming to herself and in a world of her own.

It was a joyous occasion when we returned to the army and were reunited with our friends. Gallia and Diana hugged Claudia while I embraced Spartacus and Godarz. They were all unhurt, though Spartacus had taken a glance from a sword blade just above his right eye, which would have taken his sight if it had been two inches lower. ‘I’ve had worse in the arena’ was his only comment. There have been times in my life when I have experienced true happiness, and the meal that night, in Spartacus’ tent, was one such occasion. Perhaps it was the fact that we all still lived after the battles, or more likely that Gallia had agreed to be my wife, but the wine was light and sweet and the food was the best I had ever tasted. It was no different to what we normally consumed, of course, but it was an occasion of sheer bliss. We sat round the large table, Spartacus at its head, with Claudia seated beside him. I sat next to Gallia, and all night we glanced at each other and swapped caresses and assumed no one noticed. Diana sat with Gafarn, and then there was Castus, Burebista, Nergal, Praxima, Rhesus, Akmon, Cannicus and Byrd, who had not wanted to attend, preferring the company of his rough scouts. But I insisted as I liked him and wanted him to share our joy. Even Rubi seemed to be in a happy mood.

The table was overloaded with bread, fruit and meat, which were heaped on great silver platters, which were refilled when one of us went outside and cut more strips off the whole pig and side of beef that were roasting over fires. A shrill chatter filled the large tent as we all swapped stories about the previous few days, wildly embellished as the wine flowed freely. Burebista regaled us with how he had, with but a handful of horse, defeated the entire cavalry wing of the Roman army, allowing me to ‘sneak round the back’ of the enemy and attack them from behind. Nergal said that the sky had been filled with so many of our arrows that they had blocked out the sun. Praxima boasted that she had killed as many Romans as any man, a claim that I doubted not. Eventually all of us fell silent and waited for Spartacus to tell us how he had defeated the Romans, despite their superior numbers. He sat with one leg over an arm of his chair and a cup of wine in one of his large hands.

‘We fought them in a wide valley, between two great forests of trees that covered the hillsides. I knew that we had a chance if we didn’t allow them to turn our flanks, so we formed a battle line across the whole of the valley, from one treeline to the next. But it was mighty thin. We drew up our cohorts in three lines, but the third line was held back and given strict orders not to attack until I gave the order. They came at us with banners flying and trumpets blaring, I counted four eagles but there may have been more. They tried to soften us up with archers and slingers, but the men locked shields and took their fire. Then they charged us, their whole front line, throwing their javelins and then running at us with their swords drawn. But all those hours spent on the training field paid off for us, for our men loosed their javelins and then used their own swords. And we stood and fought them, fought them long and hard for hours, fought them to a standstill. I know because I was there, listening to the screams and shouts, seeing the injured being hauled back, and shouting encouragement with the rest of the third line. For what seemed like hours thousands of men hacked and shoved and bled and died. But I knew that we were stronger and better, and I gave the order for the first two lines to fall back. And then the Romans thought that they had won, but as their exhausted lines stumbled forward we hit them with our third line, a screaming, frenzied mass of iron. We raced forward and stabbed like men possessed at their bellies and groins, disemboweling men where they stood. When we hit them they were still legions, but then they buckled, turned and fled. We followed them, snapping at their heels like wolves. Then their whole army dissolved and the killing began. Romans trampled other Romans to death, many met death on the point of our swords, and others ran so fast that their insides ruptured, their mouths foamed blood and they died without a mark on them. Their horse made good their escape but thousands of legionaries never left that valley. Our own dead numbered less than two hundred, with another three hundred wounded, but Akmon reckons that six thousand Romans were killed that day.’

‘It is true, lord,’ said Akmon.

‘The Romans have no armies left,’ said Castus, raising his cup to Spartacus, ‘you have destroyed them, lord.’

We all drained our cups and banged them on the table and cheered Spartacus. He raised his hands and gestured for us to desist.

‘I fear, my friends, that are many more Romans left.’

‘But there are none to stop us leaving Italy,’ I said.

Claudia had been silent while Spartacus had been speaking, and had remained seated and downcast as we toasted him. Now she looked at us with her large brown eyes, which seemed to fix all of us with their cool stare.

‘The talons of the eagle holds all of us still,’ she hissed.

It was a strange comment, but then Claudia was given to making obtuse remarks and I merely put it down to the fact that she was not a man and did not understand war. Rome had had its talons well and truly clipped, on both feet! In any case, she cheered up later when she sauntered over to where Gallia and I were seated and began probing us with questions.

‘You two seem very happy.’

‘Good company and fine wine, what more could a man want? I beamed. 

‘A soul mate with whom to share his life,’ she retorted, her eyes darting from me to Gallia.

I looked down and could feel my cheeks becoming hot. 

‘There is no need to be shy, Pacorus,’ she continued, ‘I’ll wager that many men would jump at the chance of marrying Gallia.’

‘Who said anything about marriage?’ queried Gallia, grinning at Claudia.

‘Is the thought disagreeable to you, my friend.’

‘Not entirely disagreeable,’ mused Gallia.

‘And he is a handsome catch,’ Claudia began to stroke my hair, ‘and he does have a nice horse.’

‘That’ true, I’m very fond of Remus.’

‘I’ll fetch some wine.’ I stood up, but in my eagerness to get away from being embarrassed further I tripped on a leg of my chair and was sent sprawling on the floor. All conversations stopped as I lay on the wooden boards. Akmon frowned, as I scrambled to my feet, probably assuming that I was drunk. Spartacus observed me with a cool detachment while Gafarn and Burebista grinned to each other and Nergal looked concerned. 

‘Pacorus has an announcement,’ said Claudia, pointing at me. Once again I felt my cheeks colour.

‘I do?’ All eyes were on me now as I stood in front of the table. I was suddenly transported back to my childhood, to when I was hauled before my father for taking a horse from the royal stables without his permission. It was an uncomfortable experience, and my present situation was beginning to resemble it. I had been given a good thrashing that day; I hoped that this evening would end happier. 

Spartacus leaned forward, intrigued. ‘Well?’

I glanced at Gallia, who seemed to be enjoying my discomfort. 

‘Good news should be spared, Pacorus,’ remarked Claudia. ‘To keep it to yourself is selfish, but as your tongue seems to have deserted you, shall I relate your news?’

This was too much. ‘I have asked Gallia to be my wife,’ I blurted out.

The room erupted in cheering and reverberated to the sound of dagger hilts being banged on the table. Spartacus left his chair and embraced me, while Akmon and Castus slapped me hard on the shoulder. Godarz and Rhesus offered me their hand and Diana and Praxima planted kisses on my cheek. Rubi jumped up and down like a cat on hot coals. All offered their congratulations to Gallia, and Nergal slightly embarrassed me by kneeling before me with his head bowed. I hauled him to his feet. ‘We are not in Hatra now, Nergal.’

Gafarn embraced Gallia. ‘Wedding feasts are lavish occasions in Hatra, lady. All the kings of the empire will be invited, I have no doubt. King Varaz is a generous host, not like his son. And all the people will love your blonde hair. Parthian women are all dark and plump, not slim and beautiful like you.’

‘May I remind you, Gafarn, that my mother and sisters are all Parthian,’ I said.

‘Well, apart from your mother and sisters and few others,’ he corrected himself. ‘Did I ever tell you that it was mooted that Prince Pacorus might marry the Princess Axsen. Now she is plump, well fat, really…’

‘Shut up!’ I ordered.

‘You won’t marry here, among your friends?’ asked Spartacus.

‘Well,’ I stammered, ‘I had thought that we would be leaving Italy soon.’

‘It takes only an afternoon to be married,’ he said. 

‘What do you say on this matter, Gallia?’ asked Claudia.

‘These people are my family, Pacorus, and I would like them to be witnesses to our betrothal.’

‘Out-foxed yet again, highness,’ beamed Gafarn. ‘It’s a good job you’re a warrior and not a diplomat.’

‘Leave him alone,’ said Spartacus, putting his arm around my shoulder, ‘all will be settled as they wish. So let us drink to their happiness, long life and good fortune.’

Later, when Burebista had been carried back to his tent by two guards after collapsing into a drunken slumber, I asked Claudia how she knew about Gallia and myself.

‘Was it a vision, like you saw at Thurri?’

She laughed and embraced me. ‘No, my dashing young prince. Gallia told me, as she told Diana. She is so thrilled that she could not keep it a secret. You have made her very happy.’

‘Really?’

She jabbed me in the stomach with a finger. ‘Of course, you think a woman like Gallia gives her emotions lightly. She loves you body and soul, so you had better not let her down.’

‘I won’t,’ I said, solemnly. ‘By Shamash I swear it.’

She pulled a stern face. ‘So serious. But I know you won’t let her down.’

‘Is that what Spartacus told you?’

‘No, Pacorus, that is what a vision told me.’ She filled her cup with wine and went back to her husband.

We spent two weeks in the province of Umbria, reorganising and commencing the training of new recruits, for many escaped slaves began to flock to our banner once more. They were men, mostly, lean individuals with faces made hard from living in the hills and mountains tending flocks, or living under the lash of the overseer in the fields. Women came also, mostly from the gangs who had worked in the fields, mostly in their teens or twenties, in rags and threadbare cloaks, but whose faces were alight when they walked into our camp and asked to see the slave leader Spartacus. They embraced him, shook his hand and some fell to their knees and wept, and to his credit Spartacus made every one of them feel as though he or she was a long-lost friend. To me he was a friend, but I think that all those who filled our centuries and cohorts also believed him to be one of them. It was that bond of comradeship that held the army together, I knew that now, the strong bond of loyalty that united us all behind him. To me he was always kind, but one does not become the commander of an army by being kind. He also possessed a streak of iron, a degree of ruthlessness that had enabled him to survive as a gladiator in the merciless arena. I saw this in the days following our two victories. Spartacus had captured a cohort of the enemy, men who had thrown down their weapons when they had been surrounded during the pursuit. They had begged for mercy and had seemingly been granted it. But it was not to be, for five days after he had defeated the Romans, Spartacus gave a great feast for the army. The plundered wine and food from far and wide was provided for those who had bled for him, tables stacked high with meats, fruit and bread. And afterwards, in a fenced-off area around which seating had been erected, the prisoners fought in matched pairs to the death.