Carrhae (52 page)

‘To be with his wife and child of course,’ she replied, ‘I would have thought that much was obvious.’

‘He has a kingdom to rule,’ I said, ‘he will find another wife in time.’

‘You are wrong, son of Hatra. He cares for nothing, not his life, much less his kingdom. You trained him well but made a mistake by unfastening his collar. He has become a wild dog that even you might find difficult to control. Still, at least he keeps the Armenians from seizing more of your brother’s kingdom. And sending men to aid the Jews will divert the Romans’ attention away from Parthia for a while. That was a clever ploy, son of Hatra.’

‘I am glad you approve,’ I said through gritted teeth.

‘Of course they will all be killed,’ she continued, ‘that much is certain. But what are the lives of few savages from the Zagros?’ She sneered at Aaron. ‘Or a few Jews for that matter.’

‘How dare you!’ snapped Aaron, his nostrils flaring. ‘Prince Alexander is an ally and friend of Dura, the king has said so himself.’

‘Prince?’ said Dobbai mischievously, ‘the last time I heard he was living like a hunted animal in the hills. He will never regain his position and is condemned to the life of a bandit, and the Jews will return to their position.’

‘What position?’ I enquired.

‘Slaves,’ she said. ‘They were slaves of the Egyptian pharaoh many years ago until he grew tired of their incessant nagging and threw them out of Egypt and now they will be slaves of the Romans.’

Aaron jumped up from his chair. ‘I really must protest, majesty.’

I held up a hand to him. ‘Please be seated, Aaron. I’m sure Dobbai meant no offence.’

‘I am merely stating the truth,’ she said innocently, ‘if some are displeased by this there is little I can do.’

‘You can be silent,’ seethed Aaron.

‘Enough!’ I said. ‘If the Romans and Armenians triumph we shall all be slaves.’

‘Just like the Jews,’ said Dobbai, grinning maliciously at Aaron. ‘Of course if you sent assassins to kill Crassus there would be no Roman invasion of Parthia.’

‘Not a bad idea,’ suggested Domitus.

‘If Crassus is murdered and it is discovered that Dura is responsible it will enrage the Romans further,’ I said. ‘And may I remind you that there would still be Roman legions in Syria waiting to invade the empire. No. Crassus and his legions have to be defeated to send a clear message to Rome that if they attempt to invade Parthia their armies will be destroyed. That is the whole point of what we are trying to achieve: to not only defeat Crassus but also destroy the Roman desire to conquer Parthia.’

Byrd and Malik had made the trip from Palmyra and I asked them both to give an account of what was happening in Syria and on Haytham’s western border.

‘My spies in Antioch report that Crassus recruits Syrians to his army,’ said Byrd. ‘He has eight legions in Syria. Seven he brought from Italy plus one that garrisons the province. Other legion is in Judea and Egypt.’

‘There has been no aggression from Emesa,’ stated Malik. ‘The rumour is that the fat king is living in fear of an assault upon his city by my father.’

‘Good,’ I said. ‘Fear will hopefully prevent him participating in any more assaults against Palmyra.’

‘One thing that I have also heard,’ said Byrd. ‘Queen Aruna has found a new lover. A Roman called Marcus Roscius.’

Gallia, who had been bored by the meeting thus far and had spent most of it either daydreaming or looking out of the window, now looked interested. ‘He was the Roman tribune who came to Dura wanting to take Aaron back to Syria.’

‘I remember,’ I said.

‘Tribune now deputy governor of Syria,’ reported Byrd.

‘Poor tribune,’ I quipped.

Dobbai was far from amused. ‘You should take care, son of Hatra, Aruna is full of malice and desires you dead.’

‘Well,’ I replied, ‘with me here and her in Syria I think I am safe enough.’

That night Gallia and I dined with Rachel and Aaron in their house near the Citadel. Rachel was pregnant with their first child and both of them were very excited about their impending parenthood. We were joined by Miriam and Domitus and soon forgot about the Armenians, Romans and war as we talked about children, getting old and our time in Italy. It was a relaxed and enjoyable evening. I liked Aaron and his wife and Miriam, whom I thanked Shamash for sending to Domitus. He was very relaxed in her company and for a while I forgot that he was a ruthless killer, consummate soldier and commander.

We had a most excellent meal and were relaxing on couches in the dining room when there was a commotion outside and a centurion from the Durans entered the room, the headman of the house protesting loudly at his interruption. Aaron rose from the couch and stilled the man as the centurion saluted me and then Domitus.

‘This had better be good,’ I said to him.

‘Begging your pardon, majesty, but there is trouble in the city.’

Domitus raised an eyebrow. ‘What sort of trouble?’

‘At one of the brothels general.’ He suddenly realised there were women present. ‘Begging your pardon, majesty, ladies.’

I stood up and jabbed a finger at him. ‘You interrupt my evening just to bring me news of trouble in a whorehouse?’

The centurion looked alarmed. ‘Not just any trouble, majesty, it involves Prince Peroz.’

I folded my arms and stood in front of him.

‘Go on.’

‘The prince has barricaded himself in one of the rooms and a few men from one of the caravans are threatening to break down the door and kill him. As it is him I thought you should take charge of the situation, majesty, seeing that he is a royal guest at Dura.’

I sighed. ‘I suppose so.’

‘And your nephew is with him, majesty.’

‘What?’

‘Prince Spartacus is with Prince Peroz, plus your black servant.’

‘Scarab?’

‘Sounds interesting,’ mused Domitus.

‘Spartacus should not be frequenting brothels, Pacorus,’ said an unimpressed Gallia. ‘Diana would be most upset if she knew.’

‘You have obviously been a bad influence on the boy, Pacorus,’ grinned Domitus.

‘You are not helping,’ I told him.

‘You had better go and sort it out,’ Gallia told me.

‘I will come with you,’ said Domitus, ‘you don’t mind do you, Miriam?’

Miriam was not amused by talk of brothels. ‘Apparently not.’

After conveying my apologies to my hosts and Miriam I left Gallia in their company and walked with Domitus, the centurion and four of his legionaries to the scene of the trouble: the house of Samhat just off the main square in the centre of the city. The evening was warm and so we wore just our shirts, our swords at our hips with Domitus carrying his trusty cane.

When we arrived at the brothel – an imposing two-storey building with twin oak doors that fronted the street – there was a sizeable crowd of curious onlookers outside.

‘Make way for the king,’ the centurion shouted, his men barging aside the spectators with their shields. Two soldiers were standing guard outside the brothel to ensure no one entered, and they snapped to attention as Domitus and I entered the house of sin.

‘Clear these people from the street,’ Domitus ordered the centurion. ‘Crack a few heads if you have to but get it done quickly.’

The centurion saluted and went back outside as an irate Samhat saw us and confronted me.

‘We are a respectable establishment catering for a wide variety of important clients who pay a great deal of money for discretion. This is not a back-street fighting pen.’

‘Please calm yourself,’ I told her, admiring the expensive mosaics on the floor, the copper flower stands in the entrance hall and the silver oil lamps mounted on the red-painted walls.

Beyond the entrance was a large hall around which were doors leading to what I assumed were bedrooms, with a fresco of an erotic act painted above every one.

To one side, guarded by half a dozen legionaries with drawn swords, were a group of rough-looking individuals in loose robes and leggings who were staring at us in an aggressive manner. I nodded at them.

‘Are they some of your high-ranking clients?’

‘They arrived in the city two days ago as part of a caravan,’ she replied. ‘They may look like beggars but one has paid well for the services of one of my girls and returned tonight to spend more of his money.’

‘So what is the problem and where is Prince Peroz?’ asked a bemused Domitus eyeing the scantily clad young women who had started to gather outside their rooms.

‘The problem,’ said Samhat slowly and loudly so everyone could hear, ‘is that one of them,’ she pointed at the caravan crew under guard, ‘paid for a night with Roxanne but Prince Peroz arrived unexpectedly and threw him out of her room when she was discovered with him. So he returned with some of his friends looking for trouble and the prince has barricaded himself in her room, along with others.’

‘I have paid a lot of money to be with her,’ shouted one of those under guard, a sour-faced man with broad shoulders and large knuckles. ‘I demand to lie with her, either that or my money back.’

‘Why don’t you give him his money back?’ suggested Domitus.

Samhat looked at him angrily. ‘Because I run a business, not a meeting place for young lovers. I called the city guard because I want the love-struck prince upstairs to be taken away so Roxanne can earn her keep, that’s why.

She smiled at me. ‘I did not realise that you would come, though, majesty.’

The hall was slowly filling with prostitutes, musicians and eunuchs as we stood conversing.

‘What about my refund?’ shouted the brute with large knuckles.

‘Hold your tongue,’ shouted Domitus.

‘If you could sort this matter out, majesty,’ said Samhat with concern, ‘I would be eternally grateful.’

I indicated to Domitus that he should follow me as I walked up the wide staircase that had an intricately carved wooden banister with inlaid ivory. The staircase itself was covered with a rich red carpet that felt soft underfoot.

‘I never knew there was so much money in prostitution,’ remarked Domitus.

‘It is not only the oldest profession, my friend, but also one of the most lucrative.’

There were ten rooms on the brothel’s first floor and like on the ground floor there were erotic frescos above the entrance to each one. Two guards stood outside one of the doors on the right and they came to attention when they saw us. Domitus told them to go downstairs as I knocked on the door.

‘You cannot enter,’ shouted Peroz from inside.

‘It is Pacorus,’ I said, ‘open the door.’

I heard muffled voices and then heard what sounded like a heavy object being moved from the other side of the door before it was unbolted and Peroz stood in the doorway with a sword in his hand.

‘You can put that away,’ I said sternly, and then saw Spartacus and Scarab similarly armed standing behind him. ‘And you two can sheath those weapons as well.’

Peroz bowed his head and slid his sword back into its scabbard as I walked into the spacious, lavishly furnished room that had a large bed against one wall facing wooden shutters leading to a balcony. The floor was covered in a plush light red carpet and oil lamps hanging from wall brackets provided light. The alluring aroma of perfume and incense entered my nostrils and my eyes settled on a young woman sitting on the bed. Her oval face was most beautiful, with flawless olive skin, high cheekbones, a narrow, delicate nose and luscious lips. Dressed in a white gown with delicate gold chains around her ankles and more gold hanging from her ears, she looked nervous as her brown eyes darted between Peroz and me. The prince stood next to her protectively as her hand reached for his.

‘It is a good job those soldiers came when they did, uncle, otherwise we would have killed those fools downstairs,’ boasted Spartacus, which earned him a congratulatory slap on the back from Scarab.

I looked up at the ceiling in despair, to discover to my surprise that it was painted with depictions of fornicating couples, both male and female. I blushed and looked at Domitus.

‘Would you escort my squires downstairs and ensure that they do not get into a fight?’

I smiled at Peroz. ‘Perhaps we may have a few words together, prince?’

Domitus ushered Spartacus and Scarab out of the room and closed the door behind him as I pulled up two chairs so that Peroz could sit down and I could do the same. I smiled at the nervous young beauty sitting on the bed.

‘You must be Roxanne,’ I said. ‘I am delighted to meet you.’

Those brown eyes met mine and then she looked down at the floor. ‘Thank you, majesty,’ she replied softly.

I sat and listened to his story, about how he had been visiting Roxanne for a number of weeks at a regular time and how he had decided, on a whim, to take Spartacus and Scarab to see her. The three of them had spent much time together during the preceding months and Peroz had wanted to show them the woman he had obviously fallen in love with. And so they had sauntered down to the brothel not realising that this was not the usual time that Peroz visited, and had arrived to discover that Roxanne had been sold to the oafish brute downstairs for the evening. Enraged at what he perceived to be the abuse of his beloved he had thrown the man out of her room and barricaded himself in, along with my two squires. As he talked I began to realise that Peroz did not think of Roxanne as a prostitute but as a sort of princess from a fable, always waiting for him each week when they would spend hours in each other’s arms. So besotted was he with her that the thought that she would lie with other men had not even entered his mind, either that or he purposely shut it out of his thoughts.

My heart sank when, still clutching her hand, he stood up and announced. ‘Roxanne will be a princess of Carmania, lord, for after the war I will be taking her back to my homeland.’

I smiled politely as my mind was filled with images of his enraged father and mocking brother when he presented a whore at court. And it would hardly reflect well on Dura or its king that Peroz had been allowed to consort with prostitutes. But then, the Kingdom of Dura was held in low esteem by many in the empire and what did I care about what others thought? I did care about the thousands of Carmanian horse archers that were a valuable addition to my army and I liked the young prince who commanded them. Two things were obvious: that Peroz would never agree to leave this establishment without his beloved by his side, and the owner of the brothel would never allow her to leave without compensation.