Klietas was beaming from ear to ear, holding up the necklace so I and Gallia could see it. His chest was still bandaged, and his right arm was in a sling, but he still insisted on cleaning my weapons and armour and serving meals. It was a precarious exercise, both for him and us, wooden platters of food sometimes being spilt over the floor, and us! Still, his enthusiasm was infectious and whereas Gallia would normally have given him short shrift for such clumsiness, the fact he had saved my life meant he was something of a hero, making her more forgiving.
‘Haya gave it to me, highborn,’ he cooed.
Forged by an armourer, it was a simple necklace holding one of the bear’s claws that had lacerated his chest. The chain was made from rings from mail armour and was rather blunt and unattractive. But that it had been gifted by his love made it the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. With one hand he tried the impossible task of putting it on. I stood.
‘Let me, don’t reopen your wounds.’
He stood still as I fastened the necklace, Klietas smiling like an imbecile at Gallia.
‘Very fetching,’ she admitted.
‘Haya gave it to me, highborn,’ he said a second time.
She indulged him. ‘I’m sure she is very fond of you.
‘Go and report to Sophus,’ I told him, ‘so he can put a fresh dressing on your wounds.’
He bowed, ‘Yes, highborn.’
He passed Kewab and Lucius on the way out of the tent, both wearing scowls of concern.
‘Have we become the besieged?’ I joked, failing to elicit a smile from either.
‘We wish to show you something, majesty,’ said Kewab.
‘It will affect our conduct of the siege,’ added Lucius, ‘and ultimately the outcome of the whole campaign.’
Half an hour later I and Gallia were sitting on our horses some half a mile east of Sinope, the sun glinting off a blue Black Sea, a pleasing breeze blowing into our faces. That was the only pleasing thing that morning.
‘We captured a merchant yesterday,’ Kewab informed us, ‘a man who does much trading inside Sinope. He owns a large vineyard further up the coast and sells wine to nobles inside the city, or at least he did.’
I shuddered. ‘You have executed him?’
Kewab was shocked. ‘No, majesty, but his vineyard was wrecked by a large party of Aorsi. A patrol of my horsemen saved him from being nailed to one of his vine trees.’
‘Animals,’ spat Gallia.
‘After interrogation, he was allowed to leave by sail boat,’ Kewab continued, ‘but what he divulged was very interesting.’
He pointed at the peninsula jutting into the sea, on which Sinope had been built.
‘The peninsula is two miles in length and a mile wide at its broadest point. It has its own water supply, as well as being endowed with two ports. There is one on the eastern side and one on the western side. You can see the sails of the boats in the harbour, majesties. This means the city can be supplied with ease by merchant ships.’
Lucius continued the tale of woe. ‘The landward wall of the city, the one we would have to breach if we launched an attack, is strongly fortified and bristles with arrow ports. In addition, because we are unable to enforce a sea blockade of the city, King Polemon is free to land soldiers both up and down the coast.
‘This means we will have to establish both outer and inner siege works if we are to prevent any force being landed on the coast interfering with our own forces.’
I shook my head at Gallia, who raised her eyebrows in acknowledgement.
‘So we cannot starve the city into submission, we have no engines with which to batter down or scale the walls, and the garrison can be supplied with food and fresh troops without interruption.’
They both nodded.
‘Suggestions?’ I asked.
Kewab turned away from the sea to gaze at the tree-covered hills behind us.
‘We could construct boats to raid the harbours and burn all the shipping therein, as there is an abundance of wood in the area.’
‘And level every settlement in the area within a radius of fifty miles,’ added Lucius.
‘A very Roman tactic,’ said Gallia, clearly unimpressed.
‘With no siege engines, majesty, it will almost impossible to take the city,’ he told her.
‘Not without heavy losses,’ admitted Kewab. ‘If I may be frank, majesty.’
‘Be my guest,’ I told him.
‘The first half of this campaign has been masterful, resulting as it has in the defeat and humiliation of the Armenians at very little cost, at least in the short term. But to march into this kingdom without the means of capturing the objective and having no desire to conquer Pontus, is frankly folly.’
‘Perhaps you should tell King Spartacus that,’ said Gallia.
Kewab gazed back at the city surrounded by a shimmering sea.
‘There is no guarantee the renegades we seek to capture are even in Sinope. They could have left at any time, or if they are still in the city, they could still be evacuated with ease. We do not even know if King Polemon is in the city.’
‘I would suggest that a policy of destruction will make Polemon more amenable to enter into discussions to bring about the resolution we desire,’ said Lucius.
‘No,’ I replied firmly, ‘I will not wreak destruction on a kingdom and condemn innocent civilians to starvation, which is what will happen if we destroy their homes, farms, fields, orchards and vineyards.’
‘Then we will fail,’ stated Lucius flatly.
Our horsemen ranged far and wide, collecting supplies and keeping watch for any enemy forces. But though they sometimes came upon small groups of hill men, who were easily dealt with, they encountered mostly a deserted land. The heralds sent to the city walls to request a parley with King Polemon met with no answer and on the third day of our ‘siege’, I called a meeting to discuss our strategy.
We feasted on venison and boar shot that morning, apricots and apples plundered from a nearby orchard and wine taken from villas whose owners had fled. Spartacus brought Castus and Haytham, both having led raiding parties of King’s Guard earlier. They were in high spirits, the enemy having seemingly melted away to leave them free to ride far and wide and indulge their every whim. Before they got too drunk, I informed their father, Gafarn, Diana and Malik of the opinions of Kewab and Lucius regarding our visit to Pontus.
Spartacus finished picking clean a boar rib and tossed the bone on his platter.
‘When Polemon sees his kingdom burning from his palace, he will be willing to enter into negotiations.’
‘He has shown little inclination to do so thus far,’ remarked Gafarn, smiling at the excellent wine he was drinking.
‘Have we become murderers and bandits?’ asked a shocked Diana.
‘Hostages,’ said Castus.
We all looked at him in expectation. He drank his wine greedily.
‘Send horsemen far into the west and east, round up anyone they come across, bring them back here and line them up before the walls of Sinope.’
‘Line them up?’ asked a confused Haytham.
‘On crosses, like the Romans do,’ said his brother, bursting into laughter.
Diana’s jaw dropped in horror.
‘Hatra will have no part in such barbarity.’
‘Neither will Dura,’ I confirmed.
Castus looked at the austere Malik.
‘Uncle, surely it is the Agraci way to exact vengeance on your enemies.’
Malik nodded slowly. ‘Vengeance, yes, but what you desire is to spill blood for its own sake, Castus, to drench your sword in the blood of innocents. In doing so, you become like the ones you seek to serve justice on.’
Castus was deflated by Malik’s sage words and Haytham sank into silence. Their father was not to be deterred, though.
‘Before we begin weeping over the wrongs committed against King Polemon, let us remember he was part of the army led by Mark Antony that invaded Parthia ten years ago, and his soldiers formed the backbone of the rebel army of Prince Atrax. Pontus has a lot to answer for.’
His sons murmured their agreement.
‘You are right, Spartacus,’ I admitted, ‘but that does not assist us in the slightest. I have no desire to spend weeks or months in this land, nor do I have any appetite for wanton destruction or wholesale murder.’
‘Pacorus speaks for Hatra in this,’ said Gafarn. ‘Before we condemn Polemon outright, remember he is in the unenviable position of being a Roman client king.’
‘Roman puppet, you mean,’ sneered Gallia.
Gafarn nodded. ‘And Phraates’ puppet also, for let us not forget it was our esteemed high king who encouraged Atrax to try to seize the crown of Media, thus creating a sequence of events leading to King Polemon offering his soldiers to Atrax, paid for by Octavian.’
Spartacus bit into an apricot. ‘Tomorrow, we change the tone of our requests for a meeting with Polemon, informing him we will turn his kingdom into a desert if he does not speak with us.’
He took another bite of apricot.
‘He does not know that Hatra and Dura do no not have the stomach for it.’
‘I will give you a month, Spartacus,’ I told him, ‘after which Dura’s army will be marching back to Parthia. But I expect Polemon to meet us before then, if only to save his honour, his kingdom from destruction and his people from starvation.’
Castus and Haytham spent the rest of the meal sulking and making derogatory comments about Klietas and his arm in a sling, until I told them to desist. Spartacus chastised his sons for their boorish behaviour, which darkened their mood further. Their father was in an altogether more agreeable mood, having acquired a taste for being a conqueror. He was more like the Romans than he thought in that respect. Malik kept his counsel but was happy to engage Gafarn and Diana in conversation, about Rasha, his father and how all three had been outsiders in Parthia and probably always would be, notwithstanding their many labours in defence of the empire.
‘Of all of us,’ he reflected, ‘only Pacorus is accorded respect, because he comes from a great and noble family resident in a famous city.’
I gestured at all of them seated at the table.
‘All of us are accorded respect in the empire, not least for what we have done for that empire.’
Malik stared into his cup of wine.
‘In your kingdom, where men are judged purely on merit, that is the case, Pacorus. But since you and my father made peace I have travelled to many parts of Parthia, rubbed shoulders with many nobles and kings, and seen the looks of horror on the faces of their fine ladies when they see the tattoos on my face. Old fears and prejudices take generations to die, my friend, if they die at all.
‘I look around this table and see the faces of friends, blood brothers and sisters whose origins are irrelevant. But we and what we have created is an aberration, an exception.’
‘Times change, and people change, my friend,’ I argued. ‘As a young boy, if someone had told me an Agraci woman would be Parthian queen, I would have laughed in his face. And yet did not Rasha become Queen of Gordyene? Did not her son, half-Agraci, half-Thracian, become King of Media?’
Malik shrugged his shoulders. ‘Perhaps you are right.’
‘But Akmon and Lusin can never rest easy while Atrax still walks the earth,’ warned Gallia. ‘Whatever happens in Pontus, Atrax must die, and sooner rather than later.’
Spartacus raised his cup. ‘Well said, aunt.’
Not long after our guests had departed, Klietas busying himself clearing up the cups and platters one-handed, Chrestus appeared, removing his helmet and saluting. I offered him wine, but he refused.
‘There’s a man outside, majesty, turned up at the northern entrance to the camp saying he has a massage for you, from King Polemon.’
I looked at Gallia.
‘What proof does he hold of his authenticity?’ I asked.
‘Words he says you will remember, majesty.’
‘He must be mad,’ said Gallia, ‘either that or an assassin sent to kill the king.’
‘He carries no weapons, majesty,’ Chrestus informed her, ‘and his hands have been tied behind his back.’
‘I will hear what he has to say,’ I said.
The prisoner, a young man in his twenties with a handsome face and kind eyes, was bundled into my presence. He bowed his head and Chrestus was about to force him down onto his knees, but I stopped him.
‘That will not be necessary, Chrestus. You are from King Polemon?’
The man smiled. ‘Yes, majesty, he sends his greetings and asks you to remember the last time you and he met.’
I did remember. It was near the shore of Lake Urmia after we had him and what was left of his men cornered like rats in a trap – a small band of dismounted horsemen determined to sell their lives dearly. Gallia had wanted to shoot them to pieces but I wanted their surrender to save time, and had demanded to meet with their commander, who turned out to be Polemon himself.
‘Go on,’ I told him.
‘When you saved my lord’s life, you asked him if it was worth dying on a wind-swept plain for Rome? Let the Romans fight their own wars, you said, saying further that a tactical withdrawal was no shame.’
‘Release him,’ I ordered Chrestus.
My general was at first hesitant but cut the man’s bonds with his dagger when he realised I was not joking. They were the exact words I had spoken to Polemon during our brief discussion at Lake Urmia. I poured wine into a cup and offered it to the man.
‘I can taste it first if you suspect poison,’ I said.
He smiled and took the cup. ‘That will not be necessary, majesty, it is well known King Pacorus is a man of honour.’
‘How do you serve King Polemon?’ I asked.
‘As a dutiful son,’ he replied.
Gallia was surprised. ‘You are Polemon’s son?’
He bowed his head to her. ‘Prince Zenon at your service, majesty.’
‘When does your father wish to meet with me, Zenon?’ I asked.
‘Tonight, majesty.’
‘Tonight?’
‘Yourself and one other can meet my father at the gates of Sinope. I will stay here as surety for his promise that no harm will come to you.’
‘Why the urgency?’ asked Gallia.
‘King Pacorus once saved my father’s life, majesty, and he now wants to return the favour.’
It was late, but I was intrigued, and so after acquiring a cloak with a hood I set out with Chrestus for the gates of Sinope. We journeyed on foot as there was no moon and I did not want to risk Horns twisting or breaking an ankle for the sake of a short walk. To see we carried torches, which could be seen for a great distance, much to the consternation of the army’s commander. Chrestus was like an old grump beside me, muttering and cursing under his breath, which I ignored for the first ten minutes after we had left camp, but then stopped to confront him.
‘I take it from your barely disguised utterings that you disapprove of our midnight walk.’
‘I do.’
‘Why?’
He looked around at the darkness.
‘There could be a dozen assassins lying in wait. The King of Dura risks his life because a man recounts some words spoken in a meeting ten years ago? Madness, utter madness.’
‘I respect your candour, but there are times, Chrestus, when one must have faith that what seems simple and true are in fact so.’
I started to pace towards the flicking torches on the ramparts of Sinope’s gatehouse, Chrestus resuming his muted ramblings, hand firmly on the hilt of his gladius. We slowed when the drawbridge over the moat in front of the gates descended and two figures carrying torches strode across the wooden boards. We instinctively slowed as the figures got nearer, stopping around ten paces from them.
‘King Pacorus, I presume.’
He had not changed much in ten years. His beard was still thick, and his scale-armour cuirass was still very kingly in appearance, though it paled beside my own magnificent example. It was my armour that first caught his eye.
‘I see Dura has prospered in the years since our last meeting, which makes your presence in Pontus even more baffling.’
‘We are here, lord king, to apprehend those responsible for crimes against Parthia, namely Prince Atrax, Titus Tullus, Tiridates and Laodice.’
‘Crimes against Parthia or against Gordyene?’
‘They are one and the same thing,’ I answered. ‘May I ask if those individuals are in Sinope?’
He smiled. ‘They are. And may I ask if my son is unharmed?’
‘He is quite safe. Dura does not harm envoys.’
‘I know that you are a man of honour, King Pacorus, which is why I sent Zenon to you. Ten years ago, you saved my life and allowed me to watch my children grow up. Now, by dint of current circumstances, I am in a position to save your life, and that of your wife. I will even allow King Gafarn and Queen Diana to leave with you, though Pontus owes Hatra nothing, especially considering the outrages its army has committed on my soil.’
‘If we want to speak of outrages, lord king,’ I replied, ‘I could mention innocent people crucified on the streets of Irbil by Pontic soldiers under the command of Titus Tullus, as well as depredations committed by the savages led by Laodice. Shall we compile a tally of who has slaughtered the most innocents?’
‘I will come straight to the point, King Pacorus, as I wish you and your army to be gone from my kingdom. The individuals you desire to apprehend have been used as bait to lure you here, or rather King Spartacus and his army. The character of the King of Gordyene is well known not only in Parthia but also in Rome. Surely a great military commander such as yourself must have wondered why the mountain passes into Pontus were not contested.’
I felt a knot tighten in my stomach. I tried to maintain my dignity.
‘How easy has been your progress,’ continued Polemon, the man holding the torch beside him wearing a helmet that sported a magnificent crest, the commander of his bodyguard, I assumed.
‘Pontus lost many soldiers on the Plain of Diyana,’ I said, trying to convince myself that was the reason our advance had not been contested.
‘It is true Pontus suffered losses in Media last year,’ he conceded, ‘but my army is not the only one you will soon be facing.’
The knot in my stomach tightened some more.
‘The hour is late, and I have no appetite for word games, King Pacorus. The combined might of King Archelaus of Cappadocia and King Amyntas of Galatia are converging on Sinope, where my own soldiers will reinforce them. In addition, Herod of Judea has also sent soldiers north to take part in ridding the world of King Spartacus.’
‘He stands not alone,’ I said. ‘You fight Gordyene, you fight all Parthia.’
‘ All Parthia? High King Phraates wants rid of Spartacus, King Pacorus, for it was he, with the support of Octavian, who is behind this grand scheme. It was Octavian who expressed concerns that a plot to destroy Spartacus would result in a war involving Dura and Hatra. But Phraates assured him it would not lead to a wider conflagration.’
I wanted to be sick. I felt my knees weaken and for a moment was unsteady on my feet.
‘Are you all right, majesty?’ asked Chrestus.
I took a deep breath and composed myself, avoiding Polemon’s eyes. It all made sense now. I remembered the conversation in the royal garden at Irbil with Phraates when he had casually mentioned the presence of the renegades at Sinope. He knew I would pass on the information to Spartacus. And my nephew needed no second prompting when it came to vengeance. He thought he had been most clever in engineering conflict with Armenia, but it had been he who had been manipulated, like a puppet. And Ctesiphon rather than Rome had been pulling the strings.
‘My offer is this,’ said Polemon. ‘You and your wife, together with King Gafarn and Queen Gallia, may avail yourselves of a ship that will take you east to Trabzon. From there guides will take you south through the mountains to the border of Gordyene and safety.’
He glanced at Chrestus. ‘You may also take those closest to you if you wish. But your army will stay here, its soldiers to be disbanded and sold into slavery.’
‘If you knew me, King Polemon, you would know that I would never abandon my soldiers.’
He sighed. ‘I knew that, but I had to make the offer. A matter of conscience, you understand.’
‘I appreciate your courtesy, lord king, and regret that Parthian soldiers have invaded your land. I assume you had little choice when it came to aiding Prince Atrax.’
‘There was a time when Pontus was a great power in these parts, King Pacorus, but that time has passed. But I comfort myself with the thought that a native king is better for my people than a Roman governor, though Pontus is still paying for the mistakes of its former rulers.’
‘I thank you for your honesty, lord king, but if what you say is true, our army will have left this area before your allies arrive.’
He looked at me with sympathetic eyes. ‘It is too late, King Pacorus. A carrier pigeon arrived at my palace earlier with news that Archelaus and Amyntas are but two days’ march from Sinope.’
‘I will see to it your son is escorted back to your city,’ I told him, eager to be away. ‘I thank you for your generosity, lord king, but in the morning you will be my enemy again.’
‘You are still my enemy tonight, King Pacorus.’
I was glad Polemon did not see me limping back to camp, my old wound rousing itself from its slumbers to torment me afresh. Chrestus tossed the torch away when we left the King of Pontus, just in case an eagle-eyed archer on the walls decided to make his lord’s work easier. For a while my general said nothing but again began to mutter to himself. After a while I found it unbearable.
‘In the name of the gods, Chrestus, spit it out.’
‘That king spoke the truth. Our eyes have been focused on the city and the land to the east and west of it. But we gave scant regard to the south and the tracks through the mountains.’
‘We have patrols out in all directions.’
‘Up to a day’s march from camp, yes. What worries me is that if we quit camp in the morning and retrace our steps back to Gordyene, we will find the mountain tracks and passes full of hill men.’
‘And with a hostile army snapping at our heels,’ I said.
When we reached camp, we sent Zenon back to his father with an armed guard. Gallia had been entertaining him with stories about Spartacus the slave leader, our time in Italy and the Amazons. When he had gone, I entertained her by recounting my meeting with his father.
‘Send men to rouse Spartacus and the king and queen of Hatra,’ I told Chrestus, ‘and Malik, too.’
Bleary eyed and irritable, they listened to what king Polemon had told me in silence, though not about the plot of Phraates to rid the world of the King of Gordyene. As I did so Spartacus yawned frequently, and Malik demanded wine to keep him awake. It was perhaps two hours after midnight and the night was cool and still. Diana wrapped a thick cloak around her and Gafarn rubbed his eyes in an effort to stay in the land of the living. When I had finished speaking, Spartacus spoke first and predictably.
‘Polemon bleats like a lost lamb. So what if the armies of Galatia and Cappadocia are on the march? We stay here and defeat them before the walls of Sinope, after which we burn everything in Pontus. Polemon will surrender those we want after he has seen his enemies destroyed.’
His arrogance was breath-taking, but he had the support of Malik.
‘We have no choice but to stand and fight. To run would be dishonourable.’
With that Spartacus stood, kissed his mother on the cheek and walked from the tent, turning at the entrance.
‘You made a mistake not bringing your siege engines, uncle. The old Pacorus would not have made such an error.’
Malik slapped me on the arm before taking his leave, Gafarn stretching out his legs as he did so. When they had left I told Diana and Gafarn about Phraates’ twisted plot.
‘How could he?’ was Diana’s lament.
‘Because he has no morals, no loyalty and a very short memory,’ Gafarn told her.
Diana looked at me with tired eyes. ‘I apologise, Pacorus.’
I was surprised. ‘For what?’
‘For supporting my son instead of listening to you. And for what may befall us all in the coming days.’
Gafarn took her hand. ‘At least we will face it together.’
‘Just like old times,’ said Gallia with a wan smile.
Even she sounded deflated and I wondered what we would be facing when the new allies of Pontus arrived.