David Wishart - Parthian Shot

I thought for a moment I’d gone too far — guys like Phraates don’t like being told to their face that they’ve been sussed — but suddenly his expression cleared and he laughed. ‘Oh, dear,’ he said. ‘I really have grossly underestimated you, Corvinus, and believe me that is something I very seldom do. You’re quite right, of course, I did arrange things. From the best possible motives, naturally. And you will, despite what I said, have an excellent dinner. That I guarantee absolutely.’

Well, he couldn’t say fairer than that. ‘How did you know we were going to Marcellus Theatre?’ I said.

‘Oh, that was simple. I had one of my slaves strike up a conversation with your coachman yesterday. One of my female slaves. Quite a good-looking girl, so don’t be too hard on the poor man, will you?’

I found myself grinning back. Yeah, that’d do it: Lysias had always had an eye for the girls, and a trip to the theatre isn’t exactly classified information. Simple but effective. ‘Fair enough. So tell me about the motives.’

Phraates sat down. ‘They’re straightforward too. We had to talk privately, and this was the…well, the pleasantest, least overt and most convenient way I could think of. You’re not upset, I hope?’

‘Not at all’ I sipped the wine. It went down like liquid velvet. ‘So far. My congratulations.’

‘Thank you.’ He smiled. ‘Well, then. I’ll leave the governance of the conversation up to you. Where do we start?’

‘With a question. Why me?’

The eyes flickered, just for an instant: that he hadn’t been expecting. ‘I beg your pardon?’

Yeah, well, it was nice that I could still do something to throw the slick old bugger off balance. I didn’t flatter myself that now he’d been caught out he was levelling. All it meant was that he was using a different approach. ‘I asked Isidorus the same thing, and got his answer. Now I’d like to hear yours.’

‘Then I’m afraid I must disappoint you. I insisted on an independent investigator, yes, but I named no names. How could I? You were Tiberius’s personal appointee, and that being the case like Isidorus himself I had no further choice in the matter. Surely Isidorus told you that?’ I didn’t answer. ‘That said, now that I know you personally I have no complaints in retrospect. None at all. You think in a straight line, you don’t start with any preconceived ideas, you’ve no personal or political axe to grind, in the career sense or otherwise. You’re gauche, insensitive — forgive me — and you call a spade a spade, even when you know you shouldn’t and the result will be that someone clouts you with it. You are basically very simple.’ He smiled. ‘Does that answer your question?’

‘Uh…yeah.’ Jupiter in rompers! Well, I’d asked, and honesty goes both ways. ‘More or less.’

‘On the other hand — or rather, also, because I don’t believe these are negative qualities, far from it — I’m reliably informed that you can be discreet where discretion is important, and you have a strong sense of justice, even where the justice in question may, shall we say, go rather against the natural grain, your own included. Happy?’

‘Delirious.’ I took a swig of the wine. ‘Thanks a bunch.’

‘You’re welcome. And I was being complimentary. Believe me.’

‘Yeah. Right. So let’s move on. Tell me about Tiridates.’

The smile disappeared completely. ‘In what way?’

‘Maybe this is one of the spades you mentioned. If so, then tough, you can clout me if you like. I get the distinct impression that Tiridates and his pal the Iberian don’t exactly support you for Great King. Also, that there’s at least one guy in the embassy — Osroes — who’d agree with them.’

Phraates was staring at me. Suddenly, he laughed again and shook his head. ‘Corvinus,’ he said, ‘I really am very glad that Tiberius appointed you. Do you know how long it would’ve taken someone like Lucius Vitellius to say all that to my face?’

‘No. I don’t really care, either. So how about an answer?’

He set his wine cup down beside the chair. ‘Before I give you that I have to explain a little of the background. I’m sorry, but that’s essential. Under Parthian law, both my nephew Tiridates and I are eligible candidates for the kingship; equally eligible candidates. There is no such thing as primogeniture. Just because I am the elder doesn’t mean to say that my claim is any stronger than his. And, incidentally, we are both more eligible than is Artabanus, who is only royal through his mother. You understand?’

‘Yeah, sure, but — ’

‘Of course, eligibility isn’t everything, which is why Artabanus is presently Great King and I am not. My strength is that I have the support of Rome and — consequent on this but not wholly so — the support of the anti-Arbanus faction at Ctesiphon. As long as this continues, my claim is stronger than my nephew’s; but only as long as it continues. If it were to be withdrawn — or naturally if I were to die — then Tiridates would be next in line.’

Right. Now we were getting somewhere. ‘If you were to die,’ I said neutrally.

Phraates smiled. ‘I know what you’re thinking, and you’re quite right. Tiridates would love to see me dead, and he would not be averse to…shall we say giving fate a nudge. I’m not surprised, nor do I blame him. Murdering relatives has always been endemic in our family. My stepmother — an ex-slave, incidentally, given as a gift to my father by the Divine Augustus — poisoned my father to gain the throne for her own son, whom she then married and later killed. For us royals this is quite normal behaviour.’ He must’ve noticed my expression. ‘Oh, yes. Brother-and-sister marriages, and less commonly mother-son ones, are completely acceptable by Parthian custom, in certain quarters. Our friend Osroes, being a Magian, would certainly approve. But that’s by the bye. As I say, we Parthian royals have always murdered our kin, or tried to, if they were obstacles. It’s become a sort of game.’

‘“Game,”’ I said.

‘Oh, yes, indeed. More or less. The attempt, anyway.’ His eyebrows lifted in amusement. ‘I’ve shocked you, haven’t I?’

‘Yeah. Yeah, actually you have.’ Sweet gods, Perilla was right: the guy wasn’t Roman, no way, never, not unless you were comparing him with Romans like that old bitch Livia. And even Livia wouldn’t’ve called bumping off your relatives a game. If you can’t take murder seriously then what’s left?

‘Then I’m sorry. But the fact remains: of course Tiridates would like to see me dead, especially under the present circumstances. The important question is, is he working actively to that end? Was he responsible for the attack on my litter? I don’t know, and that is what I need you to find out.’

‘Was that why you had your food tasted at the dinner?’

Phraates chuckled. ‘Ah, so you noticed? Partly, although I doubt if he could’ve engineered anything. He was a guest himself. No, that was just standard practice. The etiquette, if you like, of the Great King’s table, and I was very concerned to show myself the Great King that evening. It may’ve caused a little temporary indignation, but these formalities are important. Now. If you don’t mind, let’s move on to the next point.’

‘Okay.’ I took a steadying sip of my wine. ‘Mithradates. He’s got your nephew under his thumb, and my bet is he doesn’t like you either.’

‘Oh, it’s quite mutual.’ Phraates sipped at his own winecup. ‘I did enjoy your little spat, by the way. Very embarrassing for me politically, of course, and he knew exactly what he was doing all the time, but I still enjoyed putting him down. It does no harm for a future Great King to show that he has teeth and isn’t afraid to use them. And you’re absolutely right again: Mithradates has my nephew completely infatuated. Which says just as much about Tiridates as it does about the Iberian. Kings — good ones — can’t afford to allow other people to exert too much influence over them. Tiridates would make a very poor Great King.’ He set the winecup down. ‘Mithradates, by the way, could well be a danger to me. He’s ambitious, quite ruthless, and he has a very powerful personality. Fortunately, he’s also intelligent.’