Peter Darman - Parthian Dawn

He threw an old brown blanket over the pots on the bench and beckoned me to enter his shop, which in reality was a small space with a table on one side. A drawn curtain barred the entrance to what I assumed was a bedroom. He gestured at one of the stools tucked underneath the table. I pulled it out and sat down and he did the same. He filled a cup with water from the jug on the table and handed it to me.

‘You want to buy some pots, lord?’

I laughed. ‘Not quite. I have come to see if I can interest you in coming on another journey.’

He drank some water. ‘Journey?’

‘I have a new kingdom to go to.’

‘I know, lord. You travel to Dura soon.’

‘So, I see your old skills have not deserted you.’

He looked disinterested. ‘It is common knowledge.’

‘I would like you to come with me, to be my chief scout, or anything else that you might like to be.’

‘You very kind, lord, but I have a new life.’

I looked around his miserable quarters and his threadbare clothes. I could not believe that he was happy living such an existence, and then I remembered that the Romans had killed his family in Cappadocia when he had been away on the road selling pots. Perhaps he felt guilty that he had lived and they had died. Maybe living in misery was his way of atoning for the wrong that he felt he had committed, but perhaps I was thinking gibberish.

‘We miss you, Byrd,’ I said absently.

‘Who “we”, lord?’

‘Well, Gallia for one, and Diana and Gafarn.’

A smile spread across his lean face. ‘They are fine people. And the child, it thrives?’

‘He thrives. He is strong, just like his father.’

‘And Gallia, she is well?’

I drained my cup. ‘Strong, proud and defiant as ever, Byrd, just like in Italy.’

‘I came to temple when you were married. She very beautiful woman.’

‘You were at my wedding, why didn’t you come to the banquet afterwards?’

‘I stay at back of temple, lord, make no fuss.’

I laid a hand on his arm. ‘There are no barriers between those who served Spartacus, my friend, always remember that. It matters not if you are a king or a pauper; those of us who were in Italy are brothers. Nothing will ever change that. Please think about my offer.’

I took the purse hanging from my belt. ‘Take this. There is enough money for you to purchase a good horse and a saddle. We leave for Dura the day after tomorrow. I would feel a lot safer knowing that you are with us.’

He shook his head. ‘Hatra not like Italy, lord, no Romani here.’

I stood up and we shook hands.

‘Please give the matter some thought, Byrd. If you decide to stay, then please go to the palace and see Gafarn and Diana from time to time.’

‘They stay in Hatra?’

‘Yes, my mother likes having a young child in the palace, and everyone loves Diana too much to see her go.’

‘It will be hard on Gallia to leave her friend.’

‘It will.’ I pointed at him. ‘That is why your presence is all the more important. She will want as many of her old friends around her as possible.’

I walked back to the palace not knowing if I had convinced him, but hoping I had said enough, if only to give him a better life. But then, perhaps he was contented.

‘So, will he come?’

Gallia was checking her bow and the arrows in her quiver and her mail shirt was hanging on a wooden frame by the side of our large bed.

I shrugged. ‘You know Byrd, he’s a law unto himself.’

She pulled her sword from its sheath. Like mine it was a Roman cavalry weapon called a spatha . Its blade was straight and each edge was sharpened. My spatha had been a gift from Spartacus and was one of my most treasured possessions. My most treasured possession was standing next to me, examining the razor-sharp edges on her own sword.

‘You said he was selling pots.’ She gingerly stroked one of the edges with a finger, smiling in approval at its lethality.

‘That’s right, down in the south of the city, in one of the less salubrious districts.’

‘You should have commanded him to come.’ She slammed her sword back in its scabbard.

‘And you think he would have obeyed?’

She looked at me. ‘Of course not, but it would have got you used to issuing commands. Isn’t that what kings do?’

I ignored her jibe. ‘In any case, I don’t want anyone who doesn’t want to be with us. How do you feel about Diana staying here?’

She pulled her dagger from its sheath and examined its blade. ‘I will miss her, but she likes it here and everyone adores her, especially your mother. I think she sees the baby as a sort of grandchild. And knowing that Diana is happy and safe is a weight off my mind.’ She giggled. ‘Who would have thought it, a Roman kitchen slave who has become a princess? It’s a strange world.’

A loud knock on the door startled us. ‘Lord king, a courier has arrived with a package for you. He awaits you in the throne room.’

We followed the guard from our bedroom, through the palace’s private chambers and along a long corridor that led to the rear of the throne room. Kogan’s guards stood around the room at intervals of ten paces, looking like bronze statues in their breastplates and helmets. My father sat in one of the high-backed chairs, my mother in another. Assur stood to one side of the marble-covered dais, along with Kogan and Vata. Gafarn, Aliyeh and Diana were standing on the other side, all of them looking at a distinctly nervous soldier who held what appeared to be a large bundle of hides in his hands. The silence was oppressive as we entered the room.

‘Ah,’ said my father, ‘perhaps now the mystery can be solved.’

I was bemused. ‘Mystery, father?’

‘Indeed. This man,’ he pointed at the soldier stood in front of him, ‘has brought a gift for you. Tell him.’

The soldier wore red leather boots, red leggings and a yellow tunic. He cleared his throat.

‘Thank you, majesty.’ His eyes darted between me and my father, who began drumming his fingers on the arm of his throne, until a disapproving look from my mother persuaded him to desist. The soldier continued. ‘This package is to be delivered to King Pacorus in person.’

My father pointed at me. ‘Here he is, so you may deliver it, finally.’

The soldier bowed his head at me and laid the bundle at my feet. He then reached into his tunic and pulled out a tightly rolled parchment, which he handed to me. ‘I was also instructed to give you this, majesty.’

I took the parchment, which had a wax seal. ‘Instructed by whom?’

‘The sorceress of King of Kings Sinatruces, majesty.’

My father suddenly looked interested, as did everyone else. He waved the courier away.

‘Open it Pacorus,’ said my mother.

I broke the seal on the parchment and unrolled it. The writing was in a language I did not recognise. ‘I do not know these words.’

‘Let Lord Assur take a look.’

Assur walked over to me and took the scroll. He peered at it for a long time.

‘I believe it is written in ancient Scythian, majesty, though I recognise only a few words. However, there is a clerk in the temple who is an expert on languages. I will bring him.’

He then handed me back the parchment and marched from the room. My father pointed at the bundle on the floor.

‘Perhaps Dobbai herself is in there, ready to spring out at you. While we wait for Assur to return, we will see what’s in it.’

‘It is Pacorus’ gift, Varaz, so he should open it,’ said my mother.

I pulled my dagger from its sheath and cut the cords wrapped round the hides.

Inside was a rolled piece of cloth. I gestured to Vata and Gafarn to give me assistance as I unrolled it. It was a large square standard, white in colour with gold edging. Vata held one corner and Gafarn the other as they held it aloft in front of me. It was as high at both of them, and Gafarn was over six foot in height. In the centre of the banner was a red mythical beast, with the head and talons of an eagle and the body of what looked like a lion. It also had wings.