Richard Blake - The Curse of Babylon

I think I was expected to continue into the next chapter. But one of the prettier boys suddenly broke free of the guards and ran forward and threw himself into a prostration. ‘Please, Your Majesty,’ he sobbed — ‘please don’t hurt me. I didn’t mean any harm.’

Chosroes stopped scratching himself and got up. ‘Come into my embrace, Babar,’ he cried in a voice of soft affection. He took the boy and kissed his face. He squeezed his behind and pulled a face in my direction. ‘You should have asked me, Babar,’ he said. ‘You should have said how you longed to share the sweet taste of my melon. How could I have denied you anything?’ He kissed the boy again and stroked his oiled hair. With a spasm of rage, he pushed him into the arms of one of the guards. ‘Take him away,’ he screamed. ‘Geld him. Blind him. Put him in a cage. I’ll think of a punishment after dinner.’ He kicked the boy backwards and stood over him. He looked at me again, his eyes shining mad. He controlled himself. ‘No, don’t take him away,’ he said to the guards. ‘Gag him and do it here. I want my friend Alaric to see the justice of a Great King.’

I’ll pass over the ghastliness of all that happened next. If you’ve a taste for sick porn, you’re approaching the end of the wrong memoir. It was eventually over. The unconscious boy was pulled out of our sight. The bodies of the dead and dying were dragged outside into the rain. The dozen boys who’d survived sat cross-legged on the ground. They sat in silence, their eyes turned down. Urvaksha was rattling his chain again and talking about his infallible knots.

‘Is the lion memorial still there at Thermopylae?’ Chosroes asked.

Cautiously, I shook my head. ‘I believe it was taken apart and used to reinforce the pass a few hundred years ago,’ I said.

‘So what did they fight for?’ he asked triumphantly. ‘Where is Sparta now? Where even is Athens? If I hear right, it’s a provincial town in the middle of nowhere. Why did they resist Xerxes? All he wanted was surrender.’ He nodded to the man behind me. The sword came away from my throat and one of the eunuchs brought me a cup of wine. I avoided answering the question by sniffing at the cup.

Chosroes laughed. ‘No poison for you, Alaric!’ he said, pushing his face close to mine. ‘No death for my young friend Alaric. Why, not even a sniff of the torments I resolved for you after your treacherous escape from Ctesiphon.’ His face darkened for a moment. Then he was all grinning maniac again. ‘Drink, my friend, and be happy.’ He took the cup from me and lapped its contents with his tongue. ‘Drink — it’s perfectly safe.’

‘The knots tell me he’s a bigger snake than last time,’ Urvaksha called up from the floor. ‘They say you should kill him.’ As if in agreement, the man with the sword poked me gently in the back. I sniffed and didn’t look round.

Chosroes tugged hard on the old loon’s chain, pulling him into a pool of blood. He laughed at the result. ‘Don’t listen to Urvaksha,’ he said. ‘Just because he was right about you last time doesn’t mean we can’t be friends — does it?’

I drank deeply. Even the best Persian wine tends to be disgusting — they mix it with honey to cover the sour taste of the grapes. This was no exception. But wine is wine when your nerves are in tatters. Chosroes took the cup from me with his own hands and looked about for the jug. ‘Have you seen Shahin?’ he asked, a slight tremor in his voice.

‘I have met him,’ I said slowly. ‘We spoke several times in Constantinople. You might say I’m here because of the assurances he gave on your behalf.’ I drank more wine and made a show of casting about for words. ‘It took me longer to get away from the City than I’d have liked. Shahin had a good head start. Can I take it that I’ve beaten him to you?’

He pushed his face close again. He lurched back and went at himself with his scratching stick. A flash of reddened chest under the hair told me his skin condition had now spread up from his waist. His entire body might be a mass of rotting sores. By the look of things, not even heroic doses of opium could keep the irritation under control. Bad luck for him. Bad luck for anyone in his power. That meant me. Plans that had seemed sensible enough earlier in the day were beginning to crumble about the edges.

Chosroes finished with his scratching stick. He narrowed his eyes. ‘I had a letter from Shahin the day before yesterday,’ he said. I kept my face immobile and stifled a fart. ‘He wrote it some while ago. All he told me there was that he’d soon be in possession of a most valuable object. Can you shed any light on his progress in this endeavour?’ He looked at the yellow scabs on the teeth of his scratching stick.

I coughed politely for the sake of getting some moisture into the back of my throat. ‘I believe he’s travelling here, or to Ctesiphon, with the Horn of Babylon,’ I said evenly. ‘Unless he’s a better liar than he used to be, he didn’t know about the invasion, or that you’d be leading it.’ I tried for the sort of smile a man gives who is trying for nonchalance and not quite getting there. It wasn’t hard to manage. I stayed silent and counted slowly to ten. Like a lover who’s put off the moment of climax far beyond any reasonable limit, Chosroes was beginning to shake. I got myself ready to confirm what he must have been asking himself again and again since I’d bearded him in the rain. I didn’t dare allow myself to feel any the better for it.

‘I’m here only because this was the easiest place to reach where I could claim asylum,’ I said. I pretended not to see the slight sagging of tension in his body. I allowed myself a more confident smile. ‘I never realised I’d be able to ask for it directly, or to remind you of Shahin’s assurances.’

I stood away while the Grand Chamberlain himself cleaned the scabs away. Chosroes took no notice. His face took on an exultant smile. ‘Is Heraclius still alive?’ He whispered.

I shrugged. ‘He wasn’t in Constantinople when the revolution broke out,’ I said. ‘I did hear he’d been hanged by his own soldiers. But I also heard that he was on a ship going west — possibly to Carthage, where he can still claim a bit of support.’

‘So who is Emperor in Constantinople?’ he asked.

I shrugged again. ‘I didn’t wait for the dust to settle,’ I said. ‘Shahin’s people got the city guard to proclaim Nicetas, which I believe was part of the deal you sanctioned. However, Timothy, the City Prefect, was being proclaimed by the mob as I finally slipped out of the City. Assuming he had any real support, I’d say he was now Emperor. But I don’t know more than that,’ I ended. It was possible Chosroes was playing with me. He enjoyed these little games. Any moment now and Shahin might pop out from behind a curtain. How they’d laugh as I was dragged screaming from the tent. If I was lucky, I’d find myself sharing Babar’s cage. Anything was possible. But not everything was likely.

Chosroes sat down and covered his look of relief by pretending to blow his nose. He was still watching me, though. I took another mouthful of wine. A good liar gets his way through relentless charm and a focus on what his hearer wants to be told. But I was in the absolute power of a man who was only alive because of his skill at seeing through ordinary liars. Babar’s eyes and genitals had been arranged on a silver dish. I moved this to the far end of its table and put my cup down.

‘It doesn’t mean you’ve won the war, however,’ I said. Chosroes looked up from his obvious reverie on that topic. ‘As said, I got out while the dust was all still in the air. But I’ve no real doubt that Timothy is now Emperor. He’s no fool. Once he’s got his hands on the Intelligence Bureau reports, he’ll scrape an army together from somewhere.’