Richard Blake - The Curse of Babylon

Antonia summarised things as the sun began to sink lower in the sky. ‘Why did you spend so much money for Daddy,’ she asked, ‘on hiring barbarian mercenaries? It can’t be just because he’s a shit leader that every army you gave him ran away at once. Is arming the people part of your plan to beat the Persians?’

‘Yes,’ I lied. The truth was that I’d been pushing the militia idea for local defence, and because I’d never got over a barbarian’s disgust at the thought of an unarmed people. One day of this and I’d have been mad not to arrive at the idea of a whole army — offensive as well as defensive — made up of armed farmers.

Or perhaps I wasn’t lying. I couldn’t say how often I’d been through Herodotus, or how much I despised the standard commentaries on him. It wasn’t because, in some blurry sense, the ancients had been more noble than us, or because the matchless eloquence that inspired them hadn’t required years of hard study and forgetting of their own language before they could understand it. They’d sunk their differences and come together to fight like cornered rats against the Persians because, each and every man of them, they’d had something to lose greater than their own lives. What I’d enabled probably had been in my plan from the start. I just hadn’t dared put it in one of my memoranda to the Emperor.

We’d spoken in Latin. Rado now broke in. ‘Give us ten thousand more like these,’ he said, ‘and we’d burn Ctesiphon to the ground in two years.’

I smiled. ‘It might take a little longer than two years, though,’ I said. Being me, I also thought of the money we’d save.

The previous night, camped on the mountain path, had been one of nervous apprehension. This evening, in a hollow above the Larydia Pass, we might already have been a victorious army. I had to deliver a long speech, filled with warnings and descriptions of what we’d soon be facing, before I could bring everyone back to sobriety. I was helped by the closeness of the main enemy. Since late afternoon, I’d been taking messages from our scouts about its approach. Still in no apparent order, it was gigantic enough to have got my clerical spies writing in words and tone lifted straight out of Revelation. Now, with rising force, the wind blew from the east. Seven or eight miles weren’t enough to dissipate the clatter of drums and cymbals, or the shriller sounds of the thousand eunuchs in full voice.

Before the darkness fell entirely, I set off with Rado for some reconnaissance of our own. We led our horses into the pass and walked with them over moderately smooth ground. The moon was past its best and a return to patchy cloud gave us a poorer view of the coming day’s fighting ground than I’d have liked. Bearing in mind my ability to commit whole books to memory on one reading, and a generally powerful memory, I’ve always been surprised, where not ashamed, of my vagueness over the details of topography. But, for all his public deference, I was there to accompany Rado, not the other way round. He took me on a slow zigzag along the pass, stopping every now and again to pay special attention to some feature of the ground, or to dwell on the slope of some downward approach.

The junction of the two passes covered about the same area, and was about as smooth, as the Circus in Constantinople. The remains of several stone buildings and the bigger parts of a crude statue suggested how important the junction had been in very ancient times. A brief flash of moonlight from behind the clouds showed deep notches over the statue base. I had little doubt this was a kind of writing and no doubt that I’d not be able to read any of it.

‘This is where we’ll hit them,’ Rado whispered. I turned from looking at the statue. It was covered in writing, and this was broadly similar to the scripts I’d seen in the ruins of Babylon. This was a natural place to put on a show and I was sure this had to be the place where Shahin would present the Horn of Babylon, together with its supposedly more precious container, to Chosroes. All the chief Persians who’d come along with the Great King could behold and wonder. It was in this broad space that what sounded a slow and chaotic approach could be mustered into a regular march towards the coastal plain.

‘We can hide ourselves a half mile behind Shahin,’ Rado added. ‘We can ride forward in silence. When I give the signal, we can pull together into the formation we’ve practised and sweep forward. If it all goes right, we’ll hit them like a mailed fist into a eunuch’s belly. We can kill a few hundred of them before pulling back. When their own cavalry try to follow, the archers above can let fly. If there is no pursuit, they can move forward and rain death in places we can’t reach. After we’ve pulled back, we regroup and attack again elsewhere. That’s how my people do it. It will have to do. Whether it’s enough. .’ He broke off and shrugged.

The noise of music from the big pass became louder and more continuous, and was joined by a long burst of cheering. I looked about me. I could forget the size and smoothness of where I was. What suddenly seemed more important was the height and steepness of the rocky walls surrounding it and the frequently rocky ground of the Larydia Pass. Once we’d shown ourselves, it would be a matter of conquer or be crushed.

We’d seen enough of things down here. All that now remained was to take ourselves along the upper ridge. We needed to see what cover there was for our archers and how easily men could be sent up to attack them. We were leading our horses back the way we’d come, when there was the scrape of boots on the rough ground ahead of us.

One of the two men approaching us was Shahin. ‘You say His Majesty has seen my report?’ he asked in an anxious whine. ‘That means he knows the actual situation in Constantinople. I do urge him to reconsider his plan for tomorrow. Alaric was in total control when I left Constantinople. The only way he could have been here was at the head of a Greek army. That means everything must be known to the Intelligence Bureau. I suggest we should cut the ceremony. Why not let me hand everything over tonight in private? We can then keep moving cautiously forward.’

‘Be silent, Shahin!’ the Grand Chamberlain trilled. ‘The Great King knew that Alaric was lying from the moment he arrived here. At no time was His Majesty deceived. He was but playing with the blond barbarian.’ Not moving in the shadows, I hoped the horses would keep quiet. The Grand Chamberlain was passing by in his chair not a dozen yards away. Shahin hobbled along beside him. The guards were heavily armed and looked as if they were expecting trouble.

The big eunuch twisted round, making his carriers stagger a little as they fought to keep the chair steady. ‘The Great King has been assured in a dream that Alaric came alone and that there is no Greek army. If His Majesty believes us to be perfectly safe, will you dare say otherwise? I think not!

‘Now, I have delivered your instructions for dawn tomorrow. I will not advise you to follow them to the letter, regardless of your own misgivings. I take it for granted that you know this already. I also will not carry back such misgivings as you may have expressed. You may regard this as a personal favour for which I shall, in due course, expect a return.’

With that, he motioned Shahin to stop and reached forward to prod his carriers to hurry him on to the main camp.

Rado was keeping the horses remarkably quiet. But it was soon plain that Shahin wouldn’t simply turn and traipse back to his own camp. For a while, he stood unmoving in the middle of the pass. Then, instead of going away, he walked over and looked up to the far side.

‘Alaric,’ he shouted, ‘I know you’re up there!’ He looked quickly to where the Grand Chamberlain might still be in hearing. He switched into Greek. ‘Alaric, the silver cup has given me heightened awareness of all things. I can feel that you’re up there. You’ve got the girl. There’s nothing more you can do here. Take yourself and your household slaves back to Constantinople. Go now, or you’ll get us all killed!’