Parthian Vengeance (7 page)

Godarz was standing, transfixed by what was happening in front of him.

‘Godarz!’ I screamed. ‘Kill her, kill her now!’

I turned and saw the figure of Polemo charge at me once more. A servant ran at him but Polemo saw him, swung his blade to his left and sliced open the man’s belly. A piercing scream came from the servant as he collapsed to the ground. Polemo raced over to the door that lead to the kitchen corridor and slammed it shut.

‘Godarz,’ I shouted again. ‘In the name of Shamash do something!’

Godarz looked at me and then at Nadira and Gallia grappling with each other. He came to his senses and raced over to grab Nadira, who slapped Gallia round the face, pushed her to the ground and then swung round. Godarz was not stabbed by her dagger but rather ran on to its blade. Nadira grabbed his shoulder with her left hand and then stabbed him twice more before turning back to face Gallia. Another servant ran into the room from the hall.

‘Sound the alarm,’ I screamed, but Polemo was too quick and split the back of the man’s head with his sword as he tried to run from the room. I ran at Polemo, my
spatha
grasped with both hands, and hacked at his head. He parried my blows but blood was now pouring from his shattered nose and he had difficulty in maintaining his defence. He tried to bar the door with a small table that had been positioned against the wall beside it, but another servant burst into the room and interrupted him. The servant looked at me and then died as Polemo nearly severed his head with a great swing of his sword. I screamed and ran at Polemo again, slashing at his neck and then whipping my blade back to thrust the point into his left shoulder. He groaned and winced in pain but still advanced and directed more blows against me. His strength was failing, though, and the sword strikes were becoming slower and easier to parry.

I looked behind me and saw Godarz lying on the floor. Gallia had sprung to her feet, grabbed a knife from the table and was facing Nadira.

‘Come on, bitch!’ she screamed.

Nadira glanced at me and then at Polemo, who was now bleeding from both the nose and shoulder. She spat at Gallia and ran over to Polemo.

‘Come, we must go.’

Polemo raised his sword at me and then they fled from the room. Gallia ran to Godarz and cradled his head in her arms. Another servant rushed into the room and stared in horror at the scene that greeted his eyes.

‘Sound the alarm,’ I shouted. ‘Go quickly!’

His mouth was open in terror and he shook his head like a demented man as he fled. I knelt beside Godarz. Tears were running down Gallia’s cheeks as she held him. I looked at the blood oozing from the wound in his belly and knew he was dying. I heard the alarm bell ringing in the courtyard and shortly after a dozen guards raced into the room.

‘Get a doctor,’ I ordered.

Godarz was staring at the ceiling, a far-away look in his eyes. ‘She said she loved me. I do not understand.’

‘Don’t speak,’ said Gallia softly, ‘Alcaeus will be here soon.’

Godarz looked at her. ‘I loved her, you know.’

Her tears fell on his face. ‘I know.’

Godarz’s shirt was soaked with blood by the time Alcaeus our Greek physician appeared with his canvas bag over his shoulder. He ignored Gallia and me as he knelt down beside Godarz, reached into his bag and extracted a small knife. He cut away Godarz’s shirt to examine the wound. I could see that it was deep, blood now oozing onto the floor. Alcaeus worked with skill and speed, cleaning the wound with vinegar and then applying a large honey-impregnated dressing on it. He then wound a large bandage around Godarz’s belly in an attempt to staunch the flow of blood, but Godarz had already lost so much. He did not speak now, only stared unblinking at Gallia with a bewildered look in his eyes.

Domitus ran into the room followed by four of his officers and other servants. He stared at Godarz and I thought I detected a look of distress in his eyes, then his stern countenance returned.

‘What happened?’

I stood up to face him, a wave of grief sweeping over me.

‘That whore Nadira and Godarz’s new headman were assassins sent by Mithridates. They fled but must still be in the city. They might try to escape using the harbour.’

The tiny harbour was reached via a small gate in the city’s southern wall. Domitus turned to his officers.

‘Turn out the garrison, seal the city and organise sweeps of all the buildings. Find them,’ he ordered.

The men saluted and ran from the room.

‘He’s gone, I’m sorry.’

I turned to see Alcaeus had a finger at Godarz’s neck to feel for a pulse. He shook his head at Gallia and then closed my governor’s eyes. Gallia pulled up Godarz’s head to her face and began sobbing. Domitus ordered everyone out of the room.

‘I’m sorry.’

He placed a hand on my shoulder and also took his leave, as did Alcaeus. I knelt beside Gallia and we both wept for our dead friend.

The sweep of the city was carried out at once, soldiers hammering on every door to gain entrance. Soon word spread that the governor had been murdered and dazed and confused citizens, most in their night attire, flooded onto the streets. Many headed for the city’s central square, perhaps thinking that a herald would inform them of what had happened and what measures I was taking. But the only thing I did was to assist Alcaeus carry the body of Godarz to his bedroom where it was washed and dressed. Most of his servants were in tears as they attempted to carry out their duties. Godarz had been a fair and gentle master, though like Gallia and I he had no slaves in his household, only paid servants. Those of us who had been slaves had no wish to be surrounded by others who lived in such misery. Afterwards I was numb as I held my wife and we made our way back to the palace. I found an ashen-faced Rsan on the palace steps. I merely nodded at him as we passed. There were no words I could speak that would ease his anguish.

We shuffled into the throne room where Domitus was pacing up and down. I looked at Gallia, her eyes puffy and red.

‘Do you want to sleep?’

She shook her head. ‘I cannot sleep tonight.’

She walked over to her high-backed chair on the dais and slumped into it. I sat down beside her. Domitus stopped pacing and stood before us. His face betrayed no emotion though I knew he must be grieving for his dead friend.

‘Parties are sweeping the city now. All gates are sealed and no one can get in or out. The men are searching every home, business, temple and storeroom, and I’ve ordered more men from the camp.’

He glanced at Gallia. ‘Most likely they will have rented a room or rooms and will be lying low until they make a run for it.’

‘See to it that they don’t escape,’ hissed Gallia. She had Godarz’s blood on her dress. Domitus noticed it but said nothing. He stood to attention, saluted and then marched from the room, leaving us alone with our grief.

Dura was a well-defended city surrounded by a circuit wall with a total of twenty-four towers, plus the Palmyrene Gate, spaced at regular intervals along the wall. Each tower had its own detachment of men who would be lining the wall to ensure no one scaled it from the city side. Five hundred men manned the walls and towers and a further five hundred garrisoned the Citadel. Added to these were the detachments of Dura’s horsemen stabled in the city – more than enough to catch a pair of assassins, or so I hoped.

The new day began to dawn and still we remained on our thrones and waited for news. I had messages sent via carrier pigeon to Palmyra to alert Malik and Haytham of what had happened, and to ask them for their assistance to track down the pair should they escape from Dura. Domitus organised searches of the trade caravans camped to the north of the city. All traffic using the pontoon bridges was stopped. Domitus even sent small boats north and south on the Euphrates to search for the pair.

Orodes came soon after dawn. He lived in his own house in the north of the city, a great walled residence that also housed his bodyguard – two hundred and fifty men from the Kingdom of Susiana. As soon as he heard the news of Godarz’s murder he and his men had helped Dura’s garrison search the city. Unshaven and looking tired, the first thing he did was embrace Gallia and kiss her on the cheek.

‘You look tired, Gallia.’ He noted her bloodstained dress. ‘You should try to get some rest.’

She smiled faintly. ‘Alas, lord prince, if I close my eyes all I will see is the murder of Godarz. I therefore prefer to keep them open.’

Orodes nodded grimly. ‘Well, at least let us refresh ourselves. You too, Pacorus. You both look terrible.’

He organised fruit juices, bread, cheese and sweet meats to be brought to the palace terrace as Gallia and I changed our clothes and washed our faces. When we returned Dobbai was sitting in her chair. Orodes was speaking to her as a wan Gallia slumped into a chair beside her. In the east the sun was an angry red ball as it began its ascent into the sky. Dobbai said nothing to Gallia as I walked over to the table and helped myself to a cup of juice. I poured another and handed it to Gallia. I took my seat next to her and then all four of us sat in silence for a while. Dobbai spoke at last.

‘So Mithridates shows his hand at last.’ She turned to Orodes. ‘Your brother has learnt patience, it would seem.’

‘My stepbrother,’ Orodes corrected her. He was always quick to inform all and sundry that he and Mithridates did not have the same mother, his being a concubine in the palace at Ctesiphon whom his father Phraates had fallen in love with. The mother of Mithridates, Queen Aruna, had had her poisoned, or so rumour had it.

‘But why now?’ asked Orodes despairingly.

‘Is it not obvious?’ replied Dobbai. ‘Now he and his brother-in-evil Narses are ready to implement their plan.’

‘What plan?’ I asked.

Dobbai held out her hands. ‘I do not know. But I do know that the death of Godarz will begin tumultuous events within the empire. He also knows this, though of course he would have preferred your death rather than your governor’s.’

‘I will march on Ctesiphon,’ I announced, ‘and bring back the head of Mithridates to adorn the entrance of Godarz’s mansion. The head of Narses too, a fitting tribute to Godarz. This is my vow.’

‘And that is exactly what they want you to do, son of Hatra,’ said Dobbai, ‘to march at the head of your army into their trap.’

‘What trap?’ asked Orodes.

Dobbai raised her face to the heavens. ‘I have tried, I really have, to counsel you, son of Hatra, so you can carry out the wishes of the gods and keep the empire strong. But you have seen fit to ignore my advice.’

‘That is unfair,’ I replied. ‘I have always respected your views.’

She fixed me with her black eyes. ‘Have you? I told you years ago to kill Mithridates, yet you chose to ignore me. He will only be satisfied when you are dead and he is the unchallenged king of kings.’

‘He is king of kings,’ I said in exasperation.

‘In name perhaps,’ said Dobbai, ‘but it is well known that you openly challenged him to march on Dura and take the city by storm. The longer you remain king here the more he is seen as impotent.’

‘If he and his assassins had killed Pacorus,’ said Orodes, ‘he must have known that King Varaz, his father, would have marched against him. And Hatra has allies in Babylon and Media, to say nothing of Nergal at Uruk.’

Dobbai regarded Orodes with a bemused look. ‘He knows all of that, but he and Narses have taken measures in anticipation of those events happening.’

‘What measures?’ I asked.

Dobbai pursed her lips. ‘How should I know? I cannot see into the poisoned well that is the mind of Mithridates.’

‘Mithridates must be punished,’ said Gallia, staring into the distance.

‘I agree,’ I added.

‘And so do I,’ said Orodes.

Dobbai rose from her chair. ‘Very well, I see that your minds are made up. So be it. Though take care, son of Hatra, not to underestimate your adversaries.’

She went over to Gallia and kissed her on the top of her head and then shuffled from the terrace. None of us said any more as we contemplated the future.

Six days later we burned the body of Godarz on a huge funeral pyre erected in the city’s main square. I had paid a great deal of gold to an Egyptian embalmer to preserve it so that his friends from afar could witness his funeral. Gallia had shed all her tears by then and her face was an emotionless mask as the pyre was lit and the flames took hold and consumed our friend’s body with a relentless ferocity. The square was packed with citizens for Godarz had been a respected governor who had administered the affairs of Dura with fairness, legality and commonsense. We stood in a line at the front of the multitude – I, Gallia, Orodes, Domitus, Diana, Gafarn, Nergal, Praxima, Byrd, Malik and a weeping Rsan. Poor Rsan. When we had first come to Dura he was the only one from the previous administration still alive. Rsan had been left to face us alone. He had subsequently proven himself to be a capable and above all honest royal treasurer. For those qualities he had become a valued and trusted member of the council. Rsan and Godarz had become close friends and now my treasurer was grief stricken. We could not criticise him; Godarz was a good man who deserved the shedding of an ocean of tears.

Behind us the Amazons were lined up in their mail shirts, swords at their hips. Diana and Gafarn had ridden hard from Hatra to be here and Nergal and Praxima had left their palace at Uruk to pay their respects to the man who had been like a father to them also.

The Companions remained motionless in their ranks among the soldiers who formed a cordon around the now blazing pyre. I watched the flames consume my friend, just as I had suffered with him many years ago in a green valley in Italy watching other flames devour the bodies of Spartacus and his wife Claudia. I prayed to Shamash that He would carry the soul of Godarz to heaven so he could be reunited with his friends. When the flames died down Domitus had his men clear the area and we remained at a loss as the legionaries used their shields to gently usher the citizens out of the square. As they did so I caught sight of Vistaspa, the commander of my father’s army. He had been standing among the crowd unnoticed but now he came over to me. Lean, tall with a thin, bony face, Vistaspa was one of the most ruthless men I had ever encountered. He had once been a prince of the Kingdom of Silvan and Godarz had served under him. Vistaspa had been delighted when he had been reunited with one of his old comrades in the aftermath of my return from Italy. Godarz could have stayed in Hatra but I had asked him to become Dura’s governor, and now Vistaspa had lost his friend for good. Although in his sixties, he still possessed the air of a ruthless warrior. He bowed his head and then regarded me with his cold, dark eyes.