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Authors: Peter Darman

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BOOK: The Parthian
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I wave of naivety suddenly swept over me. ‘Join with us, sire, and we can rid your homeland of the Romans.’ There was silence, then Ambiorix began to chuckle.

‘How many Roman armies have you defeated thus far, prince of Parthia?’

‘Three,’ I replied, proudly.

‘And have you noticed that they when you defeat one army, another one takes its place, and another and another? Romans are like cockroaches — difficult to kill. There is only one way to defeat the Romans, and that is to destroy Rome itself. You and your slave general do not have the strength to take the city. As I said, the Gauls did that once, three hundred years ago. If the tribes were united then it could be done again. But to attempt such a thing requires a great deal of persuasion.’

Or gold. It suddenly became clear what his plan was. If he had enough gold then he could bribe enough tribes to unite against the Romans. Greed was the one vice that usually overcame common sense. His tribe was obviously poor judging by the conditions in which they lived, and presumably so were the other tribes. But gold could provide the spark that could ignite an insurrection that could destroy the power of Rome, and make him a king among kings, no doubt. Our coming into his country must have seemed like a gift from the gods to him.

‘Twelve chests of legionary gold, delivered to me in two days at a time and place of my choosing.’

‘That’s a lot of gold.’

A thin smile crossed his lips. ‘I assume you value your future bride highly. Look upon it as recompense to me for your stealing her from her master. And now I believe we are done. Iccius will escort you back to your camp.’

‘What about Gallia?’ 

‘What about her? She will remain here until our business is concluded to my satisfaction. If you attempt any sort of rescue, she will be killed.’

He must have seen the disgust in my face, for he leaned forward. ‘You think I am cruel, you think that I am beyond contempt?’

I did, but said nothing. 

‘Go now, Prince Pacorus, and await my instructions. And do not disappoint me.’

I stood up and bowed my head. ‘Sire, I request that I be allowed to speak to the Princes Gallia before I leave.’

‘The time for talking is done. However, as a sign of my goodwill you may embrace her, in our presence.’

I moved forward as she walked towards me. She stepped off the dais and we embraced. As I wrapped my arms around her I suddenly felt totally helpless and desperate. ‘I will not fail you,’ I whispered into her ear.

‘I know.’

‘Sire,’ I said, ‘keep me hostage instead of your daughter. She can relay your demands to General Spartacus as easily as I.’

He laughed cruelly. ‘Dear me, no. I think you value her life more than your own, and for that reason alone your request is denied. Be on your way now before you outstay your welcome.’

I rode back in silence, my escort, another greasy haired Gaul who stank of sweat, not attempting to engage me in conversation. The journey itself was a blur as I went over in my mind how I would get Gallia back. Her father would obviously have her throat cut without hesitation, and even if we supplied him with the gold there was no guarantee that he would keep his word. I rode back into camp thoroughly depressed, and in my tent sank disconsolately into a chair.

‘Twelve chests is a lot of gold,’ mused Spartacus as he handed me a cup of wine.

‘He hopes to buy the loyalty of other tribes,’ I said.

‘For what purpose?’ Spartacus sat himself down in a chair opposite me.

‘He wants to overthrow Roman rule.’

‘Then why doesn’t he join with us?’ queried Akmon, who had accompanied Spartacus.

‘Because,’ I replied, ‘we are slaves and he would rather live under Roman rule than fight by our side.’

‘I do not like blackmail,’ remarked Spartacus, frowning. He must have seen the alarm in my face, as he quickly added. ‘But on this occasion the price is worth paying to get a greater treasure back.’

‘How do we know the Gauls will keep their word?’ Gafarn was saying what I too was thinking.

‘We don’t,’ said Spartacus, who stood up and pointed at Godarz. ‘Have the gold loaded onto carts. Then all we can do is wait.’

We didn’t have to wait for long, for the next morning a rider arrived from King Ambiorix with instructions for the delivery of the gold. He rode a grey horse with a blanket for a saddle, a shield strapped to his back and a long sword hanging from his belt. His large moustache hung down to his chest. He was shown into my tent. He stank of sweat and pigs. He stood proud and contemptuous before me.

‘Follow the track that I have ridden along to get here. Five miles directly north of your camp there is a clearing in the forest. Through the middle of this clearing flows a brook. There is a wooden bridge over this brook. The exchange will take place there at noon tomorrow. You will bring carts only, no soldiers. Each cart will be driven by one man only, no weapons. If you attempt any treachery, the woman will be killed.’

I could have killed him there and then and was finding it difficult to control my temper, so I nodded curtly and waved him away. I turned to Godarz.

‘You heard that? Prepare the wagons.’

I hardly slept that night and arose just before dawn to wash and shave. I would lead the group of twelve wagons, each one loaded with a chest of gold. Usually for such work heavy oak wagons would be used, each one pulled by four oxen, but today we would use four-wheeled wagons made of ash. These were lighter and thus faster — I did not want to be late for our meeting with the Gauls — and their wheels of twelve spokes banded with iron would be less uncomfortable while travelling along dirt tracks. Designed to haul heavy loads, today the wagons would be carrying a relatively light weight, as the chests were not large — though they were literally worth their weight in gold. Each wagon was therefore pulled by two horses instead of four mules or oxen. And on the return journey they would be carrying nothing at all. The chests were placed in the centre of the open cargo compartment behind the driver, so the Gauls could see that there were no hidden soldiers or other mischief.

As the sun began to climb in a clear blue sky, myself and the eleven other drivers sat and ate a breakfast of porridge, bread and water. I looked at Godarz.

‘All is ready?’

‘Yes, lord.’

Spartacus and Claudia joined us, having spent the night in our camp, while Diana fussed around Gafarn, but ate nothing herself. Her black-rimmed eyes and pale face betrayed her distraught state and she said little to anyone. Trailing her every move was Rubi, like an obedient dog.

‘Are you sure you do not want me to come with you?’ said Spartacus.

I finished my porridge. ‘No, lord, I must do this my way.’

Burebista was most upset. ‘I should come with you, lord. I can kill many Gauls if need be.’

I placed my arm on his shoulder. ‘I know that, but if anything happens to myself and Nergal, who will command my cavalry? I need you here to take over should we not return.’

My answer did not satisfy him but it would have to suffice.

We left an hour later, twelve wagons ambling slowly in a northerly direction towards the thick woods that hugged the sides of the massive valley our army was camped in. The day was hot and airless and I sweated in my white tunic and straw hat, beads running down my face and neck and soaking the top of the cotton material. After half an hour we reached the trees and the relief of shade as we moved along the narrow track that was our route. The trees were oaks, many of them tall with thick trunks that had been standing there a long time. This was an ancient forest that existed even before the Gauls had come to this land. I wondered who had lived here when these mighty trees were saplings. Idle thoughts. Around us, great lumbering boars rooted through the undergrowth looking for food. Occasionally one would raise its massive head and stare at us, displaying its vicious tusks that could rip open a man’s thigh with ease. I also saw deer, pigeons and ducks in this most abundant terrain. Of Gauls I saw none. But I suspected that they were there, watching us from the either side of the track among the trees and undergrowth.

Eventually we reached the clearing that I had been informed of, a wide expanse of meadow dotted with flowers and alive with insects. The track meandered through tall grass, eventually reaching a crude bridge of logs laid at right angles to the track and supported by upright logs driven into the water. The brook itself, a shallow course of water flanked by mud that flowed lazily across the meadow, was about forty feet wide. I led the line of wagons over the bridge and onto the far bank and there, just in front of the tree line ahead of us, was a group of Gauls. There were around fifty or sixty of them, most on foot carrying shields and large swords, though some had axes and spears. They were all bare headed with large moustaches and exposed chests. In the middle was Iccius sat on a chestnut horse with a blanket for a saddle. Either side of him sat half a dozen other warriors on horses, all carrying long spears and wearing winged helmets. And in the middle was Gallia, mounted on a grey horse whose reins were being held by one of the warriors. I brought my wagon to a halt and raised my hand at him. He kicked his horse forward accompanied by four of his horsemen. Behind me all the other drivers came to a stop. I stood up and raised my arms.

‘I carry no weapons, as you requested.’

Iccius drew close to my wagon. He wore brown leggings and brown leather boots, and the sweat was dripping from him. At his waist he carried a sword in an ornate sheath, while on his head he wore a helmet of iron with a black horsehair crest. He looked from me to the chest in the back of the wagon.

‘Show me the gold.’

‘Show me Gallia.’

He jerked his hand over his shoulder. ‘She is there, in plain view.’

‘It looks like Gallia, but all Gaul women appear the same from a distance. I need to be sure.’

‘You try my patience, Parthian.’

I jumped in the back of the wagon and opened the chest, which was filled with shiny gold coins. Iccius’s eyes lit up, as did those of the men with him.

‘A simple request, from one prince to another.’

He turned and gestured to the man holding Gallia’s reins to come forward, and then directed each of the men with him to examine the contents of the other wagons. Within minutes they were beaming like children with new presents and shouting at their leader, obviously pleased with what they had found. I looked past Iccius to Gallia, who was about fifty feet away. Her wrists were still bound and her reins were still being held. Iccius turned away from me and signalled to the men standing by the trees for them to come forward.

The wagons were simple affairs, essentially rectangular wooden boxes with a tool chest at the front end, just behind the driver’s seat. I now opened this box, removed my bow from inside, strung an arrow from the quiver that lie beside it and shot it at Gallia’s guard. The shaft hit him squarely in the chest and knocked him from his horse. Fortunately he tumbled backwards and released Gallia’s reins as he did so. I strung another arrow and saw it go through Iccius’s neck. He remained on his horse, gurgling as blood poured from his neck and as he made feeble attempts to claw at the shaft. I leapt from the wagon and ran over to Gallia. I reached her and cut the rope around her wrists. Behind me, all the other Gaul horsemen had been killed by my men, who were now directing their fire at the other Gauls on foot. They had halted about two hundred feet away, having been dumfounded by what had happened to their prince. Now, eleven expert Parthian archers, the best shots I had, were standing on their wagons firing at stationary targets. There was no wind and so Gafarn, Rhesus, Nergal and the others were picking off Gauls with ease.

‘Can you ride?’ I said to Gallia.

‘Yes.’

‘Then follow the others back to camp. Go.’

I slapped her horse’s hindquarters and the beast sprinted forward. I ran back to the horses tied to my wagon, cut the straps that bound them to the shaft and jumped onto the back of one. The horses that had been pulling the wagons were our cavalry mounts. I grabbed both sets of reins and kicked my mount forward. The others did the same while the surviving Gauls, maddened by our treachery, screamed their war cry and charged towards us. We galloped across the bridge, which was guarded by Gafarn and Nergal. I ensured that Gallia and the others were safely across before I ordered them to cross also, handing Gafarn the reins of my spare horse. They both picked off a couple of running Gauls before turning around and retreating like the others. I steadied my mount and strung an arrow in my bowstring. I saw a giant of a Gaul racing towards me, with a massive beard, a sword in one hand and shield in the other. He was ahead of the others, his long legs propelling him forward. He was heading straight for me, his face contorted in hate and bellowing something in his native tongue. I raised my bow and loosed the arrow, which travelled straight and true and hit him in the left shoulder. He staggered and fell and I laughed. But then my mirth disappeared as he got to his feet and continued on his way towards me, not as fast as before, but still walking determinedly in my direction. I put another arrow into him, this time in his stomach, causing him to roll forward. After a few seconds he rose to his feet again and roared his hate at me. Was he some sort of demon sent from the underworld? Behind him his companions were closing on me fast, so I strung another arrow and took careful aim, releasing the cord as the other Gauls sprinted past him. The arrow went into his right eye socket but he just stood there. I pulled on the reins and directed my horse back across the bridge. A spear flashed past me as I crouched low on the horse’s back and screamed at him to move faster. I glanced back and saw the big Gaul topple onto the ground, though I never did find out if he sprang back to his feet a few seconds later. I galloped to the edge of the meadow where Gafarn and Nergal were waiting for me.

I was sweating and panting heavily. ‘Is Gallia safe?’

‘She rode ahead of us, highness.’

Behind us angry Gauls were still chasing me, but they were now some distance away and would not catch us.

BOOK: The Parthian
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