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  Claudia chuckled. ‘You should have been a writer father, such is your vivid imagination. What did you think would happen to a young couple both in possession of their wits, strength and a not inconsiderable amount of gold?’

  I retook my seat, using a cloth to wipe my damp tunic.

  ‘And now I suppose you will write to King Spartacus and ride to Palmyra to seize the pair prior to returning them to the vengeance of the ruler of Gordyene,’ she said. ‘You do know Akmon does not wish to return to his homeland, father? That is why he is in Palmyra instead of Vanadzor.’

  ‘He will kill the girl,’ announced Byrd.

  ‘How perceptive of you, Byrd,’ said Claudia, ‘and you are right. Spartacus will have Lusin killed.’

  ‘Spartacus can be hot-headed,’ I agreed, ‘but killing the girl?’

  ‘He will not forget the humiliation inflicted on him by Lusin,’ Claudia told me.

  ‘I will go to Palmyra,’ I said.

  ‘How can the King of Dura travel to Palmyra unseen?’ asked Claudia. ‘Your face is too well-known there, father, and once it is recognised Malik will want to know why you are in his city.’

  ‘It is true, lord,’ agreed Byrd.

  ‘I cannot just ignore Akmon’s presence in Palmyra,’ I said in exasperation.

  ‘Perhaps you could meet them in the desert, away from prying eyes,’ suggested Claudia.

  I raised an eyebrow. ‘Them?’

  ‘They are a couple, father, where one goes so does the other.’

  I looked at Byrd. ‘Can you arrange for them to meet us, my friend?’

  ‘They might not agree if they know the King of Dura wants to see them, lord. They will suspect trap. You are King Spartacus’ uncle, lord.’

  ‘Tell them Princess Claudia will guarantee their safety,’ said my daughter. ‘That should suffice.’

  I was far from happy. ‘This is highly irregular.’

  ‘On the contrary, father, it all makes perfect sense. The approaching celebrations mean Spartacus and Rasha will soon be arriving at Dura. All will be settled.’

  She was referring to my sixtieth birthday celebrations, which had taken on a life of their own since Gallia had first proposed commemorating me reaching sixty. A few friends gathering at Dura had been a pleasing prospect, especially as I seemed to see less and less of them as the years passed. But now a veritable army was set to gather in my capital, validating the old saying that you should be careful what you wish for.

  Before I left for the clandestine desert rendezvous word reached Dura that Mark Antony had been defeated by the forces of Octavian in a great naval battle near a place called Actium. He and Cleopatra both survived the battle and had fled back to Egypt, pursued by a victorious Octavian.

  ‘What does that mean for us?’ asked Gallia.

  I had informed her about Akmon’s presence in Palmyra as soon as she had returned from her tour of the north of the kingdom, which was just an excuse to be feted and feasted by Kalet and my other rapacious lords. She had taken Eszter with her, who had decided to stay in Kalet’s household and enjoy the company of his strapping sons for a while longer.

  ‘Nothing immediately,’ I answered.

  ‘But if Octavian kills Mark Antony then he will be the sole ruler of the Roman world and Parthia will face a united enemy.’

  I nodded. ‘Yes.’

  Gallia pointed to the west. ‘And Dura will be the first to feel the wrath of Rome.’

  ‘Not necessarily. Rome has just fought a long civil war, and if Mark Antony and Cleopatra manage to raise more forces it may yet continue.’

  ‘Mark Antony will soon be dead,’ said Claudia flatly.

  We turned to look at her, her face hard and impassive.

  ‘The gods do not forget one who has robbed from them.’

  ‘Is Spartacus to die also?’ asked Gallia. ‘He also robbed from a temple.’

  ‘Spartacus redeemed himself, mother. He chased the Romans out of Parthia and assisted in their eviction from Armenia. Furthermore, he gave up his ridiculous ambitions to be a new Tigranes the Great, with an empire from the Caspian Sea to the Mediterranean. The lion of Gordyene is back in its cage.’

  ‘Having invaded Parthia three times in the last twenty-five years and come to grief on each occasion,’ I said, ‘I think the Romans will think twice before attempting a fourth incursion.’

  ‘They say this Octavian is intelligent and calculating,’ said Claudia. ‘That being the case, he will seek to consolidate his power before launching any foreign wars.’

  ‘We should keep our swords sharp,’ hissed Gallia.

  I nodded but in truth there had been a long peace on the border with Syria. After having marched directly east to first try to capture Dura, followed by Crassus’ strike into the heart of Parthia, the Romans had seemingly given up on the idea of marching across the deserts of Mesopotamia to defeat us. Such a strategy played right into our hands for we were always able to use our main strength – our horse archers and cataphracts – to isolate and surround the legions, which had no answer to our mobility on the desert plains. Mark Antony had tried a different strategy, which in theory utilised the strengths of the legions and reduced the effectiveness of Parthia’s mounted soldiers. The mountains and hills of northern Parthia certainly limited the scope for horsemen, it is true, and Mark Antony’s plan to establish a base from which to launch operations was militarily sound. But the loss of his siege engines meant he failed to capture Phraaspa and had to withdraw back to Armenia. He had established a base during his second campaign against Parthia following his treaty of friendship with Media, and his victory against Phraates near Irbil had momentarily threatened to split the empire in two. But the intercession of Spartacus had saved the day and my nephew’s drubbing of the army of Media and its Roman allies at Mepsila had ensured Mark Antony’s dreams were dashed. The triumvir was forced to leave Media to prepare for his clash with Octavian, leaving Spartacus and Phraates free to liberate Armenia and install a puppet king on its throne.

  ‘We are here.’

  It was late afternoon and the limestone hills in the distance were turning from yellowish-grey to a lustrous purple as the sun began to descend in the west. The spot chosen for our camp was beside a dry watercourse well away from the Dura-to-Palmyra road that was always filled with dozens of caravans, which usually made camp by the side of the road. So busy was the route legend had it at night the whole distance between my city and Malik’s great oasis capital was illuminated by campfires. I had never seen such a thing and neither had Gallia, Malik or indeed anyone else we spoke to. But it became common knowledge and passed into folklore.

  The desert was beautiful at this time of day, the sun casting long shadows and the harsh yellow surface of gravel, sand and glittering dried mud turning mauve and red as the heat abated. We unsaddled the horses and pitched the tents; Zenobia, the commander of the Amazons, organising sentries from the fifty of her women she had brought with her. I was one of the few men in the party, the others being male servants who organised the preparation of meals and the pitching of the royal tent. Kalet and the other lords mocked me for being escorted by women horse archers, but I never regarded the Amazons as second-rate. Every one of them could shoot a bow as well as any male horse archer in my army and every one of them would lay down their life for their queen, and king, without hesitation.

  Byrd arrived the next day, riding a camel and escorted by a score of black-clad Agraci warriors on horseback, their faces obscured by shemaghs. There were two other riders, both dressed like the Agraci, one wearing a sword with a silver horse head pommel. Claudia walked from her tent to greet Akmon and Lusin once they had dismounted from their horses, also embracing Byrd once he had alighted from his camel. I stood with Gallia in the shadows of our tent’s interior as Claudia led the couple and Byrd towards us, the Agraci taking up position around their horses and Byrd’s camel.

  We stood in the middle of the tent to greet Akmon and Lusin, the former’s grey eyes ope
ning wide in alarm when he spotted us. He placed himself in front of Lusin and drew his sword.

  ‘What treachery is this?’

  I threw up my hands. ‘Calm yourself, Akmon, we mean you no harm.’

  ‘No harm?’ he spat. ‘Why then were we lured here under false pretences?’

  Claudia stood in front of him, her dark eyes boring into him.

  ‘Put away your sword. If my father wanted you dead your body would be rotting on the desert floor by now, pierced by arrows. I give you my word you are safe. Have I not served you well thus far? Look, if my father tries anything untoward, I will turn him into a lizard.’

  Byrd laughed, which broke the tension. Lusin gazed lovingly into Akmon’s eyes and whispered into his ear. He slipped the sword back into his scabbard.

  ‘Please,’ I said, ‘let us sit and take refreshments. Take the weight off your feet. Lusin, do you wish to wash? We have a tent set aside for you both.’

  She gave me a dazzling smile. ‘Thank you, majesty, my husband and I would like to wash the desert from our faces.’

  I glanced at Gallia who gave me a knowing look. So they were married. Clearly it was more than a teenage infatuation

  ‘How old are they?’ I asked Claudia after a servant had shown them to their tent.

  ‘Akmon is twenty-one; Lusin a year younger.’

  ‘You knew they were married?’ asked Gallia.

  ‘Oh, yes, I attended their wedding.’

  I groaned. ‘You could have told us all this, Claudia. Sometimes you drive me to distraction. Now they are married Akmon will be even more reluctant to return to Gordyene.’

  ‘Akmon will never return to Gordyene,’ stated Claudia, ‘his destiny lies elsewhere.’

  ‘Spartacus won’t like that,’ said Gallia.

  Claudia curled her lip. ‘Spartacus is a fool. Had he not abducted Lusin his son would not have fallen in love with her. But like a small child hankering after a new toy he desired to have ukku swords for his soldiers to play with. Well, he has his swords and the price was his eldest son. Of course the blame rests with you, father.’

  ‘Me? How am I to blame?’

  ‘Boasting about your own ukku swords and your armouries, giving him a glimpse of what he could have if only he had the gold. Planting the seed in his mind of a greater Gordyene, feared and revered in equal measure.’

  ‘I hardly think a tour of Dura’s armouries set in motion the events of the last couple of years,’ I protested.

  ‘How little you know of your nephew, father.’

  ‘He will take a dim view of his son marrying an Armenian,’ said Gallia.

  Claudia nodded. ‘Dim. That is a very apt word to describe the King of Gordyene, mother.’

  She looked at me. ‘But then men can be blunt instruments. Lucky for you, father, you have strong women around you.’

  I decided attack was the best form of defence. ‘I was talking to Aaron the other day and he told me an interesting story. He believes his god made the world in seven days and then rested, after which he created man and again rested. It strikes me that after his god had made woman no one has rested.’

  Claudia walked away with disgust and Gallia gave me a hard dig in the ribs, but it was a point well made, I thought.

  It was the Agraci custom to eat meals seated cross-legged in a circle on the floor, the food consumed with fingers. Whenever we were in Palmyra we adhered to the custom but when I was entertaining in my own tent we sat at a table to save my legs and back. The tent itself was woven from goat’s hair, which meant the atmosphere inside was cool despite the outside surface being hot to the touch under the desert sun. That sun was waning when Akmon and Lusin made an appearance, Gallia welcoming the wife of Gordyene’s crown prince. Threading her arm in the young woman’s she led her to the table. Claudia embraced her, and they shared a few quiet words. There was clearly a bond between them and between Akmon and my daughter.

  The two guests bowed their heads to me. I in turn asked them to be seated. Lusin was pretty enough with a heart-shaped face and long chestnut curls. She was tall like Akmon and both had lean frames. They made an attractive couple.

  Because wood is at a premium in the desert we ate goat and rice cooked on a camel dung campfire, washed down with wine and accompanied by bread, dates and yoghurt. Both our guests had a hearty appetite, which made me wonder if they had been living a pauper’s life in Palmyra.

  ‘What are your plans?’ I asked Akmon. ‘I have been informed you are reluctant to return to Gordyene.’

  ‘We will never return to Gordyene,’ he told me.

  ‘We were hoping to stay in Palmyra, majesty,’ said Lusin.

  ‘Impossible,’ I said, tipping my head to Byrd. ‘My friend discovered your presence and it is only a matter of time before Malik is told you are in his city.’

  ‘Then we will go to Syria,’ announced Akmon.

  ‘With what? I asked.

  ‘We have gold,’ Akmon informed me, ‘enough to buy a new life.’

  ‘You should not go to Syria,’ said Gallia, ‘it is a Roman province and Parthians, and Armenians, are held in suspicion there.’

  ‘We are just a husband and wife seeking a place to build a life, majesty,’ smiled Lusin.

  She really was most charming, I could see why Akmon had fallen in love with her.

  ‘You may go where you will,’ announced Claudia, ‘for you have the gods’ protection.’

  I frowned at her. ‘Be that as it may, Rasha, Queen Rasha, is very dear to us and it grieves me and my wife that you will leave these lands without at least telling her you are both safe and well.’

  ‘And your father,’ added Gallia.

  ‘He will not miss me,’ said Akmon.

  I shovelled some rice into my mouth, using my fingers in the Agraci style.

  ‘I have an idea. Your father and mother will soon be arriving at Dura for my birthday celebrations.’

  Akmon raised his wooden cup. ‘Sixty years, majesty.’

  ‘You look younger,’ smiled Lusin.

  She was very disarming, but my aching leg, thinning hair and lined face told a different story.

  ‘You are very kind. Why don’t you both come to Dura and stay in the palace?’

  ‘No,’ said Akmon flatly. ‘We will not be kept like caged animals until my father arrives, so he can take us back to Gordyene in chains.’

  I was shocked by the animosity he displayed towards Spartacus.

  ‘At least inform King Malik you reside in Palmyra,’ I pleaded. ‘He is, after all, your uncle.’

  Lusin laid a hand on Akmon’s arm. ‘For the sake of your mother.’

  ‘But he will inform my mother, which will bring my father’s scouts. There is a price on our heads.’

  ‘Two of your father’s scouts were at Dura only days ago,’ I told them.

  ‘They were sent away on a fool’s errand,’ Claudia reassured them.

  ‘Princess,’ said Lusin, ‘you have been our guide and protector. What do you advise?’

  Claudia washed her hands in a bowel of water and dried them with a towel.

  ‘My father will not imprison you but I can understand your reluctance to be in his city. There are numerous small forts in my father’s kingdom, spaced at five-mile intervals north and south of the city. Perhaps you could stay in one near Dura and when your parents visit, you can decide if you wish to see them.’

  Akmon weighed up the offer in his mind, staring at the tabletop as he did so.

  ‘What of your parents, Lusin?’ enquired Gallia.

  ‘You mean the people who tried to sell me to a fat, disgusting old Babylonian, majesty?’ she answered coldly. ‘They are dead to me.’

  There was obviously steel beneath her attractive features.

  ‘Well at least think about my offer,’ I said.

  ‘We will think about it,’ replied Akmon without enthusiasm.

  I took a sip of wine. ‘I knew the man you were named after. I can see him now, a squat, rock-like Th
racian with a savage scar across his face. It took a long time to win his respect, I can tell you. He was Spartacus’ second-in-command and helped to forge his army into a formidable instrument.’

  I took another sip and prepared to wax lyrical about the triumphs of the slave army but was stopped in my tracks by the blank expression on the faces of Akmon and Lusin. What were men long dead to them? I suddenly felt very old.

  ‘It would be best for you to stay in King Pacorus’ kingdom from now on,’ advised Byrd. ‘King Malik is my friend and I cannot keep the presence of his nephew in his city a secret.’

  ‘Then we will go to Syria, only earlier than planned,’ said Akmon.

  ‘Perhaps there might be another option,’ said Claudia. ‘I’m sure Lord Kalet has a spare room in his stronghold where Akmon and Lusin could stay until they decide what to do.’

  Akmon was suspicious. ‘Who is Kalet?’

  ‘One of my lords,’ I told him, ‘who has an irreverent attitude to protocol.’

  ‘No,’ answered Akmon, ‘we will stay in Palmyra and if Lord Byrd informs the king then we will go to Syria.’

  We continued to plead and offer alternative places for them to stay but Akmon was adamant he and Lusin would be staying in Malik’s city. The next day they travelled back to Palmyra in the company of Byrd, who promised to keep an eye on them and told me he would find them a place to live in Damascus if they did indeed leave Agraci lands. I offered my hand to Akmon as he stood beside his horse. He took it.

  ‘My father has made Gordyene a strong kingdom, majesty, just as you have turned Dura from a lawless land into one of the greatest kingdoms in the empire. But whereas you have harnessed the riches of the Silk Road to create and maintain your army, Gordyene does not benefit from such a gift. So my father plunders lands beyond his borders to fill his treasury. In this he has been successful and now his army is feared and respected throughout Parthia. Did you know High King Phraates paid him a thousand talents of gold for his aid in evicting the Romans from Media?’

  ‘I did not.’

  ‘He once ordered me to crucify some Roman prisoners in revenge for the murder of civilians in eastern Gordyene.’