Wraiths Read online

  Klietas stared with pride at his ploughed fields.

  ‘I pray we have done enough.’

  Cambiz wiped his nose on his sleeve.

  ‘You have nothing to worry about, lord.’

  It amused Klietas to be referred to as ‘lord’, especially as Cambiz was old enough to be his grandfather. But his mentor had insisted the title was apt, seeing as Klietas had saved the king’s life, which had resulted in him becoming a farmer with considerable assets, not least the pair of oxen that he used not only to plough his own fields, but also hired them out to other farmers to plough their fields. They had no money to pay him, but did provide manual labour to assist him to weed, water and maintain his own fields. In this way, he saved money by not having to hire hands until the harvest. Cambiz was right – there was nothing to worry about.

  Each day Klietas rose before dawn and was in the fields as the sun began to climb in the eastern sky, not returning home until it was a huge red ball dipping in the west. He liked to keep busy to ensure his farm would be successful, thereby ensuring he would not disappoint the king. Cambiz told him such thoughts were nonsense, that King Pacorus had bigger things to worry about than one young farmer, and in any case the king was rich and could afford to throw money away if he wanted to. But Klietas was determined to succeed and repay the faith King Pacorus had placed in him.

  ‘You should think about a bigger house, lord,’ said Cambiz, ‘after the crops have been harvested, I mean. A man should live as befitting his status, and I have a feeling your status will be much improved after the harvest.’

  ‘Home’ was a simple single-story mud-brick house that had formerly been an outpost for Dura’s royal stud farms. As such, it had stables as well as animal pens. The former office had two rooms, a flat roof, two chairs, a table, two chests and a reed mat on the floor of the smaller room for a bed. It also had a well to provide water as the Euphrates was five miles away, and when it had been built the office did not have access to water supplied by an irrigation system.

  The vulture suddenly spread its wings and took to the air.

  ‘You should get yourself a wife, lord,’ said Cambiz.

  Klietas subconsciously clutched the necklace around his neck, from which hung the bear claw taken from the beast that had attacked King Pacorus and wounded him. Cambiz saw the gesture and grinned.

  ‘There are plenty of women who would want to share the bed of the man who saved the king’s life.’

  ‘I do not want plenty of women, just one.’

  ‘Who?’

  Klietas released the necklace. ‘It does not matter. Besides, I am too busy to think about marriage.’

  As if by magic, or perhaps it was the will of the gods, they heard the sound of hooves on the dirt track behind them, a slow plodding noise that prompted them to turn. Cambiz, who was always suspicious of soldiers on horseback, frowned. But Klietas smiled when he recognised an Amazon. The coat of her horse shone in the sunlight and its rays glinted off her burnished helmet. He was beaming when she removed her helmet to reveal the figure of Haya sitting in the saddle. He bounded over to her. She smiled at him.

  In contrast to her immaculate appearance, he was something of a mess. His shoes were dirty, his leggings were torn and his tunic was filthy. As he had no wife or family and lived alone, he had neglected his appearance. He had followed the king’s example in being clean-shaven, though he did not shave every day so his chin was showing a dark shade of stubble. His thick mop of dark-brown hair was longer than shoulder length and was matted, and there was dirt under his fingernails.

  She looked him up and down. ‘Have you been sleeping under the stars?’

  He laughed to reveal a row of perfect white teeth. At least he had not been neglecting them. She jumped down from her horse and embraced him, screwing up her nose at his body odour.

  ‘You need a bath.’

  He wrapped his arms around her. ‘It is so good to see you. Are you well?’

  What a ridiculous question. She was a vision of a goddess, her olive skin flawless, her brown eyes sparkling and her hair thick and lustrous, even if it was plaited down her back in the style favoured by the Amazons. Tall and lithe, his eyes were drawn to the shape of her breasts under her mail shirt. She kissed him on the lips.

  ‘I am well.’

  ‘You look absolutely beautiful,’ he told her.

  Cambiz, loitering a few paces behind, raised an eyebrow at his declaration. He knew the Amazons well enough, as did every citizen who lived in the Kingdom of Dura, and also knew to keep well away from them. He saw the recurve bow in its case hanging from the right side of Haya’s saddle, the two full quivers on the left side, and the sword and dagger at her hip. Klietas turned.

  ‘Cambiz, come and meet Haya.’

  The old man ambled over and tipped his head at the slayer wrapped in an enticing body. Haya’s brown eyes examined him with a cool disdain.

  ‘This is Cambiz,’ beamed Klietas, ‘my right-hand man and friend who has guided me over the past few months.’

  Haya looked at the shabby clothing and unkempt beard and hair of the old man. Cambiz winked at her and extended an arm.

  ‘Come harvest time, Klietas will be a rich young man.’

  Haya glanced at the fields either side of the track, extending into the distance. Minu had not lied; the king had purchased a great deal of land for Klietas.

  ‘Then hopefully he will be able to buy some new clothes and purchase a razor and comb.’

  Cambiz took an instant dislike to her. Like everyone he had heard all the stories about the battlefield prowess of the Amazons, but others spoke in hushed tones of their arrogance and cruelty, which the establishment of The Sanctuary had done nothing to squash. Who was this girl to look down on him? Her beauty might have dazzled Klietas, or entranced him for she was probably also a witch, but he was too long in the tooth to be taken in by a pretty smile and a shapely arse.

  ‘Come,’ said Klietas, linking an arm in hers, ‘let me show you where I live.’

  ‘I will see you in the morning, lord,’ shouted Cambiz, eager to be away from the she-devil, raising an arm and turning to walk back to his hovel a quarter of a mile away.

  ‘I thought I would see you before now,’ remarked Klietas.

  ‘We have both been busy,’ she replied, resting her head on his shoulder. ‘You have been establishing your farm.’

  ‘And what have you been doing?’

  ‘This and that,’ she answered evasively.

  She led her horse to the stable next to the mud-brick shack Klietas called home, the former squire assisting her unsaddle the mare, rub her down and feed her from the fodder she had brought with her. Then they retired to his house, which redefined the word ‘basic’. But she smiled, ignored the cockroaches scuttling around on the floor and smiled when Klietas poured water from the well into a pair of cracked wooden cups. He pulled up the chairs and they both sat at the table, he gazing into her eyes; she looking kindly at the young male who was madly in love with her.

  ‘Where are your oxen?’ she asked.

  ‘Working on another farm,’ he told her. ‘After they had ploughed my fields I rented them out to other farms.’

  She looked around at the empty room.

  ‘Where do you keep the money from the rents.’

  He shook his head. ‘The farmers have no money, but they send their sons to assist me with maintaining my fields as part-payment, and after the harvest they will give me a portion of their crops. Then I will sell that and my own crops to the army, according to the terms of the contract drafted on my behalf by Deputy-Governor Almas.’

  She toasted him. ‘You have done well, Klietas.’

  She noticed a crude statue on the window ledge, a clay effigy depicting a figure seated with a dog at its feet.

  ‘What is that?’

  ‘The Goddess Gula,’ he told her, ‘who creates life in the land and keeps watch over all my crops. I pray to her every night that she will look favourably on my
efforts.’

  She instinctively reached for the hilt of her sword when she heard the trundle of wheels outside. Klietas laid a reassuring hand on her arm.

  ‘It is just my evening meal.’

  He jumped up and went to the wooden door that had seen better days, opening it to see a grinning imbecile outside holding a fish, a very large fish.

  ‘Freshly caught this afternoon, lord,’ grinned the toothless halfwit, who caught sight of Haya standing by the table.

  Klietas took the carp. ‘Thank you, Aref.’

  Aref winked at him. ‘Same time tomorrow, lord?’

  ‘Same time tomorrow.’

  Klietas closed the door and placed the fish on the table. He took out his knife and began to gut it, suddenly stopping and looking at Haya.

  ‘Forgive me. I am so used to living on my own I did not think. Would you like to share it with me?’

  She nodded. ‘I would love to.’

  He first washed the grime from his body with water from the well. Normally he did so naked but he was careful to retain his leggings with a female guest in the house, afterwards preparing and cooking the fish. The time flew by as Haya reminisced about the previous year’s campaign in the north. She asked if he was happy.

  ‘Cambiz thinks I should get a wife,’ he informed her.

  ‘And what do you think?’

  ‘It would be nice to have someone to share my life with.’ He gestured at the empty platters. ‘Someone to talk with at the end of each day, like we are doing now.’

  She changed the subject. ‘Who was the fisherman?’

  ‘Aref? He is not a fisherman; he’s a farmer whose land is near the river. He and his family scratch a living. I let him use my oxen for free, so he always gives me a portion of his family’s catch of fish.’

  She left her chair to sit on his knee, placing an arm around his shoulders. She kissed him on the cheek.

  ‘You will not become rich by giving things away.’

  He felt his heart race and his loins stir. Her hand went under his tunic and she began stroking the scars on his chest.

  ‘Have your wounds healed, my love?’

  He nodded, unable to speak so mesmerised was he with her. She kissed him tenderly on the lips, her tongue gently forcing itself into his mouth. He surrendered totally to her wishes as she removed his tunic and let her hand drop to his groin.

  The next few hours were the most blissful of his life. They made love on the reed mat in his sleeping quarters, her lithe limbs wrapping themselves around his toned frame as he penetrated her and caused her to pant and moan. They were both young and in their prime, but when the first rays of dawn lanced through the broken shutters of the room they were both spent. They lay in each other’s arms for what seemed like an eternity, not speaking, just caressing each other with gentle strokes. Klietas’ manhood lay limp and forlorn after a night of hard usage, even the sight of Haya’s naked body unable to elicit a response. He had tasted pleasures he could not conceive of even in his wildest thoughts, and as the room slowly filled with light he began to dream of a life with Haya by his side. His body may have been drained but his mind raced with ideas about marriage, raising a family and seeing his sons work the land the king had given him. It all suddenly made sense and he closed his eyes to thank Gula for her blessing. When he opened them Haya was looking at him.

  ‘The queen has need of you.’

  Chapter 2

  Klietas opened the chest and took out the unstrung bow and then the sinew bowstring. He had no horse so he would have to string it and sling it over his shoulder during the journey. Journey to where? After they had both dressed and eaten a breakfast of wafers and dates, washed down with water, Haya went to the stable to feed and water her horse. The bliss of her arrival and their sharing of intimacy had been somewhat dimmed by her informing him Queen Gallia had sent her to fetch him with all haste. She had been cagey when he had probed as to the reason why the queen should call on the services of a lowly farmer, merely smiling and telling him all would be revealed in due course. He tucked the knife and sling into his belt, shouldered the quiver filled with thirty arrows and sighed.

  ‘The queen could have sent someone else,’ he said to the statue of Gula, ‘it is no coincidence. Help me to find the words.’

  He went outside and saw his beloved exiting the stable, leading her horse into the sunlight. She gave him a beautiful smile.

  ‘I love you,’ he told her.

  ‘I love you,’ she replied.

  He took a few paces towards her until their faces were but inches apart.

  ‘Marry me.’

  Her eyes did not register surprise, or indeed anything.

  She extended a hand to caress his chin.

  ‘I cannot think of such things now, not on the eve of an important mission. Will you wait for my answer?’

  He could not hide his disappointment. He had wanted to ask for her hand in marriage when they had both returned from the campaign in Armenia, and the subsequent debacle in Pontus, Galatia and Cappadocia. But when they had returned to Dura the king had given him land to farm, along with money, tools and oxen to grow fields of wheat. Haya had disappeared into The Sanctuary and he had been given short shrift when he had found the time to visit the establishment, when he was told men were not welcome. Days had turned into weeks and weeks into months, and not once had Haya visited him. So, he had thrown himself into his work to make a success of his farm; and now she appeared out of nowhere with a summons from the queen herself. He scuffed the toe of his boot on the parched earth.

  ‘I suppose I have no choice.’

  Her attitude hardened. ‘I would have thought you would be only too happy to help the queen in her hour of need, seeing as her husband, the king, financed your farm. Would you desert them so easily?’

  ‘Of course not,’ he snapped.

  ‘We should be on our way. You can ride behind me.’

  ‘We go to the palace?’

  ‘No, the queen is meeting us outside the city.’

  She vaulted into the saddle and extended an arm to him, but before he took it, he heard a voice behind him.

  ‘What’s this? Off for a ride? We have work to do, lord.’

  He turned to see Cambiz strolling towards him. The old man looked at Haya and gave a knowing smile.

  ‘Your lord has been called away by the queen,’ said Haya tersely.

  ‘Run out of soldiers, has she?’ he shot back.

  Haya’s eyes widened at his lack of respect.

  ‘It is not for you to question the queen’s decisions,’ she said icily.

  Cambiz looked at Klietas.

  ‘A long time ago, when I was your age, I too let my loins rule my head. I became infatuated with a buxom girl from the next village, who was very free with her affections. Know what happened?’

  ‘You married her?’ suggested Klietas.

  Cambiz roared with laughter. ‘She was a lying, manipulative, evil bitch who was responsible for me getting a beating. Turned out she was betrothed to the son of her village’s headman, who was the jealous type. She liked to get him riled up so he would profess his undying love for her.’

  Cambiz looked at Haya. ‘She used me, you see, and when she had done tossed me aside.’

  He laid a hand on Klietas’ shoulder. ‘Don’t be deceived by a nice arse and a pair of breasts, lord.’

  ‘Enough!’ shouted Haya, her hand going to the hilt of her sword. ‘You will keep quiet, old man.’

  ‘Or what?’ he goaded her. ‘You will kill me? I might not know much, but I know the rule of law is highly regarded in the Kingdom of Dura. The king takes a very dim view of soldiers killing unarmed civilians.’

  ‘The queen is waiting,’ Haya snapped to Klietas.

  ‘I must go,’ he told Cambiz. ‘You are in charge until I return.’

  Deputy-governor Almas had recommended the old man to Klietas and in truth Cambiz had been the driving force behind getting the farm up and running. Haya gestured for h
im to gain her horse, so he accepted her hand and hauled himself up behind her.

  ‘And if you don’t return?’ enquired Cambiz.

  ‘The farm is yours,’ said Klietas.

  ‘The farm will be returned to the king,’ Haya corrected him, tugging on the reins to turn her mare.

  ‘Bitch,’ hissed Cambiz, occasioning Haya to turn and give him a withering look.

  They rode for perhaps five miles, following the track from Klietas’ home to the Euphrates, passing villagers working in well-tilled fields served by well-maintained irrigation ditches. Haya said nothing during the journey and Klietas was content to hold her close, notwithstanding her mail armour and helmet. But she did brush away his hands when they strayed from her waist to cup her breasts. They reached the nearest mud-brick fort near the river, a legionary in its watchtower alerting the garrison of their approach. The gate was opened, and Haya nudged her horse into the courtyard.

  The forts spaced at five-mile intervals north and south of the city of Dura were now over forty years old, having been first built when the kingdom had been a wild, untamed place. Each one had a watchtower, barracks to accommodate forty men – half a century – and stables to hold up to four horses. There were also storerooms, the commander’s officer and an armoury. Haya pulled up her horse and she and Klietas dismounted, the Amazon tethering her mare next to the others in the courtyard, every animal having a white saddlecloth edged in red with a red griffin stitched in each corner. The office door opened and Queen Gallia swept into the courtyard, all free-flowing blonde-grey hair and smiles, prompting Klietas to go down on one knee and bow his head.

  Gallia placed her hands on his shoulders. ‘Get up, get up.’

  He did so and she embraced him, to his great surprise and slight embarrassment.