Companions (The Parthian Chronicles) Page 26

  ‘How many Roman soldiers are there in Ephesus?’ probed Domitus.

  ‘I have heard that there are two cohorts, lanista,’ replied Lysander, ‘plus the marines who when they are not at sea provide harbour security.’

  When we reached our accommodation – a large house just below the houses of the rich on the slopes of Korressos Hill – we found a detachment of Roman legionaries waiting for us. The house had been built according to the peristyle school, with a gated entrance in the surrounding wall leading to a two-storey building with a central courtyard, around which were rooms for dining, relaxing and entertaining guests. There were also secure storerooms where the gladiators were expected to sleep under lock and key. The bedrooms were on the second storey. Happily there were no outward-facing windows, which would give us a degree of privacy, though I had reckoned without any guards.

  A sour-faced centurion with a red transverse crest spoke first to Lysander and then to Domitus. He pointed his vine cane at us four gladiators.

  ‘All those condemned to the games are to be confined to barracks during the games.’

  Domitus smiled at him. ‘They are all free men, centurion, and as I have lavished a considerable amount of money on them I would prefer that they stay where I can keep an eye on them. Don’t want them getting a knife in the back before the games.’

  The centurion examined each of us in turn. ‘As you wish. But in that case I am ordered to allocate guards to stand sentry outside your accommodation at all times. And I would advise keeping them locked up at night.’

  Domitus jerked a hand at us. ‘They are professionals. You won’t get any trouble from them.’

  The centurion’s hard visage cracked a smile. ‘It’s not them I’m worried about. Many of the locals don’t like the idea of the games, reckons it offends their dainty Greek heritage.’

  He placed the end of his cane under Lysander’s chin. ‘Isn’t that right, Greek?’

  ‘As you say, sir,’ smiled Lysander.

  The centurion kept his cane in place. ‘That bearded bastard Kallias is itching to incite a riot to prove he’s the ruler of Ephesus rather than the governor.’

  ‘I would not know of such things, sir,’ said a still smiling Lysander.

  ‘I appreciate the offer of sentries, centurion,’ said Domitus. ‘I don’t want to interrupt you but my wife is tired and eager to rest after her journey.’

  The centurion took his cane away from Lysander’s chin. ‘Of course. Well, I hope your stay here is a profitable one. The papers we received from the Greek priests said you are from Palmyra.’

  ‘That’s right,’ smiled Domitus.

  The centurion stared at him. ‘You don’t look eastern.’

  Domitus removed his shemagh. ‘Me? No, I’m Roman through and through.’

  The centurion relaxed instantly. ‘Thank Jupiter for that. I’ve had a gutful of these eastern types. I spent three years in Syria marching across never-ending deserts.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Domitus, ‘the area can be taxing.’

  The centurion tucked his cane under his arm. ‘I remember once we got caught in a sandstorm that lasted for days. Gave us a right battering. And then immediately after we came face-to-face with a Parthian king and his army.’

  Domitus looked earnestly at him. ‘Really, what king?’

  The centurion thought for a moment. ‘He’s the ruler of a city on the Euphrates. King Pacorus, that’s it. Palmyra is near Dura, isn’t it?’

  ‘It is.’

  ‘Then you must know this Pacorus,’ said the centurion

  Domitus nodded. ‘I have heard of him, yes.’

  ‘Well, him and Pompey came to an agreement so there was no fighting. Strangest thing was, this Pacorus has soldiers armed and equipped like our own, that and thousands of horsemen. Rumour has it that he will soon be a client king of Rome.’

  ‘He must be a formidable opponent,’ said Domitus.

  The centurion looked disparagingly at Lysander. ‘Not really. You know what these eastern types are like, all piss and wind.’

  He raised his cane to the side of his helmet in salute.

  ‘I wish you good day, lanista.’

  He marched away with six of his men, leaving another half dozen behind to guard the house. Lysander barked at the slaves to get our possessions into the house. When they had deposited the clothes in the rooms on the second storey and our weapons and armour in the storerooms and departed we took off our outer robes and relaxed on the daybeds. Lysander stayed and organised the serving of drinks and refreshments, slaves bringing jugs of wine and water from the kitchens and others serving us bread, honey, cheese, figs and peaches.

  ‘You may leave us,’ Domitus said to Lysander.

  Lysander bowed, ‘Yes, lanista. As the games are in two days’ time perhaps you would like to visit the Temple of Artemis tomorrow.’

  Domitus looked at Gallia, who nodded. ‘That would be most agreeable.’

  ‘The slaves of the household will attend to your needs, lanista,’ said Lysander. ‘If anything is remiss please send one to find me at the agora.’

  He bowed once more and left leaving four slaves standing around the painted walls like statues, staring ahead. Domitus dismissed them all. Gallia took off her shemagh and shook her hair free and then removed her black robe. She removed her bow and the quiver of silver arrows which had been slung across her shoulders. We helped ourselves to food and wine. Ephesus had impressed us all, especially Alcaeus who was proud that a Greek city should inspire such awe. As we filled our bellies he told us that the Temple of Artemis would add to our wonderment, being one of the wonders of the known world.

  ‘The garrison is not large for a city this size,’ said Domitus. ‘Two cohorts plus marines to control tens of thousands of potential trouble makers.’

  ‘As long as the Romans do not commit sacrilegious acts against the Goddess Artemis and Her servants they risk no uprising,’ said Alcaeus. ‘In any case the city was not conquered but bequeathed to Rome by King Pergamon many years ago.’

  ‘This high priest, Kallias,’ I said, ‘appears to wield great power.’

  Alcaeus cut a slice of apricot. ‘He is a king in all but name, wielding great spiritual and financial power. The bank of the Temple of Artemis is extremely rich.’

  ‘What’s a bank?’ asked Surena, heaping a great chunk of cheese into his mouth.

  ‘Where people can store their money safely,’ answered Alcaeus, ‘in addition to asking for loans to finance their business ventures. But it is rumoured that the temple treasury is also full of donations given by pilgrims.’

  ‘Religion is very profitable,’ remarked Domitus.

  ‘Well,’ I said, ‘tomorrow we will visit this temple ourselves and see if what Alcaeus has been telling us these past few weeks has been an exaggeration.’

  It was not.

  Located a mile to the west of the city, we decided to walk from our quarters and thence to the temple, despite Lysander’s’ pleadings for Domitus and Gallia to be carried on litters. He gave the rest of us little attention as we followed the lanista, his wife and Alcaeus, not only answering questions but also asking them. He enquired about Palmyra, the gladiator school and Roman Syria. Domitus answered vaguely and Gallia, her body and face once more covered, said nothing.

  ‘He asks a lot of questions,’ Drenis said to me as we walked through the city’s western gates in the company of hundreds of pilgrims.

  I shrugged. ‘He’s friendly, that’s all.’

  ‘Too friendly for a slave,’ said Arminius. ‘Anyone who smiles as much as he does is up to something.’

  I was having none of it. ‘You two are too suspicious. Remember he’s a Greek, not a Roman.’

  As we neared the temple the throng of pilgrims swelled. Most were dressed in simple tunics and robes, many had flowers in their hair and others were chanting prayers or singing to the heavens with arms raised.

  ‘It can get very boisterous,’ said a smiling Lysander as we nearer t
he temple.

  We all stopped and stood in awe when we first clapped eyes on the sanctuary, for if anything Alcaeus had understated its magnificence. It stood on a huge stone platform that had steps on all four sides. Every one of its columns was fashioned from white marble, the lower portions of which were carved with mythical figures in high relief.

  ‘I never knew there was so much marble in the world,’ uttered an awed Drenis.

  As we shuffled forward among the crowd Lysander informed us that the temple measured one hundred and fifty yards long and seventy-five yards wide. Two great marble statues of the Goddess Artemis kneeling shooting a bow were mounted on stone plinths immediately in front of the temple. The arched roof, sixty feet above us, comprised marble pediments with carved figurines and carved marble roof tiles.

  Inside the temple light was provided by fires that burned on the top of white stone bases. There were temple guards standing at the entrance and in front of the columns. Like most of Ephesus they presented an image of wealth, their bronze helmets adorned with white plumes and their torsos protected by bronze scale armour cuirasses. Their round shields were painted white and carried a silver arrow and bow motif – the symbol of Artemis. Like my own foot soldiers they wore white tunics and sandals on their feet, their weapons comprising a short spear with a leaf-shaped blade and a short sword in a scabbard. The latter was the xiphos, a Greek sword with a double-edged blade around two feet in length.

  ‘They certainly look pretty,’ Domitus said to me as he looked at a pair of guards. ‘No expense spared with regards to their weapons and armour.’

  ‘This city is overflowing with wealth,’ I replied.

  Lysander ushered us towards the centre of the temple where a huge statue of the goddess stood. It was ringed by guards to prevent anyone getting too close, and white-robed young women with oiled hair, bare arms and nothing on their feet were burning incense at stations around the goddess. There was a huge press of people around it and so we stayed at the rear of the crowd as others shuffled past to get nearer the statue. The pungent smell of burning frankincense and myrrh drifted into my nostrils as the beautiful women burnt more incense at the foot of the statue. It was a tall marble structure decorated with gold, silver and ebony. The goddess was depicted wearing a long dress carved with images of animals and a shawl made of bees. Her arms were outstretched and around her body were rows of breasts to symbolise her role as the goddess of fertility. On her head was a tall headdress that made the statue appear huge. But then everything about this temple was huge, from its tall columns to the great doors made of cypress and the never-ending ceiling made of cedar. Beyond the statue were lines of worshippers filing into another chamber. I nudged Domitus and pointed to them. He asked Lysander what they were doing.

  ‘They are worshippers donating gifts to the goddess, lanista.’

  ‘Quiet,’ hissed a guard behind us, ‘Hippo comes.’

  There was a blast of trumpets and then a low, melodious beating of drums to herald the arrival of. Of whom?

  ‘The high priestess,’ whispered Lysander, bowing his head.

  The hall grew silent as two guards preceded a line of young priestesses, all beautiful and bare foot like the ones feeding the incense burners. At their head was a striking woman with painted black eyebrows, full lips and piercing brown eyes. Slim, of medium height, she glided across the marble tiles, a silver necklace around her slender neck that nestled between her shapely breasts, silver hanging from her ears and more silver on her fingers, the metal a sharp contrast to her dark olive skin. She seemed very young for a high priestess.

  I felt a blow on my left arm and turned to see a temple guard holding his spear shaft out towards me. ‘I said head down. Show some respect.’

  Hippo and her entourage passed and headed towards the main entrance. Muted voices returned to the chamber with her departure and the crowd relaxed. I turned to the guard.

  ‘Touch me again and I will break that spear over your head.’

  He levelled the spear. ‘Have a care, pilgrim, I would not wish to spill your blood in the goddess’ presence.’

  Domitus was suddenly between us, holding his hands up to the guard.

  ‘Apologies. He’s a heathen from the East who knows no manners. He’s here to fight in the games.’

  The guard eyed me for a few seconds before returning his spear to the vertical position. ‘Hopefully he will be killed on the first day, Artemis willing.’

  Domitus laughed. ‘He probably will be.’

  He turned to me. ‘Avert your eyes, Nikephorus. Show some respect.’

  He bundled me away. ‘Not a good idea provoking a fight in one of the most famous temples in the world that is full of worshippers.’

  ‘I object to being prodded by a temple guard.’

  ‘Stop thinking like a king and more like a gladiator,’ he told me.

  I caught Lysander’s eye and he smiled at me. We moved past the statue towards the rear of the temple where more guards stood sentry outside the offices of the high priest and his lesser priests. Gallia stopped at one of the four bronze statues of Amazons mounted on stone plinths, each one showing a fierce female warrior, their right breasts missing, either shooting a bow or wielding a spear or sword. The removal of the breast facilitated the shooting of a bow, or so Lysander informed us. I stood on the opposite side of the plinth to Domitus and Gallia, staring at my wife’s eyes. She saw me and nodded her head ever so slightly, her eyes full of fire.

  Outside the temple, just beyond the steps along the sides of the building, were a host of market stalls selling ceramic, ivory and metal ornaments. Guards ambled around among the pilgrims who appeared to be spending drachmas freely at the stalls.

  ‘These traders must have paid a hefty price to pitch their stalls here,’ Domitus said to Lysander.

  The latter shook his head. ‘All these traders are employed by the office of the high priest, lanista, and all the profits go towards the upkeep of his position and the maintenance of the temple.’

  We arrived at a stall staffed by silversmiths putting the finishing touches to solid silver replicas of the statue of Artemis that stood in the temple. Around six inches high they were exact reproductions and looked exquisite. They also commanded a high price that made Domitus baulk when he enquired the cost of one. He hastily put it down.

  ‘Buy it,’ said Gallia.

  ‘They are beautiful pieces,’ smiled Lysander. ‘Worthy of the house of a rich lanista.’

  Domitus turned to Gallia and then looked at me. Lysander’s eyes darted between us but he said nothing. Domitus reached into the leather pouch hanging from his belt and took out a handful of money. He looked at the coins in the palm of his hand, shook his head and handed them to the silversmith, who handed him the statuette. He took it and passed it to Gallia. She was delighted by it.

  Other stalls sold food and so Domitus purchased fruit, cured meat, bread and fruit juice and Lysander led us to benches positioned beneath shades where we could eat, drink and rest our legs. As we sat with hundreds of others who were partaking of refreshments I noticed dozens of tents of various sizes pitched around the temple, at least a hundred paces from the temple steps. I pointed them out to Domitus who asked Lysander if they belonged to pilgrims.

  ‘Some do, lanista, but others are where those seeking sanctuary live. An ancient law of the temple welcomes all those seeking sanctuary. The city authorities are not allowed to touch anyone within the limits of the temple.’

  Domitus stood and peered left and right. ‘Where are the temple limits?’

  ‘They are not marked, lanista,’ answered Lysander. ‘According to our ancient laws they are determined by the range of an arrow shot from the top of the temple steps.’

  I saw a bare-footed man in his early twenties, dressed in a dirty beige tunic, talking to Hippo. The latter had appeared aloof and cold in the temple but was now smiling as she conversed with the swarthy individual.

  ‘They look to be on friendly terms,’ I
said to Domitus.

  ‘Who is the priestess talking to? Domitus asked Lysander.

  He frowned. ‘That is Cleon, lanista, a notorious criminal and rabble-rouser. He led an insurrection against the Romans and after it was crushed sought sanctuary here at the temple.’

  ‘And the Romans let him live?’ Domitus was astounded.

  ‘They have little choice, lanista. To violate the sanctuary would incite a riot, if not a full-scale rebellion.’ Lysander suddenly remembered to whom he was talking. ‘I meant no offence, sir.’

  Domitus shook a hand at him. ‘No offence taken. The priestess seems to be on good terms with the rabble-rouser.’

  Lysander looked at Hippo. ‘The priestess’ heart is filled with nothing but affection for the followers of the goddess, lanista. She pities Cleon.’

  Hippo’s face broke into a beautiful smile. ‘I wouldn’t mind her showering some of her pity over me,’ said Domitus.

  ‘Where’s this High Priest Kallias, I wonder?’ I mused to Domitus.

  ‘Probably enjoying the affection of one of those young priestesses,’ he joked. ‘Lysander, where’s the high priest?’

  ‘After the early morning ritual he spends his time in the city dealing with administrative matters, lanista,’ replied Lysander.

  As we sat eating I continued to observe Cleon and Hippo talking. I noticed the presence of other men milling around her, most like him in their twenties, and all fit and strong. They did not look like pilgrims and I assumed they were Cleon’s followers. I wondered how many of the thousands of people camped around the temple were criminals or rebels. It seemed a very strange state of affairs. Normally the Romans would have rounded them up and either crucified them or condemned them to the mines. It must have irked the governor enormously that so many enemies of Rome were camped just beyond the city walls and untouchable. As I finished my apricot Hippo gave Cleon a final smile and then walked back to the temple escorted by four guards.

  When we had satisfied our appetites we walked back to the city, not an inch to spare on the road from the temple to the city gates so many pilgrims were there. The sun was now high in a clear sky and the temperature was rising rapidly, and the stench of sweating humans was quite pungent, made worse by the absence of any breeze. The heat must have made Alcaeus ill tempered because he began to berate Domitus.