Companions (The Parthian Chronicles) (2 page)

‘What is in the box?’ asked the queen.

Asher smiled, bent down and lifted the lid to reveal the papyrus rolls.

‘Before he died my grandfather suggested to your father, the king, that he record his experiences for posterity. At first the king was reluctant, afraid perhaps that his memory would fail him, which would lead him to omit important details. But my grandfather persisted; employing scribes to write down what your father told them. After a while the king became accustomed to dictating his experiences and took to the task with relish.’

Asher held out a hand towards the box. ‘These are the result. Or at least what we have discovered so far.’

The queen rose from her throne and stepped off the dais, stooping to pick up one of the scrolls.

‘So far?’

‘Yes, majesty,’ replied Asher. ‘My grandfather left a mountain of documents that my family have yet to go through. I myself have had little time to catalogue them, being swamped by business matters.’

The queen carefully placed the scroll back in the box and returned to her throne. She waved over one of her guards.

‘Take it to the terrace.’

The Amazon bowed, replaced the lid and took the box from the chamber, disappearing through a door that led to the palace’s private quarters.

‘And what business would that be, Asher, grandson of Aaron?’

‘Papyrus, majesty,’ replied Asher. ‘My family owns a plantation to the north of the city.’

The papyrus plant is a reed that grows in marshy areas around rivers, and whereas it was forbidden to create marshes near the city, further upstream the crown gave licences to businessmen that allowed them to create artificial marshes where papyrus could be grown. Such areas attracted mosquitoes and disease and the workers who harvested the reed often succumbed to illnesses. But the trade was lucrative for papyrus was in great demand throughout the Parthian Empire and beyond.

‘And business is good?’ enquired the queen.

Asher smiled. ‘Very good, majesty.’

‘Tishtrya has smiled on you, has she not?’

‘Tishtrya, majesty?’

‘The Goddess of Rainfall and Fertility who fills the Euphrates with water and provides you with the marshes where you grow your papyrus.’

The queen stared at his curly side hair.

‘You follow the same religion as your grandfather, grandson of Aaron?’

Asher nodded. ‘Yes, majesty.’

‘You believe that there is only one god?’

‘That is what my religion teaches, majesty,’ answered a now sweating Asher. He knew all too well that the queen was the protégé of Dobbai, the sorceress who had befriended King Pacorus and Queen Gallia and who had hated his grandfather. Many of his faith had feared persecution when the old king had died, but thus far it had mercifully failed to materialise.

The queen nodded. ‘Well, my father always believed that Dura should be a kingdom where men and women were free to worship what gods they chose to follow.’

‘He was a great man, majesty,’ said Asher.

‘Thank you. You may go.’

A relieved Asher bowed deeply to her, turned on his heels and quickly made his exit. Halfway across the tiles the queen called after him.

‘You will of course send any further documents pertaining to my father to the palace.’

He stopped, turned and bowed again.

‘You can count on it, majesty.’

He breathed a deep sigh of relief when he left the Citadel. Normally a hard-headed businessman, he had been unnerved meeting the queen. Perhaps it was her remoteness, the aggressiveness of her guards or the air of foreboding bordering on malevolence that hung over the entire Citadel. Or perhaps it had been nothing more than a figment of his imagination. After all, Dura had been good to him and his family. He lived with his wife and children in a mansion inside the city. He and his relatives were free to follow their religion and the kingdom’s soldiers ensured that his business and its workers were unmolested. The bureaucracy put in place by his grandfather and his friend Rsan, who had been the governor of the city, ensured that taxes were collected with the minimum of corruption. And for her part the queen ensured that the defences of the kingdom were maintained. Trade flourished, taxes were well spent – if such a thing was not a contradiction in terms – and the kingdom prospered.

He pulled up his mule and looked back up at the Citadel atop the rock escarpment where it stood like an eagle guarding its nest, or griffin for that matter. Around him the main street that led from the Citadel to the Palmyrene Gate was heaving with people, camels, carts and people. He prayed to God that Dura would continue to prosper now that King Pacorus was dead.

Behind the palace’s throne room, reached via a corridor in the private quarters, was a large terrace that sat atop the high rock escarpment upon which the Citadel was built. It overlooked the blue waters of the River Euphrates below and the lands east of the river. Across the waterway was Hatran territory, which was formerly ruled by King Gafarn before his death. It was now the realm of his son, King Pacorus, named in honour of the man who had made the Kingdom of Dura such a force in the empire.

Claudia settled herself down in the large wicker chair on the terrace, the same chair that had belonged to Dobbai, the mystic who had been the sorceress of King of Kings Sinatruces, to date the greatest supreme ruler that the Parthian Empire had ever known. Claudia smiled as she recounted the tales that Dobbai had told her of Sinatruces when she had been a small girl. How he had coveted her mother, Gallia, but had been outwitted by Dobbai into giving Pacorus a kingdom all of his own and keeping her mother out of the amorous embrace of the king of kings. As a male servant placed the box of scrolls on the table nearby and bowed, Claudia remembered the days of her childhood. Of the frequent gatherings on this very terrace that were held to decide the fate of Dura and the empire. She remembered the fierce black-robed Haytham, king of the Agraci, his son Malik and his daughter Rasha. The stern and uncompromising Lucius Domitus, commander of Dura’s army. The lanky, smiling Nergal and his red-headed wife Praxima, the dear friends of his parents who went on to become living gods at Uruk. But it was Dobbai she remembered the most, the one who had helped to bring her into the world and who instructed her in the ancient knowledge of spells and charms and how to catch glimpses of the workings of the gods.

She picked up one of the scrolls and looked up to see the land bathed in sunlight. Across the river the road to the two pontoon bridges that spanned the Euphrates, giving access to the city, was full of camels, mules and carts. An endless stream of commerce that coursed both east and west to satisfy Rome’s and Egypt’s insatiable desire for silk, the luxurious material produced far to the east in China. The latter sent other products west, of course – ironware, medicines, bronze mirrors, and farming and metallurgical techniques – but it was the demand for silk that gave the great trading route its name. The commerce was not just one-way: camel trains transported alfalfa, grape, flax, pomegranate, walnut and cucumber to China. The rulers of the latter also had a taste for more exotic goods from the west: peacocks, elephants and lions. So every day camel trains criss-crossed Parthia loaded with goods, every one paying small dues for safe conduct along the Silk Road. The latter was the lifeblood of the empire just as it was for Dura’s prosperity.

Claudia glanced at another wicker chair a few paces away, the one her father had sat in every day as the sun began its descent in the western sky and the temperature on the terrace became bearable. She smiled at the memory of him laying his aching left leg on a padded foot rest as he told her that his greatest achievement was not on the battlefield but securing peace with the Agraci that meant the trade caravans could travel west from Dura to the oasis city of Palmyra and on to Syria and Egypt. Prior to this historic agreement the Kingdom of Dura and its wild lords had been at war with the Agraci but her father’s peace with Haytham had changed everything. She smiled as she remembered Haytham himself sitting on this
terrace, a thing once thought impossible. They were good times, even though her memory of them was as a young girl.

She unfolded the papyrus roll on the table. Because it had been used for a long work the text was written horizontally along the roll and divided into columns. She began to read the neatly written words, keeping a segment of the roll flat in front of her, the ends on the left and right rolled up for convenience. The writing was not her father’s but as she began reading the words she soon heard his voice in her head, recording an episode from the early years of his reign as the King of Dura.

As
the
gods
have
decreed
that
I
will
have
to
wait
a
while
longer
before
I
can
join
my
dear
,
beloved
wife
in
the
afterlife
,
and
to
put
an
end
to
the
incessant
nagging
of
Aaron
,
my
aged
treasurer
,
I
have
decided
to
record
a
number
of
my
experiences
so
that
posterity
will
remember
me
.
Or
at
least
that
is
what
Aaron
has
told
me
.
I
actually
think
that
my
miserable
attempts
at
being
a
scribe
will
be
quickly
forgotten
,
notwithstanding
that
Aaron
has
provided
me
with
enthusiastic
,
attentive
scribes
to
write
down
my
words
.
They
will
write
in
Greek
because
Aaron
has
told
me
that
all
the
great
books
of
history
are
written
in
that
language
and
therefore
stand
more
chance
of
being
read
by
future
generations
.
I
am
not
confident
that
the
next
generation
of
Dura’s
citizens
will
be
interested
in
my
ramblings
,
let
alone
future
generations
.
But
for
the
sake
of
putting
an
end
to
Aaron’s
hounding
I
have
decided
to
become
a
scribbler
.

When
I
first
suggested
the
topic
of
this
work
Aaron
began
his
pestering
again
,
insisting
that
it
was
not
a
suitable
subject
for
the
reminiscences
of
a
king
.
But
I
politely
informed
him
that
after
having
finally
surrendered
to
his
demands
to
write
about
my
life
,
I
should
at
least
be
free
to
choose
the
subjects
.
I
suggested
that
perhaps
it
would
be
better
if
I
acted
as
his
scribe
and
committed
to
papyrus
the
experiences
of
his
long
life
.
Whereupon
he
became
irritable
and
said
that
sarcasm
did
not
suit
me
.
But
he
said
no
more
on
the
matter
and
so
I
began
this
tale
of
an
episode
that
took
place
many
years
ago
and
even
after
this
great
passage
of
time
still
seems
remarkable
.
Because
it
has
been
so
long
and
because
so
much
has
happened
in
the
intervening
years
,
I
hope
I
have
remembered
the
sequence
of
events
accurately
.
Those
who
took
part
deserve
that
at
the
very
least
.