Companions (The Parthian Chronicles) (28 page)

‘He’s a natural,’ said Arminius admiringly. ‘See how he takes advantage of the trident’s reach to keep Drenis at bay, while at the same time keeping his net at the ready.’

‘Looks like that old witch of yours was right, Pacorus,’ said Domitus, ‘in persuading you to take him along. And he has the advantage of already being well acquainted with his chief adversary.’

‘Who’s that?’ I queried.

‘Not who but what,’ replied Domitus. ‘His cockiness.’

We spent every day for nearly a month in that sandpit. Drenis and Arminius deliberately chose the hottest part of the day for training so the sand would become hot and uncomfortable to stand on. But it kept us moving as we sought the shade in the western side as the sun passed its highest point in the sky. I soon got used to the
manica
and leg protectors and learned to use my toes to aid my grip on the sand. And above all I learned to avoid the walls, aided by an enthusiastic Domitus who hovered around me, striking me with his vine cane if I got too close to the boards. We trained hour after hour, day after day.

Drenis and Arminius wanted Surena and me in the arena from the early hours but I insisted that for the sake of normality the usual routines should be adhered to. That meant early morning exercises on the training fields with the horse archers and cataphracts, though Domitus cancelled all full-scale exercises in the desert, which would have meant camping for two nights or more. As far as the army and kingdom were concerned their king was preparing for a war with Mithridates. Though that appeared a remote possibility. We received happy news that Narses was suffering from some sort of illness and had taken to his bed. Dobbai and Samahe told me that the illness was minor and would not kill him, but that they had both called on Irra, the God of Plagues, to visit him to increase his suffering. But I comforted myself with the knowledge that with Narses incapacitated, Mithridates was even less likely to make a move against me.

Domitus told me that he had written a letter to the organiser of the games at Ephesus as soon as I had decided that I would attend. Called an
editor
, he was responsible for arranging the games and ensuring that each event was a worthy spectacle. I was worried that giving prior warning of our arrival would jeopardise our mission, but Domitus reassured me that the opposite was the case.

‘We can’t just pitch up unannounced,’ he told me. ‘That would raise suspicions. In any case, we have to get authorisation from the
editor
to attend.’

‘How do we do that?’ I asked.

He grinned. ‘I have told him that the
Ludus
Palmyra will be bringing four gladiators trained in eastern ways of fighting that will spice up the games.’

‘You think it will work?’

‘Oh yes. Any whiff of anything exotic or out of the ordinary is enough to arouse the interest of any
editor
. As long as he can put on a good show to satisfy the authorities and crowd he will send his authorisation.’

He rubbed his hands together. ‘And if you get killed I will be a rich man.’

‘How so?’

‘Any fighter from a gladiator school killed in the arena receives compensation, or at least his
lanista
does. The fighter receives a decent funeral.’

‘Your words are always a great comfort to me, Domitus.’

The words of abuse and encouragement I received from Drenis and Arminius helped me prepare for Ephesus as I got used to the heavy bronze helmet, peculiar curved sword and inadequate shield. After a while it felt strange to be wearing boots and I found my own sword, the
spatha
that Spartacus had given me, cumbersome and heavy.

‘That’s good,’ Drenis told me, ‘ideally you should not be using it at all so wielding the
sica
becomes second nature.’

At times Surena and I were pitted against three adversaries – Domitus, Drenis and Arminius – to prepare us for the more exotic bouts we might face.

‘I thought you told me that gladiator fights are carefully arranged,’ I said after being unceremoniously battered and dumped on my back after a gruelling ten minutes’ duelling against the trio.

‘So they are,’ said Arminius, ‘but an
editor
is always looking to spice things up if the crowd starts to get bored.’

The next day Arminius was attired in the armour and equipment he had worn when he had fought in the arena. They were the tools of a
Provocator
, ‘The Challenger’. On his head he wore a heavy bronze helmet that covered his entire skull, two round grilled eyeholes allowing him to see his opponent. He carried a legionary shield and wore a
manica
on his sword arm. On his left leg was a greave that ended just above the knee and protecting his chest was a bronze
cardiophylax
, a buckled breastplate. Like me he wore a broad belt above his loincloth. He brought up his
gladius
and assumed an attacking posture. I leapt back and felt my feet sinking into liquid. I looked down and saw blood oozing from the sand. Horrified, I momentarily forgot where I was and then I was struck with the full force of Arminius’ shield and placed flat on my back. He placed a foot on my chest and raised his sword.

‘That’s a kill,’ shouted Drenis.

Arminius took his foot off my chest and I sat up. I pulled off my helmet.

‘There’s blood on the sand.’

‘I know,’ said Drenis, ‘I put it there and scattered some sand over it. Caught you out, didn’t it?’

Arminius called Surena over and hauled me to my feet.

‘They have animal hunts and executions in the arena before the gladiator bouts,’ said Drenis, ‘and that means there could be lots of blood on or under the sand.’

Surena was disgusted. ‘Don’t they have slaves to clear it up?’

‘It’s far easier to sprinkle fresh sand over it,’ said a now bare headed Arminius. ‘Just remember that blood underfoot is just one unexpected thing you might encounter.’

‘What are the other things?’ I asked.

‘Women gladiators for one,’ said Drenis, ‘though I doubt you will see any at Ephesus.’

‘I will kill anyone they put in front of me,’ stated Surena.

Drenis slapped him on the shoulder. ‘That’s the spirit.’

Three weeks before our departure date a letter arrived for Domitus from the office of the chief priest of the Temple of Artemis at Ephesus. It extended a warm welcome to
Lanista
Lucius Domitus of the
Ludus
Palmyra and stated that High Priest Kallias looked forward to seeing the school’s four gladiators in the forthcoming games. Kallias explained that though he was not the actual
editor
of the games, who was away on important business, he was fully authorised by said official to decide who participated in the forthcoming games.

‘We’re in,’ grinned Domitus.

We were sitting outside one of the armoury’s workshops in the shade. Apart from Domitus we were covered in sweat and had stripped down to our loincloths. Surena, his shoulder-length hair matted to his skull and neck, stood and poured a bucket of water over himself. A guard had brought Domitus the letter as soon as a courier had delivered it to the palace.

‘Why would it be delivered here?’ queried Drenis, wiping his sweaty brow with a cloth.

‘Because I sent another letter to Byrd at Palmyra,’ replied Domitus, ‘asking him to keep an eye out for a letter addressed to me that would be arriving at his tent, and when it arrived to have it sent on to me.’

‘Such is the world of subterfuge,’ I remarked.

‘Talking of which,’ said Domitus. ‘We have not addressed the matter of your name during the coming games.’

‘My name?’

‘Well you can’t use your own name,’ stated Domitus. ‘Plenty of Romans in the east of the empire will have heard of King Pacorus of Dura by now. And it won’t take a genius to connect a man named Pacorus arriving from the east with the same individual, especially when they clap eyes on Gallia, who has probably become as famous as you in Roman eyes.’

‘If not more so,’ said Arminius.

Drenis nodded. ‘He’s right, Pacorus, you should assume a different name.’

‘What about Maximus?’ suggested Drenis.

It was Latin for ‘the greatest’.

‘I think that would be tempting fate,’ I said. ‘What sort of gladiator calls himself “Maximus”?’

‘A confident one,’ said Arminius.

‘I remember one man, a Greek who called himself “Nikephorus”, a gladiator from Capua,’ said Drenis.

Arminius’ eyes lit up. ‘I remember him, too. A great fighter.’

‘What happened to him?’ I asked.

‘He retired a rich man,’ answered Drenis. ‘Bought a brothel in Paestum, I heard.’

Nikephorus meant ‘bearer of victory’ and had a nice feel to it. And the fact the owner of the name had finished his career as a gladiator alive was a lucky omen.

‘Very well,’ I said, ‘Nikephorus it is.’

‘What name should I use?’ asked Surena.

We looked at him and each other. Domitus shook his head.

‘You’re not famous, boy, so you don’t need another name.’

‘I will be,’ said Surena, ‘One day I will be famous throughout all Parthia.’

Domitus rolled his eyes. ‘If you survive Ephesus.’

He looked at me. ‘It’s not too late to back out, Pacorus. No one would think any less of you.’

‘I will not abandon Burebista,’ I said, ‘for it would be the basest thing to do.’

I looked at them, three men I had known for years and who had followed me through thick and thin. And one individual who had just become a man and who dreamed of nothing but victory and glory.

‘You know that I do not compel any of you to come with me. I know that the risks are great and the chances of all of us returning slim. So if any of you are having second thoughts then…’

My words were interrupted as Domitus threw a bucket of water over me.

‘You talk too much.’

Our days of training on the sand were now over. The preparations for our journey began with a message to Byrd and Malik at Palmyra, requesting their presence at Dura. When they arrived I asked them to join me on the palace terrace where the other members of the party destined for Ephesus were gathered. Orodes, Godarz, Dobbai and Samahe were also in attendance as once more the servants and guards were dismissed and the entrance was closed. My governor was terse with me but warm towards Gallia, embracing her and standing beside her. He looked genuinely distressed at the prospect of her leaving and probably blamed me. It was late afternoon and the light was slowly fading, the surface of the Euphrates below as smooth as a slab of blue marble. The terrace was in shadow and there was a light breeze that took the edge off the stifling heat.

I began by informing Byrd and Malik of the forthcoming journey to Ephesus and asked them to keep it to themselves. They immediately offered to come with us but I told them that there were already seven members of the party.

‘What’s so special about seven?’ asked Malik.

‘Dobbai thinks it an auspicious number that will win us the favour of the gods,’ I told him.

He looked at her. ‘And this will guarantee that they will all return alive?’

Dobbai shrugged. ‘If I could guarantee that, desert lord, then I would be a god myself.’

‘Then what is point of only seven travelling?’ said Byrd curtly.

Dobbai twisted her ugly face into a frown. ‘Because, pot seller, by choosing to take seven the son of Hatra pays his respects to the gods, and in so doing may win their favour.’

I could tell that Malik thought the whole scheme mad. ‘You risk much, Pacorus.’

‘You trust Athineos?’ asked Byrd.

‘He did not betray us when we left Italy,’ I said.

‘That is because we gave him a large amount of gold to buy his silence,’ sneered Godarz. ‘He is a mercenary and would sell his own mother if the price was right.’

‘Which brings me neatly to my next point,’ I said. ‘Byrd and Malik, should Godarz’s fears turn out to be well founded and we are indeed going to our deaths, I would like you two to track down Athineos and kill him.’

‘I’ll do that,’ hissed Godarz as he appeared even more distraught.

‘As will I,’ stated Orodes.

I held my hands to them. ‘My friends, if the worst happens you will have your hands full holding this kingdom from the pack of wolves that will gather once news of my death spreads.’

‘Your opinion of yourself is very high, son of Hatra,’ remarked Dobbai. ‘Perhaps with you gone Mithridates will welcome Dura back into the family of Parthian kingdoms.’

‘Not if I am king,’ promised Godarz.

‘Amusing though this speculation is,’ I interrupted, ‘I would like to travel to Ephesus knowing that if we are betrayed then vengeance will be visited upon our betrayer.’

Byrd gave a nod. ‘It will be so.’

Malik placed a hand on his chest. ‘I will not rest until this Athineos is carrion for vultures.’