Companions (The Parthian Chronicles) (45 page)

In battle you keep a close grip on your weapon because it is your best friend. Legionaries throw their javelins and cataphracts spear enemies with the
kontus
because that is what those weapons are designed for. But a legionary never lets go of his
gladius
and a cataphract never releases the hold on his sword, axe or mace in the mêlée. Your close-quarter weapon is the only thing that prevents you being killed because no matter how thick your shield or armour, if you have no offensive weapon then eventually you will lose a fight.

But Surena broke the first rule of combat when he hurled his trident forward. He had been facing the governor, watching for his hand signal, and had launched his trident even before the referee had made his signal. The weapon flew through the air and struck the
Murmillo
he was facing in the chest, the three prongs embedding themselves in the exposed flesh. The ‘fish man’ collapsed instantly as Surena threw his net at the
Secutor
on his left side, the giant spider’s web expanding as it flew at the gladiator. Surena pulled his dagger from its sheath and sprang at the
Secutor
like a panther. The
Secutor
caught the flying net on his shield and cast it aside easily enough, but the few seconds required to do so was all that Surena needed to thrust his dagger beneath the Secutor’s helmet and into his throat. The crowd cheered wildly as the wounded gladiator collapsed on the sand.

Acco was dealing death with his two swords but all I was interested in was Surena, who now faced a
Murmillo
and
Secutor
who were standing beside each other, swords levelled and shields facing my former squire. The latter snatched his net from the sand and stood ready to face his two opponents, armed only with a dagger. The
Murmillo
, certain of victory against a man armed only with a dagger, raced forward. Surena threw his net once more, the material billowing in the air as the
Murmillo
cut it aside with his
gladius
. But Surena had picked up the dead
Secutor’s
sword and performed a forward roll to the left, tucking the sword close to his body and then lashing out with it to slice open the
Murmillo’s
right calf. There was a high-pitched yelp as Surena stood and raced over to the other
Murmillo
who lay flat on his back. He plucked the trident from the man’s chest and turned to face the
Secutor
as the other
Murmillo
sank to his knees, blood spurting from his gashed calf. He was out of the fight.

Surena sheathed his dagger as he faced his last opponent still standing.

The
Secutor
circled Surena who gripped his trident with both hands, his left shoulder turned towards his enemy to maximise the protection afforded by his
galerus
. He suddenly fed the trident through his hands to jab the prongs in the
Secutor’s
face. The latter slashed at the trident with his
gladius
but Surena feinted, snapped it back, leaped to the left and jabbed the trident forward again. He feinted right, jumped back and feigned an overhead attack with his weapon. The
Secutor
lifted his shield to deflect the blow but Surena was already thinking about his next move, leaning back as he crouched low to hurl the trident forward. In a second the three prongs had struck the
Secutor
in the torso, between his belt and rib cage.

The crowd uttered a collective sigh as the
Secutor
staggered, dropped his sword and pulled the trident from his body. He staggered a few steps more before falling to his knees as Surena lifted his arms to the crowd to milk their applause. He turned to the dignitaries and gave a clenched first salute, spitting on the sand once more when he caught the eye of Ceukianus. I saw Gallia smirk and Domitus rise to his feet to applaud the young man from the marshlands as the theatre was filled with the chant of ‘Surena, Surena’.

He pulled his dagger from its sheath and walked over to the
Murmillo
who was lying on his side, holding his severed calf. The
Secutor
had meanwhile died of his throat wound, blood still oozing on to the sand. Common practice was for the wounded gladiator to kneel before his vanquisher, holding one of his legs and bending his head forward so the victor of the duel could deliver a fatal, merciful blow with his sword. But Surena merely tore off the man’s helmet and slit his throat. The crowd gasped at this break from protocol and the referee rushed over to admonish him. Surena pushed him away and went to retrieve his net and trident, the former being ripped and now useless.

Acco had, meanwhile, also killed all four of his opponents, though his victory was marred by the crowd’s worship of Surena, who was now walking around the edge of the arena with his arms raised, accepting the adulation. As he got near to Acco and his blood-covered swords he must have said something because the Gaul squared up to him and Surena prepared to fight once more. A referee blew a whistle and more assistants ran from the stage building to separate the two gladiators, leading each away to separate exit doors.

‘You know,’ Arminius said to me, ‘you might have trouble getting Surena to come back to Dura with us. He has had a taste of the arena and he finds it to his liking.’

‘He would never abandon Viper,’ I assured him.

‘He could always send for her.’

When he returned to us Surena allowed Alcaeus to give him a clean bill of health and then held out his arms so slaves could remove his belt and
galerus
. Fortunately Acco had decided to return to his quarters rather than spend any further time in the company of gladiators, so there would be no further friction between the two. At least not today.

‘I will need a new net, lord,’ he said to me as he sat down on a bench and snapped his fingers at a slave holding a jug of water. ‘For tomorrow.’

‘Hopefully you will be rested tomorrow after your heroics today.’

His face creased into a mask of disappointment. ‘I cannot let down the crowd, lord. They will be expecting me.’

Drenis slapped him on the shoulder and looked at me. ‘A crowd needs a hero and a hero needs a crowd.’

This day’s crowd began to leave the theatre after a most interesting day that had seen a dozen more gladiators killed and many more fatalities as a result of the lions getting loose. As legionaries escorted us from the stage building a great crowd gathered round us as on the previous day. Our progress was very slow. I asked a legionary what the problem was as Surena accepted kisses and embraces from his ever-growing harem of young female admirers.

‘Worshippers from the temple,’ the legionary told me. ‘They are blocking all the roads in the city. They want to see that woman who killed the lions with her bow. They believe she is a god, or something like that.’

When we got back to the house on the hill he discovered that the woman he was referring to was the ‘wife’ of my
lanista
because there were hundreds of people crowded round the building.

‘The governor will need to send more guards,’ he said as he and his fellow legionaries used their shields to create a path for us to the entrance.

As many of the crowd began to sing some sort of religious song and light candles, I walked into the courtyard to see Gallia seated with Domitus. I made sure Lysander was absent before taking her in my arms and kissing her.

‘Hail to the queen of the Amazons,’ I teased her.

‘Hail to the king of the arena,’ Domitus said as Surena entered the courtyard.

‘A new king and queen,’ remarked Drenis, ‘the gods smile on us.’

‘Indeed they do,’ I said, ‘because Burebista has been withdrawn from the games. Gallia’s intervention today has convinced me that we have divine help in our venture. That crowd outside believes her to be Artemis herself.’

I gave no thought to Lysander’s absence as Argos massaged the stress and aches from my body soon afterwards. After I had been refreshed I asked Domitus to send a slave to the harbour with a note for Athineos to ask him to come to the house and update me on the next step in our negotiations with Lentulus Vatia. But all thoughts of Athineos were put to the back of my mind when Lysander arrived with an invitation from High Priest Kallias himself.

‘Kallias?’ said Domitus. ‘What does he want with us?’

Lysander stood with his hands behind his back, grinning as usual.

‘The high priest requests the company of
Lanista
Lucius Domitus, his wife and the gladiator Nikephorus at his house this evening.’

Domitus looked at me. ‘Why does the high priest want a lowly gladiator in his house?’

Lysander’s smile continued to hold. ‘I do not know, master, only that High Priest Kallias desires his company along with that of yourself and your wife.’

Domitus seemed uninterested, which made Lysander uncomfortable.

‘It is a great honour, master, to receive such an invitation.’

I nodded at Domitus who sighed loudly.

‘Very well. Tell the priest that we accept his invitation.’

Lysander bowed his head and scurried from the courtyard.

‘You have certainly made an impression,’ Alcaeus said to Gallia. ‘Kallias is the most influential man in Ephesus, perhaps in this part of Asia, and to be asked to eat with him is an honour many of the most important citizens of this city would kill for. Strange that he should invite Pacorus, though.’

‘Perhaps he was impressed by my performance in the arena,’ I said.

‘I doubt it,’ scoffed Drenis.

Surena was most unhappy. ‘Why wasn’t I invited?’

‘Because that fat
editor
wants to entertain you tonight, Surena,’ said a grinning Arminius, ‘in his bed.’

‘That’s disgusting,’ remarked Gallia, ‘but then you didn’t have to sit near the odious fat Roman. He stinks and his breath is enough to sour milk.’

‘You need to get your rest tonight, Surena,’ I told him, ‘so you are fresh for tomorrow’s bouts.’

‘You think I will be fighting tomorrow, lord?’

I thought about the
editor’s
anger and disappointment when Surena had survived the fight against four adversaries earlier.

‘I have no doubt.’

As we were not eating at the house we prepared ourselves for the meeting with Kallias. Domitus and I wore simple white tunics with leather belts and sandals on our feet. Gallia made more of an effort, donning a white silk dress that covered her legs but left her svelte arms bare. It was secured at the shoulder with silver brooches and around her waist she wore a thin silver belt. She let her locks hang loosely around her shoulders, wearing a silver tiara inlaid with lapis lazuli on her head and long silver earrings below. Her necklace was a solid silver torc-style ornament, the ends of which were griffins.

‘Dobbai gave it to me as a present,’ she told me. ‘She said it combined my Gaul heritage with my position as Dura’s queen.’

I touched one of the griffins. ‘I like it.’ I brushed her cheek with my fingers. ‘Though not as much as the one who wears it.’

She smiled sheepishly. ‘Remember who you are, Nikephorus.’

Lysander returned to the house with fifty palace guards to ensure our journey to the high priest’s house was undisturbed. Most of Gallia’s adherents had returned to either their lodgings in the city or their tents around the Temple of Artemis, the governor having ordered the city gates to be closed early to rid the streets of the worshippers of the goddess. I walked behind Domitus and Gallia, surrounded by a small phalanx of temple guards in their bronze helmets and bronze scale armour cuirasses as we made our way to the house of Kallias.

I say house but in reality it was a small palace located on the western side of a small square near the
prytaneion
. Those worshippers who had money to rent lodgings in the city called to Gallia and tried to touch her hair as we walked on the marble flagstones. But the guards kept them at a safe distance, occasionally using shields to knock individuals out of the way. They said nothing during the journey but I noticed that many cast glances at Gallia, especially her long blonde hair. I had seen that look before: when I had returned to Parthia after fighting in Italy and had brought Gallia back with me. People had been mesmerised by her fair skin, blue eyes and blonde locks. And here, at Ephesus, many believed her to be the reincarnation of Artemis herself.

The abode of Kallias was a magnificent two-storey structure with a façade that had Corinthian style columns on the ground floor, the columns being made of honey-coloured marble and the steps leading to the main entrance being white marble. There was a gated entrance to the square to ensure no undesirables entered, which meant the gaggle of worshippers who had followed us from our own accommodation were kept outside. The guards escorted us to the steps of the palace where a white-robed priest with oiled black hair and a black beard welcomed us and requested we follow him.

We walked up the steps and past the columns, in the recesses between which were white marble statues of Artemis, Zeus, Hera and Apollo. I detected the aroma of frankincense as we entered the reception hall that had white marble floor tiles, frescoes of Greek gods on the walls and more honey-coloured marble columns. Beside them stood guards armed with spears and shields. Slaves dressed in white
chitons
and bare feet tended to lamps and candles.