Authors: Peter Darman
As the year waned Gallia went into labour. Beforehand Alcaeus moved into the palace to be near at hand when it was time to deliver the baby. Gafarn and Diana also arrived from Hatra. I had written to Gallia’s closest friend to ask her to come to Dura, for I knew that her presence would have a calming effect on proceedings, and hopefully would also have a calming effect on me. I confess that as the time approached I grew agitated, more so than before any battle. I knew that women died in childbirth, died screaming in agony as their insides were damaged beyond repair as their unborn child came into the world. Claudia, the wife of Spartacus, had died from loss of blood after giving birth to her son. I had been present on that terrible night, and suddenly I feared for my wife.
‘She is in good hands,’ said Alcaeus, laying a hand on hand on my shoulder. ‘It is normal for a father to feel nervous, especially on the occasion of his first-born.’
Dobbai cackled behind him. ‘Greater powers than he wields will determine whether good fortune attends the mother and child.’
‘Good medicine and a clear head will help them both, I think,’ said Alcaeus, frowning at the unkempt old woman who scuttled around our bedroom with cases in her arms.
‘What are they?’ I asked.
‘The lords of your kingdom may be merciless killers but they fear the gods, as should you, son of Hatra.’
I discovered that she carried gold and silver cases, presents from Dura’s lords, each of which contained prayers to protect our child from evil spirits and diseases. Dobbai placed them at the foot of the bed.
Other gifts arrived at the Citadel, including a chest from my parents that contained a large amount of Esfand seeds, which were stored in white silk bags, around which were arranged gold and silver coins. The burning of Esfand wards off evil spirits and curses.
Dobbai nodded her head approvingly. ‘Very wise, your mother is very wise. You have made many enemies, son of Hatra, and they would like nothing more than the death of your child and the ruin of your kingdom.’
Dobbai supervised the carrying of the chest into our private quarters, insisting that only those I trusted should be allowed to touch it. So Domitus, Nergal and Gafarn carried it into the palace to our bedroom. This was the first time that Gafarn had met Dobbai, and while Nergal and Domitus said nothing and did what they were told, Gafarn took exception to this ugly old woman giving him instructions. His reward was a fierce rebuke.
Dobbai jabbed a long, bony finger at him. ‘Silence, king of Hatra, lest I weave a spell that shrivels your balls to nothing and turns your woman against you.’
Gafarn grinned at me. ‘You trust this old hag? She thinks I am your father.’
I said nothing. Dobbai’s finger was still pointed at him. ‘I did not say you are the current king of Hatra, but the crown will sit upon your head, that is, unless someone lops it off your shoulders before then. Now make yourself useful or go play with the snakes and scorpions in the desert.’
As Domitus and Nergal placed the chest on the floor at the foot of our bed, Gafarn shook his head at Dobbai.
‘Silly old witch, my brother is the heir to the throne, not I.’
Dobbai smirked at him. ‘How little you know, spawn of the desert, for your brother does not want Hatra’s crown. He will never leave the griffin’s side.’
Gafarn, clearly bored, waved an arm at her and left the room. At that moment a bird, a stork, landed on the balcony outside the bedroom. It walked on the stone floor for a few seconds, stopped, peered at us all standing like statues looking at it, and then spread its wings. It then flew onto the balustrade, regarded us once more and then flew away.
Domitus looked at Nergal and raised an eyebrow. Alcaeus frowned and I looked at Dobbai for reassurance. She nodded at me and smiled.
‘A good omen, son of Hatra, fortune will follow your child. The gods favour her.’
Alcaeus dismissed it as ‘nonsense’, but I noticed that thereafter he was much more relaxed than he had been, and Nergal immediately went off to inform Praxima about the auspicious sign, who then informed Gallia and Diana, who were in the latter’s bedroom avoiding the commotion as Dobbai prepared the birth chamber.
Domitus slapped me on the arm as he departed. ‘Venus is smiling on you, Pacorus.’
‘Who’s Venus?’
‘The Roman goddess of love,’ he said as he departed.
Two days later Gallia went into labour. Mercifully it lasted only four hours and then I had a daughter. Afterwards Diana washed Gallia and Alcaeus cleaned the baby as Dobbai scooped up the afterbirth and poked it with a needle to frighten away any evil spirits that might harm the child. She then took the afterbirth out of the room and gave it to a waiting Domitus, whom she had ordered to attend, who was instructed to go beyond the city walls and bury it deep in the earth in an unmarked spot, together with a piece of charcoal to keep scavengers away.
I held my daughter in my arms and kissed her gingerly on the forehead. She had blue eyes and fair hair, though not as blonde as her mother’s, and her skin was slightly olive in colour. Gallia smiled at us both. Dobbai came back in the room and took the child from me. Her touch and manner was remarkably gentle as she quietly chanted prayers to ward away evil. My daughter was wrapped in a pure white linen gown called a
peerahan e ghiyamat
, meaning ‘dress of resurrection’, and on her head was placed a small scarf, in which was fastened a blessed pin to frighten away evil spirits for forty days. Dobbai then opened a small clay pot, inside of which was blessed clay from the city of Karbala. Dobbai touched the clay with her forefinger then placed the finger in the baby’s mouth, muttering prayers as she did so. Alcaeus rolled his eyes with contempt, but Dobbai caressed the child’s head with her hand and smiled at Gallia.
‘All is well.’
That night I slept on the bedroom floor, though in truth I closed my eyes little. Gallia, tired from her exertions, thankfully did sleep. When the morning light crept through the shutters my back ached and my mouth was bone dry. Dobbai entered without knocking attended by Diana, and they both sat by the bed until Gallia awoke. Diana put her arms around me and kissed me on the cheek while Dobbai inspected the child. Assured that my wife and daughter were in safe hands, I stepped outside the room to go to the kitchens. Outside the door were two guards, legionaries in full war gear carrying javelins, while guards also lined the walls of the corridor. There were more guards in the throne room, banqueting hall and on the steps outside the palace. There was also double the number of guards on the walls of the Citadel and at the gates, which were closed.
Domitus, his eyes surrounded by black rings and his face unshaven, walked up and saluted.
‘You look terrible.’
‘No sleep last night. Too busy.’
‘Let’s get some food,’ I said. ‘Why all the guards? Are we under siege?’
‘Dobbai wanted the whole Citadel ringed with guards to ward off evil spirits.’
‘I thought I was king here.’
‘Best not to mess with things that we don’t understand,’ he said, extending his hand. ‘Congratulations, we are all thrilled that Gallia and the baby thrive.’
I took his hand. ‘Thank you, my friend.’
Dobbai insisted that the Citadel was closely guarded for forty days, during which time the child’s ears were pierced on the sixth day, a day that was particularly dangerous for mother and child I was informed. On that day the evil spirits were at their most malevolent, so Dobbai fashioned a long piece of cotton that was blackened at regular intervals with charcoal for protection. Called a
mohr
, she hung pieces of it around our bedroom. Then the Esfand seeds were burnt in a metal container on a chain, along with camphor, till nothing remained but ash. Then Dobbai took the container and blew the fumes towards Gallia and the baby, and then in the six directions — north, south, east, west, up and down. Once the ash had cooled Dobbai used it to make beauty marks between Gallia’s eyebrows, her palms, breasts and feet. Two pieces of thread, one white, the other blue, were twisted around each other to make a bracelet, which was then placed around Gallia’s right wrist. Then the baby’s eyes were darkened with ash. Thus were my wife and child protected from demons, curses and malevolent influences.
On the seventh day Dobbai permitted mother and child their first bath, though again a strict ritual was observed. Beforehand Gallia’s belly was massaged with honey, covered with crushed herbs and wrapped in white linen. Diana accompanied my wife as she was washed, oiled and massaged, and more blessed clay was rubbed on her forehead. This was to invoke the protection of Anahita, the goddess of all waters, war, love and fertility. Then the infant was washed and placed over the mother’s head, and as Diana held the baby Dobbai poured water over the baby which then ran down onto Gallia and thus protected her from barrenness.
We named our daughter Claudia in honour of our friend, the wife of Spartacus.
Chapter 13
A
fter the forty days had passed the extra guards were stood down, the charms that had been secreted around our bedroom were taken away by Dobbai and consigned to the fire and everyone finally relaxed and began to feel joyous. The lords came and paid their homage to the kingdom’s new princess. I sat in the throne room with Gallia, her health and strength now fully restored, as they gathered before us, grizzled and ruthless men who all knelt before a helpless infant. Each insisted on kissing Claudia’s tiny hand and embracing me, usually in an iron-hard bear hug followed by a hearty slap on the shoulders. I was black and blue by the time they had all finished. They laid gifts at Gallia’s feet — gold and silver coins, swords, armour, saddles and beautifully crafted horse furniture. Fit indeed for a princess. They all noticed that Claudia had her mother’s blue eyes and fair hair and reckoned that it was a good omen. And all the while Dobbai watched over the child with an eagle eye. In truth Gallia had become immensely fond of Dobbai and I had to admit that even I found her tolerable, for the most part.
Two days after the lords had paid homage, Haytham, Malik, Byrd and Noora arrived at the city with an entourage that must have numbered at least three hundred. They also brought Haytham’s gift for Claudia — five hundred camels. The entry of Haytham into the city was a sombre affair. This was the man who had formerly brought death and terror to Dura and its lands, and many of the city’s residents thought little of his arrival. Most stayed indoors as he and his horsemen passed under the Palmyrene Gate and trotted up the main street to the Citadel. Domitus, sensing the unease of the city, had wanted to line Haytham’s route with guards and double those who stood watch in the Citadel itself. I refused his request.
‘You don’t bat an eyelid when Malik comes and goes, and he is Haytham’s son.’
Domitus screwed up his face. ‘That’s different. He’s a friend of ours and everyone knows him. Besides, he has fought beside us so his heart does not contain treachery.’
‘So, by that logic, if Haytham made a trip to Dura a regular occurrence you would accept him just as you accept his son?’
‘All I am saying is that before we arrived he was killing these people, your people.’
‘What is done is done. He is a friend, Domitus, and we shall treat him as such.’
Haytham was accorded all the courtesies his rank as a king demanded. We met him at the foot of the palace steps and Domitus arranged for a full guard of honour to greet him and his escort. Behind Haytham rode Malik, who smiled at Gallia and me. Behind him were the turban-clad Agraci warriors, their faces adorned with black tattoos and their bodies wrapped in black robes. They all rode black horses with black saddles and carried round black shields. Long spears and curved swords hung at their hips in black scabbards. They resembled demons from hell sent to inflict tortures upon mortals, but Haytham had them under tight control. We all bowed our heads to him in acknowledgement of his royalty and he reciprocated, dismounting and bowing his head to me and then Gallia. He gestured for Rasha to join him and all protocol vanished as she was helped down from her horse, raced over to Gallia and wrapped her arms around my wife. At once all edginess that had existed evaporated and we escorted Haytham and his men into the palace. He insisted on seeing Claudia before he took rest or refreshment, and smiled in approval when he saw her lying in her cot in the nursery next to our bedroom. He was also aware of the eagle-eyed Dobbai sitting nearby, watching his every move. He nodded ever so slightly at her but her visage of concentration did not alter. We retired from the nursery and I showed him to his quarters, a room located just off the banqueting hall. The latter was given over to his warriors, whom I assumed would want to be near their lord, and in any case we did not have anywhere else to accommodate such a large party. Like our bedroom Haytham’s quarters had a balcony with a splendid view of the river.
‘That was your sorceress?’ he asked me, unfastening his scabbard and leaning it against the wall.
‘Some say she is so, lord.’
‘And you?’
‘Gallia finds comfort in her presence, and in truth she was a great help during the birth of our daughter.’
Haytham gazed at the blue Euphrates. ‘She regards me with the same contempt as many in this city.’
‘Old hatreds die hard, lord.’
‘It matters not, but I thank you for your invitation. I am pleased to be here. Perhaps we can go hunting together.’
The next day we did and he presented me with a beautiful female saker falcon named
Najya
, meaning ‘victorious’. Haytham had brought his chief falconer, and I was in awe of his skill as he directed
Najya
to bring down a brace of partridges and three bustards. She was a magnificent bird, almost two feet tall with large eyes and a short, hooked beak. Her plumage was a light grey, almost white.
‘Your gift is most generous, lord.’
He raised a hand in acknowledgment as we sat down to partake of a midday meal of pancakes and roasted lamb his men were cooking over a fire.
Najya
sat on a perch nearby with her head covered by a leather hood.