Scourge of Rome

VIII

‘I haven’t had the opportunity to thank you for your kindness in naming me to King Sohaemus,’ Valerius said as they walked side by side through a long corridor to the guest apartments. ‘It was a small enough thing I did, but a king’s gratitude is not to be scorned and now I am in your debt.’

Her reaction surprised him. ‘A small thing?’ She stopped without warning and studied him with narrowed eyes, her mouth pursed dangerously. ‘You call saving my life a small thing? If I were not familiar with your rough Roman ways, Gaius Valerius Verrens, I would believe I had suffered a mortal insult.’

‘I only-’

Tabitha stood with her hands on her hips, her breasts rising and falling beneath the thin material of her dress. ‘Is it a small thing for a one-armed man to risk his life against many – Ariston told me you left your camp alone – to save the life and honour of a lowly serving girl? If it was such a small thing, perhaps you dallied on the way, uncertain whether a mere woman’s life was worth the effort? Perhaps you thought about turning back and leaving her to her fate? If …’

He stepped forward and placed a finger on her lips. She blinked at the intimacy and scowled at him, but the tirade faded. Something in his eyes sent a shiver through her body.

‘Once more, I must apologize, my lady. It seems that whenever we talk my words turn into great clumsy boulders in my mouth. If, knowing what I know now, I had even considered such a thing, I would gladly fall on my sword. If you had not fought with such courage I would not have arrived in time. In truth, you were your own saviour, but you are right, it was no small thing to go to the aid of someone so worthy of saving.’

Their eyes locked and he knew he only had to lower his head and their lips would meet in a kiss that would change everything. But the moment passed. Instead she reached out and soft fingers touched his cheek. ‘It seems I misjudged you, Valerius, for the boulders are transformed into pearls. It is I who must apologize for behaving like a petulant child. The stink of those men is still thick in my nostrils. I can smell the blood and the roasting flesh. And,’ her face dissolved into a quizzical smile, ‘I am confused. Perhaps the event is still too fresh, for my head spins. I should have known you would never say anything to hurt me. The debt is mine and I vow to repay it one day.’

In the focus of her blue eyes Valerius suddenly understood why Ariston had been so willing to part with his secrets. They had a mesmerizing quality and he was drawn into their depths by the flecks of gold in their shadows. He had to make a physical effort to break the spell.

‘One thing still puzzles me. I can understand why you did not tell us who you were at first, but surely it would have been safe after Apamea?’

She considered for a moment. ‘Yes,’ she nodded, ‘it might well have been, but what was there to be gained from it? If it became known that I’d survived there was always a chance that the associates of those men would have tried again, even with Gaulan on the alert.’

‘So they knew who you were?’

‘And why I had travelled to Chalcis.’ She saw the question in his eyes. ‘Persuading that fool Aristobulus to part with his precious troops was only part of my mission.’

‘If we had known, we could have done more to protect you. Found a different route …’

‘Do not look so annoyed, Valerius.’ Tabitha’s laugh was like the tinkling of a silver bell. ‘Even now you do not trust me with your entire story, so why should I trust you with mine? Still, perhaps that will change. Here are your quarters.’

He watched her until she disappeared before entering the curtained doorway. Ariston and another man were waiting for him inside. The Syrian looked uncomfortable amid the sumptuous surroundings. Brightly coloured tapestries depicting hunting scenes and ancient battles lined the walls and the couches and low bed were scattered with soft cushions. A window opened on to a courtyard with a fountain at its centre surrounded by trees bearing exotic fruits. The two men eyed each other suspiciously, like dogs ready to fight over a bone.

‘He says he’s the royal armourer,’ Ariston announced sceptically. ‘But he looks more like the king’s catamite to me.’

The second man gave Valerius a courteous bow. He wore a long, flowing robe and appeared very young for his position, with jet black hair that hung in ringlets to his shoulders. His skin was pale, smooth and unlined. Unlike most Emesans Valerius had encountered he had handsome, fine-boned features and a beardless chin. The Roman noticed a strong smell of perfumed oils. He sighed. ‘You’re right,’ he said, ‘he doesn’t look as if he’s been near a forge in his life.’

‘He can wield a hammer as well as any man in the armoury,’ the young man said easily. ‘And he speaks Greek more fluently than this fleabag of a servant of yours. I’m surprised they allowed him through the doors without throwing him in the horse trough first.’ He repeated the bow. ‘Dimitrios Dan at your service, lord.’

Ariston spluttered through his beard at the insult, but Valerius grinned and raised a hand. ‘Well, Dimitrios Dan, your king said you could turn me into a prince. I doubt you have ever had a more difficult commission, but perhaps we can cooperate. While we discuss our business this fleabag will find us some wine.’ Ariston stalked out of the room muttering to himself. ‘Where did you learn your trade?’

‘Under a Roman, lord. The armourer of the Sixth legion found me in Jerusalem. I was working in a metal shop doing fine work on copper salvers and he liked what he saw. He used me to create the decoration for officers’ breastplates and the like and taught me how to mend a sword and rivet a piece of plate. When the Sixth left for Antioch I found employment here.’

‘I’m intrigued,’ Valerius said. ‘How did someone so young find favour with the king?’

‘I am known,’ Dimitrios couldn’t keep the mischief from his voice, ‘but not always loved, for my innovation, lord.’

‘Well, you can keep your innovations to yourself.’ Valerius returned his grin, immediately liking the young man. ‘I’m all for progress in tactics, but all I ask of a piece of armour is that it protects the places it is supposed to protect.’

The armourer couldn’t hide his disappointment. ‘Do you have any other requirements, lord?’

‘I’ve seen your eastern princes and they wear more ornament than a Thracian auxiliary. So no peacock-plumed helmets or anything outlandish in the armour line. Do you have anything in the Roman style?’

‘I believe we can accommodate your wishes,’ Dimitrios said gravely.

‘A few adjustments with the straps and buckles and I think we have the very thing. If you please, lord?’ He pulled out a length of twine marked at regular intervals of a kind Valerius had known legionary armourers to use. With a few deft movements he measured Valerius’s chest and shoulders, the length of his arms, the girth of his waist and the circumference of his neck.

Valerius put up with the fuss without complaint, but eventually he lost patience. ‘Are you finished yet?’

‘Almost, lord. Ah …’

‘What is it?’

‘Your right hand?’

‘Is old bones buried beneath a burned-out villa in Britannia.’

‘May I?’ Dimitrios lifted the wooden fist on its cowhide stock with a look of distaste. ‘But the replacement is so crude.’

‘A friend carved it.’ Valerius remembered the endless hours Serpentius had spent whittling the block of oak and the terrors of the day he’d worn it for the first time. ‘I like it as it is.’

‘Of course, lord, but a few adjustments, a polish …’ He studied it more closely. ‘The grip is designed to fit a standard legionary scutum, I believe?’

Valerius nodded.

‘But you find it a little loose, the angle not quite perfect?’

Valerius pinned him with a glare, but he realized the armourer was right. ‘Yes,’ he said grudgingly.

‘Then it will take only a few hours.’ Dimitrios’s handsome features broke into a grin. ‘It will be the same hand, but more fitting for a man of such rank, and,’ he forestalled Valerius’s opposition, ‘more efficient in a fight.’

Valerius looked down at the primitive wooden fist, scarred and dented and not quite firmly fixed to the stock. It had been the best Serpentius could do with a fruit knife in the camp at Cremona where they’d waited to die in the sands of the amphitheatre for Vitellius’s pleasure. He doubted the Spaniard would mind. A little care and attention would do it no harm and he could spare it for a few hours. He worked at the bindings with his left hand and pulled the socket free with a soft groan of relief. It was time he oiled the stump in any case.

‘I want it back tomorrow.’

‘Of course, lord. May I check one final measurement?’ He stretched the cord across the Roman’s chest, bending to study the marks and muttering numbers to himself. The position brought his mouth close to Valerius’s ear, but even so the Roman barely heard the whispered words. ‘Be very wary. All is not as it seems in the palace of Sohaemus. Trust no one.’

‘Then why should I trust you?’ Valerius’s lips barely moved as he answered.

‘You will see, lord. Undoubtedly, you will see.’

Dimitrios stepped back and bowed, reversing out of the room past a hovering Ariston. The Syrian placed a jug of wine and two cups on a table. ‘What was all that about?’

‘I’m not sure.’ Valerius poured wine from the jug into the cups and passed one to the Syrian.

‘Your hand.’ Ariston’s eyes widened as he noticed the missing wooden fist.

‘I’m told it will be returned in even better condition,’ Valerius smiled.

‘But it leaves you …’

Valerius saw the words ‘half a man’ freeze on the Syrian’s tongue. ‘Vulnerable,’ he agreed. ‘So you will have to be my trusty right hand until Serpentius returns from the Chalcidean camp. Can you do that, Ariston?’

‘I am your man to the death, lord.’

‘Then tell me everything you know about this city and its king. I’ve never seen so much gold in a single place, nor so many gems. Yet there are people starving in the streets.’

Ariston nodded slowly. Where to begin?

Emesa and Palmyra, it transpired, were tied by trade and blood, and had once been part of a larger federation that included Apamea, Laodicaea and Heliopolis. The rulers of the two cities were, in times long forgotten, members of the same family. ‘A mongrel breed of Assyrian, Armenian, Greek and Medean,’ Ariston spat, conveniently forgetting he was of similar lineage. For generations the two cities had coveted each other’s wealth, only constrained from violent action by the fact that each depended on the other for the artery that provided that wealth: Emesa’s to the east on the desert road controlled by her rival; Palmyra’s to the west, on the coast road controlled by Emesa. ‘They were like the right hand and the left hand of the same body struggling to cut the throat for control of the whole.’ Fortunately for the Emesans and the Palmyrans, Rome imposed its rule before either could prevail or it could have been the ruin of both.

Ariston paused in his narrative, but Valerius stayed silent, sensing there was something more to come. Something important.

‘Yet even the power of Rome is not strong enough to stem the level of ambition or jealousy inspired by vast wealth,’ Ariston continued in his sing-song Greek. ‘And vast wealth had come to Emesa as a gift of Elah Gebal, the Sun God and the God of the Mountain. Some say it was the king’s namesake, Sohaemus of Chalcis, who discovered the black stone on a hunting trip, led by the gods to where it had fallen after being plucked from the sun. Others say that it was Iamblichus, who then ruled this city. It is certain that the king’s father built the Temple of the Sun God with tributes from every ruler in the East, freely given because all wished to share in the glory of this offspring of mighty Sol.’ Valerius remembered the vast temple that had caught his eye as he’d climbed the hill, with the sun glittering on its golden statues. ‘Every year the tributes have continued, allowing Sohaemus to build his great palace and swelling his coffers to bursting. He uses the power it gives him to undermine Palmyra and the other city states; meanwhile they covet his wealth with hungry eyes and work to bring him down.’

‘Why not use the gold to increase the size of his army?’ Valerius asked. ‘Even half of what I have seen would pay for another five thousand spears.’ But he realized the answer even as he posed the question.

‘Rome,’ Ariston nodded. ‘It is not in Rome’s interest to foster strength or ambition, only stability. And stability is best maintained by keeping men like Sohaemus in their place, even if it means he can only send five hundred archers to Titus. When Vespasian’s legions proclaimed him Emperor, Sohaemus travelled to Berytus to pledge his loyalty, along with the kings of Commagene, Palmyra and Chalcis. He was well treated for his consistent support for the Empire, but he knows he is just one among many.’

Valerius looked at the man sitting uneasily on the couch opposite. Ariston had his eyes to the floor and his face was creased by a frown of concentration as he searched for ever more detail. The amount of information he had gathered in the few short hours since they’d arrived outside the city was truly remarkable.

‘You have been a spy, I think, Ariston?’ The dark eyes came up and speared him, the frown replaced by a scowl.

‘You must remember where you are, lord,’ the Syrian warned. ‘This is not Rome. From Antioch to Alexandria every man is a spy and today’s friend is tomorrow’s deadly enemy. Loyalties shift like the desert sands in the Khamseen and the right information is as valuable as the gold that decorates this palace. You have asked me for information, and I have given it. Now you mock me, perhaps because in the gathering of it I spoke too freely?’ He raised an eyebrow and Valerius smiled.

‘She is not our enemy, Ariston, of that I am certain.’

‘Not today.’

Valerius shrugged, but it was acknowledgement of the possibility rather than a dismissal. ‘Tell me what you have discovered of our mysterious companion.’

The scowl disappeared and Ariston laughed. ‘From what the palace servants were whispering when I fetched your wine, you would know more than I.’ He saw the dangerous glint in Valerius’s eye and hurried on. ‘Her bloodline has given her royal connections all over Syria and Judaea. Sometime handmaiden to a queen. Sometime courier and plenipotentiary for Sohaemus. Seductress or spy, no one is sure. Loved by most, but hated by an influential few. She grew up in the king’s court in Emesa, from which stems her learning and her manners … and the waywardness that would have been beaten out of any other woman long ago. The only mystery is why, despite her evident beauty, she has never married.’

‘Perhaps she is more use to Sohaemus unmarried?’ Valerius suggested. ‘While she flutters her eyelashes at you she is stealing your secrets.’

Ariston sniffed, not pleased to be reminded of his indiscretions. ‘She was in Sohaemus’s service when she was attacked, but was that why she was attacked?’

‘You can ask her on the way to Jerusalem.’

The Syrian gave him a sour look. ‘The gods keep me from wilful women, especially beautiful ones. There is one other thing you should know. Sohaemus fears none of his rivals, but he does fear Rome.’

‘But Rome seeks stability, you said so yourself.’

‘Only Rome has the power to remove him from the throne. Why should Rome do so? Because Palmyra is not the only power that covets the wealth of the Sun God. Sohaemus visited Rome a dozen years ago and befriended Nero. The years since the Emperor’s death have left him confused and insecure. When Cestius Gallus passed this way with the Twelfth legion to put down the original Judaean revolt he insisted Sohaemus pay tribute of a year’s pay for the legion. They say that when he entered the treasury his eyes shone like beacons at the sight. Only the fact that the Twelfth was smashed at Beit Horan by Eleazar ben Simon deterred him from coming back for more. Now Vespasian is Emperor and Sohaemus hears that Rome’s coffers are empty.’

‘Vespasian would never be so foolish as to antagonize an ally.’

‘Not when he’s fighting a war,’ Ariston agreed.

‘But when the war is over …’

‘So you would not be surprised if Sohaemus was arming the Judaeans as well as reinforcing Titus. It is only a rumour, and that from a single source, but …’

‘But a long war would be in Emesa’s favour if Sohaemus thinks his wealth or position is in danger.’

‘Precisely,’ Ariston nodded gravely. ‘Is it any wonder the king wishes to keep close this mysterious Roman who has just wandered into his territory? A man of obvious rank, and a soldier, well equipped to assess his true strength. He can’t afford to have you killed because he believes you have been sent on Titus’s orders, so he must court you – and spy on you. And who better than …’

‘Our encounter with Tabitha could never have been staged,’ Valerius insisted. ‘Those men were definitely going to kill her.’

‘No,’ Ariston agreed, ‘but it presents the king with an opportunity. And now she travels with us to Jerusalem where Titus gathers his forces. No doubt on the way she will flutter her eyelashes at you and steal more of our secrets. I am reminded of a spider of the Tigris valley where the female of the species devours her mate after she has done with him.’

Valerius laughed. ‘I fear there are more dangerous enemies.’

‘You are right,’ the Syrian said earnestly. ‘The place is filled with them. You are a Roman and there are Emesans who resent the king for doing Rome’s bidding. There are Judaean slaves who are undoubtedly spies for whom any Roman is an enemy.’ He drew himself up to his full height. ‘I will sleep by the doorway tonight to ensure none passes but those who have the right.’

He waited for some recognition of this sacrifice, but Valerius only looked thoughtful. After a time, the Roman said: ‘Ariston?’

‘Yes, lord.’

‘It comes to me that your most diligent efforts to gather information on my behalf will have confirmed the king’s suspicions about my presence here.’

‘Yes, lord,’ more warily.

‘And while I have the king’s protection …’

‘Perhaps, on further consideration, I will sleep by the window.’

Valerius smiled. ‘I appreciate your offer, but no doubt Serpentius will be back soon and I’m sure someone will be able to provide you with more suitable accommodation.’