‘What proof does he hold of his authenticity?’ I asked.

  ‘Words he says you will remember, majesty.’

  ‘He must be mad,’ said Gallia, ‘either that or an assassin sent to kill the king.’

  ‘He carries no weapons, majesty,’ Chrestus informed her, ‘and his hands have been tied behind his back.’

  ‘I will hear what he has to say,’ I said.

  The prisoner, a young man in his twenties with a handsome face and kind eyes, was bundled into my presence. He bowed his head and Chrestus was about to force him down onto his knees, but I stopped him.

  ‘That will not be necessary, Chrestus. You are from King Polemon?’

  The man smiled. ‘Yes, majesty, he sends his greetings and asks you to remember the last time you and he met.’

  I did remember. It was near the shore of Lake Urmia after we had him and what was left of his men cornered like rats in a trap – a small band of dismounted horsemen determined to sell their lives dearly. Gallia had wanted to shoot them to pieces but I wanted their surrender to save time, and had demanded to meet with their commander, who turned out to be Polemon himself.

  ‘Go on,’ I told him.

  ‘When you saved my lord’s life, you asked him if it was worth dying on a wind-swept plain for Rome? Let the Romans fight their own wars, you said, saying further that a tactical withdrawal was no shame.’

  ‘Release him,’ I ordered Chrestus.

  My general was at first hesitant but cut the man’s bonds with his dagger when he realised I was not joking. They were the exact words I had spoken to Polemon during our brief discussion at Lake Urmia. I poured wine into a cup and offered it to the man.

  ‘I can taste it first if you suspect poison,’ I said.

  He smiled and took the cup. ‘That will not be necessary, majesty, it is well known King Pacorus is a man of honour.’

  ‘How do you serve King Polemon?’ I asked.

  ‘As a dutiful son,’ he replied.

  Gallia was surprised. ‘You are Polemon’s son?’

  He bowed his head to her. ‘Prince Zenon at your service, majesty.’

  ‘When does your father wish to meet with me, Zenon?’ I asked.

  ‘Tonight, majesty.’

  ‘Tonight?’

  ‘Yourself and one other can meet my father at the gates of Sinope. I will stay here as surety for his promise that no harm will come to you.’

  ‘Why the urgency?’ asked Gallia.

  ‘King Pacorus once saved my father’s life, majesty, and he now wants to return the favour.’

  It was late, but I was intrigued, and so after acquiring a cloak with a hood I set out with Chrestus for the gates of Sinope. We journeyed on foot as there was no moon and I did not want to risk Horns twisting or breaking an ankle for the sake of a short walk. To see we carried torches, which could be seen for a great distance, much to the consternation of the army’s commander. Chrestus was like an old grump beside me, muttering and cursing under his breath, which I ignored for the first ten minutes after we had left camp, but then stopped to confront him.

  ‘I take it from your barely disguised utterings that you disapprove of our midnight walk.’

  ‘I do.’

  ‘Why?’

  He looked around at the darkness.

  ‘There could be a dozen assassins lying in wait. The King of Dura risks his life because a man recounts some words spoken in a meeting ten years ago? Madness, utter madness.’

  ‘I respect your candour, but there are times, Chrestus, when one must have faith that what seems simple and true are in fact so.’

  I started to pace towards the flicking torches on the ramparts of Sinope’s gatehouse, Chrestus resuming his muted ramblings, hand firmly on the hilt of his gladius. We slowed when the drawbridge over the moat in front of the gates descended and two figures carrying torches strode across the wooden boards. We instinctively slowed as the figures got nearer, stopping around ten paces from them.

  ‘King Pacorus, I presume.’

  He had not changed much in ten years. His beard was still thick, and his scale-armour cuirass was still very kingly in appearance, though it paled beside my own magnificent example. It was my armour that first caught his eye.

  ‘I see Dura has prospered in the years since our last meeting, which makes your presence in Pontus even more baffling.’

  ‘We are here, lord king, to apprehend those responsible for crimes against Parthia, namely Prince Atrax, Titus Tullus, Tiridates and Laodice.’

  ‘Crimes against Parthia or against Gordyene?’

  ‘They are one and the same thing,’ I answered. ‘May I ask if those individuals are in Sinope?’

  He smiled. ‘They are. And may I ask if my son is unharmed?’

  ‘He is quite safe. Dura does not harm envoys.’

  ‘I know that you are a man of honour, King Pacorus, which is why I sent Zenon to you. Ten years ago, you saved my life and allowed me to watch my children grow up. Now, by dint of current circumstances, I am in a position to save your life, and that of your wife. I will even allow King Gafarn and Queen Diana to leave with you, though Pontus owes Hatra nothing, especially considering the outrages its army has committed on my soil.’

  ‘If we want to speak of outrages, lord king,’ I replied, ‘I could mention innocent people crucified on the streets of Irbil by Pontic soldiers under the command of Titus Tullus, as well as depredations committed by the savages led by Laodice. Shall we compile a tally of who has slaughtered the most innocents?’

  ‘I will come straight to the point, King Pacorus, as I wish you and your army to be gone from my kingdom. The individuals you desire to apprehend have been used as bait to lure you here, or rather King Spartacus and his army. The character of the King of Gordyene is well known not only in Parthia but also in Rome. Surely a great military commander such as yourself must have wondered why the mountain passes into Pontus were not contested.’

  I felt a knot tighten in my stomach. I tried to maintain my dignity.

  ‘How easy has been your progress,’ continued Polemon, the man holding the torch beside him wearing a helmet that sported a magnificent crest, the commander of his bodyguard, I assumed.

  ‘Pontus lost many soldiers on the Plain of Diyana,’ I said, trying to convince myself that was the reason our advance had not been contested.

  ‘It is true Pontus suffered losses in Media last year,’ he conceded, ‘but my army is not the only one you will soon be facing.’

  The knot in my stomach tightened some more.

  ‘The hour is late, and I have no appetite for word games, King Pacorus. The combined might of King Archelaus of Cappadocia and King Amyntas of Galatia are converging on Sinope, where my own soldiers will reinforce them. In addition, Herod of Judea has also sent soldiers north to take part in ridding the world of King Spartacus.’

  ‘He stands not alone,’ I said. ‘You fight Gordyene, you fight all Parthia.’

  ‘ All Parthia? High King Phraates wants rid of Spartacus, King Pacorus, for it was he, with the support of Octavian, who is behind this grand scheme. It was Octavian who expressed concerns that a plot to destroy Spartacus would result in a war involving Dura and Hatra. But Phraates assured him it would not lead to a wider conflagration.’

  I wanted to be sick. I felt my knees weaken and for a moment was unsteady on my feet.

  ‘Are you all right, majesty?’ asked Chrestus.

  I took a deep breath and composed myself, avoiding Polemon’s eyes. It all made sense now. I remembered the conversation in the royal garden at Irbil with Phraates when he had casually mentioned the presence of the renegades at Sinope. He knew I would pass on the information to Spartacus. And my nephew needed no second prompting when it came to vengeance. He thought he had been most clever in engineering conflict with Armenia, but it had been he who had been manipulated, like a puppet. And Ctesiphon rather than Rome had been pulling the strings.

  ‘My offer is this,’ said Polemon. ‘You and your wife, together with King Gafarn and Queen Gallia, may avail yourselves of a ship that will take you east to Trabzon. From there guides will take you south through the mountains to the border of Gordyene and safety.’

  He glanced at Chrestus. ‘You may also take those closest to you if you wish. But your army will stay here, its soldiers to be disbanded and sold into slavery.’

  ‘If you knew me, King Polemon, you would know that I would never abandon my soldiers.’

  He sighed. ‘I knew that, but I had to make the offer. A matter of conscience, you understand.’

  ‘I appreciate your courtesy, lord king, and regret that Parthian soldiers have invaded your land. I assume you had little choice when it came to aiding Prince Atrax.’

  ‘There was a time when Pontus was a great power in these parts, King Pacorus, but that time has passed. But I comfort myself with the thought that a native king is better for my people than a Roman governor, though Pontus is still paying for the mistakes of its former rulers.’

  ‘I thank you for your honesty, lord king, but if what you say is true, our army will have left this area before your allies arrive.’

  He looked at me with sympathetic eyes. ‘It is too late, King Pacorus. A carrier pigeon arrived at my palace earlier with news that Archelaus and Amyntas are but two days’ march from Sinope.’

  ‘I will see to it your son is escorted back to your city,’ I told him, eager to be away. ‘I thank you for your generosity, lord king, but in the morning you will be my enemy again.’

  ‘You are still my enemy tonight, King Pacorus.’

  I was glad Polemon did not see me limping back to camp, my old wound rousing itself from its slumbers to torment me afresh. Chrestus tossed the torch away when we left the King of Pontus, just in case an eagle-eyed archer on the walls decided to make his lord’s work easier. For a while my general said nothing but again began to mutter to himself. After a while I found it unbearable.

  ‘In the name of the gods, Chrestus, spit it out.’

  ‘That king spoke the truth. Our eyes have been focused on the city and the land to the east and west of it. But we gave scant regard to the south and the tracks through the mountains.’

  ‘We have patrols out in all directions.’

  ‘Up to a day’s march from camp, yes. What worries me is that if we quit camp in the morning and retrace our steps back to Gordyene, we will find the mountain tracks and passes full of hill men.’

  ‘And with a hostile army snapping at our heels,’ I said.

  When we reached camp, we sent Zenon back to his father with an armed guard. Gallia had been entertaining him with stories about Spartacus the slave leader, our time in Italy and the Amazons. When he had gone, I entertained her by recounting my meeting with his father.

  ‘Send men to rouse Spartacus and the king and queen of Hatra,’ I told Chrestus, ‘and Malik, too.’

  Bleary eyed and irritable, they listened to what king Polemon had told me in silence, though not about the plot of Phraates to rid the world of the King of Gordyene. As I did so Spartacus yawned frequently, and Malik demanded wine to keep him awake. It was perhaps two hours after midnight and the night was cool and still. Diana wrapped a thick cloak around her and Gafarn rubbed his eyes in an effort to stay in the land of the living. When I had finished speaking, Spartacus spoke first and predictably.

  ‘Polemon bleats like a lost lamb. So what if the armies of Galatia and Cappadocia are on the march? We stay here and defeat them before the walls of Sinope, after which we burn everything in Pontus. Polemon will surrender those we want after he has seen his enemies destroyed.’

  His arrogance was breath-taking, but he had the support of Malik.

  ‘We have no choice but to stand and fight. To run would be dishonourable.’

  With that Spartacus stood, kissed his mother on the cheek and walked from the tent, turning at the entrance.

  ‘You made a mistake not bringing your siege engines, uncle. The old Pacorus would not have made such an error.’

  Malik slapped me on the arm before taking his leave, Gafarn stretching out his legs as he did so. When they had left I told Diana and Gafarn about Phraates’ twisted plot.

  ‘How could he?’ was Diana’s lament.

  ‘Because he has no morals, no loyalty and a very short memory,’ Gafarn told her.

  Diana looked at me with tired eyes. ‘I apologise, Pacorus.’

  I was surprised. ‘For what?’

  ‘For supporting my son instead of listening to you. And for what may befall us all in the coming days.’

  Gafarn took her hand. ‘At least we will face it together.’

  ‘Just like old times,’ said Gallia with a wan smile.

  Even she sounded deflated and I wondered what we would be facing when the new allies of Pontus arrived.

  Chapter 12

  ‘The enemy king was right, majesty.’

  I nodded. In my heart I knew Polemon had been telling the truth, but I sent Talib and his scouts out anyway, just to put my mind at rest. I pointed at the stool to indicate my chief scout should sit, Klietas handing him a cup of water. It had been another beautiful summer’s day, the wind blowing off the sea fresh and invigorating, the temperature warm but not unpleasant. In camp morale was high. Why wouldn’t it be? The land was fertile and teeming with fruit and game, the enemy was cooped up inside Sinope and the ease of our march here had lulled everyone into a false sense of security. It was the most pleasant trap I had been lured into.

  Gallia was all ears as Talib reported what he and his men had seen earlier.

  ‘The foothills that we used just days ago are swarming with soldiers,’ he told us. ‘Tens of thousands of them, mostly men on foot, lightly armed with spears and shields, hill men from Pontus, like the ones we encountered on the Diyana Plain last year. But there are also others, lord.’

  He glanced at Gallia. He was reluctant to speak for some reason.

  ‘Spit it out,’ I told him.

  ‘Gauls, majesty, thousands of them.’

  ‘Gauls?’

  ‘Galatia derives from a Latin word meaning “land of the Gauls”,’ Gallia told us. ‘It is the stuff of legends. Over two hundred and fifty years ago, three tribes of Gauls, the Trocmi, Tolistobogil and Tectosages, were invited into this region to aid a king called Nicomedes. They stayed.’

  ‘The leader of the Gauls, King Amyntas, has a reputation as a great warlord,’ reported Talib. ‘He has boasted he will tie the severed head of King Pacorus to the saddle of his horse.’

  ‘How do you know this?’ I asked.

  ‘My men mixed freely with the Gauls, majesty, who have made camp at the base of the hills. They told them they are waiting for the Parthians to come to them.’

  ‘Sensible,’ agreed Gallia. ‘On the plain they would be vulnerable to our horsemen. But in the hills…’

  ‘In the hills, conversely, we would be vulnerable to constant ambushes launched by lightly armed warriors,’ I said.

  ‘The soldiers of King Archelaus of Cappadocia are also approaching, majesty,’ said Talib.

  ‘A pity Byrd is not with us,’ mused Gallia, ‘he could have paid a bribe to Archelaus to let us pass through his land.’

  ‘A pity we are here, more like,’ I said bitterly.

  The sun was dipping in the west when I called together the other kings and queen and their senior commanders, plus Kewab and Karys, who deserved to hear first-hand about the grave situation they were now in. I admit I was in a testy mood, not least because Spartacus seemed oblivious to the great danger we all faced. He was flanked by his sons and Spadines, the agreeable Hovik standing behind his king. Kewab and Lucius were deep in conversation with a concerned Karys, while a grim-faced Chrestus was shaking his head as he conversed with Malik. Gafarn and Diana stood with Herneus and Orobaz, the general examining the scruffy Spadines with barely concealed contempt. We all stood, as I did not intend the meeting to last long. The atmosphere in my tent was stuffy and was about to get heavier.

  ‘As you all know, last night I met with King Polemon outside Sinope,’ I announced. ‘He told me a large army composed of Cappadocians, Galatians and Israelites was marching north to trap us between the mountains and the sea. Following scouting parties conducted by Talib and his men, I can confirm that army is now in the foothills of the mountains, using the same tracks we traversed to reach this accursed place.’

  ‘What is your inclination, Pacorus?’ asked Gafarn.

  ‘Retreat,’ I answered, ‘though I am open to suggestions regarding the route we should take back to Parthia.’

  ‘What?’ roared Spartacus. ‘Why speak of retreat when we can slaughter our enemies with ease? Once this army of Rome’s puppets reaches the plain we can unleash our soldiers against it. Polemon can watch the slaughter from the walls of his city.’

  Castus and Haytham laughed. I did not.

  ‘Except Rome’s puppets will not be entering the plain. They will stay where they are and wait for us to try to force our way through them.’

  ‘And you know this how, uncle?’ queried Spartacus.

  ‘Talib’s scouts spoke to the soldiers of Archelaus and Amyntas this very morning. They may be Rome’s puppets, but they are not fools. They know our strength lies in our cataphracts and horse archers.’

  ‘And Immortals,’ said Castus.

  ‘Have you ever conducted a campaign in the mountains, Prince Castus?’ I said heatedly. ‘Fighting on every narrow pass, in every valley and defile? In such terrain, a man armed with only a spear is at least equal to a cataphract.’

  ‘We must leave, that much is certain,’ said Diana. ‘Even I, a mere woman, can see that to stay is to endure a lingering death. We have to get through the mountains to get back to Parthia, so instead of bickering among ourselves I suggest you turn your minds to how we are going to achieve it.’

  ‘There is one way,’ said Chrestus.

  All eyes turned on him in expectation, including my own.

  ‘When I left Pontus thirty years ago, and those of the Exiles who made the journey more recently, the route we took was west of here, via Galatia and going through Cappadocia before reaching the Kingdom of Hatra. If you want to hear my opinion…’