Spadines continued to caress the gold. ‘It provided much gold, enough for him to purchase his magical swords. Perhaps I desire such swords.’

  ‘The day he plundered the temple was the day his life was cursed,’ she said harshly. ‘And now he is dead.’

  She pointed at the open door to the adytum. ‘And those of your warriors who took the god’s gold are also dead men walking.’

  Spadines stroked the statue one last time, sighed and turned around, smiling through gritted teeth.

  ‘As you say, Queen Gallia, there are rich pickings to be had in the town.’

  He ambled from the cella, muttering under his breath.

  ‘It comforts me to know you still revere the gods,’ I said.

  ‘I should have cut off Spadines’ hand for touching the statue,’ she uttered. ‘There is no respect left in the world.’

  As the smell of burning wood reached my nostrils in the sanctity and quiet of the temple, she failed to see the irony in her words. Nevertheless, she was obviously moved to be in the presence of a god she had last worshipped over forty years before.

  ‘I would like some time to myself, Pacorus,’ she whispered.

  I bowed my head to the statue, turned and took Bullus with me to leave my wife to converse with a god from her youth.

  The screaming had stopped now, to be replaced by dozens of smoke stacks rising into the sky as Corum burned. The stench of bloated, decomposing bodies would come later, along with the incessant buzzing of flies and cawing of crows as they feasted on human flesh. The area around the temples and assembly hall was now filling with Aorsi with bulging saddlebags and blood-smeared weapons.

  Bullus looked at the thickening smoke hanging over the town.

  ‘If there are any enemy soldiers in the area, they will have seen this, majesty. We should be away sooner rather later.’

  ‘I agree, centurion.’

  He nodded towards the groups of Aorsi, many of them now drunk and rowdy.

  ‘Perhaps we could persuade them to stay and sleep off their drink. When the enemy comes and sees what they have done, they will slaughter them all.’

  ‘Killing two birds with one stone, as the saying goes.’

  He nodded.

  ‘I am sorely tempted, believe me,’ I told him.

  But Spadines was too skilled in raiding to allow his warriors to be caught by a vengeful enemy. Already parties of horsemen were leaving the town, cantering to the eastern gates to retrace their steps back through the forest track we had used to reach Corum. They would ride hard and fast, pushing themselves and their horses to put as much space as possible between themselves and any pursuit force, arriving back at camp before the sun dipped below the mountain peaks in the west. I doubted there would be any force chasing us. To support Gallia’s raid, the rest of the army had made a display of strength in front of the enemy’s wooden wall a few miles north of Corum, to avert the eyes of the enemy.

  ‘Mount up.’

  I heard Gallia’s voice and turned to see her leading the Amazons from the temple with an expression of serene calm on her face.

  ‘Are we finished?’ I asked.

  ‘We are done,’ she replied.

  We rode from a burning, ransacked Corum with the sun on our backs, a cool breeze in our faces and a sense of exhilaration due to taking the enemy completely by surprise. Gallia was happy, Spadines and his Aorsi were ecstatic and we had avenged the death of Spartacus with the slaughter of thousands of unarmed civilians. But just as we had sought retribution, so surely would the enemy, and I was mindful that we were still in hostile territory many miles from home.

  Chapter 15

  When we returned to camp, when the sky in the west was a shade of dark red, thousands of soldiers cheered the returning heroes, Chrestus’ foot soldiers chanting ‘Dura, Dura’ as their queen accepted their applause. We halted outside camp to talk with Gafarn, Diana and their grandsons, Castus pulling his sword from its sheath and holding it aloft in salute.

  ‘The enemy have fled,’ he shouted, to raucous cheers from the Immortals within earshot.

  The scene was reminiscent of the aftermath of a victory, which it was, of sorts, as Gafarn explained as we rode into the camp together. Diana and Gallia chatted excitedly about the raid on Corum, the Queen of Hatra, much to my surprise, delighted the town had been put to the torch. Clearly the death of her son had affected her greatly.

  ‘Your men Kewab and Lucius probed the enemy defences with small parties when we spotted the smoke to the south.’

  ‘Corum burning,’ I said.

  He nodded. ‘Soon after, the wall appeared strangely absent of soldiers, so Chrestus and Motofi ordered an assault, your engineers having marked the location of the pits and trenches the enemy had dug. The soldiers reached the ditch, crossed it and scaled the rampart without any resistance.’

  ‘The enemy must have fled when they saw the smoke,’ I said. ‘Their commander probably believed we had outflanked them and were marching north to trap him.’

  ‘Well, they’ve all gone, to where no one knows,’ reported Gafarn. ‘Our scouts are scouring the area. Your man Lucius has already assigned parties to create a passage through the wall. We will be able to leave this accursed place in the morning.’

  ‘It would have been better if we had stayed in Parthia.’

  He sighed, his eyes full of sorrow.

  ‘Cappadocia has always been unlucky for us. Remember the last time we were here?’

  ‘How could I forget? We lost Bozan on that campaign, and then our liberty.’

  ‘Bozan,’ he said. ‘There’s a name from the distant past. And Vata, his son. Both long dead. It seems we have been kept alive to see our friends and family die before our eyes, Pacorus.’

  ‘That is why we must get back to Parthia with all haste,’ I said, ‘before we lose anyone else.’

  But that evening, as the kings and queens gathered in my tent to decide on our route home, thoughts of home were not uppermost in the minds of some of those present.

  ‘We must sack Kayseri,’ announced Castus, his blue eyes darting left and right to seek approval of his plan.

  I had to confess I had not heard of the place.

  ‘Where is Kayseri?’ I asked, taking a sip of wine.

  ‘It is the capital of Cappadocia,’ Haytham told me, ‘and should be destroyed.’

  He sat next to his brother, Haytham seventeen, he twenty and now head of Parthia’s most fearsome army. Malik smiled at the two, admiring their bullishness, while Kewab and Karys, both of whom I had invited to attend as they commanded sizeable contingents of the army, looked concerned. I had to tread carefully for I had no desire to prolong this campaign any longer than was necessary. But neither did I want to provoke Castus in particular, who might march on Kayseri anyway. The oil lamps hanging from the tent poles around the table flickered, giving Castus a malevolent appearance.

  I took another sip of wine.

  ‘I understand your desire to avenge your father,’ I said, ‘but we do not know anything about this city: its size, defences, the strength of its garrison or whether it has its own water supply. And I would remind you we no longer have any siege engines.’

  Gafarn was nodding in agreement but Castus’ eyes narrowed.

  ‘You have just taken a town without the aid of siege engines,’ he replied, ‘and with only a few hundred horsemen. There is no reason why we cannot do the same to Kayseri. Besides, it is on our route back to Parthia. We know King Archelaus has lost many soldiers already, as have his allies.’

  ‘The army thirsts for vengeance,’ said Haytham.

  I looked at Gallia for support but she merely stared at her cup, tracing a finger around the lip. Gafarn was also strangely quiet. I tipped my cup at Kewab.

  ‘I would hear your opinion concerning capturing Kayseri, Kewab.’

  The Egyptian ran a hand through his curly black hair, deliberating for a few seconds before speaking.

  ‘It is true we have inflicted losses on the enemy, though at a great price to Gordyene. But I would advise against delaying at Kayseri, even though it lies on our route. Speed is our ally in our objective to get back to Parthia as quickly as possible. The more time we stay in Cappadocia, the more time we give to the enemy to reorganise and hinder our withdrawal.’

  I watched Castus and Haytham as Kewab gave his opinion, which made great sense. But I saw them bristle when he uttered the word ‘withdrawal’.

  ‘An army that has just won a great victory does not withdraw, satrap,’ snapped Castus.

  ‘It marches with impunity through the enemy’s heartland,’ added Haytham, whose rosy cheeks indicated he had imbibed too much wine.

  ‘If we are not here to conquer Cappadocia,’ said Karys.

  ‘Which we are not,’ I emphasised.

  ‘Then why bother capturing a city we will have to relinquish immediately afterwards?’ asked the former ruler of Mesene.

  ‘To teach King Archelaus a lesson,’ said Castus, ‘to show him that his part in the killing of my father carries a heavy price that his people will have to pay.’

  ‘You speak well, Castus,’ said Diana.

  I closed my eyes and knew I had lost the argument.

  ‘Your father would have been proud of you,’ continued Diana, smiling at Haytham. ‘Both of you.’

  Castus leaned back in his chair with satisfaction, just as Klietas was pouring wine into his cup, wine that he spilt on the young king’s tunic when the royal head knocked the wine jug he was holding. Castus immediately jumped up and struck Klietas on the cheek with the back of his hand, causing my squire to drop the wine jug. Without thinking, Klietas struck him back.

  For a few seconds Castus stood, open mouthed, staring in disbelief at my squire, before calling for assistance.

  ‘Guards!’

  Two Durans rushed in with swords drawn.

  ‘Halt!’ I shouted.

  ‘I demand he is taken away and executed,’ roared Castus.

  I waved the guards away. They saluted, sheathed their swords and left the tent.

  ‘Very well, I will do it myself,’ said Castus, drawing his father’s sword.

  I jumped up. ‘Put that away. Now!’

  ‘It is death to strike a king,’ seethed Castus, ramming his sword back in its scabbard.

  ‘He’s right, Pacorus,’ agreed Gafarn.

  ‘You should let Castus kill him,’ growled Malik.

  Klietas, aware of the gravity of his offence, went pale and swayed on his feet. I walked over to him and laid a hand on his shoulder.

  ‘Apologise,’ I said softly.

  ‘I, I am sorry, highborn,’ he babbled to Castus, who was uninterested.

  ‘Your life is forfeit, slave,’ he hissed.

  That was the final straw. I had been deceived into joining this campaign, which I considered a complete waste of time. Worse, I had been dragged hundreds of miles from Dura on a fool’s errand, which might yet cost us all our lives. Much as I had respected Spartacus, he had duped me, as had Phraates and indeed Octavian. But what really riled me was that Dura’s army, my army, would be in grave danger if we loitered in Cappadocia trying to capture a city that served no strategic value save for satisfying Castus’ blood lust.

  ‘Make yourself scarce,’ I told Klietas, who bowed and ducked out of the tent.

  I turned to face Castus. ‘To draw a sword in another king’s tent is also to incur punishment. You would do well to remember that, Castus. And for your information, Klietas is not a slave but my squire. In Dura, we do not kill servants just because they make a mistake.’

  ‘This is not Dura,’ he grunted.

  ‘No, indeed. It is a foreign land that we have no business being in, and we have yet to make a journey of several hundred miles to get back to Parthian territory. But allow me to congratulate you.’

  He gave me a quizzical look. ‘For what?’

  ‘For assembling such an impressive list of enemies. As well as being in an armed truce with Armenia, you are now at war with Pontus, Galatia and Cappadocia, to say nothing of their Roman masters, who might take a dim view of your rampaging through their client kingdoms. I would have thought you have more urgent things to consider than a few drops of wine on your tunic.’

  ‘Leave the boy alone,’ Diana scolded me as I walked back to my seat.

  ‘ Boy being the operative word,’ I replied.

  Diana had always been one to try to soothe tempers, who was invariably the voice of reason and the arbiter of disputes. But not tonight. In my naivety I had not realised how the death of Spartacus had wounded her, until she spat venom in my direction.

  ‘I blame you for this, Pacorus.’

  I was astounded. ‘Me?’

  ‘For years, you persuaded Hatra and other kingdoms that the ingrate Phraates was the rightful high king. That decision cost Silaces, Nergal and Praxima their lives, and for what? So that Phraates could stab us all in the back. And now my son has died because of a secret pact between your high king and Octavian. How many more must die before you realise that Phraates is a treacherous snake?’

  I tried to reason with her. ‘Phraates is the son of Orodes and therefore…’

  ‘Orodes is dead, Pacorus, killed by his own son. In the name of all that’s holy cannot you at least admit that?’

  ‘Who else is there, then?’ I demanded. ‘Tiridates, who decided to seize the high crown by force and who plunged the empire into civil war?’

  ‘You know very well who should have been high king,’ said Gafarn sternly.

  ‘You, Pacorus,’ spat Diana. ‘You should have been high king, and if you had taken the high crown then our friends and my son would still be alive.’

  ‘You speak harshly, Diana,’ said Malik. ‘Pacorus did what he believed was honourable.’

  The Queen of Hatra now turned her wrath on the Agraci king.

  ‘Honour? The honourable thing would have been for him to take the high crown and save us all the bloodshed we have had to endure since Orodes died. Do you think Mark Antony would have invaded Parthia if Pacorus had been high king instead of that fool Phraates? And Tiridates would not have dared raise his sword against a Pacorus sitting on Ctesiphon’s throne. Becoming king of kings would have been the honourable thing to do, Pacorus. We all had to suffer the consequences of your ridiculous sense of honour.’

  Kewab and Karys, squirming in their seats, stared at their cups, Gallia said nothing and Malik was taken aback by the revelation of a side of Diana he had not seen before. Castus broke the awkward silence.

  ‘I will accept your squire’s apology if Dura commits its army to the capture of Kayseri.’

  ‘A most kingly gesture,’ said Diana.

  ‘Dura accepts,’ Gallia answered for me, which did nothing to improve my humour.

  ‘Never was the life of a squire so dearly bought,’ I remarked caustically.

  The evening ended soon after, the guests hurriedly leaving the tent while I sat and fumed. Klietas reappeared after Castus and Haytham had departed, to be lectured by Gallia.

  ‘You must be more careful when serving food and wine. The king and I are more forgiving than other rulers. You may be free, Klietas, but others see you as a slave. You understand?’

  ‘Yes, highborn.’

  He began to clear away the platters and cups on the table.

  ‘I did not like the side of Diana on view this evening,’ I complained.

  Gallia poured herself some wine and flopped down in the chair beside mine. Klietas refilled my cup.

  ‘She is a grieving mother,’ she said, ‘people who are hurting strike out at those they love.’

  ‘Thank you for pledging Dura’s support to the absurd idea to capture the Cappadocian capital, by the way.’

  She rolled her eyes. ‘I know you would not divide the army in the middle of enemy territory, and as the soldiers of Gordyene and Hatra will be laying siege to the city, we have no choice but to remain with them.’

  ‘I have a bad feeling about this,’ I warned.

  Klietas’ ears pricked up. ‘It might be the meat, highborn, sometimes it is under-cooked.’

  ‘What? No, I was not referring to the food. Tell me, Klietas, if you were a king, would you try to capture a place knowing that you would have to give it up immediately afterwards?’

  ‘Yes, highborn,’ he beamed.

  ‘Why?’

  ‘To show the whole world my power, highborn,’ he answered without hesitation.

  I sighed. ‘You really are not helping.’

  The next day we continued our march south, making use of the gap cut through the enemy’s wooden wall and earth rampart by Lucius’ engineers and the entrenching tools of Dura’s foot soldiers. It felt good to be away from the valley where Spartacus had fallen and where thousands of corpses lay rotting in the sun. We had cremated our own dead but the enemy slain stayed where they were, which meant the area was full of ravens, crows and vultures, to say nothing of hyenas and wolves that came at night to gorge on and fight over human flesh.

  Corum was an empty, burnt-out husk when we passed it, smoke hanging over the town and the smell of dead flesh and charred wood filling our nostrils and making our horses skittish. Gallia said nothing as we passed the town, and I wondered if the gold statue of Camulus was still extant. More likely it had been stolen by the Aorsi and broken up. Bits of the god were probably stuffed into the saddlebags of Spadines and his Sarmatians. Camulus meant nothing to me but what worried me more was when Amyntas discovered the wreckage of his town and the sacrilege committed in its temples, he would be more determined than ever to serve vengeance on us.

  ‘Vengeance’ was certainly the word of the moment. Spartacus had wanted retribution for the death of Rasha, which had led us to Sinope; Diana and Castus wanted revenge for the death of Spartacus; and Amyntas would want recompense for the atrocities committed in Corum, to say nothing of the thousands of his warriors butchered by our arrows and lances north of the town. With forced marches, we could have been out of Cappadocia before the enemy had time to re-organise and mount a pursuit. But now we would march to Kayseri to lay siege to the city, which would give the enemy the very thing I wished to deny him: time.

  It did not augur well.