All chatter died away as the guards circled the woman, standing her ground and fixing Gallia with her piercing brown eyes. Two guards seized her arms and bundled her away, her voice filling the chamber.

  ‘I would have words with you, Queen Gallia, before you have me murdered, just as you did my brother.’

  ‘Stop,’ Gallia told the guards. ‘Bring her here.’

  The raven-haired woman smiled in triumph as she was shoved in front of the now standing Gallia, people mumbling to each other and pointing at the strange woman surrounded by legionaries.

  ‘Search her for weapons,’ said the duty centurion.

  ‘I am not armed,’ stated the woman, ‘I am not an assassin like those who live in this city.’

  ‘Shut her up’, ‘get her out of here’, the guests demanded angrily, while Kalet spat out a piece of meat and shouted, ‘I’ll slit her throat for you, princess’. His lords banged their fists on the table to signal their support. I walked behind those at the top table to stand beside my wife. The rough search of the prisoner revealed her to possess no weapons.

  ‘As I told you,’ said the mysterious woman to the centurion, ‘did you enjoy fondling my body?’

  ‘Enough!’ I commanded. ‘You will provide me with your name.’

  The women bowed her head. ‘Indira, sister to Spada, commander of the army of Persis who was basely murdered by your wife, Queen Gallia, during an agreed parley.’

  There were gasps around the hall, Gallia’s stern expression showing no emotion, but out of the corner of my eye I saw my namesake’s head drop. He knew the truth and so did I: Spada had been lured to a conference where Dura’s desert lords, on the orders of my wife, killed him and his commanders.

  ‘What do you want?’ demanded Gallia. ‘Compensation for your dead brother?’

  ‘If you were indeed his sister,’ I added.

  Indira looked unconcerned. ‘I do not lie, unlike your wife.’

  More astonished gasps greeted her words. She was either totally fearless or completely mad. Either way this charade had to be brought to a speedy conclusion.

  ‘Take her away,’ I told the guards, ‘she will answer to the law for trespassing on this feast.’

  ‘Kill me and you and your guests will not reach Sakastan, King Pacorus, for just as I easily took your daughter’s ring so will the warriors of Persis exact their revenge for the murder of their leader. But your wife can guarantee the safety of your family and guests, King Pacorus.’

  ‘How?’ demanded Gallia.

  ‘In a trial by combat, Queen Gallia. Let Verethragna judge which of us should live.’

  ‘Who?’ belched Kalet.

  ‘The Persian God of War,’ answered Claudia, ‘who has ten incarnations.’

  This Indira was clearly mad. ‘Take her away.’

  But Gallia had other ideas and walked from her place to stand before her accuser.

  ‘I accept your challenge.’

  My jaw dropped as the hall was filled with wild cheers from Kalet, his lords and the Agraci warlords, while everyone else sat in stunned silence.

  Chapter 2

  ‘You are forbidden to fight her.’

  I paced the terrace, pointing and issuing orders to Gallia who sat eating her breakfast in the company of our daughters. The feast had ended abruptly after Gallia had accepted Indira’s challenge because I had ordered everyone to leave. I had toyed with the idea of having the unwanted guest strangled and her body thrown into the Euphrates, but Gallia had her escorted under armed guard to Malik’s home just beyond the Citadel’s walls, having received permission to do so from the bemused Agraci king. She then specifically forbade me to harm even a hair on the woman’s attractive head.

  ‘I am not one of your officers to order about,’ she replied calmly.

  ‘You are my wife,’ I exclaimed.

  ‘Just chop off her head,’ offered Eszter.

  ‘She should be flogged at least,’ added Isabella, staring at her sapphire ring.

  ‘What do you say?’ I asked Claudia, hoping for some pearl of wisdom that would dissuade Gallia from fighting Indira.

  ‘Verethragna punishes evil done by men and demons,’ she answered. ‘Was this Spada murdered?’

  Gallia dipped a wafer in a pot of yoghurt. ‘He was a casualty of war, nothing more, nothing less.’

  Claudia wore a deadly serious expression. ‘I interpret that as an admission that you murdered him, which would explain why this Indira woman was able to enter the Citadel so easily.’

  ‘Lax sentries, more like,’ I said.

  Claudia gave me a pitying look. ‘You could have ringed the Citadel with thousands of men and she would have still entered the Citadel easily. When you have the aid of the gods, soldiers are useless.’

  ‘Just kill her and have done with it,’ said Eszter.

  ‘I thank you all for your advice,’ replied Gallia, ‘but she challenged me in front of my family, my friends, the lords of the kingdom and the nobles of the city. You are right, Claudia, I did kill Spada and I will do the same to his sister. The topic is now closed for discussion.’

  I pleaded with her, her friends implored her not to fight, and every Companion still living begged her not to battle Indira, all to no avail. Gallia had the bit between her teeth and fire in her eyes. I knew it was hopeless to try to change her mind. I told her that Indira was at least fifteen years younger than her and reminded her it had been a long time since she had used a sword in anger.

  She cut the air with a sideways slash. ‘Nonsense, I use it every day.’

  We were on the training field outside the city, the Amazons having just finished their early morning target practice on the shooting ranges and were now wrenching arrows from the straw targets. Zenobia, their commander, was holding the reins of Gallia’s horse and those of Tegha as my wife swung her sword.

  ‘You use it here, on the training field, but when was the last time you used it on the battlefield? In Italy?’

  She stopped and faced me. ‘Draw your sword, then, and let us see who is more adept with a blade.’

  ‘This is ridiculous. I will not fight my own wife. I ask you one last time. Will you abandon this ludicrous duel?’

  ‘I will not.’

  ‘Then I will have her executed.’

  She spun around and held the point of her sword at my throat.

  ‘Do that and I will never forgive you for you will have betrayed me.’

  I held up my hands. ‘Very well, have it your way. Why are you so adamant about this?’

  She lowered her sword and sheathed it before walking over to her horse, uncorking the water bottle strapped to the saddle and taking a long drink. It was still early but the heat was beginning to rise. It would be another hot and dusty day at Dura.

  She replaced the cork in the top of her water bottle. ‘When I was a child my father, King Ambiorix, was the arbiter in a dispute between two of his lords, Brennus and Cerethrius. Their disagreement concerned the ownership of a fertile valley adjacent to both their lands. Brennus was a great warlord, brave, fearless and the leader of a mighty war band. He had three sons who were as brave and formidable as their father. Cerethrius was very different. Older and wiser, he had three daughters but no sons, but was respected for his wisdom and fairness throughout the lands of the Senones.’

  The Amazons had completed their arrow gathering and began to gather in a semi-circle around their queen. Instances of Gallia speaking of her time with the Gauls were rare and they listened intently, as did I.

  ‘My father, true to his cunning nature, did not want to rule against either man, Brennus because he could have been a rival to the throne, and Cerethrius because of the high esteem in which he was held in my father’s kingdom. So the matter was handed over to the chief druid. Both Brennus and Cerethrius presented their cases to the holy man, Brennus stating that he should be given the valley because his many warriors needed land to farm, and in any case his claim was stronger because he had three sons, whereas Cerethrius had only daughters and an insignificant number of warriors.

  ‘Cerethrius stated that it was true that Brennus had a large retinue and three sons, but pledged that should he be granted the valley, then in gratitude he would give the druids half its annual crop yield in perpetuity. The druid awarded the valley to Cerethrius, which outraged Brennus. Soon after Cerethrius was found murdered after having been lured to a meeting by an unknown party. Soon one of Brennus’ sons was boasting that he had killed Cerethrius on his father’s orders but when the dead man’s daughters petitioned my father, he washed his hands of the whole affair and awarded the valley to Brennus.’

  There was absolute silence as Gallia continued her tale, and I too was spellbound.

  ‘But the year after, when the crops were being sowed, flocks of ravens descended on Brennus’ new valley and devoured the seeds. Thereafter misfortune befell his sons. One fell off his horse and broke his neck, another drowned and the third choked on a chicken bone. Eyewitnesses reported seeing ravens at each of these instances and the druids told the people that it was the work of the Goddess Morrigan, who often took the shape of a raven and is the Gauls’ deity of revenge.

  ‘I have no desire to bear witness to the deaths of my own daughters, Pacorus. I take full responsibility for my actions and I will honour the gods. That is why I will meet Indira in combat and that is why no harm will come to her beforehand.’

  Indira looked calm and refreshed the next morning when she was escorted into the Citadel’s courtyard by a score of legionaries led by Chrestus, the shaven-headed commander of the army. He had a face that looked like thunder as he left the guards and stomped over to where we were standing at the top of the palace steps. Gallia, hair braided down her back and dressed in leggings and a loose-fitting white tunic, nodded to him.

  ‘Commander. I hope the prisoner has not been molested in any way.’

  ‘If I had my way her head would be mounted on a spike on these walls by now, majesty. But no, she has not been harmed.’

  He turned and nodded to the duty centurion who instructed two of his men to close the gates, other legionaries ensuring the doors of the buildings facing the courtyard were also closed. I had commanded all the clerks in the headquarters building to stay at home, though the servants, stable hands, farriers, blacksmiths and apprentices were still in residence to keep the palace and its garrison functioning. But they had been told to stay indoors, leaving the courtyard strangely quiet.

  Gallia unfastened her sword belt and drew her weapon, a spatha similar to the one I carried. She handed me the scabbard and belt. I grabbed her forearm.

  ‘It’s not too late.’

  She smiled kindly. ‘The die is cast, my beloved. It is in the hands of the gods now.’

  She turned to Chrestus. ‘It is time, commander.’

  He nodded again to the centurion who blew his whistle. Two centuries of Durans in full battle array marched from the barracks and formed the outside of a square in the middle of the courtyard. Gallia smiled at our daughters and began walking down the steps with Chrestus, only to halt after a couple of steps. My heart soared and I beamed with delight. She had seen sense and decided not to fight this strange, sultry woman from Persis, if that is where she was from. My wife handed Chrestus her sword and marched over to Gafarn, who was holding a bow. She pointed at it.

  ‘Why is the King of Hatra carrying his bow in my Citadel.’

  ‘A Parthian is never far from his bow, Gallia,’ he replied, straight faced.

  She looked at him and then at me and sighed.

  ‘You are Bedouin, not Parthian. Give me it.’

  ‘I will not,’ Gafarn insisted.

  ‘Do you have so little confidence in my abilities, Gafarn, that you readily agreed to shoot my opponent? Let me guess. Pacorus begged you to kill her if I got in trouble, for he and I both know that you are the best shot in the whole empire and only you could guarantee that the arrow would hit the right target.’

  Gafarn’s mask of self-assurance began to crumble as he eyes darted from me to Gallia. She held out her hand. ‘If you have any respect for me at all, give me the bow.’

  Diana was going to try to reason with her friend but thought better of it, as did Praxima. So Gafarn handed Gallia his bow and my ruse failed. She handed the bow to Chrestus and they recommenced their journey down the steps to the waiting Indira, who was holding a dagger in each hand. I saw the spatha in Gallia’s hand and was heartened. She was clearly mad if she thought two daggers could defeat an Amazon with a long sword.

  Gallia faced Indira as the legionaries formed an enclosed wall using their shields facing inwards, half of them kneeling to place their shields on the cobbles, the other half holding their shields directly above those below. Two hundred men thus created a makeshift fighting arena so the two combatants could do battle. Chrestus withdrew and the fight began.

  Gallia attacked immediately, lunging forward to thrust the point of her sword into Indira’s chest. But the Persian side-stepped right and parried the blade with one of her daggers, using the other to slash at my wife’s belly. Gallia stepped back but then attacked again with a flurry of overhead scything blows, which Indira beat away with her daggers, the blades becoming silver blurs in her hands. Gallia’s blade was also moving fast, forcing Indira back towards the locked shields. I clenched my fist as my wife flicked her wrist to deceive her opponent who brought a dagger up to block an overhead strike but instead saw the sword blade sweep low to slash her belly. But Indira was lithe and sucking in her belly fell back into the shield wall, which buckled slightly.

  ‘Hold!’ bellowed Chrestus from the top of the steps.

  Indira recovered and darted left to take herself away from Gallia, slashing my wife’s leg with the dagger held in her right hand. There was a collective groan from those around me as Indira grinned in triumph and red began to show on my wife’s leggings.

  The wound did not seem to bother Gallia who again mounted a withering series of strikes against Indira, which were all parried. Gallia appeared tired and let her sword drop, Indira grinned but was then almost decapitated when my wife whipped her blade upwards in a lightning-fast strike. The edge of her sword missed Indira’s neck by inches.

  Now Indira attacked, using both her daggers to cut at Gallia from left and right. Deft sword positioning fended off all the blows but as Indira spun away she whipped one of her daggers back and cut my wife’s left arm. Diana shrieked in alarm and I felt sick to my stomach. Around me our friends stood open mouthed and ashen faced as Indira danced around Gallia, who seemed incapable of inflicting a scratch on her opponent. And then it happened.

  Gallia deflected a dagger strike with a downward cut of her sword, only for Indira to jab the other knife into my wife’s right hand, causing her to drop her sword. The blade clattered on the cobblestones a second after Gallia gave a shriek when Indira plunged the other dagger into her side. The right side of my wife’s tunic began to turn red and Diana wailed and nearly collapsed. Isabella was praying and Eszter crying but Claudia was strangely calm as a smile crept over her face. I was about to throw up in panic when Gallia took advantage of a gloating Indira to grab the two dagger blades, gripping them firmly as she sprang forward to head-butt the Persian, splitting her nose and sending her sprawling.

  ‘Yes,’ shouted Chrestus in triumph.

  Indira staggered to her feet but collapsed as blood poured from her broken nose. She was nauseous, disorientated and had blurred vision but could see well enough to appreciate the cold steel being pressed to her neck. Gallia had retrieved her sword and held it with her bloodied hand against Indira’s throat.

  ‘I give you your life,’ said Gallia forcefully, ‘do you yield?’

  ‘I yield,’ said Indira faintly.

  We cheered and Gallia staggered.

  ‘Defend your queen,’ shouted Chrestus.

  The shield wall dissolved and a circle of legionaries formed around Gallia, who had gone down on one knee. I rushed down the steps to cradle her in my arms, blood oozing from the wound in her side. She gave me a half-smile.

  ‘The gods are appeased, Pacorus. Our daughters are safe.’

  Gallia winced as the dog licked the wound in her side, Claudia holding up her mother’s bloodstained tunic so the canine could use its tongue to maximum effect. The mutt had already licked the wounds to Gallia’s arm and hand and was now lapping up her lifeblood with gusto. Claudia watched it carefully; a mangy flea-bitten dog that she insisted was beloved of the gods. Gallia rolled her eyes, Isabella was disgusted and Eszter bemused as Claudia encouraged the beast to finish its task.

  ‘What in the name of the gods is going on here?’

  Alcaeus, Companion, friend, and head of the army’s medical corps, rushed over to Gallia and shouted at the dog to get away. His reward was the dog growling and baring its teeth at the Greek physician. Claudia led it away and used soothing words to calm it before ordering a servant to take it to her quarters. The young woman glanced nervously at the beast and then at Claudia.

  ‘He won’t harm you,’ she assured the girl, ‘he only likes to bite Greeks.’

  I laughed but Alcaeus stopped rummaging through his bag and rounded on me.

  ‘First you allow your wife to take part in a ludicrous duel and now you allow your daughter to indulge her mysticism on your injured wife, injured as a result of your folly.’

  ‘He did not allow me to do anything,’ said Gallia in a low tone, ‘I do as I wish.’

  Alcaeus probed the side wound with a finger.

  ‘You are to be congratulated. It looks clean enough and probably won’t need stitches. You were lucky.’

  ‘Nonsense,’ said Claudia, ‘luck had nothing to do with it. Mother appeased the gods and they gave her victory over a far superior opponent.’

  ‘You are too kind,’ said Gallia sarcastically.

  Alcaeus fished out a jar of ointment and began applying it to Gallia’s wounds.

  ‘You won’t need that,’ insisted Claudia, ‘mother will heal quickly.’