She clicked her fingers for her cup to be refilled.

  ‘There must be something in the water at Sigal that makes its rulers predisposed to whores. But once again the Sakas are proving troublesome and High King Phraates has assured Phanes that he will be supported in any action he may take against Sakastan. You can now see my reasoning behind Peroz abdicating.’

  I could see the machinations of Phraates that much was true.

  ‘And the new king of Sakastan will be a candidate agreeable to both Phraates and your son, I suppose?’

  ‘Why not?’ she said forcefully. ‘The alternative is war and none of us want that.’

  ‘I agree,’ I said.

  She looked surprised. ‘You do?’

  I finished my kallu . ‘No one wants war, lady. But neither will I ask Peroz to vacate his throne, certainly not for the ambitions of your son whom I suspect wishes to become ruler of Sakastan as well as Carmania. As for the idea of Salar being a temporary regent, it is nonsensical. I doubt your son would allow both Peroz and Salar to live if he had a say on who should sit on Sigal’s throne, to say nothing of my daughter.’

  I stood. ‘If your son has grievances he should state them at the Council of Kings at Esfahan, which is designed to resolve disputes within the empire.’

  ‘Tell me, King Pacorus,’ she shot back, ‘did you resolve your disputes at Esfahan? Of course you did not. You plunged the empire into civil war so do not lecture me concerning what my son should or should not do.’

  I bowed my head. ‘It has been an honour meeting with you, lady, thank you for your hospitality.’

  ‘Do you know what they call you in these parts, King Pacorus? Kingaleyar – King Slayer. Let me think, there was Chosroes, Porus, Narses and Mithridates, who was actually high king.’

  ‘Your point, lady?’

  She regarded me with a haughty expression. ‘If you do not advise Peroz to abdicate you may have his death on your hands. This is not Dura, king Pacorus.’

  ‘On that we agree,’ I said, taking my leave.

  I was in a foul mood by the time Tegha was brought to me and I was in the saddle at the head of my escort leaving camp.

  ‘A curious woman,’ remarked Kewab.

  ‘Curious! I am surprised that she has lived this long considering her poisonous tongue. It was just as well she relieved me of my sword before she began lecturing me.’

  ‘Do you think the high king is encouraging her son to start a war with Sakastan, majesty?’

  ‘Probably, but Phanes must feel that even with Phraates’ support he is incapable of removing Peroz. So, he gets his mother to do his dirty work for him.’

  I felt something hit my back plate and halted Tegha , turned in the saddle and saw a filthy boy in rags tossing something at me. Camel dung! He ran up, grinned and hurled a large piece of dried excrement hitting me in the face. He squealed with delight and retreated a few paces, lifting up his moth-eaten tunic to reveal his genitals to me. He then picked up another piece of dung and threw it, hitting my cuirass.

  ‘Right!’

  I tossed Tegha ’s reins to Kewab and jumped down from his back. I could have ridden on, or ordered one of my men to apprehend the urchin, or even given the command to have him skewered. But Hamide had riled me and I wanted to vent my frustration and anger. Tanning the arse of this little demon would do nicely. He stuck his tongue out at me, hurled another piece of camel dung and ran into the date palms. I ran after him, following him as he darted left and right in an effort to outrun me. He was quick but my blood was up and I was within a couple of paces of him when he suddenly swung right behind a massive date palm that must have been over a hundred feet high. I followed and stopped in my tracks when a serpent rose up before me.

  It stood at least six feet tall, an unblinking pair of bronze eyes staring at me, emitting a spine-tingling growl, its hood flared in anger. I had never seen such a snake before. I drew my spatha as it glided forward to attack, swinging the blade to chop of its head. It retreated to avoid the blow so I jabbed the point of my sword at its head. It lunged at me, avoiding the blade that I was forced to withdraw to fend away its fangs. Its movements were fast, too fast as I retreated, thinking that like most snakes it would seek an escape route if given the opportunity. It did not. If followed me, baring its fangs that resembled white scythes as it tried to bite me. I swung my blade again and again to kill the hooded monster before me, all my strikes missing its green scaly body. I was about to be defeated by a reptile.

  I pulled my dagger from its sheath and jabbed it at the king cobra to hold its attention. It snapped and growled at the blade, giving me time to raise my sword to chop down at the snake’s body. I stepped forward to hack down at the venom-filled monster, a sliver of sunlight shining into my eyes and blinding me for a split-second. My bladed chopped down but cut nothing and as I stepped back I saw nothing. The king cobra had disappeared. I spun round, worried it might be behind me. It was not. It had disappeared, as had the boy whom I had completely forgotten about.

  I walked back to the waiting horsemen, Kewab passing me Tegha ’s reins.

  ‘Is everything all right, majesty?’

  I hauled myself into the saddle. ‘Fine.’

  I said nothing about the strange incident to anyone, though that afternoon I sought out Claudia, who I was told was visiting the Fire Temple in Bam. It was dedicated to the god Ahura Mazda whose followers, the Zoroastrians, had been worshipping fire for five hundred years.

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous, father,’ my daughter said dismissively, ‘the Zoroastrians do not worship fire, they see it as representing their god’s wisdom and light.’

  She looked totally different today as she stood beside me in the temple, a grand mud-brick building sitting in the middle of a large garden surrounded by pine, cedar and cypress trees. A high wall that was guarded day and night by the governor’s soldiers enclosed the garden. The temple comprised a portico with two pillars, behind which was a room giving access via a corridor to a square room housing the sacred fire, fed night and day by sandalwood and incense called loban.

  ‘This is a great honour, father,’ said Claudia, who unusually was in a deferent, servile mood.

  Dressed in a long white gown, her head covered by a white headscarf, she looked slender and attractive, far from the fearsome black-clad woman that inhabited Dura. We both wore white, a strict requirement of the fire keepers staffing the temple. She nodded towards the fire burning in the huge white dish atop a great metal urn.

  ‘That is the Atash Bahram, the “fire of victory”, formed from the embers of a thousand other fires, each from a different section of society. Thus, there are embers from the fires of brick makers, potters, hunters, blacksmiths, bakers, herdsmen and on and on. It also includes fire started by lightning.’

  ‘Looks like an ordinary fire to me.’

  She rolled her eyes. ‘To an unbeliever, it would. But there is great power here. Because you are a king you have been allowed into the temple, despite not being a follower of the faith.’

  ‘Why did they let you in?’ I joked.

  ‘Because I am a member of the Scythian Sisterhood, which is revered throughout the empire and beyond.’

  I told her about the earlier incident with the boy and king cobra. She smiled.

  ‘She told me she would send you a sign.’

  ‘Who?’

  She looked at me and sighed. ‘Who watches over us still?’

  She was speaking of Dobbai, which comforted me somewhat. But as I relived the incident I could not fathom the sign.

  ‘What has camel dung to do with anything?’

  ‘Is has nothing to do with anything,’ she said, ‘the cobra was the sign, probably of a mighty foe that will appear unexpectedly. When are we leaving for Sigal?’

  ‘Soon.’

  We stayed at Bam for a week, though a score of Talib’s men left earlier to reconnoitre the border between Carmania and Sakastan to discover who was raiding whom, if indeed there was any cross-border fighting. There were many Carmanians and Sakas in Bam itself, though Rogerio was a firm governor who clamped down on any trouble within the city’s confines quickly and ruthlessly. A policy I became aware of when Gallia and I were asked to visit the governor’s mansion.

  Positioned within the citadel and raised to give views of the city below and the groves of date palms beyond, it was a place of bubbling fountains, exotic birds and calm. Rogerio rose and bowed when we were shown into his private garden, inviting us to sit on couches arranged beneath a large sunshade.

  ‘I trust you have refreshed yourselves, majesties,’ he smiled, clapping to bring wine and fruit.

  ‘We have,’ replied Gallia, ‘you have been a most diligent host.’

  We reclined on the couches, slaves serving us wine, dates, oranges, apricots and grapes. Rogerio whispered into the ear of a guard who bowed and disappeared.

  ‘It gladdens me to see you both refreshed and invigorated. Alas, my heart is burdened by a distasteful affair.’

  I raised an eyebrow. ‘Oh?’

  The guard reappeared, accompanied by two more yellow-uniform soldiers, between them the sorry shackled figure of Kalet. He caught Gallia’s eye.

  ‘Princess.’

  ‘Silence!’ barked the guard commander, striking Kalet with the back of his hand. The lord spat blood on the gravel.

  ‘This man, this filthy wretch, claims to be Lord Kalet of Dura, majesty,’ said Rogerio.

  ‘I regret to say he is, governor.’

  Rogerio was shocked. ‘Him?’

  ‘I assume he has broken one of Bam’s laws.’

  ‘One?’ said Rogerio with incredulity. ‘Brawling, inciting violence, committing violence, urinating in the street, vomiting in the street…’

  ‘It’s not my fault the food in this city is rotten,’ pleaded Kalet.

  Rogerio shook his head. ‘The list goes on and on, majesty. I must ask you to confine this man’s companions to camp with immediate effect. They are like a plague of locusts that have descended upon us.’

  ‘I will do so immediately,’ I promised.

  Gallia batted her eyelids at Rogerio. ‘Is there any way Lord Kalet can be released into our custody, governor?’

  The commander of the guard was most unhappy but a seductive Queen of Hatra was difficult to resist.

  ‘We would be eternally grateful,’ she cooed.

  Rogerio clapped his hands and beamed at her. ‘It shall be as you wish, highness.’

  He ordered the shackles to be removed. Kalet flexed his hands and rubbed the cheek that had been struck by the commander. I jumped from the couch and interjected myself between him and Kalet.

  ‘We will be leaving now, governor,’ I announced, grabbing Kalet by the arm and leading him away.

  ‘We are forever in your debt, governor,’ said Gallia softly, rising from the couch and following us.

  I bundled Kalet from the mansion, the desert lord grinning in triumph and rubbing his hands together with glee.

  ‘Clearly my words were wasted on you,’ I fumed.

  ‘You said try not to get yourself killed,’ he stopped and opened his arms wide. ‘Here I am, hale and whole.’

  ‘What would your wife say, Lord Kalet?’ asked Gallia.

  Kalet winked at her. ‘She’s a thousand miles away, princess, and what happens in Bam stays in Bam.’

  Two days later we left the city and continued our journey to Sigal.

  Chapter 4

  ‘Orodes’ son? Here, in Sigal?’

  Peroz nodded. ‘Arrived two weeks ago, along with a companion.’

  I looked at my friends who wore expressions of shock and surprise. We had arrived at Sigal after an uneventful journey through the arid and desolate terrain of western Sakastan to find the capital surrounded by fertile lands and forest. The city, which served as a guard post for the caravan route from eastern Parthia to India, was ideally positioned in a triangle formed by the confluence of the Erymanthus and Argandab rivers. The reunion between Isabella and Salar was touching and Peroz and Roxanne made all of us feel very welcome, but then the King of Sakastan announced that a young man had arrived in his kingdom claiming to be the son of the late high king and my friend Orodes.

  ‘He is an imposter,’ I stated firmly, ‘Orodes only had one son and he sits on Ctesiphon’s throne.’

  We sat on wicker chairs stuffed with cushions taking in the stunning views of the lush valley below; Peroz’s fortress enjoying a commanding position atop a rocky crag. The city of Sigal stretched before us, the mud-brick buildings protected by a high perimeter wall. The horsemen that had accompanied us were camped a few miles downstream alongside the caravan park, where they and merchants watered their beasts in the cool, clear Erymanthus.

  ‘I knew Orodes for over thirty years,’ I said, ‘we all knew him.’

  I looked at Gallia, Gafarn, Diana, Nergal and Praxima in turn.

  ‘He had no other sons aside from Phraates.’

  ‘Pacorus is right, Peroz,’ said Diana. ‘On none of his visits to Hatra did Orodes mention another son. He would have confided in us, of that I am sure.’

  ‘Me too,’ nodded Praxima, ‘Orodes was a man of honour who would have faced up to fathering another child.’

  ‘That is what we thought,’ said Peroz, looking at his wife, ‘but Cookum convinced me otherwise.’

  I looked at Peroz. ‘Who?’

  ‘The boy’s companion,’ Roxanne told me.

  The Queen of Sakastan was still the beauty that had worked in Dura all those years ago, her high cheekbones and narrow, delicate nose complementing her luscious lips. Now in her fortieth year her looks had not faded like many whores her age. But then she had left that life many years ago to become a queen in the east. What’s more, she had escaped the curse of many whores whose bodies were damaged by hard usage and had managed to produce an heir for Peroz, a fine young man who was days away from becoming my son-in-law.

  ‘What does this son of Orodes, so-called, want?’ asked Nergal, his long legs resting on a footstool.

  ‘He has sought sanctuary here,’ Roxanne told us.

  ‘When they arrived both had the appearance of hunted animals,’ said Peroz. ‘I said they could stay here.’

  ‘That was a mistake,’ I said harshly, ‘you should get them out of your kingdom as quickly as possible.’

  Gallia was shocked. ‘If this, what is his name?’

  ‘Vartan,’ Roxanne told her.

  ‘If this Vartan is the son of Orodes then he deserves our protection, Pacorus,’ Gallia berated me.

  ‘ If being the operative word,’ I replied. ‘If Phraates gets wind of this he will demand him back.’

  ‘Why?’ asked Roxanne.

  I smiled at her charming naivety.

  ‘Because, dear lady, this Vartan represents a challenge to his position and Phraates is not the sort of man to take such things lightly.’

  ‘Where did they come from?’ enquired Gafarn.

  ‘Susa,’ replied Peroz.

  Susa was the capital of Susiana, Orodes’ homeland, a place he rarely visited during his reign as king of kings.

  ‘Why did he leave it?’ asked Diana.

  ‘His identity was discovered,’ said Peroz, ‘and Cookum felt his life would be in danger if he remained in the city.’

  I chuckled. ‘He’s right about that, at least. Even now I’ll warrant that Phraates has despatched scouts to hunt for his half-brother. You might as well send him to Ctesiphon and save time and effort, and earn the gratitude of Phraates.’

  ‘Seems a little harsh, Pacorus,’ remarked Gafarn.

  ‘My thoughts exactly,’ said Gallia. ‘Since when did you become so heartless?’

  ‘Why don’t you meet Vartan, lord?’ suggested Peroz. ‘You perhaps knew Orodes better than all of us.’

  I reluctantly agreed, reticent not because I was particularly interested in the dubious claims of what would be a bastard. Rather, because my mind was still preoccupied with my duel with the king cobra in the date palm grove outside Bam. Claudia said it was a message from the gods and it seemed more than a coincidence that this Vartan had appeared at Sigal. The two were surely connected. Vartan obviously represented danger and I wanted to be rid of him as quickly as possible.

  The next day, escorted by Agbar and four of his men, I walked into the city to see for myself the youth who had caused a stir among the citizenry. Sigal was a pleasant city and my mood, which had been dark the day before, had lightened after a good night’s sleep in the arms of my wife, a good breakfast and taking in the morning air. It might have been approaching summer but the cool breeze from the mountains in the north meant Sigal had a pleasant temperature and had the added bonus of blowing away the stench of a city filled to the brim.

  ‘We are blessed that trade from the east and west passes through Sakastan, majesty,’ remarked Agbar, ‘make way, make way.’

  A handcart of apricots had overturned in the narrow street and its owner and his young son were frantically trying to pick up the spilled contents.

  ‘Come on, let’s lend a hand.’

  Agbar looked aghast. ‘Majesty?’

  ‘We can stand here and you can shout yourself hoarse, or we lend a hand and clear the blockage. Tell your men to keep the scavengers at bay.’

  Already individuals were trying to steal the fruit, the owner shouting and threatening them. I began picking up apricots and placed them in the back of the handcart.

  ‘Thank you, sir,’ said the man.

  ‘You are going to market?’

  He nodded. ‘I had hoped to sell them before midday, but now I am unsure. Too many are bruised.’

  I picked up an apricot, examining its orange colour and feeling its distinctive skin.

  ‘Take all of them to the palace and inform the guardroom that they are a special delivery for King Pacorus of Dura.’

  I opened the pouch hanging from my belt and fished out two gold coins. The man’s eyes lit up.

  ‘Will this cover the cost?’

  ‘Yes, sir, thank you, sir. Who should I say paid for the goods, sir?’