Usurper, p.9
Usurper, page 9
‘My brother can use his new position to create an alliance against Sakastan,’ said Peroz forlornly. He slammed his fist on the table. ‘Why has Phraates done this?’
‘To create mischief,’ suggested Nergal.
‘He has a devious nature,’ agreed Gafarn.
‘His father would have been so disappointed,’ reflected Diana.
I looked at Gallia and was tempted to announce to her and everyone else that I would ride to Puta, the capital of Carmania, and threaten Phanes with war and destruction if he attempted to form an alliance against Peroz. I could, after all, assemble an army of over one hundred thousand men if required. An evil grin crept across my face.
‘Something amuses you, Pacorus?’ enquired Gafarn.
I cleared my throat. ‘What? No. Cool heads are required at this juncture. Peroz, what are your relations with Aria and Drangiana?’
Peroz pursed his lips. ‘Amicable enough, why?’
‘Because if Phanes is forming an alliance, those two kingdoms, which lie on your northern border, present the greatest threat.’
‘What about Carmania in the south?’ asked Nergal.
I shook my head. ‘Though I have never met Phanes, I can state with some certainty he is a cautious commander who will only attack Sakastan if he is certain of victory.’
‘You mean he is a coward,’ said Spartacus, earning him a beaming smile from Rasha.
‘Cautious,’ I emphasised. ‘Furthermore, that he has not attacked Sakastan already indicates that he prefers others to fight his battles for him.’
‘A coward, definitely,’ agreed Malik.
I ignored the smirking laughter. ‘Invite the rulers of Aria and Drangiana to the wedding,’ I told Peroz, ‘extend the hand of friendship to them and it will not matter if your brother is made lord high general of the whole empire.’
‘You are certain of that, Pacorus?’ Praxima asked me. ‘There are other alternatives.’
A tingling dread crept down my spine. ‘What alternatives?’
‘We are here, all of us, together with thousands of soldiers,’ she stated. ‘We ride to Puta, sack the city, burn it to the ground and lay waste Carmania before returning to attend Isabella’s wedding.’
Spartacus roared in support and Malik, arms folded across his chest, nodded enthusiastically. But Peroz was ashen, his mouth open in shock. Gallia was gripping her friend’s arm.
‘Ever the Amazon,’ she proclaimed with pride.
I looked daggers at her. The last thing I wanted was a war, and by the look of horror on his face Peroz was of the same opinion.
‘A last resort, lady, and one not entered into lightly,’ I told Praxima. ‘Wars are easy to start, harder to finish. In any case Phanes can only make idle threats. Of the eastern kingdoms of the empire, Hyrcania and Margiana are allies of Dura, which means they are your allies, Peroz. Their neighbours, Yueh-Chih and Anauon, are more interested in defending their borders against the barbarians of the northern steppes rather than getting involved in a squabble between brothers. So that leaves only Aria and Drangiana.’
Peroz tried to appear determined but he looked bitterly disappointed.
‘I do not want war.’
‘No one does,’ I reassured him.
‘But if war comes know we all stand with you,’ promised Praxima.
She really was not helping.
‘Don’t forget to invite your brother as well,’ I said.
Peroz was confused. ‘Phanes?’
‘Naturally,’ I told him, ‘he is hardly going to start a war if he is here, among potential enemies.’
‘He will not come,’ said Peroz.
‘But the fact that you have extended the hand of friendship will not be lost on the rulers of Aria and Drangiana, who will be unwilling to support Phanes in any reckless action.’
‘That is a lot of surmising, Pacorus,’ said Gafarn.
‘Or we could just burn Puta,’ suggested Spartacus.
‘I will not have my daughter’s wedding ruined,’ I said forcefully.
Peroz decided to do as I advised but the letter had soured the atmosphere at Sigal and the spectre of Phanes hung over the palace like a black cloud. Gallia and Praxima were seething and that never ended well, but I was cheered when a tired and dusty Talib reported to me that night, the scout having ridden hard from the south. He flopped down in a chair in our bedroom and drank greedily when offered water, Gallia pulling up a chair to listen to what he had to say.
‘The only raiding is being undertaken by the Carmanians,’ he told us, ‘though it is light and designed, as far as I can tell, to provoke a response from the Sakas.’
‘What form does it take?’ I asked.
‘Mostly burning isolated farmsteads and carrying off farmers and their families for slaves. As a result, a strip of land along the border around twenty miles in depth is empty of people.’
‘Are there no Saka soldiers on the border?’ asked Gallia.
Talib nodded. ‘The problem is that the local commander wishes to retaliate against Carmania, which would mean pillaging its farms and villages.’
‘Which Peroz has forbidden for fear of provoking a war,’ I anticipated.
‘A war that Phanes desires,’ said Gallia. ‘Praxima was right.’
Talib looked at her. ‘The Queen of Mesene, majesty?’
‘It is a long story,’ I said. ‘When you and your men have rested, I want you to ride north to Drangiana and Aria. Find out if any troops are gathering near the border and try to pick up any caravan gossip. Merchants have a nose for any trouble brewing.’
The next day I wrote a letter to Silaces, informing him about the Phanes’ promotion and requested that he send immediate word of any ominous developments at Ctesiphon. The empire was fortunate to be served by post stations throughout its length and breadth where couriers could ride on fresh horses to the next station. Positioned thirty miles apart, a letter could leave one end of the empire and be in the hands of its recipient at the other in ten days. It would take five days to get a message to Elymais and a further five to get a reply. During the interim we occupied ourselves calming Peroz and focusing on the wedding.
Isabella was deliriously happy and oblivious to the gathering storm beyond Sakastan’s borders. She was delighted that her sisters, parents and friends had travelled hundreds of miles to share her day of joy. All thoughts of the machinations of Phraates and Phanes disappeared from my mind as I walked alongside her by the side of the Erymanthus, behind us four of Agbar’s guards keeping watch.
‘I love the river, it reminds me of the Euphrates,’ she sighed as she linked her arm in mine and rested her head on my shoulders.
‘And just as busy,’ I observed.
Like at Dura there were many irrigation channels leading off from the river to water extensive orchards of fruit trees, vineyards and date palm groves, others feeding the crops that grew on each side of the river – wheat, barley and beans. The river valley was truly a place of abundance where the arid earth became a fertile plain. Sigal and its environs was a jewel in a barren landscape.
Isabella pointed at the hills in the distance.
‘The king has promised to build Salar and me a mansion there, a place where we can have some privacy.’
‘Is not the palace private?’
She laughed. ‘Palaces are always full of people, noise and activity. Dura is no different to Sigal. Even the private quarters are never fully empty, what with slaves coming and going.’
She cast me a sideways glance. ‘I always treat them with respect, the way I was taught, father.’
I laid a hand on hers. ‘We will never have slaves in Dura’s Citadel, but our way is not the way of the empire, or indeed the world.’
‘In our own home we will employ servants, not slaves,’ she stated with conviction.
‘What about Salar?’
‘He does as he is told,’ she giggled.
‘You truly are your mother’s daughter.’
Date pickers, ropes around their waists and baskets hanging from the tree in front of them, stopped and waved at Isabella from their vantage points above, my daughter smiling and waving back at them. I too smiled when I saw the warmth of their affection. It augured well for her future. I was startled when a thin, elderly man placed a basket before Isabella, the guards rushing forward to level their spears at him. The basket was full of snow trout that the fisherman had wanted to give to her. She waved the guards back and thanked the man.
‘For you, highness. A wedding gift,’ he beamed.
He was barefoot, his clothes old and filthy and most of his teeth missing.
‘You are most kind,’ smiled Isabella. ‘What is your name?’
‘Abeed, highness.’
‘I am pleased to meet you, Abeed. How is your family, I hope they are well?’
We stood near the river for what seemed like an age as Abeed told us about his wife, his children, his sister, her children and his mother, who was still in rude health. The guards grinned and nudged each other as they saw me getting fidgety. At long last Abeed had finished his potted family history and the ailments that afflicted him and his relatives and I stepped forward, to be stopped by Isabella.
‘And how is your family, highness? I pray that they are in good health?’
Isabella then proceeded to give a detailed account of the wellbeing of Gallia, her siblings and myself. She introduced me to Abeed, the fisherman bowing and enquiring if I had had a good journey to Sigal. It seemed to go on and on but eventually we managed to prise ourselves away from the poor fisherman, one of the guards carrying the basket of fish back to the palace.
‘Remind me not to walk along this stretch of the river again,’ I moaned.
‘General pleasantries are an important part of everyday life here, father,’ she told me. ‘A simple and polite exchange of words can earn respect and trust, both of which are essential to future rulers.’
She had learned much during her time here. She and Salar would make good rulers. We began to walk back to the palace.
‘Claudia told me that I alone of your daughters would marry.’
‘Eszter still has time,’ I said, ‘if I can find anyone to take her on.’
She shook her head. ‘It is not her destiny, Claudia told me.’
‘What else did she tell you?’
For the first time this day she looked sad.
‘She told me about Valak, about her ordeal and how she became one of the Scythian Sisters.’
‘I should never have taken her north,’ I lamented.
Isabella gripped my arm. ‘It was meant to be, father, she knows that now. She has no regrets.’
We reached the gates of the fortress. Isabella told the guard holding the basket of fish to give them to the poor. She had a good heart, unlike Phraates who refused to be banished from our thoughts. After I had said goodbye to my daughter I was summoned to Peroz’s meeting room once again. When I arrived, it was like walking into a doom-laden cave, a morose Peroz and an agitated Roxanne standing behind him barely able to raise a smile when I entered. The king said nothing but rather pushed a letter across the table top and nodded at it for me to read. It was from the high king himself. After the opening formalities Phraates got straight to the point.
It grieves me to learn that Sakastan currently harbours a man who claims to be the illegitimate son of my late father, King of Kings Orodes. This is not only a disgusting lie but also a personal insult to me and therefore the whole Parthian Empire. I demand that this traitor, this usurper, be returned to Ctesiphon immediately to face the consequences of his foul and untrue claims. You can either send him back to me or instruct the Lord High General in the East to collect him on my behalf.
I placed the letter back on the table and looked at Peroz.
‘What is your advice?’ he asked me.
Kill Vartan would be the simplest answer, though I would never advise that. Besides, I had the feeling that the issue of the ‘usurper’ was merely a pretext for Phanes to cause trouble. I was beginning to dislike the ruler of Carmania.
‘I suspect your brother is behind this,’ I said. ‘A rumour of Vartan’s presence here must have reached his ears and thus was he presented with a golden opportunity to further his own cause.’
He leaned back in his seat. ‘To defy the high king is no small matter, but I am loathe to sanction what would be the death of Orodes’ son. If I hand him over to Phanes he will be killed.’
‘Eventually,’ I agreed.
He stood and walked to the large window giving stunning views of the mountains in the distance.
‘High King Orodes, Vartan’s father, made me king of Sakastan. What sort of man would I be to send his son to his death? No, I will not do it. The wedding is in two days’ time. I will delay replying to the high king until after Salar and Isabella are married, and then I will inform Phraates that Vartan has fled the city before I could apprehend him.’
‘He won’t believe you,’ I cautioned, ‘best to keep Vartan confined to the palace until after the wedding. At least no one will see him, which will lend your story some credence.’
‘Do you think I should tell him?’
I laughed. ‘That his half-brother, who happens to be high king of Parthia, wants him dead? That information can wait until he is on his way east.’
The day of the wedding dawned sunny and warm, an army of slaves and palace officials beginning work in the early hours to set up the enclosure where the wedding would take place. The spot was just outside the city walls, near the river, Peroz deciding that the palace gardens would be too cramped to accommodate the dozens of invited guests, which included the kings and queens that had travelled to Sakastan and their entourages. Each royal contingent would sit at a long table covered with a white cloth, though the kings and queens themselves would be seated at the top table with Peroz and Roxanne. A thick, high wooden fence surrounded the whole enclosure, with dozens of Agbar’s spearmen patrolling the outside to keep undesirables away from Sigal’s great and good. Inside the atmosphere was relaxed and convivial, guests chatting and exchanging pleasantries as they were served wine and hauma , a beverage unique to Sakastan. I frowned when I saw Kalet and his friends downing copious quantities of it. They would probably pass out before the day ended.
Around the perimeter fence were poles from which hung griffin and elephant banners, symbolising the union of Dura and Sakastan. The marriage ceremony itself was all about symbolism. Isabella, resplendent in a pure white silk dress, was transported from the fortress on an elephant, flanked by a score of yellow-clad guards. In front of the elephant, which had gold-painted tusks, walked Sigal’s high priest, before him two priests holding incense burners from which the smoke of esfand emitted. In this way evil was warded off from the bride-to-be.
In the compound itself, a white-robed Salar waited nervously seated on an ivory chair, in front of him a low wooden platform covered with a white cloth. Called the sofreyé aghd , on it were laid the elements that encompassed imagery and symbolism relating to the union of the prince of Sakastan and princess of Dura. Pride of place was a mirror, a wondrous item of flattened metal, a mixture of tin and copper called speculum that had been polished to such an extent to create a reflective surface.
‘I look old,’ I remarked to Gallia when I saw my all-too lifelike reflection in it.
‘You look distinguished,’ said Gallia kindly.
Gafarn dug me in the ribs. ‘That’s another word for old.’
Other items on the sofreyé aghd included simple candles, symbolising light and fire, flatbread called nooné sangak , which represented prosperity, and a bowl of gold coins to also encourage future prosperity.
The air was heavy with the scent of burning esfand when I assisted Isabella from the elephant and escorted her into the compound, hundreds of Sigal’s citizens shouting and waving at her. Though veiled, she waved back, eliciting more cheers. I also smiled and waved, people ignoring me as they chanted my daughter’s name. Agbar shouted at his men to keep them back but there was no threat, just a desire to be close to their princess.
Inside the compound the atmosphere was more formal but no less cheering, Sigal’s aristocratic lords and their ladies clapping politely as I led Isabella to where Salar waited. Claudia, Eszter, Gallia and Praxima held a green canopy over our heads, the colour symbolising that the earth is the mother of all of us. The high priest continued his chanting until we arrived at where Salar sat, at which point he stopped, took Isabella’s hand and led her to sit beside her intended, lifting her veil before standing back.
‘Stare into the mirror both of you,’ he ordered, ‘so you can see your future together.’
He raised his arms and looked to the heavens.
‘Great Ahura Mazda, unchanging, creator of all life, the source of all goodness and happiness, smile upon these your two children and bless them for the life they are about to embark upon together.’
He clapped and two of his white-robed priests stepped forward, one swinging an incense burner and the other holding a simple jar of honey. The high priest nodded to Salar who took the jar, dipped his little finger into it and offered it to Isabella who licked it. Then Isabella dipped her own little finger in the honey and Salar licked it off her digit.
‘Thus will both sustain each other throughout their lives together,’ proclaimed the high priest.
Slaves laid flowers – brightly coloured tulips – around the couple.
‘These flowers symbolise life and beauty,’ stated the high priest.
More slaves placed baskets of pomegranates at their feet.
‘Salar and Isabella will have a joyous and fruitful future,’ said the high priest. ‘They are now man and wife and go forward as one, safe in the knowledge that Ahura Mazda has smiled upon their union.’
The dozens of guests crowded round the newly-weds clapped politely and began to disperse to their waiting tables. The high priest bowed to Peroz and Roxanne and then Salar and Isabella before leaving with his assistants to take themselves off to the temple in the city to pray for the newly-weds. Slowly my daughter and new son-in-law made their way to the top table, friends and family congratulating Salar and embracing Isabella. Kalet gave Salar a great bear hug and roared his approval. He was already drunk.
