King of Kings

Before the northerner could move, the spear points of the Arabs were at his chest.

Ballista called after the retreating Quietus. 'One day, maybe not soon, but one day, I will kill you.'

Quietus did not respond. When he was at some distance the Arabs trotted after him.

Ballista turned and ran the other way. Ballista reached his men. Not wanting to be conspicuous, he had slowed to a walk. They gathered round. 'Saddle up, boys, we are leaving. Do it quietly. We don't want to draw any attention to ourselves.

As the eight remaining Dalmatian troopers went to assemble their kit, Ballista indicated Turpio and his familia to remain. 'Turpio, you and I have the unfortunate honour of riding with Valerian to the parley. We go disarmed.'

Turpio looked at the northerner, expressionless for a moment, then nodded and turned away.

'Maximus, you have never cared for that mount of yours. You will take Pale Horse.'

The Hibernian said nothing. Nor did Calgacus or Demetrius. They tacked up in silence. Having double-checked the girths on Maximus' horse, Ballista rummaged in his saddle bags. He found a document case. Gesturing the others close, he spoke so that his voice would not carry beyond them. 'Calgacus, you will be in charge. As Turpio and I go to Valerian, you will lead the boys to the southern end of the hill. Do it with as little fuss as possible. When you see the imperial party set off for the meet, cross the perimeter. I doubt anyone will try and stop you. If they do, you will have to think of something. Say you have secret orders. Once out of the line, make your way around the far side of the hill. Ride north for the Euphrates. The Sassanid patrols have orders to let pass a small party of Roman horse who give the password, Peroz-Shapur. They are only expecting one group of riders, so you may have to talk your way through. But Maximus speaks Persian, and he is Hibernian.' No one smiled at the attempted joke. 'If all goes well, you should get to Samosata some time tonight.'

'You think the parley with Shapur is a trap,' said Calgacus.

Ballista nodded.

'You must tell the emperor,' Demetrius said.

'I may well, but it will do no good. He will not listen to me.'

Maximus looked puzzled. 'Then you must ride with us. We have cut our way out of bad places before.'

'Not this time. The emperor is expecting me. If I do not appear, they will search. None of us will get away. It may be all right with me, if they do not execute us straight away. I speak good Persian. I may yet be useful to the King of Kings.'

Ballista opened the document case. He took out three sealed papyrus rolls and handed one to each man. 'Manumission papers. Completely legal. I had them drawn up a long time ago in Antioch. Your freedom.'

Demetrius could not contain himself. He fell to his knees, took Ballista's hand and kissed it. 'Thank you. Thank you, Kyrios.'

Ballista raised him up, kissed him on both cheeks, hugged him. 'Don't get too carried away. As my freedman, the Romans would consider you still owe me all sorts of duties.'

Neither of the other men had moved. 'Time to go,' Ballista said.

Maximus threw his papyrus to the ground. 'I am not taking this, and I am not leaving you.' He looked very angry.

Ballista picked up the papyrus. He pushed it down the neck of the Hibernian's mailshirt. 'You are taking this, and you are leaving.'

'The fuck I am.'

'The fuck you are.' Ballista pulled Maximus close. He whispered in his ear. 'The boys. They need you more than me. When you get to Samosata, make your way to Antioch. Look after Isangrim and Dernhelm as you have looked after me.'

Maximus was crying. He could not speak. He nodded. Ballista felt the tears in his own eyes. He squeezed the Hibernian tight, kissed him, then pushed him to arm's length. 'And look after Pale Horse. I love that animal. If anything happens to him, I will fucking kill you.'

'I will die before I let anyone harm your boys.'

'I know it.'

Ballista turned to Calgacus. He unbuckled his sword belt and handed it over, then they embraced. 'Get a message to my father in the north,' Ballista said. 'I will try to get back.'

The ugly old face twisted into a gentle smile. 'Of course you will get back. Like a counterfeit coin, you always do.'

Turpio led up his horse. 'Time to go.' Ballista and Turpio rode in silence across the scorched hillside. Publius Licinius Valerian, Pius, Felix, emperor of the Romans, sat on his quiet horse. Bare-headed, the old man looked out at the enemy. The others were waiting behind him.

'Dominus,' said Ballista. The aged emperor regarded him with little recognition. 'Dominus, I fought for you at Spoletium when you won the throne. I have served you for nearly seven years.'

The heavy, old face looked at Ballista. 'You did not do well in Ephesus.'

'Dominus, this parley is a trap.'

Wearily, Valerian drew a hand across his face. 'It may well be. But what else is there? The army cannot march – the Sassanids will massacre us down on the plain. It cannot stay here with no water or food.'

'Dominus, if we hold out until nightfall, we can try to break out to the north.'

Valerian shook his head. 'The men will not stand for it.'

'You still have over a hundred mounted men, the remains of the Equites Singulares, a few others. We could try and cut our way out.'

'We would never reach the river.' The old man laughed bitterly. 'My men might mutiny, but I will not desert them. Besides, that dear boy Quietus tells me Shapur is a civilized man for a barbarian – a great lover of Euripides. We must talk to him. We may be able to negotiate a safe passage for the army. There is nothing else for it. Let us go.'

Ballista said no more. There was nothing to say.

They rode in columns of twos, Valerian flanked by the Praetorian Prefect Successianus, then the ab Admissionibus Cledonius and the commander of the Equites Singulares Aurelian. Turpio and Ballista brought up the rear.

The valley floor seemed very wide and very empty. They had not gone far when a cheer rolled across from the hillside in front where the Sassanids waited. Behind them was silence.

Half a dozen horsemen detached themselves from the Persian horde and cantered down the slope. In the centre was the unmistakable figure in purple and white, streamers flying out behind, high gold crown on his head – the glorious son of the house of Sasan, the King of Kings in all his majesty.

The eastern horsemen crossed the distance in no time. Shapur reined in his Nisaean stallion in front of Valerian. The other Persians spread out around the Romans.

No one spoke. There was silence. The wind was getting up again. It brought the smell of burning. Little dust devils swirled beneath the horses' hooves.

Shapur's dark, kohl-lined eyes studied the silver-haired Valerian. At length, the King of Kings smiled, almost pleasantly. 'Who is this with the white crest that leads the army's van?' He spoke in Greek. 'You are just as they told me you would be.'

Ballista nudged his horse towards the emperor. His way was blocked by the Lord Suren, on another great black Nisaean stallion.

'Shapur, son of Ardashir,' said Valerian, also in Greek, 'this is an auspicious day.'

'Rather more for me than you, I suspect.' Shapur's laugh seemed one of genuine amusement.

'The first meeting of an emperor of Rome and a king of the house of Sasan. There is much to discuss.'

Shapur shook his head, the pearls he wore in his ears swinging. 'I must tell you, the time for words is past, old man.'

The Nisaean stallion surged forward. With the grace of a natural horseman, Shapur leaned across and seized both Valerian's wrists. He pulled them skywards, half hauling the old emperor up out of the saddle.

Ballista kicked his heels in. Frightened of the Suren's huge mount blocking its way, the northerner's horse refused. Ballista was thrown forward, off balance. The Suren's mail-clad fingers dug into his throat. Desperately, Ballista's fingers sought the Persian's face. They grasped his beard. He pulled. Locked together, the two men struggled.