My father smiled, then looked at the other kings. ‘And you, my friends?’
They all fell into line, as did I of course. In the few times I had seen Phraates he had always struck me as a conscientious, earnest individual who took his responsibilities very seriously. I was sure that the other kings would feel the same way.
Before we attended the council there was time to visit one of the holiest places in the Parthian Empire, the resting place of Arsaces, the first Parthian king and the founder of the Arsacid dynasty. The tomb itself was a granite sarcophagus set in the middle of a high-domed mausoleum near the centre of the city, a mile to the north of the great square. The mausoleum was surrounded by a high wall and had a small square in front of its main entrance, which was flanked by two white stone lions. The flagstones of the square were also brilliant white, and we had to shield our eyes from the glare as we walked across them to enter the tomb. There were five of us that day — myself, Gallia, Nergal, Praxima and Domitus, who had taken a keen interest in the history of his adopted homeland. We wore baggy leggings and loose-fitting tunics, though Domitus wore his customary white tunic and mail armour and had his helmet on his head. With its white plume he looked like a king and we his retinue. We all wore swords and daggers at our hips. The entrance was flanked by spearmen, with more guards posted around the grey sarcophagus. The interior of the building was quiet and cool, with a white marble floor and white marble columns around the sides. Domitus took off his helmet and we all walked over to the tomb, the sides of which were adorned with carvings of archers on horseback fighting and hunting. It was a most peaceful place.
‘Arsaces was the first Parthian king,’ I said in hushed tones. ‘His blood flows through my veins, so I like to think.’
‘Do all Parthians come here to pay homage, lord?’ asked Praxima.
I shook my head. ‘Unfortunately, most Parthians are too busy facing life’s hardships to make the trip here. But all have heard of him and I am glad that you, my friends, are here with me.’ I reached over to hold Gallia’s hand.
‘A most touching scene.’
There are very few men who I dislike when I first see them, for I like to think of myself as a fair-minded individual. But with Mithridates it was different. I disliked him on sight. No, that is incorrect; he invoked my animosity when I heard his voice, before I had even clapped eyes on him.
I turned to see a man about my age with long, shoulder-length black hair that was as straight as an arrow. He was tall and slim, though certainly not gaunt, his face long with wide cheekbones. His neatly trimmed beard came to a point just beneath his chin accentuating the narrowness of his visage, so that he resembled a snake. As I was to discover, it was a most appropriate analogy. He was dressed in a rich black tunic with silver edging around the neck and cuffs, black leggings and black boots studded with silver. He wore a black leather belt, from which hung a sword in an expensive scabbard, also adorned with silver leaf.
His soulless black eyes glinted with mocking arrogance as he bowed his head to me. ‘The whole empire has heard of King Pacorus. I salute you. How are you finding my kingdom?’
‘Your kingdom?’
‘Of course, did I not introduce myself? How rude of me. I am Prince Mithridates, former ruler of Dura.’
He had five companions with him, all men about his age and all wearing expensive clothes and haughty expressions, save one at the end who seemed embarrassed by it all.
‘Long have I wanted to meet the hero of children’s stories and the friend of slaves.’ His voice was condescending and I felt an anger rise in me.
‘So, you are Prince Mithridates,’ I said.
He smiled, revealing a row of perfect white teeth, the serpent’s fangs. ‘Indeed, majesty.’
‘It would have been good manners to have handed over your kingdom to me when I arrived at Dura, do you not think?’
His smiled disappeared, to be replaced by a mask of contempt. ‘My grandfather was old and robbed of his senses when he saw fit to give you my throne.’
His effrontery was breathtaking. ‘And you earned the throne through merit, did you?’
‘I certainly did not win it by consorting with slaves and other low-borns.’
‘Have a care, prince,’ I snarled, ‘your words may lead you into trouble.’
He ignored my veiled threat and leered at Gallia.
‘So this is your queen. For once the street talk and brothel gossip do not lie. A rare beauty indeed. Such a waste to live in the scorpion-infested frontier outpost of Dura, though. A queen deserves a proper palace and kingdom befitting her great beauty.’
Gallia smiled and glided towards him, stopping inches from him. His eyes were alight with lust.
‘And would you give me such a palace, lord prince?’ she purred.
His eyes darted from hers to her long blonde hair, to her breasts and then back again to her blue eyes.
‘I would make you a queen among queens.’
She moved her face slowly towards his, her full lips parting ever so slightly as if to kiss him. Time seemed to slow as we all stared, transfixed, by the scene. Then her right hand shot forward into his groin as she grabbed his genitals and held them in an iron grip. Pain contorted his face. Praxima squealed and burst into laughter while Nergal and the companions of Mithridates looked stunned.
Gallia’s face was a mask of cold contempt as she held the prince’s most precious possessions firmly in place. ‘I have heard lots about you, little boy, and none of it is good. You are not fit to be called a prince, let alone a king, you who makes war upon small children. Did you think that I would be interested in such a poor specimen of a man?’
Now his friends had recovered from their shock and moved menacingly towards Gallia, hands on their sword hilts, except for the embarrassed one, but like lightning Domitus whipped out his gladius and had the point at the throat of the foremost man, a youth with a large nose and gold bracelets around his wrist. He looked alarmed as this cropped-haired barbarian pressed the point of his Roman sword into his neck.
Gallia released Mithridates and he slumped to the floor in great pain. I stepped in front of my wife and folded my arms in front of me.
‘You defile this holy place with your presence, Mithridates. Leave us and go play with your toys.’
Wincing, he staggered to his feet. I thought he was going to skulk away, but at that time I did not know his capacity for hate. He glowered at me, drew himself up to his full height and then drew his sword. I likewise drew mine, but before either of us had a chance to cross blades the embarrassed companion of Mithridates with the kindly face was between us. He grabbed Mithridates by the shoulders and pushed him away.
‘You cannot fight here, in this revered place.’
‘Get out of my way, brother,’ hissed Mithridates.
So he was Mithridates’ brother. They were utterly different in looks and manner.
As Mithridates sulked but made no attempt to attack me, his brother turned to face me.
‘Lord king, please forgive my brother’s intemperance. I would beg that you do not fight him for I have heard of your prowess in battle, and if you kill him then my honour will demand that I must avenge his death, and I would much rather get to know you as a friend rather than as an enemy.’
He then went down on one knee before me and bowed his head.
‘Get up,’ I said, ‘and take your brother and his pets away.’
Mithridates and his companions stood in a group behind the one with a sword at his throat. Their eyes still burned with hatred towards me, though none of them made any threatening moves.
‘Release him Domitus,’ I ordered. The commander of my legion sheathed his gladius and stared at the man with the gold bracelets, daring him to draw his sword. He did not.
Mithridates’ brother bowed his head at Gallia. ‘Your beauty is truly stunning, majesty. Please accept my apologies for any offence my family has given you.’