Surena, clearly out-thought by his grandfather, still maintained an air of defiance. But at length he spoke. ‘I did not mean to insult you, Pacorus. I apologise.’
‘I accept your apology,’ I said.
‘Tell me,’ he replied, ‘this Spartacus of whom you have spoken. What was he like? Why did men follow him?’
‘What was he like? He was like you, full of fire and rage against injustice. But he had a vision of a world free of slavery where all would be equal. He was also the greatest general who has lived in recent times.’
My answer seemed to please him and yet I did not say the words to flatter him. I sensed that he had a sharp mind and an appetite to learn, though his youthful temper was not far from the surface.
‘I think,’ mused his grandfather, ‘that you could learn much from Pacorus.’
My wounds healed quickly, and two days later I made ready to leave the village. The horses that had been captured in the ambush had already been taken away, to the west I was informed, where they would be traded to the Agraci in exchange for weapons. The marsh people were expert in the use of the spear, which they used to catch fish from their reed boats, and I had seen at first hand how they could kill at close quarters with swords and knives, but they had little proficiency when it came to using the bow. This put them at a disadvantage when it came to fighting the soldiers of Chosroes.
‘We do not need bows in the marshes,’ remarked Surena when I questioned him about the subject.
‘It would be a useful skill to learn.’
‘My friends and I know how to use a bow, but my people are herdsmen and fishermen, not soldiers. They have to tend to their animals and put food in their bellies. There is little time for anything else.’
On the morning that I prepared myself and Remus for the journey back to my kingdom Fadil came to me, with Surena tagging along behind him hauling a bulging net of fish he had caught earlier. One thing was certain, the Ma’adan would never starve in these watery lands. Surena dumped his haul on the ground and sat beside it. The day was still young but the temperature was already high as the sun rose in a cloudless, blue sky. Around us villagers busied themselves with the daily chores that were essential to everyday life — catching fish, milking the buffaloes before they disappeared into the cool waters, repairing huts, mending clothes and harvesting reeds to make baskets, spears and boats. Surena was right — these people had no time to be full-time soldiers.
‘So,’ said Fadil, ‘you are leaving us.’
‘I have to get back to my own people, sir. I have been away for too long.’
He nodded. ‘Of course. But I would ask a favour of you before you depart.’
I checked the saddle straps on Remus. ‘If it is within my power to grant it, consider it done.’
He clapped his hands. ‘It is indeed, for I want you to take Surena with you.’
The youth spun round and got to his feet. ‘Grandfather?’
‘You chaff at the bit, Surena,’ said Fadil. ‘You are a good boy and you work hard, but you have a hunger for knowledge and great ambition that living in the marshlands will not satisfy. I believe that the gods sent Pacorus to us for a purpose, and that purpose is to allow you to fulfil your destiny.’
‘I am Ma’adan,’ said Surena with pride. ‘I do not wish to leave my homeland.’
His grandfather laid a hand on his grandson’s shoulder. ‘In your heart you do. Ever since the death of your parents your soul has been restless. You must become what you were destined to be, and that is not a farmer.’
Surena was far from happy at the prospect of leaving. ‘I do not wish to go.’
‘I leave in one hour,’ I told him as he walked off, jumped in his boat and rowed it away. ‘With or without you.’
Fadil picked up the haul of fish. ‘The volatility of youth.’
I took my bow from its case and tested the bowstring, then returned it to its cover.
‘He seems set on staying.’
‘That is because, like all young ones, he does not like to be told what to do. But I think his sense of curiosity will get the better of him.’
‘You do know, sir, that I go back to fight my enemies. Surena will be in danger.’
He unloaded the haul of fish into a large reed basket. ‘He is in danger here, we all are, and I do not wish to see him killed in some fight with the soldiers of Chosroes. He has a certain talent for war but he is young and impetuous, and those two qualities will get him killed if he remains here, that much I know. With you he will learn much, not least how to stay alive.’
‘You have great faith in me,’ I said. ‘Perhaps too much.’
Fadil smiled to reveal a mouth of perfect white teeth. ‘The one, perhaps the only advantage with growing old is that you acquire a certain amount of wisdom. I believe that you are a man in whom one can have faith.’
‘Well, if he does decide to come with me I promise you that I will take care of him.’
‘I know that,’ replied Fadil, ‘otherwise I would not have asked.’
To my great surprise, an hour later Surena appeared at his grandfather’s hut with a horse in tow, a rather scraggy looking dun-coloured beast with only a saddlecloth on its back, though it did at least have a bridle and reins. Surena also brought his comrades-in-arms, the youths who had sprung the ambush that had freed me. And then others arrived, men and their families, until each piece of dry ground in the village was packed with sightseers. Surena, dressed in a tan shirt and bleached leggings that ended just below the knee, nodded at me. I nodded back. He had his long knife tucked into his belt and a reed spear in his hand, while over his shoulder he carried a bow and a quiver filled with arrows, no doubt taken from a dead enemy soldier. He walked over to his grandparents standing beside me and hugged them both. I noticed tears in his eyes as his grandfather spoke softly in his ear, and then he brushed the tears away before he turned and faced the crowd. He held his spear aloft.
‘Ma’adan,’ he shouted at the top of his voice, and they replied in kind, chanting the name of his people as I thanked his grandparents, shook their hands and then led Remus into the marsh. Surena followed me, leaving his family, his friends and his past behind him.
With Surena acting as a guide our journey west though the marshes was relatively easy. He had travelled far and wide throughout his land and knew the location of shallow waters, banks of dry land and how to avoid quicksand, the deadly liquid sand that could swallow a man and his horse in no time at all. He speared fish each day and we ate them at night, the horses being fed on the young shoots that grew in the waters. Surena said nothing to me on the first day and little on the second, but on the third day the walls of his silence began to crumble. He had made a fire after our long journey through the endless waters and reeds, and was cooking fish over it as he began to tell his story. I did not interrupt or question him, for in such circumstances I have learned that it is best to let individuals unburden themselves at their own pace. He did not look at me as he recalled events from his past.
‘My parents died when I was fifteen, killed by a patrol of Chosroes’ soldiers. They had taken our herd of water buffaloes onto dry land on the far side of the river to eat the herbs and dry grasses. My grandfather has told me that my mother, his daughter, was very beautiful and that was why the soldiers raped her first. They forced my father to watch before they killed him, and when they had finished with her they murdered her too. And then they killed all of their animals. I asked my grandfather how he knew it had happened so, seeing as nobody except the soldiers was present, but he just closed his eyes and told me he knew. Only later, when I had killed myself and had seen the types of wounds inflicted on bodies, did I know that he had told the truth.’