I drained my silver drinking vessel, a rhyton, and held it up to be refilled. Fashioned into the shape of a ram’s head it was a beautiful piece, highly polished and delicately crafted. I turned the drinking vessel in my hand as a servant walked towards me with a jug of wine. I saw the reflection of a figure behind me in the polished surface of the rhyton and instinctively moved to my right. As I turned to see who it was, a sword blade directed at my head suddenly splintered the back of my chair. I instinctively rolled out of it and kicked it away as Polemo wrenched his blade free. I jumped to my feet and drew my own sword, then advanced to meet my would-be assassin.
‘Godarz,’ I shouted, ‘get the women out of here. Sound the alarm.’
Polemo smiled. ‘I have a message for you, slave king.’
He attacked me with powerful slashing blows directed against my head. I parried them with some difficulty and then tried to thrust my spatha into his chest. But he sprang back and avoided my sword point with ease.
Polemo grinned once more. ‘King Mithridates sends his greetings.’
Then he came at me once more and again tried to behead me with his blade. His strength and speed forced me back. I caught his last slashing blow with my own blade, grabbed his sword hand with my left hand and head-butted his nose. He grimaced and staggered back, his nose broken.
I glanced behind me and saw with horror Gallia grappling with Nadira, who had a dagger in her hand and was trying to stab my wife.
Godarz was standing, transfixed by what was happening in front of him.
‘Godarz!’ I screamed. ‘Kill her, kill her now!’
I turned and saw the figure of Polemo charge at me once more. A servant ran at him but Polemo saw him, swung his blade to his left and sliced open the man’s belly. A piercing scream came from the servant as he collapsed to the ground. Polemo raced over to the door that lead to the kitchen corridor and slammed it shut.
‘Godarz,’ I shouted again. ‘In the name of Shamash do something!’
Godarz looked at me and then at Nadira and Gallia grappling with each other. He came to his senses and raced over to grab Nadira, who slapped Gallia round the face, pushed her to the ground and then swung round. Godarz was not stabbed by her dagger but rather ran on to its blade. Nadira grabbed his shoulder with her left hand and then stabbed him twice more before turning back to face Gallia. Another servant ran into the room from the hall.
‘Sound the alarm,’ I screamed, but Polemo was too quick and split the back of the man’s head with his sword as he tried to run from the room. I ran at Polemo, my spatha grasped with both hands, and hacked at his head. He parried my blows but blood was now pouring from his shattered nose and he had difficulty in maintaining his defence. He tried to bar the door with a small table that had been positioned against the wall beside it, but another servant burst into the room and interrupted him. The servant looked at me and then died as Polemo nearly severed his head with a great swing of his sword. I screamed and ran at Polemo again, slashing at his neck and then whipping my blade back to thrust the point into his left shoulder. He groaned and winced in pain but still advanced and directed more blows against me. His strength was failing, though, and the sword strikes were becoming slower and easier to parry.
I looked behind me and saw Godarz lying on the floor. Gallia had sprung to her feet, grabbed a knife from the table and was facing Nadira.
‘Come on, bitch!’ she screamed.
Nadira glanced at me and then at Polemo, who was now bleeding from both the nose and shoulder. She spat at Gallia and ran over to Polemo.
‘Come, we must go.’
Polemo raised his sword at me and then they fled from the room. Gallia ran to Godarz and cradled his head in her arms. Another servant rushed into the room and stared in horror at the scene that greeted his eyes.
‘Sound the alarm,’ I shouted. ‘Go quickly!’
His mouth was open in terror and he shook his head like a demented man as he fled. I knelt beside Godarz. Tears were running down Gallia’s cheeks as she held him. I looked at the blood oozing from the wound in his belly and knew he was dying. I heard the alarm bell ringing in the courtyard and shortly after a dozen guards raced into the room.
‘Get a doctor,’ I ordered.
Godarz was staring at the ceiling, a far-away look in his eyes. ‘She said she loved me. I do not understand.’
‘Don’t speak,’ said Gallia softly, ‘Alcaeus will be here soon.’
Godarz looked at her. ‘I loved her, you know.’
Her tears fell on his face. ‘I know.’
Godarz’s shirt was soaked with blood by the time Alcaeus our Greek physician appeared with his canvas bag over his shoulder. He ignored Gallia and me as he knelt down beside Godarz, reached into his bag and extracted a small knife. He cut away Godarz’s shirt to examine the wound. I could see that it was deep, blood now oozing onto the floor. Alcaeus worked with skill and speed, cleaning the wound with vinegar and then applying a large honey-impregnated dressing on it. He then wound a large bandage around Godarz’s belly in an attempt to staunch the flow of blood, but Godarz had already lost so much. He did not speak now, only stared unblinking at Gallia with a bewildered look in his eyes.
Domitus ran into the room followed by four of his officers and other servants. He stared at Godarz and I thought I detected a look of distress in his eyes, then his stern countenance returned.
‘What happened?’
I stood up to face him, a wave of grief sweeping over me.
‘That whore Nadira and Godarz’s new headman were assassins sent by Mithridates. They fled but must still be in the city. They might try to escape using the harbour.’
The tiny harbour was reached via a small gate in the city’s southern wall. Domitus turned to his officers.
‘Turn out the garrison, seal the city and organise sweeps of all the buildings. Find them,’ he ordered.
The men saluted and ran from the room.
‘He’s gone, I’m sorry.’
I turned to see Alcaeus had a finger at Godarz’s neck to feel for a pulse. He shook his head at Gallia and then closed my governor’s eyes. Gallia pulled up Godarz’s head to her face and began sobbing. Domitus ordered everyone out of the room.
‘I’m sorry.’
He placed a hand on my shoulder and also took his leave, as did Alcaeus. I knelt beside Gallia and we both wept for our dead friend.
The sweep of the city was carried out at once, soldiers hammering on every door to gain entrance. Soon word spread that the governor had been murdered and dazed and confused citizens, most in their night attire, flooded onto the streets. Many headed for the city’s central square, perhaps thinking that a herald would inform them of what had happened and what measures I was taking. But the only thing I did was to assist Alcaeus carry the body of Godarz to his bedroom where it was washed and dressed. Most of his servants were in tears as they attempted to carry out their duties. Godarz had been a fair and gentle master, though like Gallia and I he had no slaves in his household, only paid servants. Those of us who had been slaves had no wish to be surrounded by others who lived in such misery. Afterwards I was numb as I held my wife and we made our way back to the palace. I found an ashen-faced Rsan on the palace steps. I merely nodded at him as we passed. There were no words I could speak that would ease his anguish.