‘Quite certain, governor. It came from the mouths of more than one of the condemned. I think they were so forthcoming with information in the hope that it would save their lives.’
‘And did it?’ asked Gabinius.
Mark Antony shook his head. ‘No. There can be no mercy for the enemies of Rome.’
Gabinius urged his horse forward. ‘Quite right. Well, perhaps our Parthian guests can shed more light on this matter.’
The pace of their journey was slowed as they rode through Antioch’s wide streets crowded with caravans, travellers, worshippers and citizens. Founded nearly two hundred and fifty years ago by Seleucus Nicator, one of Alexander of Macedon’s generals, it was still populated mainly by Greeks, though it also contained a host of other races, a teeming mass of tens of thousands of people. Built beside the River Orontes, Antioch grew rich from the trade between the Mediterranean and Mesopotamia and the produce of the surrounding fertile valleys. Its many theatres, temples, libraries and public baths were testimony to the city’s great wealth. And the promise of riches attracted people from far and wide, its great squares always thronged with poets, philosophers and out-of-work actors entertaining the public with varying degrees of success. Gabinius had done little to stamp Roman influence on the city apart from ordering the building of an aqueduct to being fresh water from nearby Mount Silpius and paving the city’s gravel roads.
The Parthians had appeared a week ago. The first Gabinius knew of their impending arrival was the appearance of a fat courtier at his headquarters; a man with pale skin, a wispy beard and small piggy eyes whose grovelling servility he had found distasteful. The Parthian nobles had subsequently sent the governor a sizeable amount of gold as thanks for his offer of sanctuary in their time of strife (though in reality they had invited themselves), which had been far more satisfying. Gabinius had given them rooms in Antioch’s palace, a vast edifice built on the island formed by two branches of the Orontes. This complex was also Gabinius’ headquarters but was so expansive that it allowed him to avoid them and ignore their requests for an audience with him, but today he had agreed to meet them, if only to end the constant fawning messages they sent him and his senior officers.
The same fat courtier that Gabinius had met a week ago greeted him and Mark Antony at the doors to the chambers in the west wing of the palace where the Parthians had been housed. The courtier bowed to them and then opened the doors to allow them to enter. Gabinius had his helmet in the crook of his arm and he looked disapprovingly at Mark Antony and then down at his own helmet, indicating that his subordinate should also remove his headgear.
The room was spacious and airy, with red marble columns supporting the ceiling and green marble tiles covering the floor. The tiles came from the local quarry that produced the same coloured marble that furnished local villas and was also exported to Greece and Italy. The courtier took short steps as he led them to the far end of the room towards two high-backed chairs occupied by a man and woman.
The courtier halted around five paces in front of the seated individuals and bowed deeply to them.
‘The Proconsul Aulus Gabinius and Praefectus Alae Mark Antony, highnesses,’ he announced in a high-pitched voice. He turned to the pair of Romans and bowed again.
‘My I present King of Kings Mithridates, high king of the Parthian Empire, and his mother, Queen Aruna.’
Gabinius nodded his head at them both and Mark Antony flashed a smile at the full-bosomed woman wearing a sour expression. The Romans’ seeming lack of deference earned looks of disapproval from the gaudily dressed courtiers assembled either side of the royal pair. One individual caught the governor’s attention: a young man in his early twenties, tall, broad shouldered, clean-shaven and with a fair complexion and shorter hair than the other men. He had a handsome face, or would have had it not been for the hateful expression it wore. He seemed to be positively bristling with animosity.
Regarding the king, the proconsul thought that the wide cheekbones and long, pointed jaw line of this Mithridates made him look like a snake, an image reinforced by his dark brown, almost black eyes and slim frame.
‘I trust your quarters are agreeable.’
‘We do not intend to stay here long,’ the king shot back.
Gabinius was pleased by this good news. The last thing he needed was a landless, ungrateful king and his hangers-on in his province.
‘Though we are grateful for your hospitality,’ smiled the queen, who Gabinius noted was dripping with gold and diamond jewellery. Indeed, he observed that all the courtiers appeared to be wearing gold rings and necklaces, while rich stones dangled from the women’s ears.
‘It is my intention to return to Parthia,’ said Mithridates, ‘to punish those who have rebelled against me and conspired to steal my throne. I requested this meeting to propose an alliance between our two great powers to achieve this end.’
Gabinius was already bored. The information he had received concerning this Mithridates had revealed that he was the loser in a Parthian civil war and therefore had no power with which to reclaim his realm. The governor smiled politely and was about to say that it was not within his power to make alliances with foreign powers.
‘You would be richly rewarded for such assistance,’ added Mithridates.
Gabinius smiled again and suddenly became much more interested in what this foreign king had to say.
As a proconsul he had the authority to raise troops and make war on Rome’s enemies, though he had no interest in his own treasury funding such endeavours. Wars could be ruinously expensive. However, if the funding came from elsewhere then he might consider conducting a campaign in the east. It was true that he had already made plans to capture the oasis of Palmyra, both to put an end to the troublesome Agraci threat and to take control of the lucrative trade that passed through the oasis settlement, but that expedition would more than pay for itself when he had control of Palmyra. He was wary of other adventures that might be expensive for very little reward.
‘Why would I make war on Parthia?’ queried Gabinius.
‘To ensure its ruler is a friend of Rome,’ answered the queen.
‘Who is the current ruler of Parthia?’ asked Gabinius.
Mithridates’ eyes narrowed. ‘Orodes, my stepbrother.’
‘No friend of the Romans,’ added the queen.
‘His main ally is a traitor named Pacorus, a man who was a slave and fought against the Romans,’ Mithridates spat the words with venom.
‘I have heard of this man,’ said Mark Antony, rubbing his aquiline nose with a finger.
‘Man?’ said Aruna dismissively.
‘As have I,’ said Gabinius. Pompey had spoken of him admiringly when he had returned to Rome, and of the peace they had both agreed, though the governor had an altogether different opinion of this foreign king who had refused to hand over a killer of Roman soldiers.
‘But did you know that he is also a friend of the Agraci,’ said Mithridates, ‘the scourge that torments both our peoples?’
‘I did not,’ admitted Gabinius, whose opinion of King Pacorus was lowering by the minute. ‘Though I do know that he is a friend of Jews who kill Romans.’
Gabinius went on to inform Mithridates about a man named Aaron who was the treasurer at Dura Europos and who was wanted for the murder of several Roman soldiers in Judea.
‘I have also heard rumours that this Aaron is a friend of a Jewish prince named Alexander,’ remarked Mithridates.
‘Alexander Maccebeus?’ asked Mark Antony.
‘I do not know,’ replied Mithridates, ‘but other rumours tell of the armouries at Dura Europos sending weapons to this Alexander with the assistance of the Agraci.’
‘You said that Rome would be richly rewarded for its assistance, said Gabinius, changing the subject.
Mithridates smiled at the governor. ‘Assist me and I will reward you from the great royal treasury at Ctesiphon, the seat of Parthian power and only three weeks’ march from Syria. Once I am reinstalled on my throne I will give you three thousand talents of gold for your support.’