Narseh told just the mobad Manzik, young Gondofarr, Ballista and Pythonissa to accompany him. Obviously, the veteran Tir-mihr was to take command, should anything happen to the prince. The five riders splashed out into the river. Narseh halted the length of a horse from Hamazasp.
It was for Hamazasp to speak first. The water ran around the horses’ legs. The king of Iberia looked over those with the Sassanid prince. When he reached Ballista, he sneered.
At length, Hamazasp bowed in the saddle, blew a kiss. ‘Welcome the glorious Prince Narseh, son of the Mazda-worshipping divine Shapur, King of Kings of the race of the gods, grandson of the Mazda-worshipping divine Ardashir, King of Kings of the race of the gods, great-grandson of King Papak of the house of Sasan. I, Hamazasp, by the grace of Mazda king of Iberia, and my brother the pitiax, Oroezes, welcome you. How may we and the warriors of Iberia serve you?’
With a slight movement of the head, Narseh acknowledged this. ‘We thank you for the gracious words. In the name of my father Shapur, we wish to cross your land unhindered to drive the nomad Alani back through the Caspian Gates to the sea of grass.’
‘It shall be as you say.’
‘Furthermore, we wish you to provide food for our men, fodder for their horses.’
‘It shall be as you say.’
‘Furthermore, we wish you or your brother, the pitiax Oroezes, to join our expedition with one thousand horsemen, and to take a binding oath to these things.’
‘I will be honoured to lead my men to war with you.’ Hamazasp could not prevent the sly look on his face. ‘All will be as you wish, noble prince of the house of Sasan. But I have a petition. The late King Polemo of Suania unjustly seized territory from Iberia. If his daughter who rides with you will take an oath to return all the land up to the Dareine Pass, my warriors will fight all the more courageously in a just cause with friendship restored between the Iberians and the Suani.’
Narseh turned to Pythonissa. She curtly bowed her head.
Hamazasp took his oath first. It was in the Persian fashion. The mobad Manzik produced the salt, and the king of Iberia swore with his hand on that.
Pythonissa nudged her horse nose to tail with that of Hamazasp. The pitiax reached across her and tied her thumb to that of Hamazasp. The king of Iberia produced a knife. He cut his own thumb, then hers. ‘Neither with steel nor poison,’ he said. Raising their bound hands, he licked the blood from his own thumb then from that of the woman who had once been his daughter-in-law. ‘Sealed and countersealed in blood.’
As Pythonissa repeated the oath, Ballista knew full well that neither of them would keep it.
XXXI
The prince Narseh of the house of Sasan with his warriors and his father’s Caucasian vassals marched out of the north gate of the Iberian town of Harmozike five days before the ides of September. Ballista’s odyssey to rescue Calgacus was going to be decided soon, one way or the other. Yet he feared it may all have taken too long. After they had met Hamazasp down at the Alazonios, etiquette had demanded they remain camped on the riverbanks for two days. First, the king of Iberia had feasted the son of the Sassanid king, then Narseh had returned the compliment. These had been uncomfortable occasions for Ballista. Beyond a formal greeting, he had managed to keep from having to talk to Hamazasp – there were many present – but he could not avoid the Iberian’s glances. The monarch did not attempt to disguise his hatred. Ballista knew the man would like to eat his liver raw.
Another six days had passed as the combined forces wended their way up to Harmozike. There, two more precious days had been consumed by yet larger, yet more extravagant dinners. Wedging himself among Rutilus, Castricius and Maximus, and using Pythonissa as a screen, Ballista again had avoided any conversation with Hamazasp. But in his own residence the king had become bolder, especially when fortified with wine. Several times, Ballista had looked up the hall to realize that Hamazasp was talking about him, laughing with his nobles. Ballista was certain of it. He could not hear the words, but they had glanced over. Had Hamazasp been telling them what he had nearly done to Ballista in the cell in Edessa? Was he claiming more than the truth – claiming that he had gained some revenge for the death of his son by raping his killer? Ballista was furious. If the Iberian said something in Ballista’s hearing, the northerner would have to try to kill him – even though the chances of success were minimal and the likelihood of himself being killed almost certain. But unless that happened, there was nothing he could do.
Pythonissa had said that there was much more than sexual innuendo to be concerned about. Ballista had argued that, as he was doubly protected as an envoy of Rome and a companion of Narseh, the king of Iberia would not dare harm him. Pythonissa’s withering reply had surprised Ballista in the crudity of its language. Did he not understand that they were lodged in the palace? Hamazasp hated him – the northerner had killed his son, and now was fucking his daughter-in-law under his own roof. Pythonissa’s father had not countenanced her remarriage to the old king, but Hamazasp himself had given every indication of wanting to fuck her. Hecate knew, he had tried often enough, in this very building, when she was married to his son. Of course, Hamazasp would not make an overt move against Ballista, just as he would say nothing that Ballista could hear – the Iberian may be a filthy, perverted goat who had tried to fuck his son’s wife – but he was not a fool. Yet had Ballista failed to notice that, in the Caucasus, poison was a way of life? Anyway, she was as concerned for herself as for Ballista. Her relationship with the northerner had made her an enemy in Hamazasp, that and not going to the king’s bed. She had insisted neither Ballista nor she ate or drank anything that had not been tasted by her poor eunuch. She advised Ballista not even to touch anything that others had not already handled. Such procedures were hard to carry out unobtrusively. She did not seem to even try. It had not helped the general atmosphere at court. Nor had Pythonissa’s open nocturnal visits to Ballista’s chamber. At least the eunuch had not died yet.
It was a fine morning as they rode out of Harmozike. The early autumn had taken the intense heat out of the weather. Ballista felt better. He was fully armed and mounted on a good horse – a Nisean stallion lent by young Gondofarr. Ballista’s three Roman friends were around him. They rode at the head of the army, just behind Narseh, well away from the Iberians.
The order of march remained as before, with two thousand of Hamazasp’s Iberians added to the rear. At a last-moment command of Tir-mihr, the rearmost group of Sassanid light horse were divided into two, and one half was placed between the Albanians and the Iberians. Old ethnic animosities might flare at any time. Ballista was confirmed in his admiration for the elderly Persian general.
They rode past the confluence of the Cyrus and Aragos rivers and followed the valley of the latter to the north. The Aragos was broad. It ran in several shallow streams, separated by low shingle banks. The green hills descended some distance away. Every so often they were cut by tributaries that came down in reed-fringed, wooded gorges of their own making.
At the end of the second day, they made camp just beyond where Ballista and Pythonissa had left the Aragos and taken to the hills in their flight to the east. From there, it took the army two days to reach the Dareine Pass. Now the hills were closer. Small figures could be seen on the higher slopes, watching them. It was impossible to say if they were Alani, or followers of Saurmag, or Suani loyal to Azo. Although in dribs and drabs, small numbers of the latter began to appear in the camp to perform proskynesis to Pythonissa. Some stayed to fall in behind her with their weapons.