"It's talk," Norbanus said. "Are they likely to attempt treachery?"
Jonathan answered. "Everything I've heard of them says the Parthians are most punctilious and honorable in these matters."
"Then we talk," Norbanus said. "Now, how shall we go about this? A king should not ride out to parley unless there is a king leading those men."
"I doubt the king himself came to support Manasseh," said Jonathan, "but the leader will be a close relative. If you ride out without me, they will try to outmatch you in arrogance. Not, I admit, that that is very easy to do. If I go, my condescension will give us an edge in negotiations."
"Royal punctilio is your realm of expertise," Norbanus said. "Let's go."
With Jonathan in the lead, Norbanus riding to his right and half a horse length to his rear, a few senior officers behind them, the party rode out to confer with the strangers. Oozing confidence, Jonathan drew up within easy conversation distance of the Parthian spokesmen.
To the Romans, these riders were truly alien, far more so than the Jews, who had been exposed to Greek influence for many centuries. They wore long trousers and long-sleeved jackets stitched with colorful designs in gold thread. They were long-haired and bearded, their heads covered by tall caps with long lappets hanging before their ears. Each man wore a cased bow and arrows at his belt, and some of them wore a strange sort of armor made of small metal splints tightly laced in rows and lacquered in vivid colors. Most astonishingly, they wore facial cosmetics, with rouged cheeks and lips, and the eyebrows darkened with kohl, drawn to a point above the nose and extended into long wings at the sides. The Romans would have laughed at such a display, but the ferocity of the faces opposite removed any hint of effeminacy.
Jonathan spoke first. "I am Jonathan ben Isaac, king of all the Jews. I demand to know what brings the soldiers of King Phraates within my borders."
One of the Parthians guided his horse a few steps forward. He looked much the same as the others but his light armor was gilded. "I am Surenas, royal cousin of King Phraates. We are here at the invitation of our friend, King Manasseh. Where may we find him?" His Greek was heavily accented but clear. While he spoke, his eyes were fixed upon the Roman party, and the legions standing a bowshot beyond.
"Alas, my brother is no more, and his rebellious province is once more returned to its rightful sovereign. I take very seriously this unwarranted incursion into my kingdom." The Parthians bristled but held their tongues for the moment. Jonathan relaxed his provocative tone a few notches. "However, since you came here under the mistaken belief that you had the invitation of a sovereign, I shall not regard this as an invasion, so long as you refrain from all belligerent acts henceforth."
Surenas nodded. "I can see that things have changed here. My king must hear of the new order of things." He made a gesture of his hand, and the army behind him, until that moment tense and poised for battle, became a great crowd of relaxing horsemen. Many men dismounted and began to curry their mounts, examine hooves and dig rations from there saddlebags.
Norbanus found this an excellent show, one calculated to give an impression of safety. He also noticed that not a single man unstrung his bow. These men could be in the saddle, charging and shooting in moments. Those bows bothered him. They were great, multiple-curved weapons and looked far more powerful than any bows he had ever seen.
"I see that something else has changed," Surenas went on, still eyeing the Romans. "Who are these men whose soldierly bearing is so formidable? I can see how you value them as allies, since they hold the center of your battle line."
"These are the soldiers of my new ally, Rome."
The accented eyebrows rose fractionally. "Rome? I have never heard of this place."
"I assure you, you will be hearing a great deal more of us. I am the Proconsul Titus Norbanus, commander of the legions you see before you, envoy of the Senate of the Republic of Rome." He rode a little forward. "My republic wishes only the friendliest relations with the other nations of the world."
"The late King Manasseh seems to have learned differently," Surenas noted.
"The usurper was in rebellion against our ally, King Jonathan. Alliances are a sacred matter to us Romans. We never leave an ally without support."
"Admirable. I shall report all this to King Phraates." He was perplexed, but clearly knew that he was in no position to take action. Then, to Jonathan: "I must confer with my officers. The day advances and we would like to pitch camp here and make our preparations for departure."
Now Jonathan allowed himself to unbend. The foreigners had asked his permission to camp. Hostilities were off, for the moment. "Of course. As long as you offer no violence to my people, you are welcome to my grass, wood and water."
"With King Jonathan's permission," Norbanus said, "I would like to send some of my officers to your camp this evening. Now would be an excellent time for us to make preparations for an exchange of envoys to open diplomatic relations between our nations."
Surenas nodded curtly. "Very well. I am empowered to arrange such negotiations, pending my lord's approval."
Jonathan smiled. He knew these Romans now. Those officers would spy out every detail of the Parthian camp.
The Parthians rode back to their lines and Norbanus turned to Jonathan. "Will there be an exchange of gifts?"
"It's customary. I will give them cloaks and jewelry, that sort of thing. They will probably give me horses, saddles and so forth. Why?"
"See if you can get a few of their bows."
"Why do you want bows?" Jonathan asked.
"I've never seen their like. I want to send them to the Senate for study. It's our usual practice."
The other Roman officers nodded. They had noticed the bows, as well.
That night Norbanus took his ease beneath the awning of his new praetorium. He knew that some of his officers thought the royal tent far too luxurious for a Roman officer, and he did not care. He had been watching his fellow Romans from the time they had departed the austere northlands, and the signs of change were unmistakable.
Before crossing the Alps, Roman soldiers could make Spartans look decadent. Now, after many months in the South, having seen the rich farmlands of Italy, having experienced the incredible luxury of Carthage, the vast wealth of Egypt, they were changing. Troopers and officers often wore gold now. When they eyed a foreign city, they did not just apprehend danger, they assessed its potential in terms of loot.
They hadn't softened, and he would see to it that they didn't, but they had changed. From now on, they would fight not just for the glory and safety of Rome, but for their own enrichment. A man who would command legions henceforth could not depend upon his men's patriotism and discipline to assure their loyalty. He would have to appeal to their greed.
Titus Norbanus foresaw no problem with that.
He smelled the approaching women before he saw them. Their fragrance was wonderful. In the North, he had never understood the allure of perfume. It was what drew bees to flowers, no more. The closest Romans had come to an appreciation of scent was in the form of incense, imported at great cost to burn before the altars of the gods. Even women never anointed their bodies with fragrance. In the South and East, though, perfume was as important as color and jewels and fine food and wine. These people studied the sensual arts as Romans studied those of war. Norbanus had discovered that war would win you those luxuries, and the women and slaves to go with them. It was a simple equation.
"You see?" said Glaphyra or Roxana, he was not sure which. "All is falling into your hands, just as we foretold. The stars are never wrong."
"Do their seeresses ever make mistakes?" he asked, taking a hand and drawing her before him. It was Roxana, but he knew her twin was nearby.