The Slave King by Peter Darman

Author:Peter Darman [Darman, Peter]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: war, spartacus, ancient rome, parthia, war adventure, parthian shot, parthian, parthians, ancient parthia
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 10

‘Burn like fire, scorch like flame.’

Two minutes after we had retired to our bedroom there was a knock at the door. I ordered whoever it was to enter and was stunned to see the boy who had taken us to the camp of the high ones standing before us, tray in hand and on it what appeared to be two glowing silver chalices.

‘A gift for the King and Queen of Dura,’ he said, walking over to us.

Gallia looked at me and then him. ‘A gift from whom?’

‘It is bad manners to enquire as to who has gifted you a treasure.’

‘Who are you?’ she demanded.

‘Who are you?’ he retorted angrily. ‘You who insult the priests of my masters while the enemy creeps up on this city?’

I grew alarmed. ‘What?’

His eyes glinted with evil relish. ‘The enemy has stolen a march on you, King Pacorus. No sleep for you tonight. Drink. You will need it.’

I took one of the chalices and sipped at the liquid. It was the same intoxicating, ethereal drink we had been served in the camp of the immortals and I gulped it down greedily, a warm, invigorating sensation racing through my torso and limbs. Gallia also drank rapaciously, her eyes a vivid blue after she had finished.

‘Thank you,’ I said.

‘Better hurry,’ he grinned, ‘before it is too late.’

I did as he advised, pulling on my armoured cuirass and strapping on my sword belt, Gallia doing the same. In our haste we forgot about the boy, buckling our belts and pulling on our boots. But when we looked up there was no one in the doorway. He had vanished. We headed for the throne room where guards stood sentry night and day to protect the great dragon banner hanging on the wall.

‘Sound the alarm,’ I shouted at them when we burst into the chamber.

They looked at each other.

‘Now!’ I screamed.

The silence of the palace was broken as the alarm was raised and a bleary-eyed Akmon and Lusin came into the chamber moments later, followed by a half-dressed Pogon and an irate Joro. Lucius Varsas alone among us looked as though he was about to take a morning stroll.

‘What is the meaning of this?’ demanded Joro.

‘The enemy is attacking the walls,’ I told him, ‘we must go to the gates immediately.’

Gallia turned and marched towards the doors.

‘I would advise you all to get to your positions as soon as possible,’ I said, hurrying after my wife, ‘that is an order, Lucius.’

He followed us, leaving the Medians totally befuddled. But Akmon, perhaps sensing that the gods had visited his palace, commanded his governor and general to hasten to their positions, calling for his armour and sword as we left the chamber. We went straight to the stables to fetch our horses, saddling them ourselves as the equine night watchman apologised profusely for the lack of stable hands and farriers present. I told him he was not at fault but warned him that his king and General Joro would soon be

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