The Parthian Read Online Free PDF

‘He may not take kindly to being treated as an unequal.’
    Normally the commander of a king’s bodyguard would not dare to address his lord thus, but Vistaspa himself had once been a prince and he and my father had a close relationship, almost like brothers, which was another thing that annoyed me about him.
    My father bristled at the suggestion. ‘We’ve saved his lazy fat arse from being roasted over a Roman fire, and he can’t even be bothered to ride out himself to thank me. He doesn’t deserve to be a king. Little toad.’
    ‘A rich toad,’ remarked Vistaspa.
    We reached the city of Zeugma two hours later. Lying on the west bank of the River Euphrates, the city hugged the river for four miles either side of the bridge of boats that spanned the waterway. Surrounded by rocky outcrops, Zeugma was like a golden egg in a stone nest. As we approached the bridge we encountered heavy traffic on the road, mostly camel caravans going east or heading for Roman Syria. Soon we were covered with a fine dust kicked up by the dozens of camels, donkeys and human feet on the highway. In the distance, on a gently rising hill that swept up from the river, sat a host of large villas, where the city’s aristocrats lived I assumed. And on the top of that summit, standing alone but proud, sat a building more magnificent than the rest, with brightly coloured flags flying from every tower.
    ‘Vistaspa, find a place to pitch our camp for tonight. My son and I will visit our host and convey our greetings. Find a place upstream, where the water is fresh. Come Pacorus,’ my father urged his horse forward. Vistaspa motioned for a troop of horse to escort us, and then went in search of the garrison commander.
    As we moved across the wooden bridge and into the city, we passed through one of the gates in the city’s walls. Guards stood on the ramparts and both inside and outside the wooden gates, each one hung on large iron hinges. The guards watched us as we passed but made no effort to stop us. Clearly we were expected. Once inside the city we were met by a richly adorned officer on a shiny black stallion flanked by two of his men, who also rode immaculate black horses. He wore a red headband, a yellow tunic with silver edging at the neck and yellow trousers. His only weapon was a sword at his left hip, which was encased in a red scabbard adorned with jewels. He placed his right hand on his chest and bowed his head.
    ‘King Varaz, my liege King Darius welcomes you to his city and asks that you partake of his hospitality.’
    ‘I and my son would be honoured,’ my father replied. ‘Please lead the way.’
    Our escorts rode before us as we headed away from the city’s wide main thoroughfare onto a side road that was obviously reserved for nobles and the king, as it was empty of all traffic. Guards in yellow tunics and trousers, armed with spears and wicker shields, stood on each side of the road every ten paces or so.
    After about twenty minutes of climbing gently we came to the royal palace. The palace’s main gate was a single arch flanked by two towers, the whole structure covered with yellow enamelled tiles. The palace itself was set in the middle of verdant gardens filled with palm trees, fountains and carefully manicured lawns. Servants rushed forward and placed wooden stools beside our mounts to aid our dismounting. Our escort also dismounted and bowed again to my father.
    ‘Your horses will be fed, water and groomed. My master awaits your pleasure, King Varaz.’
    My father acknowledged him and bade him lead the way. I followed, while our cavalry troop led their horses towards the stables. The palace was of pure white stone fronted with white marble columns with gold-covered volutes. We ascended the marble steps and entered the portico, which had a marble floor. We were led through the portico and into the throne room, the centerpiece of which was a golden throne, upon which sat a middle-aged plump man with a bulbous nose,