The Parthian Read Online Free PDF Page B

piggy eyes and a somewhat leering expression. As soon as he saw us he jumped out of his throne and ambled towards my father, arms outstretched.
    ‘Hail King Varaz, conqueror of our foes. Slayer of our enemies,’ his voice was slightly effeminate.
    ‘Hail, King Darius,’ replied my father, as they embraced each other as brother kings and equals.
    My father turned to me. ‘May I present my son, Prince Pacorus, whose courage brought victory against the invaders.’
    Darius observed my slyly for an instant with his piggy eyes, then forced a smile as I bowed to him. ‘Of course, of course. How grateful we are that you have saved us from a dreadful fate. Prince Pacorus. Splendid. Now we must eat. You must be hungry. I certainly am.’
    He gestured towards a small ante chamber, into which he scurried, followed by a host of slaves, most teenage boys and girls, all of whom were young, attractive and immaculately groomed, and all of whom were naked from the waist up. In the antechamber Darius flopped down on a luxurious red couch. He invited myself and my father to sit on other couches that were arranged in a circle around his. The walls were covered with paintings of wild animals and naked nymphs. Guards in yellow tunics and trousers stood at each corner, each armed with a spear with a highly polished blade. Darius clapped, and within second more semi-naked slaves brought in silver platters piled high with food — bread, fruit, roasted lamb, fowl and fish — while others carried flagons of wine. A small table was laid in front of us, upon which was soon piled dishes of food. A young girl, no older than sixteen, poured wine into a silver goblet held by another young slave, a pale-skinned boy who bowed and passed it to me once it was full. The wine was exquisite.
    ‘They will come again,’ said my father, ‘you must look to your defences. How many troops do you have?’
    Darius was being fed honey-coated lamb by a young boy, who pushed the meat into the king’s mouth with his fingers. I looked aghast as Darius then licked the meat’s juices off the boy’s fingers. My father looked disgusted at the spectacle. ‘Alas, King Varaz, my army is small,’ Darius pointed to a bunch of grapes on the table. A slave plucked one and daintily pushed it into his mouth. ‘Solders cost money, and my treasury is bare.’
    This was not the answer my father wanted. ‘Yes, I can see that times are hard. You must strengthen your city’s defences.’
    ‘But brother,’ protested Darius. ‘The Romans have been defeated. With warriors such as you and your son, I’m sure we have nothing to fear.’
    ‘We have everything to fear, King Darius. This time they sent only one legion, next time they will send an army.’
    Darius pointed at me. ‘Then they will be as stubble to your son’s sword. Is that not so, Prince Pacorus?’
    I pushed another piece of freshly baked almond cake into my mouth. It melted on my tongue. ‘Yes, sire.’
    In truth I was loving the feast and taking almost no notice of the conversation, but I could see that my father was annoyed. When we had finished eating Darius clapped his hands and the food was taken away. More slaves appeared carrying bowls of warms water and towels for us to wash our hands. Afterwards two female slaves each took one of my hands and began massaging the fingers with oils. They were both in their late teens, gorgeous, bare-breasted with gold bracelets on their arms. They had dark complexions and teeth of pure white, with thick eyeliner to accentuate their large brown eyes. They smelt and looked divine. Another, a beautiful Persian woman with a gold headband and oiled black hair, motioned to me to lie back on the couch. I did so and she began to massage my temples with her fingers. Her touch was sublime, and soon I was drifting into a trance-like state as she massaged my head. The conversation between my father and Darius was becoming fainter as I surrendered to the angelic caresses of three