Vespasian shook his head and pointed to his mouth as the youth stepped back and opened the door for them.
‘Oh, I see; the language? It’s Aramaic.’ Magnus informed him, stepping into the house; Vespasian followed. ‘It turns out that it was Hormus’ mother tongue that he had forgotten after his mother’s death. Remember he said he came from somewhere around Armenia? Well, it must have been here or close by. Anyway, it’s very useful because we can get around without anyone noticing us. That’s how we managed to rent this house and that’s how we managed to sell Hormus to the gaoler after his previous slave met with rather an unfortunate end on his way to the market.’
Vespasian looked around the entrance hall; it was well appointed and light. At the far end was a rickety staircase. Magnus headed upstairs. ‘Come on, sir, we need to get you cleaned up; there’s a cistern of rainwater up on the roof. Once you’ve washed all the shit off and tidied up a bit, we’ll think about getting out of this city, if we still can.’
Vespasian wondered why Magnus seemed to think that leaving was so difficult as he followed him up two flights of stairs and then up a ladder to the flat roof. As he eased himself out of the hole and stood up, he looked to the south; the roof was higher than the wall, just five paces away, and Vespasian had a clear view over it. Out on the plain he could see the reason for Magnus’ misgivings: an army was camped before the gates of Arbela.
The city was under siege.
‘Shit!’ Vespasian exclaimed, surprising both himself and Magnus.
‘They arrived a couple of days ago,’ Magnus explained as Hormus scrubbed Vespasian’s skin with a wet cloth. ‘It’s Vologases’ army.’
‘The Great King of Parthia?’ Vespasian’s voice felt raw and it sounded strange to him having not heard it in a long while.
‘The very same.’
‘What’s he doing besieging one of his vassals?’
‘Well, two years ago, after Radamistus went back on his oath to Babak and declared for Rome …’
Vespasian put his hand up to stop him. ‘Say that again.’
‘Which bit? Two years?’
‘Yes, that bit.’
‘It’s been two years, sir. That’s how long you’ve been here; didn’t you know?’
Vespasian stared at his friend, incredulous. ‘Two?’
Magnus nodded.
Vespasian tried to think; he could certainly remember it starting to feel colder and then warm up again, but those were the only changes he could remember. Anything up to a year would not have surprised him; but two? ‘They’re going to think that I’m dead back home.’
‘No, Hormus wrote to your brother when we found out where you were. After we got the information out of Paelignus, we had to go back to Cappadocia because Babak had blocked the pass into Adiabene; and then Vologases arrived with the main Parthian force. He defeated Radamistus, took Artaxata and put his brother Tiridates on the throne. There was no way through so we waited and then winter came and we were stuck in Cappadocia. When spring arrived, Paelignus turned up again so we decided to make ourselves scarce. The passes were still blocked so I reckoned that the best way into Adiabene was through our province of Syria. And that’s what we did, but once we got there we had to wait for winter before we could safely cross the desert to the Euphrates and then get across that to the Tigris and then over that to get here, only to arrive in the chaos of the aftermath of an earthquake. So here we are, two years later.’
‘Two years?’ Vespasian was having difficulty letting the information sink in. He took the wet cloth from Hormus, dipped it in the water and began to rub at his groin. He looked out at the army before the city. ‘So Vologases has put his brother on the Armenian throne?’
‘It would seem that way; but last winter was very harsh and he was forced to withdraw his army from Armenia, so how long Tiridates will stay on is anyone’s guess.’
Vespasian allowed himself a small smile; his first for a long time – two years. ‘That’s excellent news; either Radamistus or a Roman army will have to come in to remove him; the war will rumble on. So what’s Vologases doing camped out there?’
Magnus shrugged. ‘Fucked if I know or care; perhaps King Izates has been a naughty boy. The point is that he is there and isn’t allowing anyone in or out except emissaries.’
Vespasian looked over the Parthian lines. ‘He doesn’t seem to be doing much.’
‘They’re negotiating and I think it would be best for us to slip away before they fall out with each other. There’s a river about ten miles to the south; it’s a tributary of the Tigris. Once we’re on that river we can head south.’