‘I was hoping they might have told you that, sir.’
‘I’m afraid not.’ He got to his feet and walked to the door. ‘However, since they know we’re Roman I might as well tell them that they have a man of consular rank in their custody; hopefully that will make our lives slightly more valuable.’
‘It might make us more of an embarrassment and therefore make our hosts decide on a speedy disposal, if you take my meaning?’
‘I do, but have you got any better suggestions?’
Magnus shook his head. ‘I believe they’re very keen on impaling people here.’
Vespasian began to pound on the door and shout for the gaolers.
Eventually the viewing slat opened and a surprisingly elegantly barbered face peered in enquiringly and then astonished Vespasian by asking in fluent Latin, ‘You have a problem?’
‘Yes, I am a man of proconsular rank and you will cause a diplomatic incident by holding me here.’
‘We know exactly who you are, Titus Flavius Vespasianus. We found your imperial mandate amongst your other possessions in the bag along with the swords with which you were planning on attempting to assassinate our Great King.’
Vespasian looked at the man, aghast. ‘Assassinate the Great King?’
‘Of course. Why else would you arrive in disguise in Ctesiphon the day before Vologases returned here?’
‘We had business of our own to conduct.’
‘We shall see; that is up to the Great King himself to decide.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘I mean that he will decide what you were here to do and he will decide your fate when you appear before him to be judged tomorrow.’
CHAPTER XV
THE BARREL-VAULTED ceiling towering over the great audience chamber in the royal palace was partially veiled by a thin haze of fumes. Despite the bright shafts of sunlight flooding through a long line of identically shaped arched windows, high in the walls, slashing through the heavy atmosphere alive with motes, the cavernous, long interior burned with thousands of lamps. It was a hall of light, both natural and artificial, the like of which Vespasian had never seen before. And the light illumined the colours in the marbles of the floor and columns, in the paintwork of the statuary, in the dyes of the occupants’ clothes and beards and in the fired, glossy tiles of the walls and ceiling, each individually crafted to fit together, depicting scenes of hunting and warfare and other heroic acts of the Arsacid dynasty of Parthian kings.
So much colour and so much decoration in one magnificent chamber; but it was not that which struck Vespasian as he, Magnus and Hormus were led through the highly polished, dwarfing, cedar doors: it was the power that emanated from the seated figure on a dais at the far end of the room.
There sat Vologases, the first of that name, King of all the Kings of the Parthian Empire, and attending him were hundreds of courtiers, the élite of many lands, all of whom professed allegiance to the man who held the power of life and death over millions of subjects; the man who was now to judge Vespasian.
In contrast to the abundance of light and colour was the absence of sound, and once Vespasian and his companions had been thrown to the floor and hissed at to remain still, flat on their stomachs, there was a complete hush in the great hall. No one moved or whispered a word and through the stillness Vespasian could feel the enmity radiating from hundreds of pairs of eyes as they stared at the three prone forms, so small in the midst of such vastness.
For what seemed like an age he lay there, oppressed by the weight of the silence; it was not calm, it menaced.
The shouted order in Greek to crawl forward cracked through the quiet, shocking Vespasian with its abruptness.
Keeping his eyes to the floor he slithered towards the Great King, humiliated but still alive. With each foot of progress his rage at such treatment for an ex-consul of Rome grew and by the time he was ordered to stop he was seething with fury.
‘What are you doing in my domain, Titus Flavius Vespasianus? Answer only with the truth: to tell a falsehood to the King of Kings is not only an insult to him but an affront to Ahura Mazda.’
Vespasian realised that this was the voice of Vologases himself speaking in the tongue of the Greek concubine who bore him. Struggling to control his anger, keeping his words to the minimum, he answered with the truth, understanding how much weight the Parthians place on honesty. He told the King of Kings briefly everything that had happened to him from the point when Radamistus gave him to Babak as surety for his false oath to his reason for looking for Ataphanes’ family here in Ctesiphon.
‘So your intention was not to assassinate me?’
‘What gave you that idea, Great King?’