There was absolute silence apart from the rustle of Vologases perusing the letter.
‘Titus Flavius Vespasianus,’ the Great King said after a short while, ‘you may rise but your companions will stay where they are.’
Vespasian slowly got to his feet and raised his eyes to the Great King seated on his elevated throne. Vologases was a young man, early thirties, with solemn, dark eyes and a thin beak of a nose. On his head he wore a bejewelled gold diadem that held the shoulder-length, tight black ringlets of his hair in place. His beard was of a matching style and each ringlet was oiled and sheened like a raven’s feathers setting into sharp contrast his pale skin that had had very little contact with the direct rays of the sun.
Vologases surveyed Vespasian, sitting bolt upright and perfectly still. ‘Was it indeed you that sent the gold to Gobryas’ family?’
Now that he was able to stand, the rage at being humiliated on his belly faded. ‘It was, Light of the Sun.’
A flicker of amusement passed across the Great King’s face at the Roman’s use of his title. ‘Then you are a follower of the Truth.’ He looked beyond Vespasian. ‘Bring them here!’
Vespasian turned and saw not only Bagoas but also his cousin, the innkeeper, their eyes watering in terror, being brought forward by two guards each. They were thrown to the ground and grovelled in their fear.
Vologases looked at the pair in distaste. ‘Which one told the Lie?’
One of the guards answered the question by pulling Bagoas’ head up by the hair.
‘Take his tongue, nose, ears and one eye; the other I shall allow him to keep so that he can always see his mutilation in reflection.’
Bagoas had not understood the Greek and it was more in startled surprise rather than agony that he screamed as the guard flashed his knife from his sheath and severed his left ear. His right ear quickly followed, slapping onto the marble as Bagoas’ screams intensified. The guard brought his knife to the base of the boy’s nose and with a savage heave sliced through flesh and cartilage to leave a blood-spurting orifice in the middle of Bagoas’ face. A second guard then squeezed Bagoas’ mouth, forcing it open with one hand and, brandishing a knife in the other, pierced the tip of his tongue and pulled it out; his mate’s wrist flicked down and with a gurgling wail Bagoas watched his tongue, quivering on the point of the knife, being taken away from him by a maniacally grinning guard. As Bagoas stared in catatonic horror at the macabre sight half his vision disappeared; but he barely registered the pain of his left eye being gouged out as his body and mind became rigid with shock.
‘Take him away and let it be known that they who give the Lie to the Great King will receive no mercy.’ As the bleeding, hyperventilating, mutilated boy was dragged away, leaving a trail of blood, Vologases turned his attention to the innkeeper shaking on the floor, his face rubbing in a pool of his own vomit. ‘To him I will give death; impale him.’
Writhing and shrieking, the innkeeper was hauled off and Vologases graced Vespasian with the slightest of smiles. ‘What was your purpose in seeking out Gobryas?’
‘I had hoped that if he’d received the gold he would repay the favour by helping me and my companions back to Judaea or Syria with one of his caravans.’
‘Would you have done this, Gobryas?’
‘Light of the Sun, I am in this man’s debt for, although his family kept my younger brother as a slave for such a long time, that was not by design. We all have slaves and those slaves all have families. It was not the fault of the purchaser that they came to own Ataphanes; it was the will of Ahura Mazda that he was spared death and enslaved. In all respects this man’s family have acted properly. I shall repay him and, if you would sanction it, give him passage west on my next caravan that leaves at the full moon.’
‘I do sanction it. Gobryas, you may take them and show them all hospitality until they leave.’
‘It shall be as you command, Light of the Sun.’ Gobryas bowed and backed away.
Vologases inclined his head a fraction. ‘Take your companions, Titus Flavius Vespasianus, and go with the light of Ahura Mazda shining upon you.’
‘My thanks, Light of the Sun,’ Vespasian said; and he meant it with all his heart. He found himself bowing to the Great King and then backed away in imitation of his new host. Magnus and Hormus got to their feet and also backed off, out through the door, past the writhing body of the innkeeper, his hands bound, struggling on his tip-toes to stop the pointed stake upon which he was perched intruding further up his rectum. As the doors to the audience chamber closed they turned and looked at each other and then at the man who had betrayed them, suffering so painfully.