‘It is a weakness of mine,’ Iudex agreed. ‘Always start with the nose. Some think the genitals, but I swear by the nose. It is extraordinary how painful a slit nostril is, and so much blood.’

‘Things will go better for you, if you tell us,’ Valens said.

‘I will, if you swear he will not cut me.’

‘I swear.’

‘Perozshapur, it is Perozshapur.’

‘It means the victory of Shapur,’ Narses said.

‘That is what the officer must say at the gate. Please don’t let him hurt me.’

‘I gave you my word that he would not,’ Valens said. ‘Unfortunately that does not bind the rest of us.’

‘But you said death was the last of my worries.’

‘Yes, and that is true for every man.’

Chapter 28

CHAPTER 28

The Castle of Silence

BARBAD HAD SEEN THE RIDER coming up the trail. The man was mounted on a dromedary, the beast staggering with exhaustion. They must have travelled all night. It had still been early, the sun just risen. The slanting autumn sunshine had glinted off the gold chain on the camel’s harness. The morning meal had arrived, but the boy had not yet awoken.

Now, elbows propped on the sill, he was staring out of the window, wrapped in a cloak against the cold wind. He had become more withdrawn, and had recently spent much of his time silently looking at the mountains. There was snow on the peaks. It fell in the night, and every morning it had advanced down the slopes. Soon the high passes would be closed.

Barbad wondered what the boy was thinking. Sasan had turned eleven in the summer. Persians made much of birthdays, so Barbad had done what he could. There had been no question of gifts, but he had put his soul into the stories he had told. Under the dark-eyed gaze of the boy, he had recounted the boyhood of Cyrus. How he had been exposed to die, and how, having been saved by a loyal servant, he had returned to claim his kingdom. Now Barbad pondered if the hope implicit in the tale had been cruel.

If only Barbad had not seen the rider. He had been watching for the supply convoy. By his reckoning – a crude scratching of days on the wall of the privy – it was due any time now. If only the messenger had been delayed. It would not be long before the passes were blocked for the winter. Perhaps he had been mistaken?

But Barbad knew his eyes had not been deceived. He had not been mistaken. A lone rider, travelling fast. The golden chain on the bridle of his mount. A messenger of the King of Kings. It was every subject’s duty to speed him on his way. To hinder or detain such a messenger brought the death penalty.