though it was still ruled in his name, it yet paid tribute and recognized the Persians as its overlords.
It was necessary that Kushan have strong allies. The pressure of the Huns was becoming so great that they could not live long and survive without them, and it was better to bow to the Persians than to be beheaded by the Huns.
The Persian soldiery that he did meet had paid little attention to him. As a lone rider he posed no threat to them nor to the Empire. As far as they were concerned he was most obviously not a Hun, and dressed as poorly as he was, in rags, he could not be of much importance to anyone. They had ridden on, ignoring him.
When he reached the city of Nev-Shapur, named after the founder of the new Persian Empire, Shapur II, he hesitated a bit before entering through the protected gates and past the watchful eyes of the bearded sentries. It was the morning rush hour, when the workers of the fields and the merchants from surrounding villages brought their wares into the city proper for sale, or to be transshipped to other parts of the Persian Empire and even to Rome. As the city was located directly on what was known as the silk road, that in itself was enough to guarantee its success as a trading center, and today it was booming as such.
Casca had followed a caravan of double-humped camels, braying and spitting under the loads they carried swinging on their backs. The gates of the city closed at dusk and did not reopen until the first light, and at that time, as it was now, hundreds waited outside the city to gain entry. Most waited within a mile of the city gates, where a place was set aside for them to gather and wait for the coming of the light ofAhura-mazda, the sun.
Wending his way through the throngs, he entered the gates without being challenged. The city was much the same as many others he'd been in; the myriad smells and the crying of the vendors to sell their wares, all in a dozen tongues. The city itself was clean, but architecturally was different from Rome.
Since the Sassanids had taken over, he could see that they'd done their best to bring back the ways of their age; the buildings and official structures showed the influence of centuries long past. Bas-relief carvings were to be seen everywhere-scenes reflecting the great triumphs of Persia's past and, even more, of its new era.
Casca found his way to the street set aside for the jewelers and money lenders. He was careful not to use any language but Latin. From the friezes he had seen, representing Shapur accepting the surrender of the Roman emperor, Valerian, he figured Romans were not welcome. Valerian had died while still a captive of the Persian who led him through the principal cities of his lands on a leash, crawling before his captors, the Persian hosts, on his belly. The descriptiveness of the friezes was explicit. In Rome Constantine was emperor, but from the vibrance of these Persians, Casca figured Rome had better watch its ass if they ever decided to move west.
A traveler pointed him in the direction of a brick building said to be the residence of a money lender and jeweler, but only after wrinkling his nose in distaste at the sour odor coming from the light-eyed stranger in the rags of a beggar. He did comment, however, on Casca's fine horse.
Entering the confines of the cool building, his eyes went blank for a second before adjusting themselves to the darkness inside. A figure emerged from behind a multicolored curtain and looked questioningly at him. He inquired first in Aramaic, which Casca didn't speak, then looked closer at the square-muscled frame with the light eyes and sun-bleached hair. Could he be a Circassian? No, there was something about this stranger in his shop that made him think not.
'Vale, Roman. What do you here in the city of Shapur? Perhaps you seek your death? If so, it will be easy to find, if those outside see you as I do.'
A larger figure loomed behind the shopkeeper; a massive man with shaven head and huge arms that looked long enough to reach to his knees. Casca sized up what he assumed was the shopkeeper's bodyguard. He appeared big enough to mate with one of the sculptures of bulls he'd seen that appeared life-sized in glazed bricks on the city walls.
The bodyguard looked Casca over, too, while Casca was deciding that the merchant was not of the race of the Aryan Persians. He gave the gray-haired, full-bearded shopkeeper a shock, then, speaking in the man's native tongue.
'Shalom, son of David. We are both a long way from our homelands, so it seems.'
Shopkeeper Samuel Ben Ezra hesitated in surprise. Not many in these lands spoke the tongue of Solomon. He looked again at his guest with suspicion.
'Shalom, and peace unto you, Roman. How may I serve you in my humble establishment?'
Casca removed his pouch from the waistband and took out two large yellow sapphires. He placed them softly into the hand of the Jew.
'Give me what is fair in silver and gold for these stones.'
Samuel held the stones to the light, moving closer to the door of his shop to take best advantage of the sun. He turned them over and over.
'What do you want for these?'
Casca smiled. 'I said give me what is fair. Surely you would not cheat a fellow stranger who is as far from his home as you are. I know your people and know that their word is their bond. Tell me what you will give. It shall be fair and I will accept it.'
Samuel pursed his lips in wonder. This was a strange one. But, he was right. The Jewish merchants of the world survived only because their word was good, and all who traded with them knew it. A letter from one merchant to another promising payment in gold or silver to the bearer would be honored by any of his race as far away as the limits of the known world, and without question.
The Jewish merchants of the world survived because of this fact, and though the nations of the world might be enemies, the business of commerce had to go on. Even though the Jews had been persecuted and driven from their homelands, they were the only ones who could fill this gap and this everyone knew. Commerce was the key to survival for the sons of David and if they were to ever break their word, the blood of their people would flow again and they would have no place left on this earth. So, by necessity, they had become the bankers of the world. With no nation to call their own, they were bound only by their loyalty to one another and the oaths to their trade.
'I will give you twenty silver coins of Darius and one-half gold denarius of Rome.'
Casca extended his hand to shake. 'It is done.' The business settled, the two men went to Samuel's private quarters. Drinks of mint were served by his bodyguard, who watched over the old man like a mother hen, reluctant to leave his master even when Samuel dismissed him with instructions to return to the front of the shop to keep an eye on his goods.
The two men sat across from each other, Casca commenting on the softness of the cushions they sat on as compared to his saddle. Their drinks sat on a low table of inlaid teak and enamel mosaic. Samuel served bread and salt. The two tasted as one and the bond was made.
'Welcome to my house and the blessing of The Lord be with you. Forgive me now if I repeat myself, but in this land you are in more danger than myself. Rome and its people are not loved here. I would suggest that you go on your way and leave the nation of Shapur behind as swiftly as your legs, or those of your horse, will carry you. If you have need of transport, I can arrange for you to join a caravan whose master owes me a personal favor.' Casca nodded, sipped his hot mint, and replied: 'I am not in as much danger as you may believe. I bear letters from the Son of Heaven, the Emperor of Chin. As you surely know, messengers are given favored status by all civilized nations and must be treated with courtesy. There is really no danger for me here. I do plan to return to my lands soon, but the trail over the silk road is long and I am tired and would rest here a while before continuing my journey. Speaking of rest, could you recommend an inn? One that is outside the gates for the timebeing. I wish to prepare myself before presenting my documents to the court.'
Samuel thought a moment before replying.
'Yes, there is one. When you entered the city you had to pass through the old town outside the walls. Return there and ask directions for the Inn of Beshar; he is a thief but at least he is a cowardly one. He would think twice before robbing one with your scars of battle.'
Casca thanked him for his hospitality and his advice. He rose from the cushions, smiling. 'I hope to see you again, Samuel Ben Ezra.'
The old man shook his head in the negative.
'I do not think that would be wise. My people are only barely tolerated here and if one such as yourself were seen here doing dealings with us it might lead to trouble. We Jews of the world must walk a careful line. I wish you good fortune but please, do not come here again. It could lead to disaster for us both. I am too old to move and start again…'
He escorted Casca to the door, remaining carefully in the shadows, whispering.
