and kill him; there would have been no need to go through this much trouble. His escort guided him to a pavilion of multicolored fabrics where Shapur waited. Once there, he was permitted to dismount and kneel before the King. Shapur rose from his field chair and stood before him, dressed in plain soldier's armor.
'Casca Longinus, my Vizier has made a request that before you are permitted to command troops of the Empire it would be well if you would now reject the gods of Rome and all others, including the gods of those who follow the Christ. For in my lands, the supreme deity is the Sun in the manifestationAhura-mazda. All others are lesser entities and onlyAhura-mazda is supreme. Will you reject all worship of any other gods and put none else before the holy light of Sun?'
Casca thought to himself, this is really dumb, but if that's what he wants, why not? Raising his face, he vowed, 'I will, and gladly, my King, for as you know the gods of Rome have served me ill.' Rasheed stood to the King's left, wearing ceremonial robes of deep green decorated with gold emblems of the sun set in geometric patterns, smiling as he had before. Casca wondered what the sour-faced wretch found so damned amusing about the proceedings. After acknowledging his willingness to do sacrifice to the Sun, Casca was led by two Magi to the burning pyre.
It was large enough to set two full grown steers inside it to be roasted. Following the wisemen's lead, he bowed three times as he approached and then knelt before the altar. A lamb had its throat cut and was given to him. This, Casca consigned to the flames, thankful it wasn't something worse. The despised Phoenicians, worshippers of Baal, gave their first born child to the flames to prove their loyalties. The lamb was accepted by the flames, as if it had any choice. Omens were read and forecasts given. All was expected to be favorable and Casca was given leave to rise.
Shapur came to him and embraced him before the mounted troops. Casca felt again a twinge of uneasiness. He liked, but also feared Shapur. The man was strong and wore the mantle of power about him easily. But Casca hadn't expected this aspect of the King, that he was also a religious fanatic. That could prove dangerous. For when anyone was too involved with gods, it spelled trouble for everyone else around him. No matter how smart the King might be, the gods would always have the last laugh.
Shapur escorted Casca back to his mount. 'I am pleased that you have not been reluctant to give your oath, for I have need of you now and in the next week you will be given your first assignment. I will send for you. Go now.'
Dismissed, Casca was relieved that the ceremony was all there was to the day's proceedings, and as he rode off wondered what plans the king now had for him.
The Vizier smiled and bowed to him in a most friendly manner. For some reason this disturbed Casca.
Casca spent the next days keeping pretty much to himself, avoiding the desire to visit some of the gambling and wenching houses of which the city of Nev-Shapur had an abundance. He still felt uneasy and decided that it would be better to keep away from anything that might possibly give an enemy anything to use against him.
FOUR
Another two weeks passed with Casca remaining in his self-enforced confinement. True, he had sent out from time to time for one or another of the famous Persian courtesans to visit him in his room-sloe-eyed, dusky, warm-blooded women who'd learned the art of pleasing men when they were still children. After all, he still had normal needs and they'd served to keep the edge off his temper.
He received notice of his departure in the form of a letter delivered by one of Shapur's guards, a member of the Immortals. Casca was not of this elite unit. Only those with pure Persian bloodlines, from noble families, were permitted to serve in their ranks. Even the messenger, who held the lowest rank in the Guards, was of an ancient and noble house that traced its lineage back over three hundred years. At Shapur's command any of these people would, without hesitation, drive their daggers into their hearts or into one of their own blood.
The Immortals were chosen as children and taken from their families when no older than ten. From that time on they were trained for one thingonly, this being absolute obedience to the King of Kings.
The letter informed Casca to prepare himself to leave in two days and that before his departure he was to come to Shapur for a final premission briefing in which the operation would be explained.
As ordered, Casca presented himself to the ma-jordomo and was ushered without ceremony into Shapur's private quarters. Bowing low, Casca waited for permission to stand erect. Permission was soon given with an offhanded wave of Shapur's strong fingers.
'Well, Casca, are you ready for your first assignment?' There could be but one response to the question, yet it was still with a sense of uneasiness that Casca answered.
'Of course, Lord. I await your command.' He slapped his sword hand to his breast in salute. Shapur nodded, playing at his beard with his fingers as was the habit of the Persian when deep in thought. A thin smile played at the corner of Shapur's eyes.
'When last we talked you told of a ruse used by a Chinese general a century or two ago while engaged in battle with the Hephalites. The memories of those savages are not long and I would see if the same plan could be used again.'
Casca swallowed. 'You mean the three thousand who..?'
'Exactly!' Shapur smiled openly, showing strong white teeth. 'When you return to your residence an escort will be waiting for you. He shall take you to join your army, which I dispatched a month ago to the frontiers of Sogdiana to serve asbait. From intelligence reports we know that the Hephalites are on the move to join us in battle. They know that if they can eliminate my army there it will free the entire countryside for their looting and pillaging for some weeks' time. But if you succeed and destroy them that will secure my frontiers in the north and east for at least a couple of years. I could then turn my attention to other pressing matters without being bothered excessively by large raiding parties.'
Shapur paused for a moment, his eyes reflecting honesty.
'Serve me well in this matter, Casca, and you shall find that I know how to reward as well as to punish.'
Shapur motioned with his hand down, shoving the fingers forward toward the exit. 'You may leave!'
Casca bowed his way out of the royal chambers and returned to his dwelling to find that his gear had already been packed by the escort, his servants dismissed, and the house closed. All that he would require on his journey was methodically placed in packs on the back of the horses.
Casca grumbled to himself. 'Shapur doesn't let any grass grow under the feet of anyone who works for him, that's for damned sure.'
His escort was composed of ten men from a light cavalry detachment, expert archers all of them. During the journey they rode like the demons of Shaitan were on their tails, stopping only once each night for an hour's rest, changing mounts in relays six or seven times a day. By utilizing these means they'd covered over one hundred miles per day andon the evening of the third day had arrived at the valley of Bazhari, where his Persian host awaited Casca's arrival. They had not arrived too soon as far as he was concerned.
Passing sentries and checkpoints of security, they were admitted into the main camp, where Casca was guided to a large pavilion that was to serve as his headquarters. Word of his arrival had already reached his regimental commanders and they stood in two ranks, one to either side of the tent, at rigid attention.
Casca entered, stomping the dust from his boots and pounding his chest to rid it of the day's dirt. Sand clouds flew from him at every thump of his fist. He eyed the commanders. All had the look of tough men. Only two were under thirty years of age and even they had visible scars to show they were not novices to battle. But Casca could see in their eyes the retention of doubt about this foreigner who'd come to command them. That they would obey him, he had no doubt; Shapur's discipline was much too rigidly enforced for them to consider doing otherwise. Yes, they would obey. But they wouldn't like it worth a damn.
A field desk and chair were in position at the rear of the tent. Casca marched straight to them and seated himself after acknowledging the reluctant bowing of his subordinate commanders. Pouring a drink of water from a carafe, he washed the dust of the trail from his throat before speaking.
'Which one of you is the superior officer?'
A Persian with a slight Greek cast to his features stepped forward and bowed, his scaled armor rippling in the
