Events were changing the course of Persian affairs. Casca and his armies had been successful in eliminating all but a few bands of bandits in the mountains. All other resistance had been crushed, But the success of the Persian armies in the field led others to watch them with suspicion. As long as Persia had problems with the Huns and a half-dozen other enemies, she was no threat to the eastern frontiers and provinces of Rome. Now there had been several small skirmishes between Persian and Roman patrols in various regions.
Rasheed continued to spread his disguised invective against Casca. Always in the most flowery of terms, but the message was clear: the Roman must go. Shapur, too, watched the progress of events. Astrologers read the portents of the heavens to him, and their message was clear also. He knew now what had to be done. There was a small sense of regret at the actions he must take, but the burden of rule was ever a heavy one, and so be it. In many ways, Shapur almost held a true fondness for the Roman, but that could not be allowed to interfere with the course of his destiny.
Rasheed smiled, his hands shaking with eagerness as Shapur put his signature and seal of office on the document before him. It was done! In two days, and after the King's dedication of the new temple ofAhura-mazda, Casca would be judged and condemned.
His work had finally borne fruit and now he would have the satisfaction he'd craved for these many years. Ever since he'd seen the Roman scum he'd known what had to be done, and finally it was to be accomplished.
Rasheed glowed with pleasure.
The morning of the dedication, Shapur wore his sword at his belt. A scarf covered his mouth that his breath would not contaminate the purity of the flames as his torch was lit by theMobed-mobedan.
His back was straight, strong and proud; arched nose and dark eyes. His face a mixture of stern righteousness and pride. He looked every inch the part of a king today, warrior king of a race of warriors. His beard had been curled to lay in waves, cut straight at the bottom. His robes of purple and gold were set off with dangling tassels of silver. He was the King of Kings and the glory of his God.
Below the temple, every able-bodied man, woman, and child had come forth at his bidding from their fields and homes to witness the final conquest of things foreign. The Roman was noticeable by his absence. But this was not the time for foreigners, this was Persia for the Persians.
It would be soon; the red glow over the tops of the distant peaks gave warning of the birth of the new day and, for Shapur, a new era. He and hispeople had finally thrown off the yoke of the Greek Selucids and wrested power from the Aracids. When the founder of his house, Ardashir of Babek, overthrew Artavasdes, all of the Arascid line were put to death, save those few who had escaped to Armenia. Ardashir then had conquered and added to his realm the domains of Seitan, Merv, Khwarizam, Gorgon, Balkh, and Abarshar. The kings of Kushan, Makran, and Turan had come to make obeisance to the Persian and acknowledge his house as their overlord and master.
As the priests made ready for the welcoming of the sun, Shapur thought of his Roman general. He was going to regret the loss of Casca in more ways than one actually, but the time had come for him to go. Soon there would be another war. Rome!
Casca had served him well over the years, taking Shapur's armies against the Huns and rebellious tribesmen, and now Shapur's borders were secure for a time, and Casca had worked himself out of a job. His success in battle and his bravery had given him a great deal of popularity among his warriors, and that could prove dangerous to his King if allowed to grow. Many of the younger men of noble houses had vied for the privilege of serving in the Roman's command and all that a general needed for an uprising were loyal followers. Shapur would avoid that at all costs. But he would not easily forget the fair-haired and pale-eyed Roman, nor would the sly one, Rasheed.
The Vizier had cried loud and long the praises of Shapur's Roman. He had recounted at great lengths the deeds of the foreigner and how his men were growing in a loyalty to him that was secondonly to the King. Rasheed spoke in glowing terms how he was certain that Casca's armies would follow him anywhere and obey any order he gave to do battle with anyone.
Shapur was not fooled by Rasheed's words of praise. He knew that he hated the Roman but didn't know his reasons. He had noticed that when the Roman entered the room where his Vizier was present, venom dripped from Rasheed's lips, though the poison was honey-covered. But now, he agreed with the deviousness of his Vizier, it was time for the Roman to go. War clouds were gathering fast and dark.
Rome and Persia must try each other again and it would not do to have a Roman commanding Persian forces at such a time. True, he had told Casca that he would release him from his oath of fealty if the time should come that there was war with Rome again, but he could not let Casca go free. The Roman knew too much of the ways of Persia and the strength of her forces. He could take that information and lead Roman forces against him.
And now, from Rasheed, he had the reason he needed to sign Casca's death warrant and so he had. Rasheed had given him the perfect excuse and not even the warriors that had served his general so loyally could find fault with the judgment he would render today. He turned his attention back to the proceedings as a polite cough distracted him from his sad reflections on Casca.
TheMobed-mobedan handed him thebarsom, a bundle of sacred twigs with which he would light the flame of eternity to welcome the sun on this, the longest day of the year.
He performed his priestly duties as the priest he was, Shapur II, Shahan shah Eran ut an Eran, the King of Kings of Iran and non-Iran.
The sun broke forth and the sacred flame was lit to burn eternally from this date forth to signify the supremacy ofAhura-mazda over the forces of Ahriman, represented by the powers of darkness and their servant.
"Casca," he thought as he touched the torch to flames. "Tomorrow, a new torch would be lit." It saddened him.
Casca was summoned to the court early in the morning, even before the cockcrow. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes and hastily dressed in uniform, ignoring Anobia's request that he return to bed and hold her. Once outside, he was somewhat surprised by the size of his escort. Normally there would have been no more than four or five troopers to escort him, but now there were two full squads. Twenty men meant he was receiving some special notice and the Roman wondered whether it boded ill or fair. No use thinking about it. He would find out soon enough, though he knew that he done nothing to arouse the King's ire and had served him faithfully.
Still, there was a growing feeling of apprehension as he rode to the palace. Once inside the grounds, the stone carvings of winged bulls and lions looked particularly menacing in the pre-dawn gray. His escort was silent on the trip. Not a word was spoken. Only the clatter of hooves on the paving stones of the street accompanied them. Cascafelt a chill run up his spine. He dismounted and was led into the great halls, escorted by the Palace guards. His sword was taken from him before entering the main reception room where the King handed out judgments.
Inside, lining the walls, were many officers of the Imperial armies, but most important were the priests ofAhura-mazda, including theMobed. Casca knew he was in trouble for sure, but still didn't know why.
Torches and braziers lit the scene, casting shadows long and dark into weird flickering pictures on the stone walls. Casca advanced to the prescribed distance from his King. Shapur was wearing full armor and holding his sword bared in his hand rather than the rod of justice. The sword meant he was dealing with a member of the military and as Casca was the only warrior in the center of the hall, he had no doubt that it was his ass that was in the sling.
Rasheed stood beside the King, the pleasure on his face as open and evident as was his hate. A flicker from a nearby bronze brazier bounced off a metal medallion on Rasheed's chest and Casca knew why. The medallion was in the spare, stylized form of a fish. Rasheed, he knew instantly, was a member of the Brotherhood of the Lamb.
Dawn was beginning to break over the city and the first light was seeping into the chamber. Casca understood the reason for his being summoned at this hour. The first light of day was the most holy time to the followers ofAhura-mazda and that was the moment when he was to be judged for some form of heresy. But why?
Shapur stood erect. Impressive, he waited for the precise moment when the light of the new sun would strike the prisoner. Then he spoke.
"You, Casca Longinus, who I took to my bosom and have shown great honor, have betrayed me and the Aryan peoples by treacherous plottings and the foulest of sacriligious practices. You have aligned yourself with the forces of darkness and have practiced the black arts. You are the tool of Rome. Rome, whose armies are even now preparing themselves to strike against us. But they shall be defeated and destroyed even as you shall be." Casca started to respond and was cut off by the wave of Shapur's sword. "You will not speak unless given permission." At his signal, Rasheed stepped forward. "My Vizier will give to the priests and the army, proof of this beast's dark powers and the pact he has made with evil, that none may say he has been unfairly judged."
Rasheed grinned, his thin face sweaty from the self-control he'd inflicted on himself in this moment of triumph. He left the raised dais and walked to Casca, the sound of his minister's robes rustling over the cold stones. He stopped in front of the Roman, snapped his fingers, and Casca's escort pinned his arms to his side. Rasheed took from the folds of his sleeves a long, thin razor-sharp dagger and held it high for all to see. Slowly, carefully, he slit the bindings that held Casca's coat of chain mail together and exposed the bare chest beneath. As a surgeon would, he laid the point of the knife on Casca's flesh. The metal of the polished blade felt like ice to him.
TheMobed and one of his acolytes joined Rasheed to witness whatever it was that was to take place. The priest had the look of the fanatic about him, a full white beard and burning eyes that were strangers to compassion or mercy.
Rasheed forced the point into the flesh of Casca's bare chest. Slowly it sunk in until blood flowed freely. Casca said nothing nor did he make any expression of pain. He had felt pain a hundred times worse than that pinprick.
Rasheed then angled the edge of the blade downward slightly and began to draw the steel across his chest laying it open, a cut several inches long and about a half-inch deep.
Rasheed knew what would happen, as did Casca. Blood flowed freely for a moment down into the metal links of chain mail. Rasheed removed the knife from the wound. The bleeding had already stopped and the blood was clotted and dark.
Rasheed called for a basin of water. It was brought to him along with a clean white rag. The Vizier soaked the rag in the fluid and then washed the blood from Casca's chest, cleansing away the new scab from the cut. Casca closed his eyes. He knew what was going to happen.
TheMobed-mobedan and his assistant examined the spot where Rasheed had sliced into his chest. TheMobedan let out a low hissing sound between his teeth. The acolyte moved a brazier closer to them. TheMobedan looked again, then backed away, making a sign to ward off evil.
TheMobed-mobedan cried out, his voice thin, and wavering in barely controllable rage and hate,"Evil.. Evil!"
The cut was already closed and turning pink, as both Casca and Rasheed knew it would. Shapur himself stepped forth to examine the evidence.
Venom dripped from his words. "Foul beast of darkness. You tried to trick me, but thanks to the wisdom and learning of Rasheed, he knew how to recognize the evil within you. You have proven your guilt. Let the priests make their judgment."
Casca said nothing. The shock of the rapid change of his circumstances had left him feeling lightheaded and numb. There was nothing he could do.
The priests conferred for a short moment and spoke into the ear of the King.
Shapur nodded his head in agreement and turned to the entire assembly to pronounce Casca's sentence.
"There is only one way that true evil can be destroyed, and that isby fire. You shall burn beast! Burn! And your ashes shall be spread into the wind. Take him! Let the judgment be carried out this very day, that he may have no time in which to make additional charms of evil against us. Burn him! Burn him, and do it now!"
Shapur returned to his throne and sat upon it, his hand pointing with the bared sword.
"I have spoken. Let it be done…"