Parthian Vengeance

Chapter 2

Gods! How they tormented us mortals! I worshipped and feared Shamash, God of the Sun, and respected the other deities that dwelt in heaven, but I sometimes despaired of their intrigues. It was well known throughout the empire that Dobbai was sent visions by the gods, but they were often so vague and shrouded in mystery as to be almost impossible to decipher. The movement of smoke over a fire did not bother me but the appearance of an owl perched on the Citadel’s walls was not to be dismissed lightly. We had already increased the number of guards in and around the palace and there had been no new arrivals among the palace servants, most of whom had been with us for years, so I did not fear danger from that quarter. But then, any one of my soldiers could stick an arrow or blade into me at any time should they so wish. It all came down to trust. Did I trust them? Dura was different from many kingdoms in the empire in that it had a standing army. The Silk Road that passed through it paid for their weapons, equipment and wages. Each man was paid monthly for his services. The levels of pay were dictated by rank and length of service, with records diligently maintained and held in the headquarters building in the Citadel. Each man, and every woman in the Amazons, irrespective of rank or race received equality of treatment when it came to rewards and punishments. In return I demanded loyalty. In all the time I had been King of Dura I had experienced no mutinies or disloyalties. My soldiers had always obeyed orders unquestioningly. In the end that is all any commander can hope for.

A welcome diversion came with an invitation from Godarz for Gallia and me to dine with him and Nadira at the governor’s mansion. It had probably been a mistake that the latter’s first meeting with us had been at the Companions’ feast, but what was done was done. At least this time there would be no raucous Germans present to humiliate me.

‘Try to keep your eyes in their sockets this time, Pacorus.’

Gallia looked stunning on the evening we made the short journey from the Citadel to Godarz’s residence, a score of legionaries acting as our escort.

My queen wore a blue, sleeveless dress with a gold belt around her waist, gold armlets and gold bracelets. Her long, thick blonde hair hung freely around her shoulders and over her breasts. Even among her curls were thin slivers of gold. She looked every bit the queen she was. I wore a simple white silk shirt, baggy brown leggings and red leather boots. As usual my Roman spatha, the gift from Spartacus, was worn at my hip. On the opposite hip was my dagger, a weapon taken from a dead Roman centurion.

The night was still and warm, the only noise the crunching sound made by the legionaries’ hobnailed sandals as they marched beside us on the stone slabs. The road that led from the Citadel to the Palmyrene Gate was paved, though most of the streets in the city were dirt. I had instructed Rsan to embark on a programme to pave all the main roads inside the city to save us from the permanent cloud of dust that hung over Dura in the hottest months, especially over the tallest part — the Citadel — and the work was continuing apace. The Greeks had originally built the city and its roads and buildings were arranged like a giant grid with streets perpendicular to each other, the whole surrounded by a thick, strong circuit wall.

I held Gallia’s hand as we walked to the governor’s mansion. The odd citizen still abroad bowed to us as we passed. Dura had no curfew except in an emergency, though the city gates were shut two hours before midnight every evening and were not opened again until dawn the next morning. There was no danger of an Agraci attack against us, but Dura had always been a frontier city and its inhabitants slept sounder knowing that they were in a secure stronghold.

We arrived at the mansion within minutes, the guards either side of the gates snapping to attention as we walked past them into the courtyard. More guards flanked the stone path that ran from the gates to the foot of the steps leading to the mansion’s entrance. We walked across the courtyard as Godarz and Nadira descended the steps to greet us. Nadira was wearing a yellow, figure-hugging dress with a diadem in her hair.

‘Remember,’ said Gallia in a whisper, smiling at our hosts, ‘when you speak to Nadira, her eyes are in her head and not her chest!’

Godarz may have been the city governor but he always dressed modestly. It was the same tonight. The years spent as a slave in Italy had left their mark on him. In truth though, he had never been badly treated yet he had still been a slave. Tonight he was dressed in a simple long-sleeved beige shirt, white leggings and sandals. Though Parthian men wore their hair long, Godarz had had his hair shorn in Italy and had never let it grow back. As he and his new love bowed their heads to us he appeared truly happy, wearing the look of a man who had finally found contentment after years of loneliness.

‘Welcome,’ said Godarz, ‘you are both most welcome.’

‘We are glad to be here,’ I replied.

Gallia smiled politely at Nadira and then embraced Godarz. She linked her arm in Nadira’s and they walked up the steps together into the mansion. I embraced Godarz and slapped him on the back.

‘Nadira is a beautiful woman. I am pleased for you, my old friend.’

His eyes were moist as he stepped back to face me.

‘I never thought that I could be this happy, Pacorus. The gods have truly blessed me.’

We followed our women up the steps, Polemo bowing his head to us as we passed him at the top.

‘You deserve to be happy, Godarz. We are truly happy for you.’

Godarz looked at Gallia and Nadira disappearing into the reception hall. ‘Even Gallia?’

‘Of course. Her nose has been put out of joint that is all. You know how it is with women, they get jealous.’

The meal was a most excellent feast. Though the mansion had a banqueting hall we ate in a smaller room just off the reception hall so as not to be dwarfed by our surroundings. I sat next to Gallia across from Godarz and Nadira. Servants brought us yoghurt, Parthian beans, fennel cooked with pine nuts and spices, roasted lamb, goat and chicken, steamed rice, crusty rice with cinnamon and pistachios, and meat balls. Other servants served us wine and water. As the wine flowed Gallia’s suspicion of Nadira lessened somewhat. The latter was charm itself, engaging my wife in conversation and appearing interested in everything she said, especially the Amazons. Gallia was delighted to talk about her female warriors, which made Godarz overjoyed. I had been dreading any friction between my wife and Nadira, but Godarz’s woman was adept at conversation and charm. She hardly spoke to me, knowing that the attitude of Gallia was the key to the success of the evening, and truth be told it was turning into a highly enjoyable occasion. I relaxed in my high-backed wooden chair and smiled at Godarz. He nodded and then stared lovingly at his gorgeous woman. He was truly blessed.

I drained my silver drinking vessel, a rhyton, and held it up to be refilled. Fashioned into the shape of a ram’s head it was a beautiful piece, highly polished and delicately crafted. I turned the drinking vessel in my hand as a servant walked towards me with a jug of wine. I saw the reflection of a figure behind me in the polished surface of the rhyton and instinctively moved to my right. As I turned to see who it was, a sword blade directed at my head suddenly splintered the back of my chair. I instinctively rolled out of it and kicked it away as Polemo wrenched his blade free. I jumped to my feet and drew my own sword, then advanced to meet my would-be assassin.

‘Godarz,’ I shouted, ‘get the women out of here. Sound the alarm.’

Polemo smiled. ‘I have a message for you, slave king.’

He attacked me with powerful slashing blows directed against my head. I parried them with some difficulty and then tried to thrust my spatha into his chest. But he sprang back and avoided my sword point with ease.

Polemo grinned once more. ‘King Mithridates sends his greetings.’

Then he came at me once more and again tried to behead me with his blade. His strength and speed forced me back. I caught his last slashing blow with my own blade, grabbed his sword hand with my left hand and head-butted his nose. He grimaced and staggered back, his nose broken.

I glanced behind me and saw with horror Gallia grappling with Nadira, who had a dagger in her hand and was trying to stab my wife.

Godarz was standing, transfixed by what was happening in front of him.

‘Godarz!’ I screamed. ‘Kill her, kill her now!’

I turned and saw the figure of Polemo charge at me once more. A servant ran at him but Polemo saw him, swung his blade to his left and sliced open the man’s belly. A piercing scream came from the servant as he collapsed to the ground. Polemo raced over to the door that lead to the kitchen corridor and slammed it shut.

‘Godarz,’ I shouted again. ‘In the name of Shamash do something!’

Godarz looked at me and then at Nadira and Gallia grappling with each other. He came to his senses and raced over to grab Nadira, who slapped Gallia round the face, pushed her to the ground and then swung round. Godarz was not stabbed by her dagger but rather ran on to its blade. Nadira grabbed his shoulder with her left hand and then stabbed him twice more before turning back to face Gallia. Another servant ran into the room from the hall.

‘Sound the alarm,’ I screamed, but Polemo was too quick and split the back of the man’s head with his sword as he tried to run from the room. I ran at Polemo, my spatha grasped with both hands, and hacked at his head. He parried my blows but blood was now pouring from his shattered nose and he had difficulty in maintaining his defence. He tried to bar the door with a small table that had been positioned against the wall beside it, but another servant burst into the room and interrupted him. The servant looked at me and then died as Polemo nearly severed his head with a great swing of his sword. I screamed and ran at Polemo again, slashing at his neck and then whipping my blade back to thrust the point into his left shoulder. He groaned and winced in pain but still advanced and directed more blows against me. His strength was failing, though, and the sword strikes were becoming slower and easier to parry.

I looked behind me and saw Godarz lying on the floor. Gallia had sprung to her feet, grabbed a knife from the table and was facing Nadira.

‘Come on, bitch!’ she screamed.

Nadira glanced at me and then at Polemo, who was now bleeding from both the nose and shoulder. She spat at Gallia and ran over to Polemo.

‘Come, we must go.’

Polemo raised his sword at me and then they fled from the room. Gallia ran to Godarz and cradled his head in her arms. Another servant rushed into the room and stared in horror at the scene that greeted his eyes.

‘Sound the alarm,’ I shouted. ‘Go quickly!’

His mouth was open in terror and he shook his head like a demented man as he fled. I knelt beside Godarz. Tears were running down Gallia’s cheeks as she held him. I looked at the blood oozing from the wound in his belly and knew he was dying. I heard the alarm bell ringing in the courtyard and shortly after a dozen guards raced into the room.

‘Get a doctor,’ I ordered.

Godarz was staring at the ceiling, a far-away look in his eyes. ‘She said she loved me. I do not understand.’

‘Don’t speak,’ said Gallia softly, ‘Alcaeus will be here soon.’

Godarz looked at her. ‘I loved her, you know.’

Her tears fell on his face. ‘I know.’

Godarz’s shirt was soaked with blood by the time Alcaeus our Greek physician appeared with his canvas bag over his shoulder. He ignored Gallia and me as he knelt down beside Godarz, reached into his bag and extracted a small knife. He cut away Godarz’s shirt to examine the wound. I could see that it was deep, blood now oozing onto the floor. Alcaeus worked with skill and speed, cleaning the wound with vinegar and then applying a large honey-impregnated dressing on it. He then wound a large bandage around Godarz’s belly in an attempt to staunch the flow of blood, but Godarz had already lost so much. He did not speak now, only stared unblinking at Gallia with a bewildered look in his eyes.

Domitus ran into the room followed by four of his officers and other servants. He stared at Godarz and I thought I detected a look of distress in his eyes, then his stern countenance returned.

‘What happened?’

I stood up to face him, a wave of grief sweeping over me.

‘That whore Nadira and Godarz’s new headman were assassins sent by Mithridates. They fled but must still be in the city. They might try to escape using the harbour.’

The tiny harbour was reached via a small gate in the city’s southern wall. Domitus turned to his officers.

‘Turn out the garrison, seal the city and organise sweeps of all the buildings. Find them,’ he ordered.

The men saluted and ran from the room.

‘He’s gone, I’m sorry.’

I turned to see Alcaeus had a finger at Godarz’s neck to feel for a pulse. He shook his head at Gallia and then closed my governor’s eyes. Gallia pulled up Godarz’s head to her face and began sobbing. Domitus ordered everyone out of the room.

‘I’m sorry.’

He placed a hand on my shoulder and also took his leave, as did Alcaeus. I knelt beside Gallia and we both wept for our dead friend.

The sweep of the city was carried out at once, soldiers hammering on every door to gain entrance. Soon word spread that the governor had been murdered and dazed and confused citizens, most in their night attire, flooded onto the streets. Many headed for the city’s central square, perhaps thinking that a herald would inform them of what had happened and what measures I was taking. But the only thing I did was to assist Alcaeus carry the body of Godarz to his bedroom where it was washed and dressed. Most of his servants were in tears as they attempted to carry out their duties. Godarz had been a fair and gentle master, though like Gallia and I he had no slaves in his household, only paid servants. Those of us who had been slaves had no wish to be surrounded by others who lived in such misery. Afterwards I was numb as I held my wife and we made our way back to the palace. I found an ashen-faced Rsan on the palace steps. I merely nodded at him as we passed. There were no words I could speak that would ease his anguish.

We shuffled into the throne room where Domitus was pacing up and down. I looked at Gallia, her eyes puffy and red.

‘Do you want to sleep?’

She shook her head. ‘I cannot sleep tonight.’

She walked over to her high-backed chair on the dais and slumped into it. I sat down beside her. Domitus stopped pacing and stood before us. His face betrayed no emotion though I knew he must be grieving for his dead friend.

‘Parties are sweeping the city now. All gates are sealed and no one can get in or out. The men are searching every home, business, temple and storeroom, and I’ve ordered more men from the camp.’

He glanced at Gallia. ‘Most likely they will have rented a room or rooms and will be lying low until they make a run for it.’

‘See to it that they don’t escape,’ hissed Gallia. She had Godarz’s blood on her dress. Domitus noticed it but said nothing. He stood to attention, saluted and then marched from the room, leaving us alone with our grief.

Dura was a well-defended city surrounded by a circuit wall with a total of twenty-four towers, plus the Palmyrene Gate, spaced at regular intervals along the wall. Each tower had its own detachment of men who would be lining the wall to ensure no one scaled it from the city side. Five hundred men manned the walls and towers and a further five hundred garrisoned the Citadel. Added to these were the detachments of Dura’s horsemen stabled in the city — more than enough to catch a pair of assassins, or so I hoped.

The new day began to dawn and still we remained on our thrones and waited for news. I had messages sent via carrier pigeon to Palmyra to alert Malik and Haytham of what had happened, and to ask them for their assistance to track down the pair should they escape from Dura. Domitus organised searches of the trade caravans camped to the north of the city. All traffic using the pontoon bridges was stopped. Domitus even sent small boats north and south on the Euphrates to search for the pair.

Orodes came soon after dawn. He lived in his own house in the north of the city, a great walled residence that also housed his bodyguard — two hundred and fifty men from the Kingdom of Susiana. As soon as he heard the news of Godarz’s murder he and his men had helped Dura’s garrison search the city. Unshaven and looking tired, the first thing he did was embrace Gallia and kiss her on the cheek.

‘You look tired, Gallia.’ He noted her bloodstained dress. ‘You should try to get some rest.’

She smiled faintly. ‘Alas, lord prince, if I close my eyes all I will see is the murder of Godarz. I therefore prefer to keep them open.’

Orodes nodded grimly. ‘Well, at least let us refresh ourselves. You too, Pacorus. You both look terrible.’

He organised fruit juices, bread, cheese and sweet meats to be brought to the palace terrace as Gallia and I changed our clothes and washed our faces. When we returned Dobbai was sitting in her chair. Orodes was speaking to her as a wan Gallia slumped into a chair beside her. In the east the sun was an angry red ball as it began its ascent into the sky. Dobbai said nothing to Gallia as I walked over to the table and helped myself to a cup of juice. I poured another and handed it to Gallia. I took my seat next to her and then all four of us sat in silence for a while. Dobbai spoke at last.

‘So Mithridates shows his hand at last.’ She turned to Orodes. ‘Your brother has learnt patience, it would seem.’

‘My stepbrother,’ Orodes corrected her. He was always quick to inform all and sundry that he and Mithridates did not have the same mother, his being a concubine in the palace at Ctesiphon whom his father Phraates had fallen in love with. The mother of Mithridates, Queen Aruna, had had her poisoned, or so rumour had it.

‘But why now?’ asked Orodes despairingly.

‘Is it not obvious?’ replied Dobbai. ‘Now he and his brother-in-evil Narses are ready to implement their plan.’

‘What plan?’ I asked.

Dobbai held out her hands. ‘I do not know. But I do know that the death of Godarz will begin tumultuous events within the empire. He also knows this, though of course he would have preferred your death rather than your governor’s.’

‘I will march on Ctesiphon,’ I announced, ‘and bring back the head of Mithridates to adorn the entrance of Godarz’s mansion. The head of Narses too, a fitting tribute to Godarz. This is my vow.’

‘And that is exactly what they want you to do, son of Hatra,’ said Dobbai, ‘to march at the head of your army into their trap.’

‘What trap?’ asked Orodes.

Dobbai raised her face to the heavens. ‘I have tried, I really have, to counsel you, son of Hatra, so you can carry out the wishes of the gods and keep the empire strong. But you have seen fit to ignore my advice.’

‘That is unfair,’ I replied. ‘I have always respected your views.’

She fixed me with her black eyes. ‘Have you? I told you years ago to kill Mithridates, yet you chose to ignore me. He will only be satisfied when you are dead and he is the unchallenged king of kings.’

‘He is king of kings,’ I said in exasperation.

‘In name perhaps,’ said Dobbai, ‘but it is well known that you openly challenged him to march on Dura and take the city by storm. The longer you remain king here the more he is seen as impotent.’

‘If he and his assassins had killed Pacorus,’ said Orodes, ‘he must have known that King Varaz, his father, would have marched against him. And Hatra has allies in Babylon and Media, to say nothing of Nergal at Uruk.’

Dobbai regarded Orodes with a bemused look. ‘He knows all of that, but he and Narses have taken measures in anticipation of those events happening.’

‘What measures?’ I asked.

Dobbai pursed her lips. ‘How should I know? I cannot see into the poisoned well that is the mind of Mithridates.’

‘Mithridates must be punished,’ said Gallia, staring into the distance.

‘I agree,’ I added.

‘And so do I,’ said Orodes.

Dobbai rose from her chair. ‘Very well, I see that your minds are made up. So be it. Though take care, son of Hatra, not to underestimate your adversaries.’

She went over to Gallia and kissed her on the top of her head and then shuffled from the terrace. None of us said any more as we contemplated the future.

Six days later we burned the body of Godarz on a huge funeral pyre erected in the city’s main square. I had paid a great deal of gold to an Egyptian embalmer to preserve it so that his friends from afar could witness his funeral. Gallia had shed all her tears by then and her face was an emotionless mask as the pyre was lit and the flames took hold and consumed our friend’s body with a relentless ferocity. The square was packed with citizens for Godarz had been a respected governor who had administered the affairs of Dura with fairness, legality and commonsense. We stood in a line at the front of the multitude — I, Gallia, Orodes, Domitus, Diana, Gafarn, Nergal, Praxima, Byrd, Malik and a weeping Rsan. Poor Rsan. When we had first come to Dura he was the only one from the previous administration still alive. Rsan had been left to face us alone. He had subsequently proven himself to be a capable and above all honest royal treasurer. For those qualities he had become a valued and trusted member of the council. Rsan and Godarz had become close friends and now my treasurer was grief stricken. We could not criticise him; Godarz was a good man who deserved the shedding of an ocean of tears.

Behind us the Amazons were lined up in their mail shirts, swords at their hips. Diana and Gafarn had ridden hard from Hatra to be here and Nergal and Praxima had left their palace at Uruk to pay their respects to the man who had been like a father to them also.

The Companions remained motionless in their ranks among the soldiers who formed a cordon around the now blazing pyre. I watched the flames consume my friend, just as I had suffered with him many years ago in a green valley in Italy watching other flames devour the bodies of Spartacus and his wife Claudia. I prayed to Shamash that He would carry the soul of Godarz to heaven so he could be reunited with his friends. When the flames died down Domitus had his men clear the area and we remained at a loss as the legionaries used their shields to gently usher the citizens out of the square. As they did so I caught sight of Vistaspa, the commander of my father’s army. He had been standing among the crowd unnoticed but now he came over to me. Lean, tall with a thin, bony face, Vistaspa was one of the most ruthless men I had ever encountered. He had once been a prince of the Kingdom of Silvan and Godarz had served under him. Vistaspa had been delighted when he had been reunited with one of his old comrades in the aftermath of my return from Italy. Godarz could have stayed in Hatra but I had asked him to become Dura’s governor, and now Vistaspa had lost his friend for good. Although in his sixties, he still possessed the air of a ruthless warrior. He bowed his head and then regarded me with his cold, dark eyes.

‘Have you caught the killers yet?’

‘Not yet,’ I replied, ‘but be assured that they will not escape.’

But it seemed they had escaped. As the days passed I despaired that Godarz’s killers would be apprehended. Gallia’s mood darkened by the day and she lashed out at all and sundry. She spoke sharply to our daughters, argued with Domitus and Rsan and ordered that a servant, a girl barely out of her teens, be flogged for breaking a water jug. I immediately countermanded the order.

‘I ordered her to be flogged!’ Gallia stormed into the throne room as I was discussing sewage disposal with Rsan and the city’s chief engineer.

She strode onto the dais and stood before me. Rsan and the engineer looked at each other and then stared at the floor.

‘Thank you, Rsan, we will discuss this matter tomorrow.’

Rsan and the engineer bowed and left us.

‘Well?’

‘We do not flog young girls,’ I said. ‘And did you notice that I was in a meeting?’

She sneered at me. ‘Sitting on your arse doing nothing, as usual.’

I stood up slowly. ‘I know that you are upset my love, but do not test my patience.’

‘Why?’ she scoffed, ‘what are you going to do? You should be out looking for Godarz’s killers instead of sitting on your backside talking about disposing of shit.’

‘That’s enough!’

Her eyes were wild and I thought she was going to strike me, but then Domitus interrupted us.

‘We’ve found them.’

Gallia’s mood changed instantly as Domitus informed us that Polemo and Nadira had been caught and were on their way back to Dura under armed guard.

‘They bribed a merchant and joined his caravan. Would have got away had it not been for the broken nose you gave the man,’ said Domitus. ‘They were picked up by an Agraci patrol just outside Palmyra.’

‘What about the merchant?’ growled Gallia.

‘He is at Palmyra under Haytham’s guard awaiting your decision.’

‘Tell Haytham to execute him,’ said Gallia. ‘That is the penalty for helping assassins.’

Domitus looked at me.

‘What are you looking at him for?’ retorted Gallia. ‘Do you no longer take orders from your queen?’

I nodded ever so slightly at Domitus, who came to attention before Gallia.

‘It will be as you order, majesty.’

He turned, replaced his crested helmet on his head and marched from the throne room. Gallia sniffed and also marched away.

Malik himself brought back the pair who had been sent to kill me, handing them over to Domitus at the Palmyrene Gate. Gallia had wanted Nadira to be raped by a host of my soldiers but I instantly forbade such a torment. They would be executed for their crime and no more. Their deaths would take place in the main square so all could see that justice and law ruled in Dura. Gallia scoffed at what she called my high ideals, as did Dobbai, but I reminded them that I was the king of the city and my word held sway.

Afterwards we held a meeting of the council, a mournful occasion at which we all found ourselves staring at the chair Godarz used to sit in. I should have had it removed but to do so seemed like a slight against his memory and we all wanted to have things around us that reminded us of him. So it stayed.

‘You are governor now, Rsan,’ I said. ‘Godarz would have wanted that.’

Domitus and Orodes nodded in assent and the clerk recorded my decision.

I tried to lighten the mood. ‘How is Aaron getting on, Rsan?’

‘Quite well, majesty. He has a quick mind and a head for figures. His tongue is apt to take on a mind of its own but aside from that he shows great promise.’

Gallia began to drum her fingers on the table, causing Rsan to fidget in embarrassment. Orodes pretended not to notice and Domitus stared blankly at the table top.

‘Is there something you wish to say?’ I asked her.

‘When are we marching against Mithridates?’

Domitus smiled and Orodes looked thoughtful. Rsan looked alarmed. The prospect of war always filled him with dread, not out of fear but because war meant a reduction in trade and an increase in costs, which meant his precious reserves of treasury gold would be called upon.

‘In a month’s time,’ I replied.

She slammed a fist on the table, causing Rsan to flinch in alarm. ‘That long? We can muster the army and be across the Euphrates in less than a week.’

She was right. Take the army across the river and then strike southeast towards Ctesiphon, the capital of the Parthian Empire. The residence of Mithridates was a large palace complex behind crumbling walls on the eastern bank of the Tigris. The distance was around two hundred miles as the buzzard flies.

‘No,’ I replied. ‘I will not violate the territorial integrity of Hatra and Babylon by marching unannounced through their kingdoms.’

Gallia rolled her eyes in despair. ‘Hatra and Babylon will not object to you crossing their lands. They are our allies, after all.’

‘That may be,’ I said. ‘But I will have their agreement first before starting a war with Mithridates.’

‘We could march down the western side of the Euphrates,’ offered Orodes. ‘Like we did when we campaigned against Chosroes.’

It was not a bad idea. The territory south of Dura for a hundred miles was my kingdom. Beyond that the Agraci ruled. Haytham was a friend and we had used that route when we had attacked Uruk to put Nergal on its throne. But that would add another hundred miles to our journey and we would still have to cross Babylonian territory when we swung east to cross the Euphrates and then head directly for Ctesiphon.

‘No,’ I said. ‘We would still need King Vardan’s agreement to march through his territory. It is better to cross the Euphrates here, at Dura, and then strike for Ctesiphon.’

Domitus looked thoughtful. ‘Mithridates will know by now that you are still alive. He might scarper from his palace and seek refuge further east, with Narses.’

‘He might,’ I replied, ‘though even Mithridates will think twice before running from me. The eyes of the empire will be on him. He and Narses will have no choice but to meet us in battle.’

Mithridates was king of kings and in theory commanded the respect and obedience of all the other kings of the empire. In reality he could only rely on the eastern kings of the realm, including his lord high general Narses, King of Persis and Sakastan. In the northeast corner of the empire lay the kingdoms of Margiana and Hyrcania, and men who were friends of Dura ruled those two domains. And in the western half of the empire the kingdoms of Atropaiene, Media, Hatra, Babylon and Mesene were no friends of Mithridates. But that did not mean they would fight him.

‘This is my fight,’ I said. ‘I have no desire to involve other kingdoms in my quarrel.’

‘Narses will muster a large army, Pacorus,’ said Orodes.

‘I know that, my friend. But we have beaten Narses before and can do so again.’

‘Except we had other kings with us then,’ remarked Domitus grimly.

‘Dura’s army is strong, Domitus,’ said Gallia,’ you have made it so. And we can call on Haytham’s help to swell our numbers.’

‘I will ask Malik and his scouts to accompany us,’ I said, ‘but we will leave the Agraci out of it.’ I looked at them all. ‘It is no small thing that we embark on but if we do nothing Dura, and me for that matter, will appear weak and helpless. Mithridates has made the first move in what will be the final confrontation between us. There is no room in the empire for both of us, therefore let us end it now and rid the world of the villain. Domitus, muster your men!’

Dura’s army was spread far and wide, not only in the camp west of the Palmyrene Gate but also stationed in the small forts that had been built to the north and south of the city. Each one held a garrison of forty men, whose duties ranged from policing the roads, maintaining the irrigation ditches and dams that controlled the flow of water from the Euphrates onto the land, to catching thieves and other criminals and sending them to Dura for punishment. They were also a visible symbol of Dura’s strength. Other, larger forts had been constructed at the extreme ends of the kingdom. Each of these held a garrison of a hundred horse archers who patrolled the borders and ensured no undesirables wandered into Duran territory. There were three such forts at the northern extremity of the kingdom, for that was where Dura ended and Roman Syria began. The Romans had also constructed forts on their frontier so each side watched the other warily, though in truth there had been no trouble with the Romans. There had even been a degree of fraternisation between Dura’s horsemen and their Roman counterparts. I had given orders that this was to cease — I did not trust the men of the Tiber any more than I would a cobra.

At the southern edge of the kingdom were two more forts, though there was never any problem there since south of them was Agraci territory. There were no forts along the long western edge of Dura’s border as the entire length of the frontier also abutted Agraci territory.

Shamash had blessed Dura with the Silk Road and the duties that were levelled on this trade route financed the army. It was common knowledge throughout the empire that Dura possessed two legions modelled on the same formations found in the Roman army. In addition, there was a replacement cohort that recruited and trained new volunteers to ensure that each legion was kept at full strength. The Duran Legion had been the first formation and had been assembled even before we had arrived in Dura. The second legion, the Exiles, had originally been composed of soldiers who had fought in the army of Pontus against the Romans, and who had made their way south to Dura in the aftermath of their defeat.

These legions were trained, organised and equipped in the Roman fashion but they wore white tunics and their shields carried the griffin symbol of Dura.

As well as the foot soldiers there were three thousand horse archers. Originally Dura’s horse archers had been equipped with helmets and mail shirts, but in recent times they had done away with the mail shirts and wore only loose-fitting white shirts with silk vests worn underneath. Each horse archer carried a quiver holding thirty arrows, but on campaign the horse archers were accompanied by a camel train equipped with tens of thousands of spare arrows. In battle it was the task of the horse archers to pepper the enemy with arrows, to harass and disorientate them, to weaken but not to fight them at close quarters. That was the task of the two legions that could cut their way through enemy foot soldiers and fight off opposing horsemen. But the jewels in the crown of Dura’s army were its cataphracts.

The cataphracts were men on horseback who wore scale armour — thick hide coats covered in overlapping metal scales that protected their torsos — steel leg and arm armour and full-face helmets on their heads. They went into battle armed with the kontus, a long, thick lance that was held with both hands. They also carried swords, maces and axes for close-quarter combat. Their horses were also protected by scale armour so that man and beast were encased in thick hide and metal. Each cataphract was served by two young squires who cared for his horse, weapons and equipment. They in turn trained to be cataphracts themselves once they had served their apprenticeships, thus ensuring that Dura had a constant supply of heavy cavalry. But cataphracts were massively expensive to raise, equip and maintain, and it was a source of pride to me that Dura had a thousand of them. All the cataphracts were billeted in the city, along with their squires and horses. The camels that carried their weapons and armour were stabled outside the city.

Domitus organised the muster of the two legions while Orodes organised the assembly of the horsemen. I for my part sent messages to the lords to present themselves at the palace. In every Parthian kingdom there were vassal lords who owed allegiance to their king. Often men of great wealth and power themselves, they were granted lands in return for tribute and the pledge of soldiers in times of war. In Dura the situation was slightly different. Prior to my arrival there had been no king in Dura. It had been a frontier kingdom belonging to the aged King of Kings Sinatruces. He had used Dura as a dumping ground for malcontents, rogues, troublemakers and the like, granting them great swathes of land that they ruled as demi-kings themselves, providing they could stay alive. Most did not last six months, being either killed by their own mutinous supporters or by Agraci war bands. Those that did survive fought off the Agraci and stamped their iron will on the land, building great strongholds to protect their hard-won gains. They tamed the land and fought off the Agraci. When I arrived at Dura I did not demand their loyalty but treated them fairly and as equals. In this way I gained their trust and now their sons served me as cataphracts. They now answered my call and came to Dura to hear about the coming campaign.

They were full of fire and enthusiasm as they gathered before me in the throne room, each of the grizzled old rogues insisting that they kissed Gallia’s hand before proceedings started. They loved her and she loved them back. They gave me obedience but she owned their utmost devotion. I suspect that many lusted after her, but all admired her courage and I sometimes wondered whether it was in fact she who ruled the kingdom and not me.

I rose from my chair and stepped down from the dais to address them as equals.

‘My friends, I thank you for coming to Dura. You will know by now that I intend to make war upon Mithridates.’

‘About time too,’ shouted one. This was greeted with cheers and the stamping of feet. I raised my hands to still the commotion.

‘We have fought many battles together,’ I continued.

‘And will fight many more,’ shouted another, followed by more cheers and whistles.

‘But I will not be asking you to accompany me on this campaign.’

There was stunned silence. Even Gallia looked at me with a perplexed expression.

‘I know this may surprise and disappoint you, but I cannot leave the kingdom defenceless.’

‘Defenceless against whom?’ asked Spandarat, a one-eyed lord who had accompanied Gallia back to Dura when she had been pregnant with our first child while we were on campaign.

‘The Romans in Syria,’ I replied. ‘I remember a time when the Romans took advantage of civil strife within the empire before, and then we lost a kingdom to them. I do not intend the same happening again.’

I was alluding to Gordyene, the land to the north that had been conquered by the Romans. I did not intend Dura to suffer the same fate.

‘I have heard of no stirrings in Syria,’ spoke one of the northern lords, a thickset man with a great bushy beard.

‘When they learn that the forts that guard the northern frontier have been stripped of their garrisons they may be tempted to invade Dura. There are two legions in Syria and I do not trust the Romans not to take advantage of our army’s absence. That is why your presence here is so important.’

They grumbled among themselves and looked unhappy but knew that what I had said made sense. Between them they could raise around forty thousand horse archers in addition to their personal bodyguards numbering another thousand men. It was enough to deter a Roman invasion, or so I hoped. Aside from their personal retinues their troops were drawn from the men who worked their lands: farmers and fishermen. They were not as disciplined as those who served in Dura’s army, but they were frontiersmen who were hardy and knew how to shoot a bow from the saddle. As such they would delay any invading army long enough for me to bring mine back across the Euphrates after I had dealt with Mithridates.

After Gallia had flattered and flirted with them the lords went back to their estates. They may have been unhappy that they were missing out on a battle, but they were delighted to be entrusted with the safety of the queen and her children. I had told them that they would guard Gallia and the kingdom while I was away, and that they were to obey her in my absence. After they had gone I went out onto the palace terrace to lean on the stone balustrade and watch the activity below. This was one of my favourite places where I could observe the traffic on the road flowing east and west and gaze at the blue waters of the Euphrates. The minutiae of life was fascinating: Rsan’s officials collecting tolls from those crossing the pontoon bridges; legionaries ensuring that traffic flowed smoothly over the wooden bridges; and people from all corners of the empire on the road going about their business; fishermen in their small boats on the river. It was endless and fascinating.

‘Daydreaming again, son of Hatra?’

Dobbai shuffled past me to sit in one of the chairs opposite.

‘For a man about to embark upon great slaughter you seem remarkably calm.’

‘Just one battle, Dobbai, and then it will all be over.’

She looked east across the river. ‘Just one battle, to begin with.’

‘To begin with?’

She turned to look at me. ‘I will say it again. Do not underestimate Mithridates, or Narses for that matter.’

‘I don’t and won’t.’

She pointed at me with a bony finger. ‘You think that because you beat them before you will do so again with ease.’

She was referring to the Battle of Surkh, when I had been instrumental in defeating the combined armies of Mithridates and Narses. Afterwards I had been made lord high general of the empire by a grateful King of Kings Phraates. How long ago that seemed now.

I smiled at Dobbai. ‘Have the gods revealed to you that they will defeat me?’

‘You may mock me, but your smugness will disappear when you come running back to Dura with your tail between your legs.’

‘Is that your prophecy or the gods?’

She waved a hand at me. ‘I say again, do not underestimate your foes.’

She changed the subject. ‘When are the executions?’

‘Tomorrow.’

That was when Nadira and Polemo would die for the murder of Godarz. Vistaspa had stayed in Dura in the aftermath of Godarz’s death and said he would return to Hatra once justice had been meted out. Haytham had also travelled to the city to witness the executions. There was a time when the visit of the Agraci king would have elicited horror among the city’s residents but now no one batted an eyelid. Indeed, Malik visited us so often that many came to see him more as Duran than Agraci. He and Domitus were good friends, though Malik’s agreeable nature meant that he got on well with most people. He was not like Haytham, who was hard, merciless and unyielding, much like the desert that had spawned him. Above all Malik, though brave, lacked the ruthlessness, the utter indifference to suffering which Haytham possessed in abundance.

‘Gallia has hired a headsman for the executions,’ remarked Dobbai casually.

‘A headsman, why? Dura has its own executioner.’

Dobbai rose and ambled away.

‘Remember what I said, son of Hatra, do not underestimate your foes.’

Gallia refused to discuss the executions, saying that she was too upset to talk about the condemned as it reminded her of Godarz. When I asked her about the headsman she merely remarked that he had been recommended to her and that she wanted the task carried out properly. Further questioning of her was met by a stony silence so I gave up.

The day of the executions was overcast, the mood of the population sombre as the two prisoners were escorted from their confinement at the Palmyrene Gate. Notwithstanding Gallia’s desires I had given orders that they were not to be mistreated in any way. Their quarters were to be functional and their rations adequate, and on no account were they to be abused by their gaolers, especially Nadira. Raping a woman had no place in Dura’s army.

Just after dawn the pair walked from the Palmyrene Gate along the city’s main street to the market place. Domitus had lined the route with guards to ensure that they reached their place of execution — Godarz had been a popular governor and many may have been tempted to exact their own vengeance upon his killers. Soldiers also lined the outside of the square and were posted around the wooden platform that had been erected in the centre of the square where the pair was to be put to death. Directly opposite and on the northern side of the square was a second platform of the same height. That is where we assembled to watch justice being administered.

Sullen, angry people were still filing into the square as Polemo and Nadira were escorted through the throng to their appointment with the headsman. He stood impassively as the murderers were manhandled up the steps and onto the platform. The executioner was tall, fat and completely bald. He held the handle of a large curved sword in his right hand, the point resting on the wooden boards. He watched Polemo and Nadira with piggy eyes, his stare fixed on Nadira’s chest. Gallia had wanted her to be stripped naked before she was killed but I had countermanded this order as well, earning me a fierce rebuke from my wife. But I told her that I was not a barbarian. In these moments her wild Gaul side came to the fore and frankly unnerved me, but I was king in Dura. Even attired in a voluminous white gown Nadira’s voluptuous figure was still apparent. Such a waste of womanhood.

On the platform the two were handed over to the executioner’s assistants — half a dozen burly men dressed in black leggings and brown leather tunics. Two grabbed the arms of Polemo while two more stood either side of a now very pale Nadira. Polemo was stripped of his top and forced down onto his knees to face the executioner. Polemo looked up and spat at him. One of the assistants stepped forward, slapped him hard round the face and shoved his head down. The executioner hoisted his great sword onto his right shoulder and stepped to one side. He looked at me and I nodded. The crowd was silent and still whilst Nadira, wild-eyed, bit her lip and stared ahead. She was not looking at her accomplice kneeling a few feet from her.

With both hands the executioner raised the sword high above his head and then in one seamless movement brought it down on Polemo’s neck. I stared in horror as the blade sliced Polemo’s flesh but did not sever his head. The executioner once more raised the blade and sliced it down onto Polemo’s neck. It cut flesh but again did not decapitate Polemo, who tried to lift himself up, blood gushing from his neck wound. Now terrified, he looked up at the executioner as the latter’s blade once more sliced into his flesh. Polemo pitched forward, still alive, as the crowd groaned. The executioner gestured at his assistants, who stepped forward and yanked Polemo back onto his knees. Then they stepped away. The executioner wiped the blood off his blade with a cloth and then stepped forward and again aimed a blow at Polemo, this time slicing deep into his shoulder. Polemo shrieked in pain, his torso covered in blood. Nadira, now distraught at the awful spectacle unfolding before her, pissed herself. Orodes looked at Malik who shook his head, while Haytham remained impassive. Rsan, shaking, was covering his eyes with his hands.

Domitus turned to me. ‘I’ll finish this,’ and made to leave our viewing platform.

‘Stay where you are, Domitus,’ commanded Gallia, who nodded at the executioner. He nodded back, raised his sword once more then finally severed Polemo’s head. Blood poured from the headless torso as a weeping Nadira was forced down on her knees. No doubt she was being tortured by the thought of enduring the same treatment as Polemo. Domitus returned to his place as the executioner lopped off Nadira’s head with a single blow. Thus was the grisly spectacle brought to an end.

The two lifeless bodies were dumped on a cart as the populace returned to their daily lives. Rsan walked over to the edge of the platform and threw up. Haytham regarded an iron-visaged Gallia and smiled. Orodes was most unhappy and Malik was frowning. Domitus stood and looked bemused as his soldiers ushered the remnants of the crowd from the square.

‘There was no need for that,’ I said to Gallia.

‘If I had had my way,’ she said slowly and loudly enough for everyone around us to hear, ‘their deaths would have lasted for days. They got off lightly.’

With that she turned away from me and marched from the platform. Domitus slapped me on the arm.

‘Perhaps you should stay here and let Gallia march against Mithridates. That way the war will be over in no time at all.’

I shook my head. ‘I think not. There will be no one left alive from here to the Himalayas if I unleash her on the empire.’

The grisly episode was now over and it was time for the army to march east and spill some more blood.