Carrhae

Chapter 12

The hung-over warriors eventually staggered from Zand’s hut and threw themselves in the stream to restore some sense to their dulled brains. A few threw up outside the hut first to provide a breakfast for the mangy dogs that stalked the village. They really were a disgusting people, and yet they were also hardy and had resisted foreign powers for thousands of years. As his warriors splashed in the water and engaged in boorish horseplay Zand himself appeared from out of the forest carrying the body of a wild goat and a bloodied spear, Gourlay beside him. He nodded at me and shouted at his men to get out of the stream and attend to their duties as Domitus sidled up to me fully dressed in his mail shirt, helmet in the crook of his arm.

‘I have attended so many feasts that they now bore me,’ said Zand, handing the dead goat and spear to Gourlay who walked back to the hut with them.

‘Too much drinking eventually deadens the mind so I prefer to stay sober these days,’ he continued. ‘I trust you and your men slept well, King Pacorus of Dura.’

‘Yes, thank you,’ I replied. ‘You like to hunt in the early hours?’

‘It is the best time to take life,’ he said. ‘The senses of both men and beasts are befuddled at such times so a hunter can get close. Their blood can be watering the earth before the first of the sun’s rays brings light to the world.’

I wondered how many people would die as a result of the horses that I would be supplying him with, how many pre-dawn raids he would lead in the coming months? It was not my concern. My concern was the safety of the empire, though I had to admit that it irked me that I was assisting such people. But then, I too was almost certainly sending the warriors I would be hiring to their deaths.

‘Gourlay will escort you back to Susa,’ he continued. ‘When can I expect delivery of the gold and horses?’

‘When will you send the warriors?’ I asked.

‘Gourlay will lead them to Susa as soon as I have received your payment,’ he replied.

‘What is to stop you from taking the gold and horses and not fulfilling your part of the agreement?’ asked a sceptical Domitus.

Zand’s pitiless blue eyes narrowed. ‘Nothing, you will just have to trust me.’

‘I have never put much stock in trust,’ growled Domitus.

Zand studied the short, crop-haired individual in front of him dressed in armour and armed with a short sword and dagger, so different from the wild, long-haired warriors of his own tribe.

‘You are not Parthian, are you?’

‘I am a Roman,’ said Domitus.

Zand glanced at me. ‘The same people that King Pacorus of Dura wishes to send my warriors to fight against.’

‘They won’t be your warriors once he has paid for them,’ said Domitus, ‘they will be his.’

‘The gold and horses will be accompanied by soldiers to ensure that the exchange goes smoothly,’ I said.

Zand did not take his eyes off Domitus. ‘And what is to stop those soldiers from shooting down my men with your Parthian bows, King Pacorus of Dura.’

I smiled. ‘Nothing. You will just have to trust me.’

Zand burst into laughter. ‘I think we can do much business, you and I. Come, let us eat breakfast before your journey.’

We retired to his hut that still stank of human odour and smoke but which was soon filled with the more pleasant aroma of fresh bread as the female slaves prepared food for us to eat. Fresh logs had been thrown on the fire and then domed metal plates were placed on top of the flames and left to get hot. The benches had been replaced around the fire and we took our seats and watched the women toss dough balls made from flour, salt and water on the hot plates and then flick them over and over, sprinkling water over the bread to prevent it from getting too dry. The bread was served with kebabs made from the wild goat that Zand had killed earlier, honey from the tribe’s hives and eggs that had been collected that morning. It was an altogether delicious meal.

Two hours later Zand himself was escorting us back to Susa, following the same route that we had used to reach his village. This time we had an escort of a dozen of his warriors on horseback, each one armed with a spear, round wooden shield and a long knife. Compared to Dura’s horsemen they were a sorry sight but I knew they were masters at moving unseen through hills and forests and would make much trouble for the Romans in Judea.

We bid farewell to Zand in the foothills of the Zagros east of the River Dez and continued on to Susa alone. The chief said that he would send Gourlay to the city in two weeks’ time to see if the gold and horses were ready, and if not at two week intervals after that. He emphasised the importance of receiving the horses and gold before the autumn ended so he could raid the lands of his enemies to kill and steal their winter foodstuffs.

‘You pay a high price for his assistance,’ said Orodes as we relaxed in a small lounge in the private apartments of his royal palace at Susa.

‘Dura will reimburse your treasury for the gold and the horses,’ I told him.

‘You trust this man, this Zand?’ asked Axsen as she reclined on a couch opposite my own.

‘I trust his ambition and ruthlessness,’ I answered. ‘He wishes to attack the villages of his enemies and with his warriors mounted he can raid far and wide.’

‘Including Susa’s farms and villages,’ said Orodes with concern.

‘That’s just what I said,’ remarked Domitus casually.

‘It is a risk,’ I admitted, ‘but the other tribes are pressing on Zand’s borders, especially after his losses at Susa. He will be concentrating on expanding his power at the expense of the other tribes rather than attacking Susiana’s territories.’

‘These tribes need to be subdued,’ said Axsen.

‘Alas, lady,’ I replied, ‘thus far no one has succeeded, not even the great Alexander of Macedon. The Zagros Mountains are too expansive and the tribes too dispersed to make their subjugation possible. Far better to encourage them to kill each other.’

‘What is he like, this Zand?’ asked Orodes.

I thought for a moment. ‘Intelligent.’

‘For a savage,’ added Domitus.

‘We are all savages to someone, Domitus,’ I retorted, ‘but Zand is someone whom a high king might be able to deal with, if only to play off his enemies against each other.’

‘We will honour your agreement with him,’ said Orodes, ‘I will see to it that he receives his gold and horses. Having fought the Romans and the hill men, I do not think that the latter are capable of defeating the former.’

‘That is putting it mildly,’ said Domitus.

‘Then why are you purchasing hill men as mercenaries?’ asked a concerned Axsen.

I drained my cup of wine and held it out for a slave to refill it. ‘My desire is not for the hill men to defeat the Romans but to keep them and Crassus occupied in Judea. He will not invade Parthia until Judea is subdued and by the time he does we will be ready for him.’

‘And the Armenians?’ asked Orodes.

‘I still believe that if we defeat the Romans then the Armenians will be relatively easy to deal with,’ I replied.

Orodes stared at his cup. ‘Surena is still waging his private war against the Armenians, which at least distracts them. Have you had any word from him, Pacorus?’

I shook my head. ‘None. He may be dead for all I know, though I suspect that he still lives. He is a most resourceful individual.’

‘It was very sad that his wife died,’ said Axsen wistfully, ‘I liked her. It is very romantic that her death has spurred him on to battle the Armenians.’

Domitus looked askance at her and rolled his eyes.

‘You should bring him to heel,’ Domitus said to Orodes.

‘Alas, my friend,’ he replied, ‘the only way I could do so would be to march an army into Gordyene and conquer the kingdom, which I have neither the resources nor desire to do. Parthia is not Rome. The empire is made up of separate kingdoms whose rulers swear allegiance to the king of kings whom they have elected. In my grandfather’s time any disloyalty was severely punished but then Parthia was strong and was not threatened by powerful external enemies.’

‘Surena’s war serves our interests for the moment,’ I said, ‘in that it keeps the Armenians from marching south against Hatra. My main concern is that his depredations may enrage Artavasdes and goad him into launching an offensive at the same time as Crassus invades the empire.’

‘You could attack the Armenians first,’ suggested Domitus.

‘But then Crassus would surely cross the Euphrates while we were preoccupied in the north, swinging north to trap our army between him and the Armenians. I cannot risk that.’

‘The scales are finely balanced,’ said Axsen.

‘Indeed,’ I replied, ‘which is why we need to buy as much time as possible.’

‘And what of the eastern kings,’ probed Axsen, ‘will they assist you?’

‘Phriapatius is loyal,’ I replied, ‘but if the western kingdoms fall I doubt those in the east of the empire will mobilise their forces to fight a war west of the Tigris. They will prefer to wait for the Romans to come to them, thinking they will be stronger on home ground, which will be their undoing.’

‘But you have fought and defeated the Romans before, Pacorus,’ said Axsen, ‘and you have your sorceress on your side.’

I smiled at her. ‘Perhaps I should send her to fight Crassus.’

‘It will take more than sorcery to defeat the Romans,’ said Orodes glumly.

I looked at Domitus who caught my eye but remained stony faced. He had been at Dobbai’s ceremony and had witnessed the strange mist, the ghostly howling and seen the empty places where the clay hounds had been. Did he believe? Did I believe? I wanted to and was thankful when Tigranes had died and Aulus Gabinius had turned back from invading Parthia, but were these events miracles or just coincidences? I wanted to see more miracles to convince me that the gods were truly on our side, but would thinking these things anger them and stop them from assisting us further? I tortured myself with such thoughts as I rode back to Dura from Susa with my horse archers, Domitus and two squires. The latter were in high spirits, Spartacus because he was going back to Dura and so would be nearer to Rasha, Scarab because I had told him that he would be my permanent squire when Spartacus became a cataphract. Scarab would never make it into the ranks of the heavy horsemen. He could shoot a bow with a reasonable degree of accuracy but his sword skills were almost non-existent and his horsemanship left a lot to be desired. Spartacus, like most Parthian males, had been in the saddle almost before he could walk and had learned to shoot a bow and wield a sword and lance from the saddle at an early age. These skills he took for granted because they had been part of his upbringing, but years of experience and learning could not be condensed into months. Some had been surprised that Surena, being from the southern marshlands, had adapted so well to Dura’s horse archers and cataphracts, but he too had been fighting and riding from an early age, albeit horses stolen from the enemy.

So Scarab would remain my squire and servant, but as a free man.

‘There are no slaves in Dura’s palace,’ I told him as we rode along the eastern bank of the Euphrates on the way back to Dura, ‘you know this.’

‘That means you can leave Dura at any time,’ Domitus told him,’ ‘if you get tired of washing Pacorus’ shirts.’

‘The king saved me,’ said Scarab, ‘therefore I am forever in his debt and will only leave him if he dismisses me.’

He really did not understand the concept of freedom.

‘Being free means taking your own decisions, Scarab,’ I said, ‘not being told what to do. To forge your own destiny and live your life in freedom and not in chains.’

‘My destiny is to serve you, majesty. That is what the gods have decreed and it is unwise to ignore their wishes. Therefore I pledge my life to your service.’

‘Sounds like slavery to me,’ grinned Domitus, who then eyed Spartacus, ‘a bit like marriage.’

‘What about your family, Scarab?’ I asked, ‘would you not like to search for them. Being free means that you can travel back to Egypt and find them.

He shook his head. ‘I was sold into slavery when I was an infant and do not know the location of the market where I was sold. I have no knowledge of my family.’

‘I am sorry,’ I said.

‘It is the will of the gods,’ he replied casually. ‘You have known your family, majesty, and Spartacus his, a great blessing. And you, lord general,’ he asked Domitus, ‘do you have knowledge of your parents?’

I smiled knowingly. Scarab might as well ask a stone by the side of the road to explain its ancestry for Lucius Domitus never spoke of his past.

‘My mother was a kitchen slave, a cook, in the villa of a Roman patrician in Capena, near Rome. The man was very rich and had been a commander of a legion, a legate, and had been richly rewarded for his services by a grateful Senate. My mother was the daughter and granddaughter of slaves so she told me and had been purchased in the slave market by her master, a white-haired man named Quintus Sergius.

‘You are probably thinking that I was born to slave parents but you would be wrong. My father, if you can call him that, was the son of Quintus Sergius, a tribune who took a fancy to the good-looking slave girl in the kitchens and raped her, though others might say he seduced her. I believed my mother in the matter. He returned to Spain where he was killed soon afterwards but his father knew the truth and when she gave birth to me he treated her kindly, giving her light duties in his household and ensuring that her son prospered. She was still a slave of course and he would never admit that the slave baby she bore was his grandchild, but the guilt he felt over his son’s actions compelled him to attempt to atone for the great affront done to my mother, and I think that in me he saw a memory of his son. He was quite old when I was born and his wife was older and so they would never have any more children.

‘I grew up a kitchen slave but one who was taught to read and write. Quintus Sergius also told me stories of Rome’s wars and life in the legions and was delighted when I said that I wanted to join the army. And so, on my seventeenth birthday, he gave me a formal manumission, which meant I was free and became a Roman citizen. As a citizen I could join the army and with my former master’s letter of recommendation my acceptance was assured. My mother did not wish me to leave, of course, but he had filled my head with notions of glory and adventure and I could not wait to wield a sword and kill Rome’s enemies.

‘I can still see her, standing near the villa’s entrance in her apron with the other slaves as I rode with Quintus Sergius to the nearby legionary barracks. It was a bright spring day and the air was full of the aroma of pine and I thought myself very special riding next to a war hero to follow in his footsteps.

‘I never saw my mother again though she wrote to me often. Two years later Quintus Sergius himself wrote to me saying that she had died of a fever. So you see, Nubian, like you I have no family except those I call family who live in Dura.’

I nearly fell off my horse. In all the time that I had known Domitus I had never heard him divulge this information.

‘I am glad that Quintus Sergius died before I was condemned to the silver mine,’ Domitus continued. ‘It would have upset him greatly and I did not desire that. He was always good to my mother and me and I owed him a great deal. If he is watching me now I hope that he is pleased with the army I have helped to create.’

‘He will be,’ I assured him, ‘for you have created the finest army that Parthia has ever known and its reputation and history will be lauded by generations of Parthians to come.’

Domitus looked at Scarab and then nodded towards me. ‘The king is such a dreamer.’

It took a month for the hill men to reach Dura — two thousand scruffy, poorly dressed and equipped men, many of whom had no footwear. They were led by Gourlay and escorted by five hundred of Orodes’ horse archers to ensure they did not indulge in rape and pillage on their journey. Most of them were armed with a variety of axes, spears and long knives and only Gourlay rode a horse, the same pitiful beast that he had ridden when he had escorted me to Zand’s village. It looked as though it was about to collapse and expire but it must have been hardier that I thought because it had survived the journey to Dura.

It stood next to Remus with Gourlay on its back as I inspected his ragged band the day after they had arrived at Dura. Domitus had insisted that the hill men be quartered in a tented compound erected ten miles south of the city. He did not want them in the city or the legionary camp but in their own enclosure where they could be more easily confined. He was mounted on my other side and wore an expression akin to a father who has just found out that his youngest daughter was pregnant by a travelling salesman. Nevertheless, Gourlay informed me that they were all single men in their late teens or early twenties who were eager to fight and kill so they could return to their tribe as great warriors. I kept silent regarding the fact that most of them would probably meet their deaths at the hands of Roman soldiers.

‘Miserable bunch,’ mumbled Domitus contemptuously, fortunately out of earshot of Gourlay.

‘You have done well, Gourlay,’ I said. ‘They are a fine group of young men.’

Domitus suppressed a laugh.

‘Thank you, majesty,’ said Gourlay. ‘All of them are eager to slit a few throats to show their keenness.’

‘I can believe that,’ muttered Domitus.

Marcus supplied their tents and cooking utensils and sent daily food deliveries to the new camp to bulk up the hill men, many of whom looked as though they had not eaten in weeks. And to prevent boredom setting in while I waited for Alexander to arrive from Judea, each morning they were taken out into the desert on a long route march. This caused an immense amount of grumbling among them at first, but their resentment was assuaged by what awaited them on their return. Domitus complained that I was indulging them but I believed that if they at least looked like soldiers then they might act like them and not a bunch of bandits. So they first received new tunics to replace the flea-infested rags they wore — which was another reason Domitus did not want them mixing with the rest of the army. Next they were issued with two thousand pairs of sandals, which they would need when they were in the barren, rocky hills of Judea.

Dura was fortunate in that its armouries not only produced weapons and armour but also contained equipment that had been captured from the enemy during the army’s campaigns. Thus I was able to issue the hill men with an assortment of helmets, spears and swords that gave them a more martial appearance. In addition, Gourlay selected a hundred of them who had experience of archery to be issued with bows and full quivers. An archery field was built near their camp and each day the bowmen practised shooting arrows at straw targets. A month after the hill men had arrived Alexander came to Dura.

Before I had left for Susa I had asked Aaron to write to Alexander to invite him to Dura where he would receive reinforcements. I gambled that as a Jewish patriot he would be eager to acquire reinforcements for the fight to free his homeland. I did not tell him that I was sending fighters to Judea purely for my own interests, but then Alexander would probably have guessed the motive behind my offer. But he came anyway.

Aaron rode with a party of horse archers to Palmyra to bring him back to Dura and when the party returned I had the army drawn up in front of the city in salute. Alexander Maccabeus may have been a fugitive living in the hills but he was still a prince of Judea and an enemy of Rome and that made him my friend and ally. The cataphracts wore their scale armour with pennants fluttering from every kontus; the colour parties of the Durans and Exiles stood to attention grouped round their sacred emblems; the legionaries had white plumes in their helmets and the mounted horse archers of Vagises and Peroz clutched their bows. Gallia was beside me with the Amazons behind in their full war gear as Aaron and Alexander rode up to us in front of the Palmyrene Gate.

The prince was riding a well-groomed brown mare and was wearing a rich white tunic edged with blue, blue leggings and leather boots. But as he halted his horse a few paces before me I was shocked by how he had aged. His shoulder-length hair was thinning and streaked with grey and there was grey in his beard. His cheeks were sunken and his brown eyes had a world-weary, haunted look about them — clearly the years of fighting the Romans and living in the hills had taken a great toll. When I had first met him I estimated his age to be similar to my own but now he looked like an old man.

‘Greetings, King Pacorus,’ he said. ‘Your army is a most impressive sight.’

‘Welcome to Dura, Prince Alexander,’ I replied, holding out a hand to Gallia. ‘This is my wife, Queen Gallia.’

He bowed his head to her solemnly and she returned the compliment.

‘You must be tired after your journey,’ I said to him, ‘but before we retire to the city I have something to show you.’

I raised my right arm and Gourlay and his hill men, who had been positioned behind the Exiles, marched forward towards the city gates. Alexander turned in his saddle as the fully armed hill men, organised into hundred-man companies, advanced and then halted two hundred paces from us. I had to admit that they looked very different from the threadbare wretches who had marched from the Zagros Mountains. Each warrior now wore a new tunic, a helmet on his head and sandals on his feet. A regular supply of wholesome food had bulked them up so they presented a threatening appearance. Alexander looked at them in confusion.

‘A gift from the Kingdom of Dura to the Jewish people,’ I said. ‘Soldiers for you to take back to Judea to continue the fight against the Roman occupiers.’

A broad grin spread over his face as he admired his new army.

‘You are most generous, majesty,’ he said.

‘Judea’s enemies are our enemies, Alexander, and Dura will never abandon its allies. These men will reinforce your own troops to allow you to take the fight to the enemy.’

He turned back to face me. ‘They will be most welcome for I have few soldiers of my own left.’

His careworn demeanour returned.

‘I hope Ananus and Levi are well,’ I said. They were two of Alexander’s lieutenants whom I had encountered in Judea.

‘They are both long dead,’ he said glumly.

We rode in silence through the city to the Citadel where Alexander was shown to his quarters in the palace. I had toyed with the idea of letting him stay with Aaron and Rachel but that may have been construed as a slight. I wanted to promote the perception that Alexander was a powerful ally rather than demean him, even if the truth was that he was currently no better than a hill man.

Alexander’s mood had improved by the time he attended the feast I gave in his honour at the palace that evening. He sat next to me on the top table along with Gallia, Miriam and Domitus and Aaron and Rachel. I had also invited a Jewish priest, a rabbi, who said prayers before we ate, and who stayed to partake of the lentil stew — a traditional Jewish dish — which the kitchens had prepared, along with roasted beef, goat and mutton. Two days later Alexander left Dura with Gourlay and his hill men, along with two hundred mules loaded with food, spare weapons, clothing and cloaks. After they had left I rode to the Palmyrene Gate, and standing next to the stone griffin I watched the column of men and animals disappear into the west. I prayed to Shamash that He would let the hill men taste victory before they died.

Affairs at Dura continued as normal: the armouries produced weapons and armour, the caravans travelled east and west and the army drilled and prepared for the coming war. I was in frequent contact with both Orodes and Phriapatius, though none of my letters to Surena in Gordyene were answered. Orodes wrote that he had also received no answer to his request that Surena visit him at Seleucia. I did hear from traders who were travelling through Dura that their fellow merchants who had been in Gordyene had informed them that Surena was rarely in Vanadzor, preferring the company of the wild men of his northern borders, who were constantly raiding Armenian territories. I had toyed with the idea of asking Gafarn to send Silaces to Gordyene to speak to Surena, but when I mentioned it in a letter to Gafarn I received a message back that Silaces and his men could not be spared.

There was better news from Phriapatius who reported that he had assembled forty thousand men at Persepolis as part of his Eastern Army, ready to reinforce us when the Romans invaded. However, he stated that most of the men in this force were his own Carmanians, the other eastern kings having been reluctant to send him any troops because they did not wish to weaken their own armies. And from Khosrou and Musa came news of unending war with the nomads of the northern steppes, the vast land between the Caspian and Aral seas.

‘Mithridates started a fire that cannot be extinguished,’ remarked Dobbai as I finished my summary of events in the empire to Dura’s council.

‘That is a pity,’ said Domitus, looking at the map of the empire hanging on the wall of his headquarters, ‘we could have done with some of their soldiers.’

Dobbai scoffed at him. ‘The kingdoms of Margiana and Hyrcania are a thousand miles distant whereas the Romans and Armenians are but a stone’s throw away. Even if they could provide assistance it would arrive too late to be of any use.’

‘What of Gordyene?’ asked Domitus.

‘I have received no word from Surena though I have heard that he still raids Armenia.’

‘He will never stop killing until he himself gets what he desires,’ said Dobbai.

Domitus exhaled loudly and looked out of the window while everyone else looked at her in confusion.

‘And what is that?’ I asked.

‘To be with his wife and child of course,’ she replied, ‘I would have thought that much was obvious.’

‘He has a kingdom to rule,’ I said, ‘he will find another wife in time.’

‘You are wrong, son of Hatra. He cares for nothing, not his life, much less his kingdom. You trained him well but made a mistake by unfastening his collar. He has become a wild dog that even you might find difficult to control. Still, at least he keeps the Armenians from seizing more of your brother’s kingdom. And sending men to aid the Jews will divert the Romans’ attention away from Parthia for a while. That was a clever ploy, son of Hatra.’

‘I am glad you approve,’ I said through gritted teeth.

‘Of course they will all be killed,’ she continued, ‘that much is certain. But what are the lives of few savages from the Zagros?’ She sneered at Aaron. ‘Or a few Jews for that matter.’

‘How dare you!’ snapped Aaron, his nostrils flaring. ‘Prince Alexander is an ally and friend of Dura, the king has said so himself.’

‘Prince?’ said Dobbai mischievously, ‘the last time I heard he was living like a hunted animal in the hills. He will never regain his position and is condemned to the life of a bandit, and the Jews will return to their position.’

‘What position?’ I enquired.

‘Slaves,’ she said. ‘They were slaves of the Egyptian pharaoh many years ago until he grew tired of their incessant nagging and threw them out of Egypt and now they will be slaves of the Romans.’

Aaron jumped up from his chair. ‘I really must protest, majesty.’

I held up a hand to him. ‘Please be seated, Aaron. I’m sure Dobbai meant no offence.’

‘I am merely stating the truth,’ she said innocently, ‘if some are displeased by this there is little I can do.’

‘You can be silent,’ seethed Aaron.

‘Enough!’ I said. ‘If the Romans and Armenians triumph we shall all be slaves.’

‘Just like the Jews,’ said Dobbai, grinning maliciously at Aaron. ‘Of course if you sent assassins to kill Crassus there would be no Roman invasion of Parthia.’

‘Not a bad idea,’ suggested Domitus.

‘If Crassus is murdered and it is discovered that Dura is responsible it will enrage the Romans further,’ I said. ‘And may I remind you that there would still be Roman legions in Syria waiting to invade the empire. No. Crassus and his legions have to be defeated to send a clear message to Rome that if they attempt to invade Parthia their armies will be destroyed. That is the whole point of what we are trying to achieve: to not only defeat Crassus but also destroy the Roman desire to conquer Parthia.’

Byrd and Malik had made the trip from Palmyra and I asked them both to give an account of what was happening in Syria and on Haytham’s western border.

‘My spies in Antioch report that Crassus recruits Syrians to his army,’ said Byrd. ‘He has eight legions in Syria. Seven he brought from Italy plus one that garrisons the province. Other legion is in Judea and Egypt.’

‘There has been no aggression from Emesa,’ stated Malik. ‘The rumour is that the fat king is living in fear of an assault upon his city by my father.’

‘Good,’ I said. ‘Fear will hopefully prevent him participating in any more assaults against Palmyra.’

‘One thing that I have also heard,’ said Byrd. ‘Queen Aruna has found a new lover. A Roman called Marcus Roscius.’

Gallia, who had been bored by the meeting thus far and had spent most of it either daydreaming or looking out of the window, now looked interested. ‘He was the Roman tribune who came to Dura wanting to take Aaron back to Syria.’

‘I remember,’ I said.

‘Tribune now deputy governor of Syria,’ reported Byrd.

‘Poor tribune,’ I quipped.

Dobbai was far from amused. ‘You should take care, son of Hatra, Aruna is full of malice and desires you dead.’

‘Well,’ I replied, ‘with me here and her in Syria I think I am safe enough.’

That night Gallia and I dined with Rachel and Aaron in their house near the Citadel. Rachel was pregnant with their first child and both of them were very excited about their impending parenthood. We were joined by Miriam and Domitus and soon forgot about the Armenians, Romans and war as we talked about children, getting old and our time in Italy. It was a relaxed and enjoyable evening. I liked Aaron and his wife and Miriam, whom I thanked Shamash for sending to Domitus. He was very relaxed in her company and for a while I forgot that he was a ruthless killer, consummate soldier and commander.

We had a most excellent meal and were relaxing on couches in the dining room when there was a commotion outside and a centurion from the Durans entered the room, the headman of the house protesting loudly at his interruption. Aaron rose from the couch and stilled the man as the centurion saluted me and then Domitus.

‘This had better be good,’ I said to him.

‘Begging your pardon, majesty, but there is trouble in the city.’

Domitus raised an eyebrow. ‘What sort of trouble?’

‘At one of the brothels general.’ He suddenly realised there were women present. ‘Begging your pardon, majesty, ladies.’

I stood up and jabbed a finger at him. ‘You interrupt my evening just to bring me news of trouble in a whorehouse?’

The centurion looked alarmed. ‘Not just any trouble, majesty, it involves Prince Peroz.’

I folded my arms and stood in front of him.

‘Go on.’

‘The prince has barricaded himself in one of the rooms and a few men from one of the caravans are threatening to break down the door and kill him. As it is him I thought you should take charge of the situation, majesty, seeing that he is a royal guest at Dura.’

I sighed. ‘I suppose so.’

‘And your nephew is with him, majesty.’

‘What?’

‘Prince Spartacus is with Prince Peroz, plus your black servant.’

‘Scarab?’

‘Sounds interesting,’ mused Domitus.

‘Spartacus should not be frequenting brothels, Pacorus,’ said an unimpressed Gallia. ‘Diana would be most upset if she knew.’

‘You have obviously been a bad influence on the boy, Pacorus,’ grinned Domitus.

‘You are not helping,’ I told him.

‘You had better go and sort it out,’ Gallia told me.

‘I will come with you,’ said Domitus, ‘you don’t mind do you, Miriam?’

Miriam was not amused by talk of brothels. ‘Apparently not.’

After conveying my apologies to my hosts and Miriam I left Gallia in their company and walked with Domitus, the centurion and four of his legionaries to the scene of the trouble: the house of Samhat just off the main square in the centre of the city. The evening was warm and so we wore just our shirts, our swords at our hips with Domitus carrying his trusty cane.

When we arrived at the brothel — an imposing two-storey building with twin oak doors that fronted the street — there was a sizeable crowd of curious onlookers outside.

‘Make way for the king,’ the centurion shouted, his men barging aside the spectators with their shields. Two soldiers were standing guard outside the brothel to ensure no one entered, and they snapped to attention as Domitus and I entered the house of sin.

‘Clear these people from the street,’ Domitus ordered the centurion. ‘Crack a few heads if you have to but get it done quickly.’

The centurion saluted and went back outside as an irate Samhat saw us and confronted me.

‘We are a respectable establishment catering for a wide variety of important clients who pay a great deal of money for discretion. This is not a back-street fighting pen.’

‘Please calm yourself,’ I told her, admiring the expensive mosaics on the floor, the copper flower stands in the entrance hall and the silver oil lamps mounted on the red-painted walls.

Beyond the entrance was a large hall around which were doors leading to what I assumed were bedrooms, with a fresco of an erotic act painted above every one.

To one side, guarded by half a dozen legionaries with drawn swords, were a group of rough-looking individuals in loose robes and leggings who were staring at us in an aggressive manner. I nodded at them.

‘Are they some of your high-ranking clients?’

‘They arrived in the city two days ago as part of a caravan,’ she replied. ‘They may look like beggars but one has paid well for the services of one of my girls and returned tonight to spend more of his money.’

‘So what is the problem and where is Prince Peroz?’ asked a bemused Domitus eyeing the scantily clad young women who had started to gather outside their rooms.

‘The problem,’ said Samhat slowly and loudly so everyone could hear, ‘is that one of them,’ she pointed at the caravan crew under guard, ‘paid for a night with Roxanne but Prince Peroz arrived unexpectedly and threw him out of her room when she was discovered with him. So he returned with some of his friends looking for trouble and the prince has barricaded himself in her room, along with others.’

‘I have paid a lot of money to be with her,’ shouted one of those under guard, a sour-faced man with broad shoulders and large knuckles. ‘I demand to lie with her, either that or my money back.’

‘Why don’t you give him his money back?’ suggested Domitus.

Samhat looked at him angrily. ‘Because I run a business, not a meeting place for young lovers. I called the city guard because I want the love-struck prince upstairs to be taken away so Roxanne can earn her keep, that’s why.

She smiled at me. ‘I did not realise that you would come, though, majesty.’

The hall was slowly filling with prostitutes, musicians and eunuchs as we stood conversing.

‘What about my refund?’ shouted the brute with large knuckles.

‘Hold your tongue,’ shouted Domitus.

‘If you could sort this matter out, majesty,’ said Samhat with concern, ‘I would be eternally grateful.’

I indicated to Domitus that he should follow me as I walked up the wide staircase that had an intricately carved wooden banister with inlaid ivory. The staircase itself was covered with a rich red carpet that felt soft underfoot.

‘I never knew there was so much money in prostitution,’ remarked Domitus.

‘It is not only the oldest profession, my friend, but also one of the most lucrative.’

There were ten rooms on the brothel’s first floor and like on the ground floor there were erotic frescos above the entrance to each one. Two guards stood outside one of the doors on the right and they came to attention when they saw us. Domitus told them to go downstairs as I knocked on the door.

‘You cannot enter,’ shouted Peroz from inside.

‘It is Pacorus,’ I said, ‘open the door.’

I heard muffled voices and then heard what sounded like a heavy object being moved from the other side of the door before it was unbolted and Peroz stood in the doorway with a sword in his hand.

‘You can put that away,’ I said sternly, and then saw Spartacus and Scarab similarly armed standing behind him. ‘And you two can sheath those weapons as well.’

Peroz bowed his head and slid his sword back into its scabbard as I walked into the spacious, lavishly furnished room that had a large bed against one wall facing wooden shutters leading to a balcony. The floor was covered in a plush light red carpet and oil lamps hanging from wall brackets provided light. The alluring aroma of perfume and incense entered my nostrils and my eyes settled on a young woman sitting on the bed. Her oval face was most beautiful, with flawless olive skin, high cheekbones, a narrow, delicate nose and luscious lips. Dressed in a white gown with delicate gold chains around her ankles and more gold hanging from her ears, she looked nervous as her brown eyes darted between Peroz and me. The prince stood next to her protectively as her hand reached for his.

‘It is a good job those soldiers came when they did, uncle, otherwise we would have killed those fools downstairs,’ boasted Spartacus, which earned him a congratulatory slap on the back from Scarab.

I looked up at the ceiling in despair, to discover to my surprise that it was painted with depictions of fornicating couples, both male and female. I blushed and looked at Domitus.

‘Would you escort my squires downstairs and ensure that they do not get into a fight?’

I smiled at Peroz. ‘Perhaps we may have a few words together, prince?’

Domitus ushered Spartacus and Scarab out of the room and closed the door behind him as I pulled up two chairs so that Peroz could sit down and I could do the same. I smiled at the nervous young beauty sitting on the bed.

‘You must be Roxanne,’ I said. ‘I am delighted to meet you.’

Those brown eyes met mine and then she looked down at the floor. ‘Thank you, majesty,’ she replied softly.

I sat and listened to his story, about how he had been visiting Roxanne for a number of weeks at a regular time and how he had decided, on a whim, to take Spartacus and Scarab to see her. The three of them had spent much time together during the preceding months and Peroz had wanted to show them the woman he had obviously fallen in love with. And so they had sauntered down to the brothel not realising that this was not the usual time that Peroz visited, and had arrived to discover that Roxanne had been sold to the oafish brute downstairs for the evening. Enraged at what he perceived to be the abuse of his beloved he had thrown the man out of her room and barricaded himself in, along with my two squires. As he talked I began to realise that Peroz did not think of Roxanne as a prostitute but as a sort of princess from a fable, always waiting for him each week when they would spend hours in each other’s arms. So besotted was he with her that the thought that she would lie with other men had not even entered his mind, either that or he purposely shut it out of his thoughts.

My heart sank when, still clutching her hand, he stood up and announced. ‘Roxanne will be a princess of Carmania, lord, for after the war I will be taking her back to my homeland.’

I smiled politely as my mind was filled with images of his enraged father and mocking brother when he presented a whore at court. And it would hardly reflect well on Dura or its king that Peroz had been allowed to consort with prostitutes. But then, the Kingdom of Dura was held in low esteem by many in the empire and what did I care about what others thought? I did care about the thousands of Carmanian horse archers that were a valuable addition to my army and I liked the young prince who commanded them. Two things were obvious: that Peroz would never agree to leave this establishment without his beloved by his side, and the owner of the brothel would never allow her to leave without compensation.

‘I think it would be best for everyone, Peroz,’ I said to him in a calm manner, ‘for you to escort Roxanne back to the palace. I will wait at the foot of the stairs so Roxanne may gather together her clothes and possessions to take with her.’

‘I have no possessions, majesty,’ she said softly.

I look around at the rich furnishings and her expensive dress. She saw my surprise.

‘Everything I wear and all the things in this room are owned by Samhat, majesty.’

When they came downstairs Samhat, who was not amused that I was removing one of the most profitable girls from her establishment, pointed this out to me.

‘You can’t take her,’ she hissed.

Domitus drew his gladius and placed the point at her throat.

‘The king can do what he likes, including having you and your girls crucified if he has a mind to.’

To her credit Samhat stood her ground though her concubines and girls looked decidedly nervous and some were clutching each other for comfort. ‘Big knuckles’, still penned into the corner with his friends by the legionaries, was outraged.

‘I’ve paid good money for the whore.’

Spartacus jeered at the man and beckoned him forward, goading him that he was nothing more than a lowborn animal. Before violence flared Domitus removed his sword from Samhat’s throat and grabbed my nephew by the scruff of his neck and bundled him outside as ‘big knuckles’ and his friends, held back by the shields of the legionaries, hurled abuse and threats at him.

‘Give him back his money,’ I instructed Samhat. ‘You will receive compensation from the treasury, and for the girl. She will not be returning to you.’

Samhat was infuriated. ‘I have invested a lot of money in her and now you are kidnapping her just because a pampered prince has been love-struck.’

My patience was fast running out. ‘First of all, madam, if you had not encouraged him to frequent your premises he would never have met the young girl in question. Secondly, as I have just informed you the treasury will recompense you for your losses, within reason. However, if you continue to insult your king then I will have no option but to close your establishment and have you and your whores flogged from the city.’

My threat had the desired affect and she said no more but I could tell that she was fuming and in truth I was not unsympathetic. But when it came to choosing between Peroz and her there was no contest. Afterwards I strolled back to the palace in the company of Peroz, the woman he wanted to make a princess, Domitus and my squires.

‘You should have that old whore flogged for her disrespect,’ grumbled Domitus. ‘I’ll do it.’

‘A most generous offer, Domitus,’ I replied, ‘but in this instance that “old whore” as you call her was correct.’

I nodded at Peroz and Roxanne walking ahead of us. ‘He sees her as his future princess whereas Samhat views her as a valuable commodity. I fear the compensation I will have to pay will be prohibitive.’

‘You are not actually going to pay her anything?’ asked a disbelieving Domitus.

‘Samhat pays her taxes and runs a profitable and legal business. If word spreads that the King of Dura arbitrarily ruins businesses then it might affect trade, and less trade means less taxes, which means less money to spend on the army. So you see, my friend, I have little choice.’

‘Aaron will be most unhappy,’ he said.

I laughed. ‘Yes, I suppose he will. But with a war coming I would rather have an unhappy treasurer than an unhappy Prince Peroz.’

‘Very sensible, uncle,’ said Spartacus behind us.

‘Unlike your behaviour tonight,’ I scolded him. ‘Have you noticed how trouble follows you around like a loyal dog?’

‘If trouble comes looking for me I will not shy away from it,’ he replied defiantly. ‘I was brought up to stand shoulder to shoulder with my friends. Peroz and I have been discussing a double wedding, uncle.’

Domitus rolled his eyes.

‘A double wedding? You are both to be congratulated.’

‘What are the most extreme odds, do you think?’ posed Domitus. ‘Your nephew taking a Roman eagle or Peroz’s father accepting a whore as his daughter-in-law?’

I wondered the same thing but was strangely comforted by the prospect of the coming war, which might settle things one way or another. Spartacus and Peroz might both be killed, or they might cover themselves in glory and return home as heroes. If so would Haytham let my nephew marry his daughter and would Phriapatius allow his son to marry a whore? Perhaps I would be killed, thus saving me the trouble of having to worry about it all.

Roxanne was given a room in the palace well away from Peroz’s though he assured me that nothing untoward would happen while they were under my roof. Gallia thought Peroz most gallant and complimented him on his actions. Early the next day, after Peroz had taken Roxanne south to review his men, she quizzed me if I would inform his father that he desired to marry a whore. I could give her no answer. Although Gallia did not approve of prostitution she had no problem with prostitutes themselves. Her closest friend, Praxima, had been forced to work in a Roman brothel as a whore and Gallia took the view that all prostitutes were forced into their trade, a not wholly accurate view. Some positively relished their profession!

Later that morning the representative of Samhat came to the palace to discuss compensation for Roxanne. I received him in the throne room with Gallia sitting beside me and had summoned Aaron from the treasury. Our visitor strode into the throne room flanked by two guards, having first been searched for concealed weapons. He was a portly man of medium height dressed in a fine orange robe with a purple silk sash around his ample waist and red leather sandals on his feet. He was completely bald and had dark makeup around his eyes. After bowing his head at me and then Gallia we saw he held a bundle of papyrus sheets in his manicured hands.

‘Hail, King Pacorus of Dura, son of Varaz and grandson of Sames, Kings of Hatra, and lord high general of the empire and noble defender of all the kingdoms of Parthia. Husband to Queen Gallia, daughter of King Ambiorix…’

I held up a hand. ‘You are very well informed but to save time perhaps we might move straight to the business in hand.’

He cleared his throat and smiled. ‘Of course, majesty. My name is Chigaru, secretary to Samhat and I have been asked to present to you the details concerning compensation for Roxanne, lately employed at my mistress’ establishment.’

I pointed at Aaron. ‘This is Lord Aaron, the kingdom’s treasurer, who will advise me on the veracity of your claim.’

Chigaru bristled at the implication that his mistress’ demands might be fraudulent but quickly composed himself and smiled weakly at Aaron.

‘You are a eunuch, are you not?’ asked Gallia.

‘I am, majesty,’ he replied without emotion.

‘What are your tasks?’ she was clearly fascinated by him.

‘I keep a record of all the clients who visit the brothel, fix the price for a night of each girl’s favours, receive the money for said favours and provide clothing and other essentials for each of my mistress’ women and men.’

‘Why are eunuchs employed in brothels?’ she quizzed him further.

‘Sexually impotent men make the best guardians for young women, majesty’ he replied proudly. ‘They can be trusted not to spoil the goods and do not covet power. My mistress trusts me completely.’

She leaned forward. ‘How long have you been a eunuch?’

‘Fourteen years, majesty.’

‘Well, this is all most interesting,’ I said, ‘but…’

Gallia ignored me and continued to stare at Chigaru. ‘Did it hurt?’

Chigaru looked at her quizzically. ‘Majesty?’

‘The ritual by which you became who you are now,’ she explained.

He smiled obsequiously. ‘Ah, I understand. Your majesty is most inquisitive and people do not normally enquire about how I came to be a eunuch. But I have heard that you are not only a great warrior but also possessed of a keen mind. I was fifteen years of age when they came for me, three huge slaves in the service of my master who had decided that I should be a eunuch.

‘I was taken to the kitchens where a physician smeared my groin in pepper broth while one man held my wrists and the other two my legs. The physician then took a small curved knife that resembled a sickle and sliced off my genitals. The pain was excruciating.

‘He then with great care inserted lead needles and wooden nails into the gaping wound to staunch the flow of blood and then covered the wound with papyrus that had been soaked in water and used a bandage to keep it in place. Two of the slaves then walked me around my master’s house for two hours, after which I was allowed to lie down. I was forbidden to drink any water for three days to allow the wound to partly heal. On the fourth day the physician removed the needles and nails and I passed water like a spurting fountain. I fell to my knees and cried with joy for I knew that the operation had been a success. Those who are castrated and cannot pass water afterwards die a most painful death you see.

‘That, majesty, is how I became a eunuch.’

Gallia, far from being revolted, was impressed. ‘I congratulate you on your courage, Chigaru.’

He bowed his head solemnly. ‘From one whose courage is known throughout the world that is a compliment indeed, majesty.’

‘And now, Chigaru,’ I said, slightly disgusted by what had been done to him, ‘perhaps you will enlighten us as to the amount of compensation your mistress deems reasonable for the girl Roxanne.’

He smiled at me and bowed his head, then glanced at one of his parchments. ‘Considering her age, beauty and the expenses that have already been lavished on the young lady in question, the amount of compensation comes to half a talent of gold.’

‘Half a talent!’ Aaron said loudly. ‘That is thirty pounds of gold. For a whore?’

Chigaru remained calm. ‘A very accomplished whore.’

Aaron was not amused. ‘This is outrageous, majesty. In any case she belongs to Prince Peroz so it is he who should pay Samhat compensation and not Dura’s treasury.’

‘Roxanne does not belong to the prince,’ Gallia said to Aaron, ’she is with him of her own free will. She is not a slave to be bartered in the marketplace.’

‘Of course, majesty,’ said Aaron in a muted tone, ‘but the fact remains that Prince Peroz should pay the indemnity for this young woman.’

Aaron had made a good point but if I asked Peroz to pay the brothel he would no doubt write to his father requesting that he send him the gold. Phriapatius would find out eventually that his youngest son had fallen in love with a whore but he did not need to know yet. Then again, so besotted was Peroz with Roxanne that he might announce his impending marriage to her to the whole world anyway.

‘The fee is agreed,’ I told Chigaru, ‘my treasurer will see that the amount is sent to your mistress forthwith.’

Chigaru looked at Aaron in triumph and then bowed deeply to me and then Gallia. Aaron was fuming but my decision had been made. I had more urgent things to think about than the price of a whore, beautiful though she was.

The guards escorted Chigaru from the throne room and closed the doors behind them.

‘It would be wise to request that Carmania’s treasury reimburse our own for this amount, majesty,’ suggested Aaron.

‘Dura’s treasury will bear the cost. King Phriapatius has other things to occupy his mind.’

‘I do not understand,’ said Aaron.

‘Though it is none of your business, Aaron, because I am in a good mood I will tell you why we will not be asking Peroz’s father for the gold. The King of Carmania will take a very dim view of his son falling in love with a prostitute, and an even dimmer view of his son’s hosts for allowing such a thing to happen. He may demand that Prince Peroz and his men leave Dura and return home, in which case I will lose five thousand horse archers that I would rather have by my side when we fight the Romans and Armenians.’

Aaron looked contrite and said nothing further on the matter.

‘The eunuch was most efficient,’ I had not noticed that Dobbai had entered the chamber but now she shuffled from behind me to stand just in front of the dais. ‘Perhaps you should castrate all the members of your council, son of Hatra, to ensure their loyalty and curb their tongues.’

Aaron glared at her as she said the words.

‘I have no reason to doubt the loyalty of those who serve me,’ I said to her.

‘You are fortunate, son of Hatra, that your palace is not infused with malice and treachery but a great warlord has the luxury of knowing that his subordinates fear him.’

‘I thought they loved me,’ I teased her.

‘Love is the most poisonous emotion of all for it blinds men to the obvious and wraps them in a madness from which they do not wish to escape. If Peroz had had his manhood removed then he would not be chasing whores.’

‘We are not going to discuss Peroz’s manhood,’ I told her.

She continued to goad Aaron. ‘Jewish priests cut off part of the manhoods of their male infants, is that not correct Jew?’

‘I did not realise you knew so much about our customs,’ he replied with embarrassment.

‘They should lop them off totally,’ she said wickedly, ‘to make all Jewish males eunuchs, then they would be far less troublesome.’

‘Enough, Dobbai,’ I snapped, ‘you give me a headache. The Jews have proved valuable allies of Dura and the longer they continue to fight the Romans in Judea the more time we have to make our own preparations. Please leave us.’

She sneered at Aaron, smiled at Gallia and ignored me as she ambled back to the private apartments in the palace. I regretted that I had spoken to her so brusquely because that afternoon Dobbai fell ill. At first it was a troublesome cough that had afflicted her while sitting in her chair on the palace balcony. Servants brought her fruit juice and water but she could not shake it off and as the afternoon wore on a concerned Gallia sent for Alcaeus, who prescribed grape juice mixed with honey. However, despite the application of this well-known remedy Dobbai continued to cough, her frail body pitching forward as she did so. Gallia sat holding her hand and an increasingly alarmed Claudia rushed to the kitchens to prepare a concoction of crushed turmeric root. But this and all the other medicines had no effect and Dobbai continued to cough so I assisted Alcaeus in taking her to her bedroom.

After she had been made comfortable her coughing seemed to subside and I breathed a sigh of relief, but as I was about to leave her she grabbed my arm.

‘I told you there would be a price to pay, son of Hatra,’ her grip was frail and she suddenly looked very old.

‘I don’t know what you mean,’ I said unconvincingly.

She looked at me mockingly. ‘Do not insult me. You know full well what I mean. The gods always demand payment, son of Hatra, remember that.’

Gallia stayed with her and Alcaeus returned to his quarters but was later urgently recalled when Dobbai developed a fever. One minute the sweat poured off her and she could not bear a blanket to be over her, the next she was shivering and desperate for warmth. This continued into the late afternoon and early evening. She could only ingest small amounts of water and then with great difficulty, her throat closing as she was wracked by violent spasms. Gallia held her hand, ashen faced, while Claudia became distraught and had to be taken from the room.

Alcaeus was at a loss what to do. He ordered her bedding to be changed and the straw in the mattress to be taken and burnt, and then sent orders to the kitchens to soak two small pieces of cloth in egg whites and bring them to him. When they arrived he wrapped them around the soles of Dobbai’s feet. We all looked at him as though he had gone mad.

‘An old Greek trick. The egg whites draw the high temperature down from the brain to the feet.’

It worked as Dobbai’s temperature began to fall and she became lucid once more.

‘Thank you, doctor,’ she said weakly, ‘but your skills, great as they are, will not work here.’

Alcaeus stayed for another hour, in which Dobbai slept and he suggested that we leave her to get some rest. I sat with him on the palace terrace as Claudia burned dragon’s blood resin, which was resin from a palm tree, in Dobbai’s room to both purify it and protect her from evil influences

‘She is a remarkable young girl,’ said Alcaeus, ‘her knowledge of herbs and medicines is amazing.’

‘I did not know you had been teaching Claudia your craft,’ I said.

‘I have not. She visits me often and questions me about the workings of the human body but when it comes to treatments she needs little tutoring.’

‘She has been close to Dobbai since she was an infant,’ I said, ‘perhaps too close. How ill is Dobbai?’

He shrugged. ‘She is old, Pacorus, and like all elderly people is more susceptible to ailments. She has caught some sort of fever that I have not seen before but the next twenty-four hours should determine whether she survives or not.’

‘It is not a fever.’

As we sat in the dark with oil lamps illuminating our faces I told him about the ceremony that Dobbai had carried out and my participation in it, along with the others, about the celestial mist and the howling hounds. He was naturally sceptical and told me that all these things had a rational explanation.

‘Drenis and Kronos both took part in the ritual and they are both dead,’ I told him.

‘They were both soldiers killed on the battlefield; it happens.’

He smiled at me. ‘When Dobbai recovers, all these thoughts you are having will disappear. I advise you to get some rest.’

But Dobbai did not recover: over the next two days she got worse. The fever returned and with it violent convulsions that wracked her old body and made her progressively weaker. She drifted in and out of consciousness and visibly diminished before our eyes. The servants were frightened by her sunken cheeks and eye sockets and refused to enter her room. An angry Gallia told them to leave food, water and fresh bedding outside in the corridor and performed all their duties herself. With the help of Claudia she washed Dobbai, changed her soiled bedding and recited prayers that her daughter suggested. It was all to no avail. On the third day Dobbai’s hair began to fall out and her breathing became extremely shallow.

That afternoon I stood beside Alcaeus at the foot of the bed staring at the shell of what had been a fierce, determined woman and felt a chill sweep over me. Gallia sat beside her dabbing her forehead with a damp cloth and Claudia sat on the other side of the bed holding Dobbai’s hand, her young face pale and her eyes bloodshot from tears and lack of sleep.

‘It won’t be long now,’ he whispered to me.

Dobbai opened her eyes and looked at Claudia, speaking words to her that I was unable to hear. My daughter leaned forward and Dobbai spoke into her ear as tears ran down Claudia’s cheeks. She next spoke to Gallia who held the old woman’s skeletal-like head in her hands and gently kissed her on the forehead. My wife was also deeply upset and shaking with anguish, trying to suppress the heartache that was threatening to erupt like an angry volcano. Dobbai whispered something to Gallia and my wife nodded. She rose from her chair and walked over to me.

‘She wants to speak with you.’

Alcaeus smiled at Gallia and gently placed his arm around her shoulder, reassuring her that she was doing everything she could. My drained and distraught wife looked far from the fearless warrior the world knew.

I sat in the chair and leaned forward as Dobbai once again opened her eyes to look at me.

The fire had gone out of them and they were now dark pools of world-weariness. She moved her hand towards me and I reached out and took it, the fingers cold and bony.

‘My time has come, son of Hatra. My ancestors are waiting for me on the great eternal steppe.’ Her voice was very faint. ‘It will be good to see them again after so many years. Burn my body on a northern wind to quicken my journey.’

Her grip tightened slightly. ‘You must stay strong and determined to save the empire. Have faith in the gods, son of Hatra, for they have not forsaken you and will give you what you most desire when all has been settled. That will be your reward for your service to the empire.’

Her voice became even fainter and I had to place an ear next to her mouth to hear her words.

‘Thank you, Pacorus, for allowing me to share your home and your family, I have known peace here and for that you have my gratitude. Everything I have done has been for your and their welfare. The gods keep you safe.’

I continued to hold her hand as she close her eyes for the last time and Dobbai, a woman of the Scythian people and sorceress of King of Kings Sinatruces, departed this world. Claudia buried her head in her hands and sobbed as a distressed Gallia comforted her.

We burned the body the next day after Gallia and Claudia had washed it and dressed it in a white silk gown. Thousands gathered on the other side of the Euphrates, opposite the Citadel, where the great funeral pyre was sited. Dobbai had spent countless hours sitting on the palace terrace gazing across the river and so it seemed fitting that she should be cremated on this spot. I held the torch as an ocean of faces stared at me — civilians, merchants, servants, legionaries, cataphracts, squires and horse archers. Though none of them had known her they had all known of her and her reputation. They knew that she had commissioned the stone griffin statue that stood sentry at the Palmyrene Gate and had heard of her prophecy that no army would take the city while it remained there. And every legionary in the Durans knew that his beloved golden griffin standard had been Dobbai’s brainchild, as I knew that it was she who had given me the griffin as an emblem when she had sent me my battle flag even before I had seen Dura. The Durans and Exiles sported griffin wings on their shields and the kontus of every cataphract flew a griffin pennant. So they all came to pay their respects and say farewell to her.

I stood with an ashen-faced Gallia and our children, along with Alcaeus, Domitus, Chrestus, Vagharsh, Vagises, Marcus, Aaron, Peroz and Rsan. The light was fading by the time everyone had gathered around the pyre. It had been a warm, windless day but as I held up the lighted torch I saw the flame flicker and felt a slight breeze on my face. A wind from the north increased as I thrust the torch into the great pile of logs soaked in oil. I stood back as flames erupted around the pyre and the wind picked up to carry her soul back to the resting place of her ancestors.

‘Farewell, safe journey.’

I watched the flames consume her body and stayed until nothing was left but a great pile of ashes as the crowd dispersed. Gallia took our children back to the palace and the soldiers went back to their duties.

‘She was very old, you know,’ the words of Alcaeus came from behind me.

‘I know.’

‘What I mean is,’ he continued, ‘old people die and when they do so it does not mean that the gods have taken her as payment for their favours.’

‘I know,’ I replied without conviction for I knew that the gods had taken Dobbai just as they had seized Drenis and Kronos. I was suddenly fearful for Domitus, Vagises, Thumelicus and Vagharsh who had also taken part in the ceremony. I prayed to Shamash that He would take me before them should the gods demand more souls. Alcaeus placed a reassuring hand on my shoulder and then departed to leave me standing alone in front of a pile of ashes. I bowed my head to the ash, turned and walked with head bowed back to the city. There was a sudden gust of wind that buffeted my cloak. I looked back and saw that there were no longer any embers where the funeral pyre had stood, just a patch of black earth.

As I wandered back over the pontoon bridge and then along the edge of the deep wadi that stood in front of the city’s northern wall, I decided that Peroz and Roxanne could make their home in Dura should his father disown his son. Orodes had been a landless prince once and had made his home here so why not Peroz? I walked through the Palmyrene Gate and looked up at the stone griffin above mounting his unceasing guard over all of us.

That night a pall of gloom hung over the palace as I sat with Gallia and we ate in silence. She picked at her food and snapped at servants who went about their duties with heads bowed. Claudia had locked herself in her room as soon as she had returned to the palace and Isabella and Eszter had also been taken to their rooms.

Gallia shoved aside her plate of meat and rice and leaned back in her chair.

‘Life here will never be the same.’

I nodded. ‘Her departure leaves a void that cannot be filled, I agree.’

‘Do you think that her magic died with her?’

‘I do not know,’ I replied.

‘The ritual, I mean, when she sent the girls and me away. Do you think that now she is dead the gods will not honour her spells?’

I thought of Crassus’ legions in Syria and the Armenian hordes in the north. ‘I hope not, I sincerely hope not.’