Carrhae

Chapter 13

Soon after Dobbai’s death the old year also died and Byrd rode to Dura with news that Crassus had taken some of his legions south to crush a rebellion that had suddenly flared up in Judea. I asked Aaron to be present as we sat with Domitus and Gallia in the headquarters building and Byrd recounted what he had heard from his sources in Antioch and Damascus, of how Alexander’s rebels had terrorised the local population and had been forced back into the hills by Crassus, who had gone on to sack Jerusalem and its temple. I avoided Aaron’s eyes as Byrd related how Crassus had plundered the temple and taken away gold to the value of eight thousand talents. It was an incredible sum and a gross insult to the Jewish people and I knew that it had been my fault because I had sent mercenaries to Judea so that Alexander could continue his war against the Romans. I also knew that I did not care and was glad that Judea was being laid waste and not Parthia.

A visibly shaken Aaron left the meeting after Byrd had relayed his tale of woe and we relaxed and talked about Haytham, Malik and Emesa.

‘Fat king very subservient to Haytham,’ said Byrd, ‘send him gifts and offer of one of his daughters, one very young and a virgin.’

‘How disgusting,’ spat Gallia.

‘Haytham said no,’ said Byrd, ‘he say she probably fat like her father.’

‘So the border is quiet?’ I asked.

Byrd shrugged. ‘It is common knowledge that Crassus will cross Euphrates into Parthia as soon as Judea is quiet. He says he will conquer Palmyra after he has subdued Parthia.’

‘How many men has he recruited in Syria?’ I asked.

‘Three thousand horsemen and four thousand foot. He also awaits his son who will bring a thousand more horsemen.’

‘His son?’ complained Gallia. ‘Is not one Crassus enough?’

Byrd cracked a smile. ‘His name is Publius Crassus. My office in Antioch inform me that he has been fighting with another Romani named Caesar in Gaul.’ He looked at Gallia. ‘Your people are still killing Romans.’

‘They are not my people, Byrd,’ she replied, ‘the citizens of Dura are my people.’

Byrd reached into his tunic and pulled out a piece of folded calfskin.

‘This is for your squire, Spartacus’ son.’

‘What is it?’ I enquired.

He twisted his mouth. ‘Not know.’

I called for a guard and told him to go and fetch my squires who would be in the stables after their morning training sessions. They arrived a few minutes later, with dirty faces and smelling of horse dung. I pointed at Byrd.

‘Byrd has something for you, Spartacus.’

He wiped his face on his sleeve and took the piece of folded calfskin.

‘From Rasha,’ said Byrd.

Grinning like a halfwit, Spartacus carefully unfolded it to reveal it contained a lock of hair. He smiled at Gallia and then held it up to Scarab.

‘It is a lock of Rasha’s hair. She said she would send it to me. Now I can wear it around my neck just as the king wear’s a lock of the queen’s hair.’

Gallia smiled back at him and Byrd looked totally disinterested.

‘You still banned from Haytham’s lands.’

But Spartacus was elated and stated that he would take the lock of hair into the city this very day where a silversmith would place it on a chain, and afterwards he would wear it around his neck where it would remain until the day he died. This touched Gallia and Scarab embraced him but I reminded him that he might have a piece of Rasha’s hair but he still had much to do if he was to take possession of the rest of her. But his high spirits could not be dimmed and he went back to his dung shovelling a happy young man.

‘You think he will capture a Romani eagle?’ asked Byrd.

I thought for a moment. ‘You know, Byrd, the young fool just might.’

His chances of doing so improved slightly at the end of the following week when he was formally inducted into the ranks of the cataphracts. He had served his apprenticeship and now my nephew, the adopted son of King Gafarn and Queen Diana of Hatra, became one of Parthia’s élite horsemen. I asked him if he wished to return to Hatra to be inducted into its Royal Bodyguard but he was insistent that he wished to take the oath of allegiance at Dura. I pointed out to him that when he returned to Hatra he would have to take a new oath of allegiance to Gafarn and the city but he replied that he would always be loyal to his father and the city he had been raised in, but that he believed that if he took the oath at Dura it would increase his chances of marrying Rasha because it was nearer to her. I agreed but immediately wrote to Gafarn and Diana informing them of his decision and also begging their forgiveness. Strictly speaking I should have sent him back to Hatra but I had grown fond of him and in truth wished to keep hold of him a little longer.

I need not have worried because Gafarn and Diana answered my despatch with their arrival at Dura. They left young Pacorus in the care of my mother and their city in the capable hands of Vistaspa and Kogan. I stood with my friends on the palace steps as twenty former squires stood on the flagstones of the Citadel’s courtyard and became cataphracts. The gates were closed and the guards on the walls faced inwards to bear witness to the sacred ceremony.

A priest from the city’s Temple of Shamash conducted the oath taking. His building was a far cry from the grand structure of the Great Temple in Hatra but his authority was no less diminished for it. He stood in front of the row of young men and waited until the sun was at its zenith to honour Shamash, then ordered them all to kneel and bow their heads. In front of each squire was laid his suit of scale armour, complete with leg and arm protection, his helmet and his weapons: kontus, sword, dagger, mace and axe. I remembered when I had taken the oath all those years ago at Hatra when I had knelt beside my friend Vata and where my father and his general, Lord Bozan, had stood on the palace steps looking on with pride. How long ago that seemed.

The priest, a barrel-chested man with a huge thick beard and booming voice, commanded the squires to repeat the words he now spoke:

‘I will never disgrace my sacred arms,

Nor desert my comrades, wherever I am stationed.

Nor will I take a step backwards in battle.

I will fight for things sacred,

And against things profane.

And both alone and with all to help me.

I will defend my homeland, its people, its crops and its sacred waters.

I will obey the king, who rules reasonably,

And I will observe the established laws,

And whatever laws in the future,

May be reasonably established.

If any person seeks to overturn the laws,

Both alone and with help I will oppose him.

I shall protect the king in country and in town, fall and die for him.

I shall speak with him in the truth of my heart,

Give him sound advice loyally, and smooth his way in every respect.

I will also honour the religion of my fathers.

I call on the great Sun God Shamash to witness this my oath of allegiance.

May I be struck down by Your mighty power if I fail You.’

Thus did Spartacus, son of the slave general of the same name and Prince of Hatra, become a cataphract and thus passed into manhood.

Afterwards all of them were entertained in the banqueting hall for this was one of the most important days in their lives.

‘He looks happy,’ remarked Diana after her son had embraced her and returned to his table to sit next to Scarab.

‘He is very happy,’ I replied, ‘though that has more to do with Dura’s proximity to a certain Agraci princess than his becoming a cataphract.’

Gafarn sipped at his wine. ‘He is still besotted with her, then?’

‘Totally,’ I said.

‘Then perhaps it is as well that he stays here for the moment. I have enough grumbling among my lords without adding to their grievances with my heir marrying an Agraci woman.’

‘Your lords are restless?’ I was surprised because Hatra’s nobles were previously reckoned among the most loyal in the empire.

‘Nothing that cannot be handled,’ he replied unconvincingly.

But of course Spartacus could not stay at Dura indefinitely and I told him that as he sat with his parents, Gallia and our children on the palace balcony the day after the ceremony. I felt myself glancing at Dobbai’s chair often and still felt a pang in my heart when I thought of her. I did not know why: she had always adopted a condescending attitude towards me and had openly mocked me on many occasions. And yet she had watched over my wife and children like a hawk and for that I was grateful. Claudia was very morose at this time and took to wearing black robes just as her tutor had done. She also covered her head with a black shawl that hid her hair and part of her beauty. Gallia was also withdrawn though she tried to put on a brave face.

‘We were sorry to hear about your sorceress,’ said Diana.

‘Her loss is keenly felt by the whole kingdom,’ my wife replied.

‘She watches over us still,’ announced Claudia, who then went and sat in Dobbai’s chair and stared east across the blue waters of the Euphrates.

Spartacus sat next to Diana fingering the lock of Rasha’s hair that hung around his neck from an expensive gold chain. Gafarn noticed it.

‘A lucky pendant, Spartacus?’

‘Yes, father,’ he beamed, ‘a lock of my beloved’s hair. It will keep me safe from the weapons of the enemy and means we will always be close to each other. I have sent her some of my own hair.’

Diana smiled and laid a hand on his arm. ‘Most romantic.’

‘I have heard that you are banished from the Agraci’s lands on pain of death,’ said Gafarn smugly.

‘It is a test, father, nothing more, to ensure that I am worthy of marrying Rasha. Once I have fulfilled my quest then her father will allow me to marry his daughter.’

Gafarn shook his head. ‘Quest?’

‘Yes, father,’ replied Spartacus, ‘to capture a Roman eagle and plant it in the soil in front of King Haytham.’

Gafarn’s brow furrowed. ‘It is no small thing to capture a Roman eagle. In the whole history of the Parthian Empire only one man has done it and he sits next to you.’

‘I know that, father,’ Spartacus replied, ‘I have seen the eagle in the Great Temple at Hatra and have heard the tale of its taking since I was a small boy.’

Gafarn pointed at him. ‘There was only one legion that day. I remember because I was there but it took all the guile and skill of Hatra’s army to defeat it and now there are many legions preparing to invade Parthia. What use will it serve to throw away your life on a futile adventure?’

I agreed but said nothing.

Spartacus thought for a moment before replying. ‘Have you ever considered, father, that it may have been fate that I came to Dura, that I fell in love with Rasha and then saved Haytham’s life? It is as if the gods have planned out my life for me and I believe that it is to be beside Rasha.’

Gafarn looked up at the sky. ‘You saved Haytham’s life? There will be many Parthians who will be shocked that a prince of Hatra did so.’

‘What do I care about what others think?’ my nephew replied.

‘You should,’ said Gafarn, ‘there are many in Hatra who disapprove that their king is a former Bedouin slave and their queen a former Roman slave. Their displeasure will be compounded when they learn that the heir to the throne is a friend of the Agraci king.’

‘My uncle is a friend of Haytham,’ said Spartacus defiantly.

Gafarn nodded. ‘Indeed, but he is a feared warlord who has won many victories and, above all, he is a Parthian whose father and grandfather were great servants of the empire. You must learn to see yourself as others perceive you, Spartacus. That is a lesson I have learned the hard way.’

I looked at Gallia but said nothing though it was obvious from the bitterness in Gafarn’s voice that he did not have the unconditional support of the kingdom’s lords, which was very worrying. But I did not pay much heed to Gafarn’s grumblings — defeats at the hands of the Armenians would not have improved the humour of his nobles but a victory would easily dispel any doubts they may have had about their king.

The next day Spartacus prepared to leave Dura and return to Hatra with his parents, but his and their plans were disrupted when a courier arrived from Ctesiphon telling of a great disaster in the east.

I called together all the members of the council, together with Gafarn and Diana, in the headquarters building and relayed the news that I had received from Orodes.

‘The northern nomads have defeated the combined army of Kings Khosrou and Musa near the city of Nisa in Margiana. They have subsequently flooded south and west to devastate large areas of Margiana and Hyrcania and now threaten the Kingdom of Atropaiene.

‘The nomads, the Saka and Dahae peoples, have united under a leader called Attai, which means “father” apparently, and now stand on the verge of conquering much of northeast Parthia.’

‘What of the other eastern kingdoms?’ asked Gafarn.

‘Unfortunately,’ I said, ‘they are also under attack, or at least some of them are. Orodes has further informed me that the Yuezhis, a people who inhabit the lands to the north of the Kingdom of Yueh-Chih, have begun raiding this kingdom and also as far south as Aria, the kingdom immediately south of Yueh-Chih.’

‘Sounds more than a coincidence,’ snarled Domitus.

‘I agree,’ I replied. ‘This Attai obviously has a strategy that appears to aim at carving a great slice off the east of the empire. Orodes has requested my presence at the city of Assur to determine a course of action.’

Gafarn was surprised. ‘Why Assur?’

‘Because Aschek and Atrax will not wish to be far from their kingdoms with a horde of nomads threatening their borders and Orodes has also asked Surena to present himself.’

‘You think he will answer the summons?’ asked a dubious Gallia.

In truth I had no idea. ‘I hope so for the sake of the empire.’

‘He is not a Parthian,’ muttered Gafarn, ‘what is the empire to him?’

His dark mood had obviously not brightened since yesterday. After the meeting he and Diana hastened back to Hatra with their bodyguard but without Spartacus, who requested that he be allowed to stay at Dura until after the gathering at Assur. Gafarn, no doubt concerned that in addition to the Armenians in the north and the Romans in the west, he may have nomads raiding his eastern border, offered no protest. We said our farewells to our friends and then I made ready to ride to Assur. After they had left Domitus came to see me as I was inspecting Remus’ saddlery next to his stall.

‘This business in the east could not have come at a worse time.’

‘I know,’ I concurred, ‘Aschek will never commit his army in the west with the threat of a nomad invasion of his kingdom from the east.’

He kicked at some straw on the floor. ‘And Atrax?’

I placed the bridle back on its hook. ‘Aschek will want him to deploy his troops on his eastern border so they may readily reinforce his own army if necessary.’

He leaned against the wall. ‘Our forces diminish by the minute. We will need all the troops we can muster to meet the Romans and Armenians in the next few months. Losing Atrax’s army would be a grievous loss. And then there is the matter of Surena.’

‘Surena has become a law unto himself, though I am grateful that he is still waging war against the Armenians,’ I said.

‘Do you think he will show his face at Assur?’

I sat down on the bench opposite Remus’ stall. ‘I have no idea. But even he must realise that if we fall then Gordyene will be an island surrounded by a sea of enemies and will surely be overwhelmed itself.’

Domitus shrugged. ‘Perhaps that is what he wants: to die in a blaze of glory and join his wife and child in the afterlife.’

He slapped me on the shoulder. ‘Safe journey,’ and then sauntered away.

Remus poked his head over the half-door that gave access to his stall.

‘Another journey for you, old friend.’

I stood up and walked over to him to stroke his cheek.

‘I bet you did not think when I took you from the stables of that rich Roman in Nola all those years ago that you would spend your life traversing the Parthian Empire.’

He flicked his ears and pushed his muzzle into my chest.

‘Perhaps one day you will be able to retire and live out the rest of your days in peace.’

‘And that should be soon.’

The unkempt figure of Strabo shuffled into the stable and walked over to me. He stroked Remus’ neck.

‘You are riding to Assur, majesty.’

‘I’m glad palace gossip is as efficient as ever, Strabo.’

He ignored the sarcastic remark. ‘Another campaign beckons, then?’

‘Yes, I will be riding him into battle once more.’

He stopped stroking my horse and looked at me. ‘This should be his last campaign.’

‘His last campaign? Why? Is he ill?’

‘Not ill, majesty, no. But he is not getting any younger and his heart and legs are not as strong as they were.’ Strabo smiled at Remus. ‘You may think he is immortal and he certainly does, but the truth is that all the battles and campaigns he has taken part in have taken their toll. After the coming campaign you should ride Tegha.’

‘There is nothing wrong with Remus,’ I said angrily, ‘he looks the same as he did twenty years ago.’

Strabo sighed. ‘You are the king and can of course do as you wish. You may ride your horse until he collapses and dies under you if you so choose, but I know that you would not do such a thing for you are not such a king. I would be failing in my duty if I did not give you my opinion. I know you love this horse and do not wish to be parted from him, but not even kings can halt time and the toll it exacts upon all living things.’

From being angry I became alarmed. ‘Are you saying that another campaign may kill him?’

‘Another campaign may kill you first,’ he replied disrespectfully. ‘Wearing armour and charging around a battlefield places a great strain on a horse’s heart. The mounts of the horse archers do not have to carry such a burden, though they risk being cut and pierced by arrows. Then there is the stress of battle. It’s not only men who piss themselves with fear in combat.’

‘Most eloquently put, Strabo.’

He tickled Remus under the chin. ‘I know you will make the right decision.’ He nodded slightly then turned and ambled away.

I sat back down on the bench, placed my elbows on my legs and rested my chin in my hands. I had never given the health of Remus a second thought. He had always been a strong and sturdy horse who had ridden in many battles to emerge unscathed. When other horses had died due to heart failure at the dreadful Battle of Susa he had survived, obviously making me think that he could go on forever. But nothing lasts forever, it seems, as Dobbai’s death should have taught me. Tegha was a good horse and I resolved to ride him after the coming campaign, but retiring Remus would be akin to losing my right arm. But then he deserved to rest on his laurels in his autumn years. I wondered if I would be allowed the same privilege: would I even see my autumn years? No matter how many enemies I vanquished there always seemed to be an unending supply of new ones to fight.

The next day I left for Assur.

It took us five days to reach the city. At Dura patrols were increased along the borders in case Crassus decided to launch any surprise raids into the kingdom, though Byrd assured me that his network of spies and informants in Syria and Judea would give him prior warning of any such attack. The northeast of the empire may have been burning but that was nearly a thousand miles away and in the west of Parthia there existed a surreal peace. The roads were filled with traffic and farmers worked in their fields. West of Dura the road to Palmyra was never busier and the city was ringed not by Romans but by trade caravans, whose crews and guards flooded into the city each day to spend their money on food, hospitality and whores. I had to admit that it had been a masterstroke by Aaron to place a tax on the brothels whose dues went directly to the upkeep of the army. The city’s markets were blossoming and peace guaranteed that the farmers who worked on the lords’ estates prospered and paid their rents. And when the lords prospered so did the city treasury when they paid their annual tributes.

Aaron was always pestering me to raise taxes and the tribute but I resisted his pleas. The treasury was almost always full and so there was enough money to maintain the army and thus ensure a peaceful kingdom. And where there was peace there was trade and where there was trade there was a constant flow of money into the treasury.

Occasionally a slave trader would present himself at the palace and petition me to allow him to establish a slave market in the city, promising to share equally the profits with the crown if he was allowed to do so. I always refused. I could not besmirch the memory of Spartacus by permitting such a thing. There were no slaves in the palace and there would be no slave markets in the city, at least not while I was king. Aaron was most distraught when he heard that I had turned my back on a lucrative venture but I informed him that I was king and not a businessman, but that he was welcome to take up the matter of slave trading with the queen if he so wished. He bowed politely and I heard no more about it.

I took Spartacus, Scarab and a hundred horse archers with me to Assur, the city looking none the worse for the Armenian assault it had suffered recently. The gates had been repaired, the moat had been cleared of debris and bodies and Hatra’s banner of the white horse’s head flew from every gatehouse. A captain of the garrison and half a dozen of his white-uniformed riders met me a mile from the city and asked that I camp my horse archers on the Plain of Makhmur located opposite the city, on the eastern side of the Tigris. The return of Silaces’ horse archers and the rest of the garrison had resulted in there being no spare quarters for the escorts of the other kings who had arrived. I asked the officer who was present.

‘High King Orodes, majesty, in addition to King Gafarn, King Atrax and King Nergal. All their men are camped on the plain.’

‘King Surena has not arrived?’ I asked him.

‘No, majesty.’

My escort rode with the captain and his men to the Plain of Makhmur while I entered the city with Spartacus and Scarab, leaving our horses outside the governor’s palace where Lord Herneus received us. He looked meaner and more unforgiving than ever, his head devoid of any hair and his features looking as if they had been carved from rock. He walked beside me as we made our way through the palace to my quarters.

‘I hear that Surena is not here.’

‘Arrogant little bastard,’ spat Herneus, who had been appointed by my father for his iron-hard determination and loyalty and not for his etiquette. ‘He was willing enough to receive support from me and Atrax when he was fighting the Armenians in Gordyene, but now he does not need us any more he treats us like lepers.’

‘His war with the Armenians must be absorbing much of his time.’

He was seething. ‘Rumour is that he has unleashed his Sarmatian mercenaries on Armenia where they can amuse themselves butchering women and children while Surena broods in his palace, plotting his next move, and his army camps outside its walls.’

‘We will need that army in the coming months, Herneus.’

I was shown into the reception hall where Orodes, Gafarn, Atrax and Nergal were waiting. It was good to see them all again and all thoughts of eastern nomads, Armenians and Romans were temporarily forgotten as we greeted each other and reminisced about old times. Orodes told me that the rebuilding of Seleucia’s walls was proceeding apace and that Axsen had finally agreed to move permanently to Ctesiphon, which was also being renovated. Nergal informed me that Praxima was well and was looking forward to slaughtering Romans when they invaded and hoped to kill Crassus himself, while Atrax reported that his boys were growing up fast and would soon be riding into battle beside him. I asked after my sister’s health and he said that Aliyeh was fine but said no more about her. Gafarn embraced Spartacus warmly and announced to everyone that he was now a cataphract and would soon be taking his place among Hatra’s Royal Bodyguard. My nephew blushed as everyone congratulated him and patted him on the back.

As I was tired after my journey I retired to my quarters and bathed to wash the desert from my body and then enjoyed the company of a nubile young slave girl who massaged my back, arms and legs with oil. In a semi-daze I felt her slim fingers trace the lines of the numerous scars that decorated my back.

‘You have many scars, high-born,’ she purred.

‘A memento of my time in a foreign land.’

‘It must have been terrible for you to suffer such injuries.’

‘It was not something that I would have chosen,’ I agreed.

‘The foreigners must have been savages to treat a great king in such a way.’

‘I was not a king at the time,’ I corrected her, ‘I was a slave like you.’

Shocked, she momentarily stopped weaving her magic with her fingers. ‘A slave? I do not understand.’

‘A long time ago I was captured by a people called the Romans who put me in chains and took me back to their homeland to live as a slave until I died. One Roman whipped me and gave me the scars you see with your own eyes.’

She resumed her massaging. ‘What happened to these Romans, great one?’

‘They now stand on the borders of the empire and wish to conquer Parthia.’

‘But you will fight them?’

‘Oh yes,’ I replied, ‘that is my destiny — to fight Romans forever.’

The next day I sat around a table with the other kings plus Herneus in the governor’s private quarters to determine our course of action. Orodes, as ever a stickler for procedure, had requested that clerks record the conversation for posterity. I often wondered why we bothered with all these records. Who would ever read the stacks of parchments that gathered dust in the archives of every city and town in the empire?

‘So, my friends,’ began the king of kings after slaves had served us all wine, ‘we are here to decide the course of action in this, a year of grave danger for the empire. In the east the steppe nomads have united under one leader and threaten to sweep into the empire like a great flood, while to the north and west the Armenians and Romans muster their forces to invade Parthia.’

‘Do we have any recent news from Musa and Khosrou?’ I asked.

Orodes looked at Atrax who now spoke. ‘Aschek has mustered his forces on his eastern border to meet the nomads should they sweep west, but at the moment they are content to plunder Hyrcania and Margiana.’

‘Where are the armies of Khosrou and Musa?’ asked Nergal.

‘Khosrou licks his wounds in his capital, Merv,’ replied Atrax, ‘while Musa rallies his men at his capital, Hecatompylos.’

‘And there is more bad news from the Kingdom of Yueh-Chih,’ interrupted Orodes, ‘where King Monaeses contains the Yuezhis with difficulty. They have all appealed for my help and I must send it.’

I looked at him with alarm. ‘Send who?’

I glanced nervously at Atrax. ‘If you despatch Atrax and Aschek then it will seriously weaken the size of the army that will face the Romans and Armenians in the west.’

Orodes took a gulp of wine. ‘I know that, Pacorus, but as high king I cannot stand by and do nothing while the empire is being overrun. Aschek has stated that he will go to Musa’s aid as his kingdom borders Hyrcania.’

That came as no surprise to me though I doubted whether Aschek was the man to lead a relief expedition, but I held my tongue on that subject. But if Orodes suggested that Atrax supported Aschek then that was another matter. The King of Media was a fine commander and had an excellent army whose loss in the west would be keenly felt.

‘What about the other eastern kings?’ I suggested. ‘Cannot they send men to the north?’

‘They are like rabbits hypnotised by a cobra,’ replied Orodes. ‘Aria is already being raided by the Yuezhis and so Anauon and Drangiana to the south of that kingdom look to their own defences. There is only one man who can shore up our eastern frontier and that is Phriapatius.’

‘He leads our reserve army should we need it against Crassus and the Armenians,’ I said.

Orodes was not to be moved. ‘I cannot help that, Pacorus. Phriapatius has thousands of men at Persepolis and they are needed in the north. He can link up with Aschek’s army and together they can aid Musa and Khosrou.’

Orodes smiled at Atrax. ‘Such a course of action will also safeguard Media’s eastern frontier to allow Atrax to support us in the west.’

Atrax nodded in agreement and I had to admit that the plan made sense. The nomads had to be cleared from the northeast and the Yuezhis also had to be taught a lesson they would not forget and Phriapatius did command a large army, which could be mobilised to achieve these things. But it also meant stripping troops from the west.

‘Surena’s absence is keenly felt,’ fumed Gafarn.

Orodes tactfully ignored the mention of the man who had snubbed him by not being here and instead nodded to one of the guards standing by the door, who opened it and went outside into the corridor. Orodes stood.

‘Amid all the gloom that has engulfed us I have decided to fill the vacant throne of Elymais.’

King Gotarzes, a friend and ally of my father who had been killed by Narses and Mithridates during the civil war, had formerly ruled Elymais. Mithridates had subsequently taken over the kingdom but since his overthrow Orodes had ruled it. I heard footsteps and saw Silaces enter the room.

‘Welcome Silaces,’ said Orodes, ‘please take a seat.’

He pointed at an empty chair beside me that Silaces walked to after bowing his head to Orodes.

‘The office of king of kings is an onerous one,’ said Orodes, who remained standing, ‘though one of the more agreeable privileges that comes with it is the ability to reward loyalty and courage. Silaces, you have never faltered in your loyalty to your dead king or your homeland. During the terrible years of civil strife when you and your men were exiles from Elymais you continued to serve the allies of your kingdom, first with Pacorus and then assisting Surena in liberating Gordyene.’

Everyone began rapping their knuckles in the table in agreement, much to the embarrassment of Silaces. Orodes raised his hands to request silence.

He continued. ‘And so as a reward for your unfaltering loyalty I have decided to appoint you King of Elymais. May your reign be long and prosperous.’

Silaces’ mouth opened and closed but no words came out so shocked was he. I slapped him on the shoulder and once again the other kings rapped their knuckles on the table.

Orodes sat down. ‘But I am afraid you and your men are still needed here for the time being so you will not yet be able to sit on your throne. And well done.’

I rose and offered my hand to Silaces who also stood. The others likewise offered him their congratulations and such was the commotion that no one noticed the figure of Surena framed in the doorway.

Dressed in an iron scale armour cuirass, black shirt, black leggings and black boots, he looked like an avenging demon. Gone was the carefree, impious youth I had brought back with me from the great marshlands many years ago. His long black hair was unkempt and his eyes were cold and menacing. In truth I scarcely recognised him.

‘The wanderer returns,’ said Orodes with a trace of mockery. He pointed at an empty chair. ‘We have left a place for you but thought you would not be attending, such is the paucity of communications with Gordyene of late.’

Surena sauntered over to the chair and flopped down in it. ‘I have had important matters to attend to.’

He nodded at Silaces and managed a half-smile in my direction.

‘Is not the summons of the high king important?’ asked an exasperated Gafarn.

Surena snapped his fingers at a slave to indicate he wished to be served wine.

‘Not more important that defending my kingdom, no,’ Surena replied insolently. The company of Sarmatians had clearly not improved his manners.

It was fortunate that Orodes was a master at diplomacy as he let the insult pass and everyone retook their seats. The high king acquainted Surena with what had happened in his absence who was genuinely pleased that Silaces, whom he had fought beside in the liberation of Gordyene, was now the king of Elymais, and thought the plan to send Phriapatius north a sensible one.

‘And so the only matter that is left to be resolved is Crassus and the Armenians,’ announced Orodes. ‘We cannot fight one war in the east and another in the west at the same time; the risks are too great. As we are already at war in the east I see no option but to try to postpone conflict in the west until matters in the east have been resolved to our advantage. This being the case I have decided to request a one-year truce with the Romans.’

Atrax, Nergal and Silaces said nothing though Gafarn looked disappointed, which was noticed by Orodes.

‘I realise that the Armenians still have control of the north of your kingdom and Roman troops occupy your western towns, Gafarn, but when the nomads and Yuezhis have been dealt with the full might of the empire can be turned west to eject the Armenians and Romans from Parthian lands.’

Orodes smiled at me. ‘I would like Pacorus to go to Syria to treat with Crassus, a man whom he has had previous dealings with, and persuade him that peace is preferable to war.’

‘How will I do that?’ I enquired.

‘Simple, my friend. Your fame as a great warlord, combined with your position as Parthia’s lord high general and the offer of gold, will be difficult for the Romans to resist.’

I was confused. ‘Gold?’

Orodes leaned back in his chair. ‘This Crassus is a greedy man, that much I know. He covets wealth above all and so I will offer him riches. Ten thousand talents of gold to be precise, if he agrees to twelve months of peace.’

Ten thousand talents was a colossal amount of gold. ‘I did not realise that the treasury at Ctesiphon was so full,’ I said.

Orodes placed his hands behind his head. ‘It isn’t. I will have to request donations from every kingdom in the empire to amass such an amount, but the point is that you dangle it in front of Crassus so he will take the bait.’

‘It will not deter him from wanting to conquer Parthia,’ I said. ‘It will more likely make him more desirous to take possession of a land that has seemingly limitless riches.’

‘But it will buy us time, Pacorus,’ replied Orodes, ‘and at the moment that is a more precious commodity than gold.’

‘You are wrong.’

Surena had contented himself with drinking his wine and seemed not to be taking much notice of proceedings, until now.

‘You have something to say, Surena?’ asked Orodes.

Surena drained his cup and pointed at a slave holding a jug of wine and then at his empty vessel. ‘You waste your time talking to the Romans. I agree that Pacorus, that is King Pacorus, should go to Syria, but he should have an army at his back with which to destroy the legions there and burn Antioch to the ground. That is the only language the Romans understand.’

For a moment everyone thought he was joking but we quickly realised that he was deadly serious.

‘Have you forgotten about the Armenians?’ asked a somewhat discomforted Orodes.

‘The armies of Hatra, Gordyene and Media can take care of the Armenians,’ Surena replied confidently, ‘while Dura’s army, supported by Babylon and Mesene, can lay waste to Syria.’

‘My sources have informed me that Crassus has nine legions in total,’ I said to him, ‘in addition to troops he has raised locally. He can put fifty thousand men into the field.’

‘And you can match those numbers, lord. With your army and your lords you can march with over thirty thousand men, plus the armies of King Nergal and King Orodes, another fifteen thousand men. And there are Haytham’s warriors.’

Gafarn was appalled. ‘Haytham?’

Surena cast him a disparaging glance. ‘It is well known that Dura and Haytham are allies and have assisted each other in their wars. Haytham would gladly provide warriors to plunder Syria.’

‘Just as your men have plundered Armenia?’ said Orodes.

Surena smiled. ‘Of course. Gordyene is no longer troubled by Armenian incursions now that my soldiers have taken the fight to the lands of Artavasdes. The soldiers of this Crassus already sit in some Parthian towns. It is an insult to the empire.’

‘Perhaps we should make you lord high general, Surena,’ said Orodes mockingly.

‘Perhaps you should,’ Surena replied.

‘Careful boy,’ snarled Herneus, ‘just because you’ve butchered a few Armenians does not give you the right to speak to the high king disrespectfully.’

Surena sneered at him. ‘Take care, old man, you might talk your head off its shoulders.’

Herneus jumped up and grasped the hilt of his sword. Surena laughed.

‘Sit down, Herneus!’ commanded Gafarn.

Surena grinned triumphantly at him as the governor of Assur, his cheeks flushed with anger, slowly retook his seat. Nergal looked at me and shook his head.

‘You should have a care who you insult, Surena,’ I said, ‘one day you might need those whom you now mock.’

‘Your behaviour is unacceptable, Surena,’ said Orodes sternly.

Surena held up his hands. ‘I apologise for my enthusiasm. I prefer fighting to talking and only war will remove the enemy from the empire’s lands. The fact is that every day the Romans and Armenians piss on Parthian land the more we appear weak and helpless. Only by striking at the enemy’s lands can we reassert our greatness.’

‘We will take back all our lands,’ promised Orodes, ‘but to wage two wars at once is folly.’

‘No,’ said Surena firmly, ‘your plan is folly.’

There were murmurs from the others that he had spoken to the high king so but Surena was unconcerned.

‘Crassus will reject your offer of gold for a truce,’ he continued. ‘It will serve only to make him more determined to launch his war sooner so that he may take possession of all the empire’s riches. He sits in Syria and prepares his army and we do nothing. It is better to kill an enemy than to talk with him, that much I have learned.’

I stared at him and saw a man eaten away by bitterness and anger: bitter that the woman he adored had been cruelly snatched from him and angry against the whole world because of it.

‘Perhaps,’ said Orodes calmly, ‘another high king might agree with you, Surena. But I do not and while I am high king we will follow my plan. If Crassus rejects my offer then you will have your war but we will attempt to buy time first, which will ultimately serve our purpose more.

‘In addition, I have no desire to add Syria to the empire. If we invade Syria; what then?’

‘Then it becomes a wasteland and a buffer between the empire and Roman territory,’ replied Surena casually.

‘We are not Romans, Surena,’ I told him. ‘We do not create a desert and call it peace. What about the thousands of people who live in Syria? Will you kill them or sell them into slavery? I have spent all my life opposing such things and I tell you that I will have no part of a war with such objectives.’

‘It is as Pacorus says,’ added Orodes.

‘You will not be attacking the Armenians and Romans?’ he asked.

‘Not yet,’ answered Orodes.

Surena looked resigned. ‘I see that my words have fallen on stony ground, which is a shame.’ He suddenly stood up. ‘I see little merit in remaining here if all we are to do is talk about appeasing our enemies.’

‘Yet again you show disrespect to your high king,’ remarked Gafarn disapprovingly.

‘You should concern yourself more with defending your kingdom, Gafarn,’ said Surena dismissively, ‘before more of it is eaten up by our enemies.’

‘Is your memory so short, Surena,’ growled Gafarn, ‘that you have forgotten who created you a king? It was Orodes. Or the man who raised you up from living among marsh dwellers and gave you an education in the military arts? It was Pacorus. Do you not think that you are in their debt?’

Surena pointed at Gafarn. ‘I brought Gordyene back into the empire and have been drawing Armenian soldiers to the north to defend their borders when they could have been marching south to Hatra. Given support I could defeat Artavasdes and retake Nisibus, something that you appear incapable of. So in answer to your question I think I have more than repaid any debts I may have accrued.’

He bowed his head ever so slightly to Orodes and then walked from the room, throwing his empty cup at a slave standing near the door.

‘Surena,’ I said before he disappeared into the corridor, causing him to halt and face me. ‘I hope I can rely on your support when the fighting begins.’

‘The fighting has already begun,’ he replied sullenly.

‘If we all go our separate ways,’ I told him, ‘in the end we will all go the same way.’

He turned on his heels and walked briskly from the room, the guards outside closing the door as he left.

‘Arrogant little bastard,’ seethed Herneus, looking at Orodes. ‘You should let me take some men and I’ll bring him back from Vanadzor in chains so he can be punished.’

Herneus was a man of iron and an excellent governor of Assur but he grossly underestimated Surena, a man who had liberated an enemy occupied Gordyene single-handedly.

‘We cannot spare you, Lord Herneus,’ said Gafarn, ‘much as I concur with your proposed course of action.’

‘Surena is intemperate, I agree,’ said Orodes, ‘but his rashness is a result of his immaturity and eagerness to wage war against the enemy. His behaviour was unacceptable and men have lost their heads for less, but right now I cannot afford to lose him or his army.’

‘When the war begins he will bring his army to fight by our side,’ I said, ‘of that I am certain.’

Orodes nodded. ‘Notwithstanding Surena’s opposition to the idea, I would still like you to go to Syria, Pacorus, to offer Crassus my proposal.’

‘You have been to his house before,’ Gafarn said to me, ‘so he should be amenable to hearing what you have to say at least.’

‘That was a long time ago,’ I replied.

‘What is he like, this Crassus?’ asked Herneus.

I thought for a moment. ‘Generous, polite and hospitable are words that could be applied to him.’

‘And merciless. Don’t forget he had six thousand of our comrades crucified in Italy,’ said Nergal bitterly.

‘He is ruthless, certainly,’ I agreed, ‘like most Roman leaders, but Crassus is also greedy. He not only covets land for Rome but also wealth for himself. Twenty years ago he was perhaps Rome’s richest man and the passing of time has not reduced his appetite for gold, his looting of the temple at Jerusalem is testimony to that. It is as if he has to accumulate wealth in the same way that a man needs air to breathe and that may be his undoing.’

‘How so?’ asked Atrax.

‘Because,’ I replied, ‘his perception that Parthia is overflowing with gold may lead him to make rash decisions that will play into our hands.’

‘It is agreed, then,’ said Orodes. ‘Pacorus will go to Antioch and play the role of peacemaker.’

I left Assur the next day, Orodes having sent a courier to Phriapatius at Persepolis requesting him to march north at speed to the Caspian Gates and thence to relieve King Musa who was in his capital of Hecatompylos. Thus did I lose forty thousand well-trained and led soldiers, who would be campaigning in the northeast corner of the empire for at least six months, perhaps longer. It would take Phriapatius three weeks alone to reach the Gates, a strategically important pass that runs east and west through a spur of the Alborz Mountains that lay below the southern shore of the Caspian Sea. If Aschek was a competent commander then he could have led the relief expedition but as it was he would be supporting Phriapatius. I cursed the memory of Mithridates and hoped that he was enduring torments in the underworld because he had been responsible for inciting the northern nomads to strike at the empire.

Khosrou and Musa had always had volatile frontiers but any violence was usually restricted to minor raids and looting. When I had first met Khosrou at the Council of Kings at Esfahan all those years ago he had told me that he had encouraged the nomads to try trade instead of raids and had had some success, and had even enticed some of them into the ranks of his army. But Mithridates had bribed the nomads’ chiefs with gold to attack Margiana and Hyrcania during the civil war and their appetite for plunder had returned with a vengeance. Worse, new tribes came from the steppes in the far north, enticed by tales of easy plunder and untold riches. And now they had been united under this Attai. The last thing the empire needed was hordes of barbarians pressing on its northern borders as the Romans prepared to renew hostilities in the west.

‘It is a mistake, Pacorus.’

Domitus reclined in his chair after I had briefed him on what had been decided at Assur. We were sitting in his tent in the legionary camp as the late afternoon was giving way to early evening. I had arrived back at Dura that morning and went to see him after he returned from the exercise that he had been taking part in. It had involved the two legions plus all the cataphracts and two thousand horse archers and had ended with a mock battle five miles south in the desert, in which the legions had drawn up in a hollow square formation and had been assaulted all day and into the night by the horsemen. I picked up the sheet of papyrus from the table and looked at the ‘casualty’ figures for the exercise.

‘Five killed, fifty wounded and twenty-three horses dead. Was it a real battle?’

‘No, but as near to one as we could get. Keeps everyone on their toes and their skills sharp. They will need them to be when we fight Crassus.’

‘You do not think he will accept Orodes’ offer?’

Domitus laughed. ‘Orodes is a good man and a brave fighter, but until all men think as he does we should keep our swords sharp. Crassus will interpret his offer as a sign of weakness, which it is.’

He picked up a blank sheet of papyrus and laid it before him and then took a pen and began scribbling on it.

‘You say Aschek and the Carmanians that were located at Persepolis have been ordered east.’

I nodded as he scribbled some more.

‘And Surena will not fight?’

‘Oh he will fight,’ I replied, ‘just not on Orodes’ terms.’

He frowned and shook his head as he added up a column of numbers. ‘Then you have lost around seventy thousand troops before the fighting has even begun. Like I said, a grave mistake.’

I told him about Surena’s disagreement with Herneus and Orodes concerning strategy and that he wanted me to invade Syria and reduce its towns and cities to rubble.

‘At least he has not forgotten everything he was taught here,’ said Domitus approvingly.

‘I know you have always wanted to invade Syria, Domitus, but as I told you and as I told Surena it would be a mistake. We may prevail initially but in the end Rome would send more armies to take it back and I do not want an endless war on my frontier.’

‘You have a war on your frontier whether you like it or not,’ he replied, ‘all I was and am suggesting is that it is always better to strike the first blow.’

‘How are Peroz’s horsemen?’ I asked, changing the subject.

‘Fully trained in Duran strategy and tactics,’ he answered proudly. ‘I like him and he’s like an eagle who has discovered a field of lambs now that he has taken up with that whore.’

‘Roxanne.’

Domitus nodded. ‘Pretty thing, I have to admit. I hear she cost you a tidy sum to release her from her contractual duties. Aaron is forever bending my ear about it. It is amazing how similar to Rsan he is in his parsimony.’

‘He would. Still, it was worth it to keep Peroz and his five thousand horse archers at Dura.’

Domitus raised an eyebrow. ‘Peroz proudly informed me while you were away that he intends to marry his whore soon.’

I held my head in my hands.

‘I assume by your demeanour that his father does not know he has fallen in love with a whore.’

I sighed and looked at him. ‘She is no longer a whore.’

He grinned maliciously. ‘You think his father will see it like that? I think he will think that you have led his boy astray and will be most displeased.’

‘When did you become such an expert on Parthian kings?’ I said.

Domitus was clearly in a mischievous mood. ‘And what with young Spartacus wanting to marry an Agraci you are fast earning yourself a reputation as a man who creates undesirable marriages.’

I wagged a finger at him. ‘Spartacus will be going back to Hatra soon and will hopefully lose interest in Rasha.’

‘You really believe that?’ he said. ‘And why has he not returned to Hatra to his father?’

‘I thought I would take him to Antioch with me to show him what the enemy looks like, Scarab too.’

I saw his dagger in his hand, which he started to fiddle with. ‘You know that bitch Aruna is in Antioch.’

‘So I believe. Do you wish me to relay your compliments to her?’

‘Just watch your back, that is all,’ he said with deadly seriousness. ‘I remember Dobbai telling me that she was as evil as her son. It is a curious thing; I never thought I would miss the old woman but I do.’

‘As do I,’ I agreed.

‘If she was still alive you could have taken one of her talismans as protection.’

‘I will be under a flag of truce, Domitus.’

‘Perhaps,’ he sniffed.

While I waited for an official reply to the message that I had sent Crassus requesting a meeting with him at Antioch I had Scarab clean and burnish my leather cuirass, replace the crest in my helmet with fresh white goose feathers and polish the helmet itself. I knew Crassus would be dressed in rich attire and did not want to appear a pauper by comparison. I dallied with the idea of taking a company of cataphracts with me but decided against it. If they were not going to fight there was little point in having an escort of a hundred men sweating in scale armour and full-face helmets and their horses similarly attired, impressive spectacle though they would have made. In addition, I wanted to keep their new swords a secret so I left them at Dura. Instead I took Vagises and a hundred horse archers, each man being issued with a long-sleeved white silk shirt, red leggings and helmet. I also gave the order that they were to wear mail shirts to make them look more impressive, even though only the Amazons among Dura’s horse archers normally wore amour.

‘You should take them instead,’ remarked Gallia on the evening before I left, a rider having arrived at the palace earlier from Syria with confirmation of my safe passage to Antioch.

‘They are your bodyguard so should stay here with you,’ I replied.

‘As should you: there is no point in talking to Crassus. You should have told Orodes that.’

‘Orodes is high king,’ I reminded her, ‘and so he does the telling.’

She grabbed my arms and looked into my eyes. ‘Do not go; you will face danger in Syria.’

I looked at her rather bemused.

She let go of my arms. ‘You think I am a fool? Well, while you were away I was talking to Claudia about you and she suddenly got a tickling sensation on the sole of her right foot. She told me that it meant that you would soon be going on another journey, but later that same day when she was at the gates of the Citadel a dog stood in front of her and began barking at her. She said it was a bad omen.’

I could scarcely believe my ears. ‘A ticklish foot and a barking dog? Claudia is twelve years old, Gallia. I hardly think she is qualified to interpret omens from the gods, if they are indeed that.’

She regarded me coolly. ‘I believed her and so should you. Have you forgotten who raised her? Have you also forgotten that it was Claudia who warned you about Crassus taking the towns in western Hatra, a warning that you chose to ignore.’

I had no time for this. ‘I do not go to Syria to make war but rather to put a proposal to Crassus. Whatever he is he is not a common criminal. He would gain nothing by killing me.’

‘Except to remove the one general who can defeat him, the one person who stands between him conquering the Parthian Empire,’ she replied caustically.

‘I think you exaggerate. I will be away for no longer than three weeks and I do not go alone.’

She was not convinced but knew that it was useless to argue with me further. The next day I embraced her and my children at the top of the palace steps while Vagises and his overdressed horse archers stood waiting in the courtyard with twenty fully laden camels behind them. Spartacus sat on his horse holding Remus’ reins with Scarab beside him. I shook the hands of Domitus and Vagharsh, who was most aggrieved that he was not accompanying me. Opposite stood Aaron, Rsan and Peroz, who looked resplendent in his silver scale armour cuirass.

I walked down the steps and vaulted into the saddle. I raised my hand to signal the company to move out when Claudia ran down the steps and raced over to me. She held out an outstretched hand in which was a silver amulet.

‘Take this, father, it will protect you from harm.’

I leaned down and took the amulet from her.

I smiled at her. ‘Thank you.’

I looked at the talisman in my hand. It was a beautiful silver Simurgh, an ancient mythological beast that had the head and foreparts of a dog, the wings and tail of a peacock and a body covered with scales.

Claudia did not smile back but looked deadly serious. ‘It is a protective guardian for your journey. Beware the mother of snakes.’

I nodded to her in acknowledgement and then wheeled Remus around and trotted from the courtyard as my daughter ascended the steps. Vagises fell in beside me and Spartacus and Scarab took up position behind as we rode down Dura’s main street towards the Palmyrene Gate. The last time I had ridden to see Crassus was in Italy twenty years ago. Then I had been accompanied by his personal slave and had been the commander of all the horsemen in Spartacus’ slave army. Now I was the lord high general of the Parthian Empire and commanded my own army, but more than anything else I was intrigued by the prospect of seeing Crassus again. The last time I had ridden to Rome itself, the heart of the enemy’s empire, and had emerged unscathed. I had no reason to believe that this time would be any different.