Carrhae

Chapter 2

The new dawn came soon enough and with it the familiar sounds of soldiers complaining and their officers barking orders, the grunts of irritable camels and the reassuring clank and clatter of cooking utensils as men prepared breakfast. I had fallen asleep at the table and woke with an aching neck after what had been perhaps two hours of slumber. I went outside to stretch my legs as Mark Antony still dozed in the tent. Around me the neat rows of the horse archers’ tents were already being dismantled prior to being packed onto the camel train. Normally the tents would be stashed on wagons but these had been left at Dura.

Horns sounded assembly and then each company of horse archers paraded for roll call. The lords and their men were probably still sleeping but in Dura’s army soldiers rose before dawn. As I stretched out my arms I noticed that my tent was ringed with guards, twenty in all, all facing inwards. As I rubbed the stubble on my chin I saw Gallia and Vagises walking towards me. The commander of my horse archers saluted.

‘Why all the guards?’ I asked.

‘To make sure the Roman did not escape,’ he replied.

‘You look terrible,’ said Gallia looking remarkably fresh, her hair hanging loose around her shoulders.

‘Too little sleep, my love, as a consequence of debating with our Roman friend.’

‘He is no friend of mine,’ she sniffed. ‘Where is he?’

‘Still sleeping,’ I answered.

Vagises nodded. ‘Pity he didn’t try to escape, then we could have put a few arrows into him.’

‘And then we would not get Rasha back.’

At that moment a tent flap opened and Mark Antony appeared, dressed in his silver muscled cuirass and wearing his helmet adorned with its large red crest. He tipped his head at me and then strode over to our little group, removed his helmet and bowed his head to Gallia. His eyes were alight with glee as he admired her.

‘It is an honour to meet you, majesty,’ he beamed. ‘I have heard much about the beauty of the famed Queen Gallia of Dura and I have to say that I never knew such elegance and allure existed among the Gauls.’

Gallia regarded him coolly, this Roman noble who strutted like a rutting peacock even among his enemies.

‘Remember, Roman’ she said slowly, ‘your life is still mine until Princess Rasha is freed by the enemy.’

‘Well,’ I said, desirous to dissipate the mood of gathering threat, ‘perhaps you would like something to eat, Antony, before you are exchanged.’

I ordered food to be brought to the tent but could not persuade Gallia and Vagises to join us for breakfast. So after a meal of dates, biscuit and water I rode with my wife, the Amazons, a hundred horse archers and our captive to the camp of Haytham. Despite the early hour the day was already hot and airless and we sweated in our armour and helmets. Once more Dura’s horse archers were posted to the wings as thousands of Agraci warriors mounted their horses and camels and rode forward to face the enemy, whose camp lay five miles to the west.

The Agraci king was waiting on his horse at the head of his lords when we arrived at his tent, Malik beside him.

‘Greetings, lord king,’ I said, bowing my head to him and then smiling at Malik. ‘Shall we go and get your daughter back?’

He nodded at me, then Gallia and ignored Mark Antony as he nudged his horse forward and we followed him out of camp. Malik rode beside me as a great column of Agraci trotted behind us.

‘My father still desires to destroy the enemy, Pacorus, if we get Rasha back or not. More warriors arrived during the night. He believes he can defeat them easily.’

I thought of the disciplined ranks of the Romans and the ease with which they had defeated the Agraci yesterday.

‘I think it would be better to convince the enemy to retreat, Malik, at least until Domitus can bring the rest of the army. You yourself know that horsemen cannot break disciplined foot.’

‘I may know that, Pacorus, but trying to convince my father that talking is preferable to fighting is another matter.’

Half an hour later we watched as a delegation rode out of the enemy camp and threaded its way between the corpses and dead animals littering the ground from yesterday’s battle. Most of them were Agraci and I could understand Haytham’s desire to avenge their deaths. There must have been upwards of thirty-five thousand Agraci deployed behind Haytham, stretching left and right for around two miles. Beyond them was a dragon of Duran horse archers on each flank. Vagises had divided the lords into two bodies and had allocated one to each wing, deployed behind his horse archers. In this way nearly sixty thousand men faced the Romans and their Emesian allies. How many the latter numbered I did not know but Gallia had told me that she and the lords had scattered around ten thousand of their horse the previous day. If most of those horsemen had subsequently made it back to camp then I estimated the enemy to number around thirty-five thousand men, unless they too had received reinforcements during the night.

The party of enemy horsemen met a score of Agraci riders in the middle of no-man’s land as I waited with Haytham. The king was in a sullen mood and spoke only to Gallia, reminding her that she was to kill Mark Antony if Rasha had been murdered. Any ebullience or bravado Mark Antony may have had evaporated as we waited for the king’s men to return to our position. He waited on his horse looking ahead, unblinking, small rivulets of sweat running down his noble face. The riders returned to report that King Sampsiceramus himself would meet with Haytham to ensure that the exchange of prisoners went smoothly, but could the meeting be held away from the stench of dead bodies as the king had had a full breakfast and the aroma of decomposing flesh would be offensive to his nose?

I noticed that Haytham’s grip on his horse’s reins tightened as he was informed of this request and for at least a minute afterwards he said nothing. I looked at Malik who wore a stony expression, and when I caught Yasser’s eye he merely shrugged. The rider looked at his king in confusion and then at the group of Agraci and Emesians who waited for an answer.

At last Haytham spoke. ‘He comes into my kingdom uninvited, he kills my warriors and now he complains that their rotting flesh offends him. Perhaps I should slaughter his army so that the stench is so great that it will deter him from entering Agraci territory ever again.’

His lords behind him murmured their approval and several drew their swords. Though it was not my place to do so, I spoke.

‘Lord King, let me parley with Sampsiceramus on your behalf.’

Haytham looked at me. ‘You?’

‘I would consider it an honour.’

Yasser and the other lords looked at each other in confusion, and even Malik looked perplexed.

‘Why should you care if the King of Emesa lives or dies?’ asked Haytham.

‘I do not,’ I replied, ‘but I do care about the life of Rasha who is like a daughter to me.’

‘Why do you, a great warlord, go out of your way to avoid bloodshed?’

I did not dare tell him that it was because I believed that he might lose. ‘Because I value your daughter’s life over my quest for glory.’

Haytham considered for a moment.

‘Very well, for my daughter’s sake and the friendship between Palmyra and Dura I will grant you your wish.’

The rider was sent back to the Emesians and an hour later I was riding with Gallia, Vagises, the Amazons and a hundred other horse archers to meet with the enemy. The venue was two miles to the north, well away from yesterday’s battlefield where ravens and flies were already feasting on dead flesh. Mark Antony rode behind Gallia and me and in front of Vagises, who had his drawn sword resting on his shoulder for the entire journey. We slowed when we saw the enemy party approaching us and then halted as we awaited our guests, the Amazons forming into line behind us and the other horse archers on either side of them. It was now blisteringly hot and windless and I wanted negotiations to be concluded as quickly as possible.

That was a remote hope as the Emesian party inched its way towards us, preceded by at least fifty members of what I assumed were some sort of royal foot guard. Each man was wearing a cuirass of silver scales that shimmered in the sunlight, a bronze helmet adorned with twin silver feathers, his features obscured by a mail face mask. On his left side he carried an oval shield faced in burnished bronze and in his right hand was a javelin. Silver greaves, red tunic and leggings and a long sword completed his appearance.

Behind these sparkling soldiers came a large chariot pulled by four black horses carrying the King of Emesa himself, a huge fat man in a great silver robe that covered his massive bulk. As the chariot edged closer I saw that Sampsiceramus was almost bald aside from two clumps of hair just above his ears. His robe was the size of the eight-man tents used by Dura’s army and there was hardly enough room to accommodate the chariot’s driver.

Beside the chariot walked a muscular black man in his early twenties I estimated, who carried a large silver parasol on the end of a long pole that he held over the chariot so the corpulent king was shaded from the sun. Behind the barefoot black man walked a member of the royal guard holding a great whip in his hand, while on the other side of the chariot walked a tall, wiry man in a white robe with white sandals on his feet. Behind them all tramped an additional two hundred members of the royal guard. The entourage halted around fifty paces from us. Then the man in the white robe moved closer to the chariot where he was spoken to by the king. Moments later he shuffled over to us and stopped in front of me. His long face wore a serious expression and his brown eyes darted from me to Gallia and then Mark Antony. He looked back at me in confusion.

‘I am Harrise, chancellor to the great King Sampsiceramus. We were led to believe that King Haytham himself would be present for the exchange.’

‘He sent me instead,’ I answered.

The chancellor clasped his hands together in front of his chest.

‘And you are?’

‘Pacorus, King of Dura, friend and ally of King Haytham.’

‘And godfather to his daughter, Princess Rasha, whom your king now holds captive,’ added Gallia.

Harrise’s eyes opened wide and his jaw dropped in surprise.

‘King Pacorus, of course. If your majesty would wait for a few moments while I announce your presence.’

‘Be quick about it, then,’ I said.

He bowed his head then scuttled back to his monarch. I looked at Gallia.

‘Godfather?’

‘A nice touch, I thought,’ she replied.

The reed-thin chancellor returned, sweat running down his wrinkled face.

‘The great King Sampsiceramus would speak to you personally, King Pacorus.’

‘Not until we have seen that Princes Rasha is safe,’ said Gallia forcefully.

Harrise’s brow creased in consternation at the continual interruptions from the helmeted individual sitting on my right.

I smiled at him. ‘This is my queen, Gallia, who is like a mother to the princess. Like her I desire to see that she is alive before I speak to your king.’ I pointed at Mark Antony. ‘As you can see, our prisoner is alive and unharmed.’

So he scurried back to his king once more as the sun rose in the sky and roasted our backs. When he returned his robe was soaked with sweat for the temperature was almost unbearable.

‘The great King Sampsiceramus would be delighted to meet with you, majesty.’ He then bowed his head to Gallia. ‘And you, highness.’

Gallia turned to Vagises. ‘If they try anything, kill him.’

‘Kings do not “try anything”, my sweet,’ I said, ‘it is considered ill manners.’

‘My father was a king,’ she growled, ‘and he sold his own daughter into slavery. I have little respect for royalty.’

We walked our horses ahead as the king’s chariot edged forward, and from the ranks of the royal guard behind it came the familiar figure of Rasha, who was escorted by a great brute in scale armour, helmet, face veil and carrying a huge double-bladed axe, no doubt to kill her if any mischief was attempted. She trudged disconsolately behind the chariot until she saw Gallia coming towards her mounted upon Epona.

‘Gallia!’ she shouted and raised her arm.

‘Have no fear, Rasha,’ my wife answered back. ‘We are here to take you home.’

The phalanx of guards behind her moved forward slowly to be near their king, while behind me the Amazons and the other horse archers pulled their bows from their cases and edged their horses forward, but in truth the atmosphere was not threatening. My initial impression was that the enemy wished to avoid further bloodshed.

I halted Remus around ten paces from the king’s chariot. He really was an enormous man, with a massive fat neck and a bulbous nose. His eyes were very large and protruded from his fat face so that he resembled one of the goldfish that swam in the royal ponds at Hatra. He seemed to be a rather short man until I realised that he was sitting on a chair to relieve his legs of the great strain in supporting such an enormous weight. Directly behind the chariot were half a dozen slaves, all teenage boys, carrying towels and jugs.

‘Greetings King Pacorus,’ said Sampsiceramus in a slightly quivering voice.

I raised my hand to him. ‘Greetings King Sampsiceramus.’

Gallia removed her helmet and shook her hair free. The king’s eyes bulged even more as he examined my wife.

‘And greetings to you, Queen Gallia,’ he slavered.

I could tell that Gallia was disgusted by his appearance and manner but she played the queen and gave him a dazzling smile and bowed her head, causing his heavy breathing to increase. I hoped he would not have a heart attack before our negotiations were concluded.

He nodded to Harrise who waved forward Rasha. Haytham’s daughter looked sullen as she halted next to the gilded chariot.

‘Did they mistreat you, Rasha?’ I asked.

‘No, but they stole Asad from me.’

Asad was a fine young stallion that had been given to her by her father. I pointed at Mark Antony sitting on his horse.

‘You see that we have allowed our prisoner to retain his horse, lord king. I would ask you to reciprocate the courtesy with regard to your captive.’

The king screwed up his giant nose but ordered Harrise to get Rasha’s horse. While we waited one of his slave attendants rushed forward and dabbed the sweat-covered royal forehead with a towel.

The king smiled at me. ‘This heat is intolerable.’

‘Indeed, lord king. Far better for all of us to be relaxing in our palaces rather than fighting each other in this bleak desert.’

My words made him uncomfortable and he fidgeted with his plump, ring-adorned fingers while what seemed like an eternity passed before one of his horseman came trotting up with Asad in tow. Rasha whooped with delight as he was brought to her and she vaulted into the saddle, though her guard stood before the horse gripping its reins to deter her from riding away. I waved Mark Antony forward and the guard stood aside. Rasha nudged Asad as the Roman commander halted beside me.

He offered his hand. ‘Thank you for your hospitality, King Pacorus.’

I shook his hand, much to the disgust of Gallia. ‘The pleasure has been mine. I pray that you will return to Rome safely, Mark Antony.’

He walked his horse forward, passing Rasha who rode to Gallia’s side to embrace my wife.

Sampsiceramus clapped his hands. ‘All’s well that ends well.’ He gave Mark Antony a sideways glance. ‘You may retire to the rear, out of our presence.’

Antony gave him a disparaging look before riding away, while Sampsiceramus tapped his driver on the shoulder to follow him.

‘Just a moment, lord king,’ I called.

Harrise frowned and the king registered surprise.

‘Have not the terms of the exchange been met, King Pacorus?’

‘They have, lord king, but there is another matter I wish to raise.’

‘Oh?’

‘The withdrawal of your army from King Haytham’s territory.’

‘That is between me and Haytham,’ he replied haughtily.

‘I am a friend and ally of King Haytham. I consider any aggression against him to also be an assault against me.’

Sampsiceramus became flustered. ‘I make no war upon Dura, not at all.’

‘By marching your army into my friend’s kingdom you do so.’

‘I have returned Haytham’s daughter as I agreed to do.’

‘If I ride back to Haytham without your promise to return back to Emesa he will recommence hostilities. You can see the great advantage he has in numbers, and tomorrow these will increase when Dura’s army arrives.’

His eyes bulged and he swallowed and I knew I had him. ‘Dura’s army?’

‘Yes, lord king, for I am pledged to fight alongside my ally. As we speak,’ I bluffed, ‘my legions and heavy horsemen are marching towards this place, fresh from their victories in the east and eager to add more glory to their already fearsome reputation.’

The gossip that was carried by the trade caravans would have told of our great victory at Susa, of the death of Narses and the toppling of Mithridates, who anyhow was at Antioch as a guest of the Romans. As he fidgeted with his hands once more I could tell that he was very agitated. As he looked at me and then at Harrise, the parasol above his head moved slightly, allowing the sun’s rays to fall on part of the king’s head. Sampsiceramus looked daggers at the black slave who held the sunshade and then smiled devilishly as the guard lashed his back with the whip. The slave flinched in agony as the leather cut into his flesh and again the parasol moved to expose the crown of the king’s head to the sun. The guard struck the slave’s back again with his whip, making a loud crack on impact. Behind me came angry murmurs from the Amazons, many of them former slaves who had been subjected to such cruelty. The guard flogged the slave a third time, causing him to collapse to his knees and drop the parasol.

‘Kill him,’ ordered Sampsiceramus.

The guard dropped the whip and drew his sword, grasped it with both hands and hoisted it above his head to deliver a fatal blow to the slave. The arrow hit him square in the neck, just under his mail face veil, and caused blood to flood in great spurts from the wound. He collapsed on the ground while behind him the other royal guards raced forward to protect their king.

Gallia strung another arrow in her bowstring as her Amazons and other horse archers brought up their bows and aimed their arrows at Sampsiceramus’ bulk.

‘Order your men to stand down,’ I shouted, ‘otherwise you will be turned into a pin-cushion.’

The king flipped up a fleshy hand to stop his soldiers as he stared in terror at me. This was not how negotiations between kings should be conducted, not at all, made worse by him no longer having any protection from the sun that was now cooking his pink flesh.

The royal guards had locked shields and the front rank stood ready to hurl their javelins, but their king knew that he would be the first to die and so commanded Harrise to order his guards to stay where they were.

I pointed at the slave struggling to his feet. ‘He will be coming with me. What is his name?’

The king blinked, his head beaded with sweat. ‘Name?’

‘Yes,’ I bellowed. ‘His name, what is it?’

‘Slave, er, Scarab,’ he gibbered.

‘Scarab,’ I shouted, ‘come here.’

The slave looked behind him at the dead soldier whose blood was still spurting from his neck, then at the king.

‘Now!’ I shouted.

He walked briskly over to me and bowed his head. I held out my right hand.

‘Take my arm.’

His grip was strong as I pulled him up onto Remus’ back behind me.

‘Take your army back to Emesa, lord king,’ I said to Sampsiceramus, ‘otherwise you and it will be destroyed in this barren place.’

Gallia replaced her helmet on her head as we rode back to Haytham with his daughter, Vagises and his horse archers forming a rear guard to ensure the Emesians did not attack us.

‘Scarab is an unusual name,’ I said to the slave behind me.

‘All Egyptian slaves are named so, highness,’ he said. ‘It means “dung beetle”, the lowest of creatures. That is what the Emesians think of Egyptian slaves.’

‘You are a slave no longer,’ I told him.

Rasha hugged her father when we reached Agraci lines where we also found Spandarat. I ordered Vagises to find our new friend a horse, not knowing if he could ride or not. Haytham ordered that Rasha was to return to Palmyra at once and to ensure she did assigned a score of warriors as her escort, telling their commander that upon arrival she was to be confined to his tent under armed guard. When she began to protest he erupted like an angry volcano and threatened to have her banished if she said another word. So she went back to Palmyra and we waited for the Emesians to make their move.

They did so an hour later when scouts informed Haytham that a long line of foot and horse was exiting the enemy camp from the western entrance back towards the city of Emesa. Roman horsemen led by a commander with a red-crested helmet were providing a rear guard for their allies. Haytham may have felt cheated of a victory but I was relieved. Palmyra was saved, albeit temporarily, and I could now concentrate on affairs to the north, specifically the Armenians.

We stayed for two days at Palmyra, long enough for Scarab to get his back cleaned and bandaged and for me to convince Haytham that it would be wise not to raid Emesa. I sent Spandarat and the nobles back to Dura while Haytham ordered his lords and their men back to their territories but sent Malik west to keep watch on the enemy. I knew that he was thirsting for vengeance, not only to avenge the death of Vehrka but also to appear strong to his people. I believed that forcing the Romans to retreat was a victory but the king of the Agraci did not agree.

‘They will be back,’ he complained as we sat cross-legged in a circle on the floor of his tent.

‘And when they do we will once more stand together,’ I reassured him.

He was not convinced. ‘We should have destroyed them when we had the chance. Vehrka must be avenged.’

He looked at Gallia.

‘You should have killed that fat king when you had the chance.’

‘Sampsiceramus may prove useful to you yet, lord,’ I said.

Haytham picked up a piece of flatbread and dipped it in yoghurt.

‘How so?’

I shoved a date in my mouth. ‘A weakling client king will think twice before invading Agraci territory again in a hurry. The Romans promised him an easy victory, no doubt. But he will be reluctant to venture east again, notwithstanding their promises.’

He was still sceptical. ‘What will you do now?’

‘Return to Dura and await Orodes’ instructions.’

Haytham smiled. ‘The prince is now the high king of the Parthian Empire?’

‘He is, lord,’ answered Gallia.

‘He will make a good king of kings,’ I said.

Haytham studied me for a few seconds. ‘I heard that the crown was first offered to you, Pacorus.’

‘It was, lord, and I turned it down.’

‘Or rather Dobbai turned it down for you,’ Gallia corrected me.

Haytham’s eyes opened wide in surprise. ‘What business was it of your sorceress?’

I shrugged. ‘She said it was not my destiny to be high king. Besides, in truth I had no appetite to try to keep the kings of the empire happy, to listen to their interminable squabbles and grievances and try to appease them. Orodes has a thoughtful nature and the tongue of a diplomat.’

‘He will make a great king,’ said Rasha.

Gallia laughed and placed an arm round her shoulders.

Haytham looked at them both. ‘Yes, he will. Perhaps I should send you to him, Rasha, so you can learn to be a good princess.’

Rasha clapped her hands with excitement. ‘That would be a great honour, father.’

He pointed a finger at her. ‘You are still in disgrace for disobeying my orders and will remain here until I can find a husband for you.’

A veil of sadness descended over Rasha’s face and she said no more. Poor Rasha, she so wanted to see the world and all the mysteries in it, but her father desired her to be married as quickly as possible to tame her wild spirit.

On the trip back to Dura I got to know more about Scarab, the latest addition to my royal household. Now swathed in black Agraci robes, his black face made him look like a demon from the underworld, though I was pleased to discover that he had an amiable and thoughtful nature. He told us that he was the son and grandson of slaves and had been purchased from his Egyptian lord for a great sum when the latter had been visiting Emesa on business. It transpired that Sampsiceramus wished to surround himself with Egyptian slaves after having been told that they were more intelligent and hard working than Jewish or Syrian slaves. Scarab’s ancestors were originally from a place called Nubia, which is on Egypt’s southern border, though he himself had been born in Egypt. He had a certain amount of education, being able to speak Egyptian and Greek and had picked up some Latin from the frequent visits of the Romans to the palace in Emesa.

He rode behind Gallia and me and next to Vagises as our long column made its way back east, the road almost devoid of other traffic as a consequence of the recent fighting. Any whiff of trouble had the effect of making the caravans that usually plied this route disappear. Nothing interrupts trade so much as war. Hopefully the restoration of peace, albeit fragile, would restore commercial activity.

‘What will you do now, Scarab?’ I asked after we had dismounted to walk alongside our animals to conserve their strength.

Throughout the journey his eyes had always been cast down to avoid our gazes, and it was so now as we walked along the dusty track.

‘I am your slave, divinity,’ he replied, ‘it is for you to decide.’

‘You are a free man, Scarab,’ said Gallia, ‘you may go where you will.’

Scarab looked at her in confusion, then cast his eyes down when she smiled at him.

‘I do not understand, divinity.’

‘It is as my queen says,’ I replied. ‘You are no longer a slave and are free to decide your own destiny.’

‘There no slaves in our palace,’ said Gallia.

Scarab was even more confused. ‘No slaves?’

‘It is true,’ I assured him.

‘But who prepares your food and serves it to you, divinity?’

Gallia smiled. ‘We have servants, it is true, but they are free and are paid for their work.’

‘They are paid?’ he said incredulously.

‘Of course,’ I replied. ‘Why else would they work for me? Perhaps you would like to work for me?’

‘I would consider it a great honour, divinity,’ he replied.

‘You could do with a squire,’ suggested Gallia.

I had not had a squire since I had found Surena among the marsh people, the Ma’adan, all those years ago and he had gone on to become a king himself. I doubted Scarab would follow the same path but he was young, strong and rode a horse well enough. He would do.

Our leisurely ride back to Dura was interrupted a day out from the city when we were met on the road by Domitus leading a party of cataphracts. Even before I spoke to him I knew that something was wrong and my stomach tightened. Gallia and Vagises sensed it too as the commander of the army brought his horse to a halt in front of me and raised his hand in salute.

‘You had better hurry back to Dura,’ he said. ‘There has been a great battle in the north of the Kingdom of Hatra.’

The knot in my stomach tightened some more and my heart began racing. ‘Battle?’

‘Vata engaged Tigranes and a great host of Armenians near Nisibus. We heard the news yesterday and I thought I should convey it to you myself.’

I sighed. ‘What happened?’

‘Vata was killed and his army scattered. Nisibus has fallen to the Armenians who now hold the whole of northern Hatra.’

‘What of Adeleh?’ asked a shaken Gallia.

Adeleh was my youngest sister and the wife of Vata. Domitus shook his head.

‘I do not know.’

We rode the rest of the day and through the night to arrive back in Dura as the new dawn was breaking. Tired, unwashed, our clothes covered in dust, I immediately convened a meeting of the council to decide our next course of action. After a wash and a change of clothes I went to the barracks in the Citadel and sought out the officer in charge. This long building located in front of the southern wall housed a century of legionaries, a company of horse archers and another company of cataphracts. Companies and centuries were continually rotated through the Citadel and city to undertake guard duty, which usually meant nothing more than standing sentry in the palace and treasury and manning the walls and gates of the Citadel and Dura, the horsemen providing escorts for myself and Gallia when we left the palace.

The commander, who fortunately spoke Greek, was ordered to allocate our Nubian recruit a bed and find him leggings, tunic and a pair of boots and then get a meal inside him.

Two hours after riding into the city I was seated in the headquarters building staring at the hide map of the empire hanging on the wall of the room we used for these meetings. It made depressing viewing as Domitus stood by the side of it with letters that had been arriving at the city.

‘We know that three Armenian armies have invaded Parthia,’ he said, ‘one under Tigranes that defeated Vata and captured Nisibus, another led by his son Artavasdes that moved into Gordyene. We have no details as to the size of these armies. We have also received news from Aschek that another Armenian force has attacked his kingdom from the north.’

‘Three armies?’ I was astounded. ‘I did not realise the Armenians had so many soldiers.’

‘Tigranes has prepared well,’ muttered Dobbai. ‘He is not called “Great” for no reason. He has watched the empire tear itself apart these last few years and now he makes his move.’

‘Supported by the Romans, who pull his strings,’ said Aaron bitterly.

‘Speaking of whom,’ I said. ‘Do we know the whereabouts of the second Roman legion in Syria?’

‘Byrd sent word that his spies in Antioch have informed him that it remains in the city.’

I frowned. ‘That is most odd. I expected it to be with the fat king of Emesa, but it just sits in Antioch.’

‘Will the Armenians march on the city of Hatra?’ asked Gallia with concern.

I shook my head. ‘Hatra has strong walls and, more importantly, is positioned in the middle of a desert. There is no water outside the walls to support a besieging army.’

‘Unless your brother decides to march outside the city walls and fight Tigranes, just as that fool Vata did,’ remarked Dobbai.

‘He would not do that,’ I snapped, ‘and Vata was not a fool. He was my friend.’

‘He lost the whole of the north of your brother’s kingdom,’ retorted Dobbai, ‘that makes him careless at the very least.’

‘The greater danger lies to the east,’ continued Domitus, looking at the map. ‘If the Armenians conquer Gordyene they will push on into Media, which lies on Hatra’s eastern border. If Atrax’s kingdom falls then the Armenians will be able to pour into Hatra from the east.’

‘The Roman speaks with wisdom,’ said Dobbai. ‘We live in strange times indeed.’

‘Gordyene is held by Surena,’ I stated, ‘it will not fall. Have we had any news from him?’

Rsan shook his head. ‘None, majesty.’

‘Let us hope that he has not been killed by the Armenians also,’ added Kronos glumly.

‘Any news from Orodes?’ I asked.

‘None’ replied Domitus, ‘though he will have received news of Vata’s death at the same time we did.’

‘Very well, prepare the cataphracts and horse archers to march to Hatra,’ I ordered. ‘There is little point in waiting here for the Armenians to conquer the northern half of the empire.’

‘What about the legions?’ queried Domitus.

‘With two legions still in Syria they must remain here to counter the Romans. I will also leave the lords here.’

‘That means only four thousand horsemen will be riding to Hatra with you, Pacorus,’ said Domitus.

Fortunately the army had had nearly six months in which to recuperate its strength following our victory at Susa, and in that time the legions and horse archers had been brought back up to strength. The loss of a hundred cataphracts had been most grievous, but with the promotion of the most promising squires their numbers had been restored to a thousand. Dura was fortunate to lie on the Silk Road for the caravans always brought with them adventurous young men who fancied a life of soldiering rather than trade. Then there were the runaway slaves who came from Syria, Armenia and other kingdoms in the empire. But as long as they passed the induction process all were welcomed into the army’s ranks, specifically the legions. Recruits for the horse archers and cataphracts were drawn largely from the families of Dura’s lords and their farmers. Despite the years of civil strife within the empire Dura’s lands had been spared devastation and had prospered, which meant farmers not only produced abundant crops but also large families, from which Domitus enlisted many young recruits.

That evening I relaxed on the palace terrace in the company of Gallia and my daughters. Claudia was now nine and resembled her mother in appearance with her high cheekbones and thick hair, which was light brown instead of blonde. Isabella was six and had a more olive complexion than her older sister, whereas Eszter, now five, looked like one of the Agraci with her mop of unruly hair, dark brown eyes and brown complexion. As usual Dobbai joined us; sitting huddled in her cushion-stuffed chair. Claudia fussed round her bringing sweet meats, fruit juice and pastries from a table piled high with food and drink, though Dobbai ate little. Ever since she had assisted in bringing Claudia into the world Dobbai had had a special bond with my eldest daughter, who now knew more about the gods, spells and magic herbs than many of the empire’s most learned holy men. Isabella, named after the wife of King Balas of Gordyene who had made such an impression on Gallia when we had been married, was a thoughtful and kind-hearted child, whereas Eszter was a wild thing, fearless like her mother and with a similar temper. A sand storm had been battering Dura when she had been born and Dobbai had told me that it was a sign my daughter would be fierce and uncontrollable like the wind that had brought her into the world.

She now raced round the terrace squealing at the top of her voice as she did so. Then she stopped and squealed with fear before throwing herself into my lap, knocking my plate of food on the floor. Claudia and Isabella also cried out in alarm and retreated to stand behind Dobbai who opened her eyes at the commotion. I turned and saw the strapping figure of Scarab standing beside the officer I had handed him over to earlier. The Egyptian had swapped his Agraci robes for a spotless short-sleeved white tunic, baggy white leggings and leather boots. The white of his clothing accentuated the dark colour of his skin and gave him a somewhat ominous appearance. It had certainly frightened my children and Scarab looked most upset that he had alarmed them.

‘It is quite all right,’ I reassured Eszter, before helping her onto her feet and getting out of my chair. I waved Scarab forward.

‘Welcome, Scarab, please come over.’

The officer nodded to him and our Egyptian friend took two steps forward to prostrate himself before me.

‘Thank you, divinity,’ he said.

Gallia rolled her eyes and Dobbai laughed.

‘He’s no god, boy, though sometimes he thinks he is.’

I walked forward to stand before Scarab. ‘Get up.’

He did so and the officer smiled at him.

‘He’s eager to please, majesty.’

‘Yes,’ I said, ‘I can see that.’

My daughters stood in silence as I introduced each of them to Scarab, who smiled to reveal perfect white teeth. I told them he was going to be my new squire and came from a land far away called Nubia. Eventually Eszter stepped forward and touched Scarab’s muscular arm and then looked at her fingers.

‘It does not come off,’ she said in surprise.

Gallia frowned but Dobbai laughed. ‘That is the colour of his skin, child, not paint.’

She gestured to Scarab to approach her. He looked at me and I nodded.

Despite his size he was obviously nervous at being in the presence of this old woman with the severe countenance.

‘You know of me, boy?’

He nodded. ‘You are the sorceress of the king. Your name is held in awe by many.’

‘How ridiculous,’ she scoffed. ‘Give me your hand.’

He held out his right arm and she grabbed his wrist to look closely at his palm.

‘You chose wisely, son of Hatra. The gods send you a guardian.’

‘I think we have alarmed Scarab enough,’ I said. ‘Go and get some rest. Your training begins tomorrow.’

While Scarab began to receive instructions on the duties required of a royal squire a courier arrived from Babylon with a letter from Orodes. I assembled the council and then read its contents to everyone. It did not make heartening reading and indicated just how weak the empire was at this present juncture. Orodes was waiting for Nergal to arrive from Uruk at the head of ten thousand horse archers, to which he would be adding five hundred heavy horsemen and a further five thousand horse archers. He could spare no foot soldiers as those he had were spread across three kingdoms — Babylon, Susiana and Elymais — undertaking garrison duties. He had called on the help of King Phriapatius of Carmania but his troops would not be available for many weeks due to the great distance they had to cover.

‘Twenty thousand horsemen won’t be able to defeat the Armenians,’ remarked Domitus glumly.

‘The legions should march with you,’ agreed Kronos.

‘No,’ I replied. ‘If we strip Dura of men the Romans will march straight in. The frontier with Syria is quiet for the moment, but to denude this kingdom of troops is to invite the Romans to invade.’

‘What of the lords and their men?’ asked Domitus.

‘They will stay here with you, my friend,’ I answered, ‘to deter the Romans. Remember, sometime next year Crassus and his army will be arriving in Syria. Dura has to remain strong.’

‘What of Media and Atropaiene?’ asked Vagises.

‘Aschek has his own Armenian invasion to deal with and Atrax will hopefully be assisting Surena in Gordyene. He will not be able to spare any troops to reinforce Orodes.’

The room fell silent. Domitus adopted his usual habit of toying with his dagger while Kronos and Vagises stared at the tabletop. Rsan looked very concerned and Aaron thoughtful. Dobbai for once appeared lost for words. Afterwards, somewhat deflated, I wandered back to the palace where one of the young apprentices from the armouries was waiting for me with an invitation from Arsam, the chief armourer, to attend him in his workplace. The latter was a collection of buildings in the northwest corner of the city, beyond the Citadel’s walls, home to hundreds of armourers and their apprentices where the weapons, armour, shields and horse furniture for the army were produced.

I took Scarab with me. He had spent the morning at the stables mucking out stalls and grooming horses. I had taken Remus out for his daily exercise, and when I returned Scarab assisted me in unsaddling and ungirthing my horse and then rubbing him down, all the time asking me questions about Dura and its army. He certainly had an inquisitive mind. He still called me ‘divinity’, much to the amusement of the stable hands, and for the moment still believed that he was a slave. But then, all he had ever known was bondage and cruelty. As the time passed he would hopefully get used to his new position.

Ever since the murder of Godarz, the city governor, Domitus had insisted that I should have an escort wherever I went, even on the shortest journeys, and so it was today as I walked from the Citadel to the armouries. A score of legionaries flanked Scarab and me as we strolled out of the gates and turned right. Thumelicus, a big German who was a Companion and one of the army’s most formidable soldiers, happened to be on guard duty in the Citadel that week so commanded the detail.

‘When do we march north to fight the Armenians?’

‘You don’t,’ I told him. ‘The legions are staying here just in case the Romans invade.’

A look of disappointment spread across his big face. ‘More marching and guard duty, then. Can’t wait. We should have fought them all those months ago when we had the chance.’

‘Well we didn’t so there is no point agonising over what might have been.’

Thumelicus looked at Scarab. ‘Who’s this?’

‘My new squire. He was a slave in the city of Emesa.’

Thumelicus grinned at Scarab. ‘So this is the one that prompted Gallia to put an arrow in one of the enemy’s soldiers.’

I nodded.

‘He doesn’t say much. Did they cut out his tongue?’

‘No,’ I answered. ‘He does not yet speak Parthian.’

We arrived at the gates that led to the armouries, the sentries on duty snapping to attention as we passed them. The wall was a fairly recent addition but was deemed necessary to deter thieves. Dura’s weapons were among the finest in the empire and commanded a high price. The man responsible for equipping Dura’s army with the implements of war was a stocky Parthian who had learnt his craft in the armouries at Antioch and Hatra before taking up residence at Dura. That had been nearly fifteen years ago and in that time he had established a large group of talented sword smiths and armourers. Because Dura was a frontier city he knew that its rulers would always place a high premium on having first-class weapons to equip its army.

I had purposely increased the capacity of the city’s armouries, which meant hundreds of workers and apprentices, who produced a steady stream of weapons and armour. Such a large pool of labour and high production was expensive and a drain on the treasury, but it was money well spent because it resulted in Dura’s army being one of the most well equipped in the empire.

Arsam stood with his thick arms folded across his barrel chest in front of one of his workshops, a high and long single-storey building with a tiled roof. From within I could hear hammers beating metal and chisels being struck, and then the smell of burning charcoal reached my nostrils. Thumelicus put his arm round my shoulder.

‘Here you are. We will be waiting for you when you have finished.’

‘There is no need,’ I told him.

He shook his head. ‘I beg to differ. Even since Godarz’s murder Domitus has been adamant that you have a guard at all times. Besides, I heard that bastard Mithridates is at Antioch and that is not that far away.’

He tilted his head at Scarab.

‘You sure he isn’t an assassin? He’s as big as that boyfriend of the killer with the big breasts sent to murder you.’

I held up my hand. ‘Thank you, Thumelicus, but much as I would like to stand here and gossip I have business with Arsam.’

I left Thumelicus and his men and joined Arsam at the entrance to the armoury.

‘Is that man your brother, divinity?’ asked Scarab, glancing back at Thumelicus.

‘No, not at all.’

He looked confused. ‘Then why is he allowed such familiarity, for it is death in Egypt and Emesa to touch the body of the king.’

‘It is a long story,’ I replied. ‘I will tell you one day.’

Arsam bowed his head, frowned at Scarab and went inside the workshop. My ears were assaulted by a cacophony of noise as dozens of men wearing leather aprons stood working at anvils, benches and forges shaping, beating and cutting metal. The building was light and airy with many open windows, a high arched roof and a dirt floor to minimise the effects of molten metal spills. Good light is essential when working with metals and leather protection and ventilation even more so when beating and shaping hot iron. Nevertheless, the air was full of dust and fumes and the smiths and apprentices were covered in sweat and grime. The heat produced by the forges was intense and I too began to sweat as we made our way through the rows of benches and tool racks. There was an endless number of pliers, end nippers, hammers, metal cutters, hack saws, hand saws, hole punches, knives, razors, bevellers, awls, chisels and vices. And at the far end of the building were half a dozen forges that resembled the red-hot fires of the underworld.

We passed through the small army of workers to exit the rear of the workshop and enter an open space leading to a second workshop.

‘Take a look at this,’ said Arsam, walking over to a table positioned along the wall of the workshop we had just left.

He picked up an arrow and handed it to me.

‘We have been experimenting with different types of arrowheads. The one you are holding is made of steel and will go straight through mail armour.’

I looked at the arrowhead, which was long and thin and tapered to a point, like a needle. I turned the cedar shaft in my hand. There was also a recurve bow, similar to my own and the ones used throughout the empire, lying on the table.

‘Take a shot at that target,’ said Arsam, pointing to a straw dummy forty yards away, over which had been placed a mail shirt that was the same as that worn by the army’s legionaries.

I took the bow, nocked the arrow and shot it at the dummy. The arrow hissed through the air and struck the target. I walked over to the dummy with Arsam and saw that the missile had gone straight through the mail shirt.

‘Just as our legionaries wear mail shirts, so do the Romans,’ he said, yanking the arrow from the target.

‘And like Dura’s soldiers,’ I said, ‘the Romans also have shields.’

Arsam smiled knowingly at me. ‘Wait here.’

He dashed back inside the workshop and re-emerged moments later carrying a shield sporting the Duran markings of griffin wings. He carried it to a wooden stand positioned next to the dummy and walked over to the table, picking up another arrow.

He held it out to me. ‘Take another shot.’

I walked back to my shooting position and knocked the arrow in the bowstring. I raised the bow and pulled back the bowstring so the three goose flight feathers were adjacent to my face, then released the string. The arrow flew straight and true and slammed into the shield, just above the central steel boss. Arsam was grinning like an idiot.

‘Now go and take a look at the shield, majesty.’

I handed the bow to Scarab and told him to follow me as I walked over to the target. When I reached the shield I saw that the arrow had pierced the layers of wood and one of the reinforcing strips attached to its rear and had exited the other side to a length of six inches.

‘If it will go through our shields then it will also pierce Roman ones,’ said Arsam with satisfaction. ‘We’ve tested them on helmets as well. They go through them like a knife through parchment.’

Most of the arrowheads used by my horse archers were three winged and cast from bronze. As such they were relatively cheap and hundreds could be produced on a weekly basis.

‘These new arrowheads are steel?’ I asked.

Arsam nodded. ‘Heated in the fire and then shaped on an anvil.’

‘Which means they are more expensive and will take longer to make than bronze arrowheads.’

‘But are more effective,’ he replied. ‘With Crassus’ legions on the way it would be advantageous to have the armoury well stocked with these little beauties. Marcus thinks it is a good idea.’

‘Very well,’ I said, ‘begin production of the new arrows, though you cannot recruit any more armourers. Four hundred plus their apprentices is quite sufficient.’

‘But I have your permission to offer overtime, majesty?’ he quizzed me.

I jabbed a finger in his broad chest. ‘Just make sure that this new venture does not turn into a way of making your armourers richer than they already are. Aaron has shown me the expenses incurred by your workshops and they are already prohibitive.’

He looked hurt. ‘Your soldiers are equipped with the finest weapons and armour that men can make, majesty, and I have assembled the most skilled smiths in the world. But they don’t come cheap.’

He had a point, but my treasury was not a bottomless pit. ‘Just keep costs under control, that is all I ask.’

Afterwards I went to see Marcus Sutonius, a former Roman captive and now my quartermaster general. He still lived in the walled residence where he and his fellow Romans had been held following their capture after I had defeated Lucius Furius before the walls of Dura. Then they had been surly prisoners but now they were enthusiastic members of the army. Many had married Parthian women and lived in the city with their wives and children, but Marcus, a confirmed bachelor, had remained where he had first been confined. The building was now full of studies, archives and workshops and he had a small team of young men that he was training to be future engineers of the army. He was now almost completely bald and rather portly, but his mind was as sharp as ever.

I found him pouring over notes at his desk in his study. The walls of which were filled with pigeonholes holding a multitude of scrolls. He waved me in when he saw me and looked surprised when Scarab followed behind.

‘This is Scarab, Marcus, my new squire.’

He smiled thinly at him and then pointed at a chair on the other side of the desk. I removed some notes that lay on it and sat myself down.

‘I have just been to the armouries where Arsam showed me his new arrows.’

Marcus looked up and smiled. ‘Very efficient, aren’t they? You should equip all your horse archers with them.’

‘That is what Arsam said and as I told him, the treasury does not hold an inexhaustible amount of gold.’

He leant back in his chair and placed his hands behind his head. ‘It would be a wise investment.’

‘Mm. Well, let’s see. Three thousand horse archers each with a quiver of thirty arrows. That equates to ninety thousand arrows. Then there is the camel train carrying spare quivers: a thousand camels, each one carrying fifty full quivers. A further…’

I tried to do the sums in my head.

‘One and a half million arrows,’ Marcus answered for me.

‘Quite impossible,’ I said. ‘The cost would be ruinous.’

‘You sound just like Rsan,’ he smiled. ‘The city’s finances are in a healthy state, are they not, majesty?’

‘They are,’ I agreed. We still had much of the Jewish gold that we had received in return for arming Alexander’s soldiers in Judea.

He leaned forward, his visage serious. ‘Then I would strongly advise you to begin equipping your archers with these new arrows. It will pay dividends.’

I had always heeded the advice of Marcus and I did so now, though I still had serious reservations about such a large outlay of money.

‘As your quartermaster general, majesty, it is my task to ensure that your army is equipped with the most effective weapons and armour.’

‘That is just what Arsam said,’ I replied.

‘He is a wise man.’

I had a feeling that they had worked out their strategy before they brought this matter to my attention. They had conspired to outmanoeuvre me and had succeeded so I gave in gracefully.

‘You are authorised to begin equipping the horse archers with these new arrows, Marcus, though I have told Arsam he will have no extra staff to produce them. That being the case, how long will it take?’

Marcus rose from his chair and walked over to the pigeonholes facing his desk and pulled out a parchment. He unrolled it and handed it to me.

‘Six months should suffice.’

He had compiled a most detailed production schedule, though I noticed there were no details of costs.

‘Very comprehensive, Marcus, my congratulations, though costs are conspicuous by their absence.’

‘No expense is too great if it safeguards the kingdom, majesty.’

I left his office a happy man, content in the knowledge that he and Arsam had the best interests of my kingdom at heart.

On the way back to the Citadel Scarab questioned me about the armouries, wanting to know whether those who worked in them were slaves.

‘No,’ I told him, ‘they are all free men who are paid for their services, very well paid in some cases.’

‘Then what is to stop them running away, divinity?’

I laughed. ‘Nothing. If they do not wish to work for me then they are free to seek employment elsewhere.’

‘But the work they perform is important to you, divinity?’

‘Invaluable,’ I replied.

He looked thoughtful. ‘Then would it not be better for you to employ slaves to do this most crucial work, knowing that they cannot leave your city?’

‘I do not keep slaves, Scarab, and never will. Besides, I have found that men work better if they have a choice in the matter, and toil harder if their backs are not lashed by the whip.’

When we reached the gates of the Citadel I stopped and pointed down the main street of the city that led to the Palmyrene Gate. I dismissed Thumelicus and his escort and stood with Scarab observing the crowd of people that filled the thoroughfare, along with their carts, camels and mules.

‘There are no slave markets in Dura, Scarab, and the city is all the better for it. Slavery brings nothing but misery and I will not tolerate it.’

When we walked into the Citadel I saw Dobbai standing at the top of the palace steps. She beckoned me over. I told Scarab to go and find the chief stable hand, whom I had spoken to earlier concerning finding a suitable mount for my squire. As we walked through the porch and entrance hall I told Dobbai about the new arrows that Arsam and Marcus had been developing. She was underwhelmed to say the least.

‘It will take more than a few arrows to defeat the Armenians and Romans. The empire is in great danger. Its enemies grow stronger while Parthia grows weaker. I have underestimated the threat it faces.’

‘When Orodes arrives our combined forces will march north to deal with the Armenians before Crassus comes.’

She shook her head. ‘The Romans in Syria will join with the Armenians before then to make a great army that neither you nor Orodes will be able to defeat.’

‘It is comforting to know that you have so much confidence in me.’

We had reached the throne room by now, my griffin banner hanging behind the two thrones at the far end. Aside from guards at the doors the room was empty and my footsteps echoed around the chamber as I walked towards the door that led to our private quarters, Dobbai trailing after me.

‘I want you to send Gallia and the children away,’ she said suddenly.

I stopped and turned to face her.

‘Away, why?’

‘Send them to stay with one of your lords for a few days. The one-eyed one, he will do.’

‘Spandarat? Why?’

‘You must trust me. But you should know that if they stay here they may be in danger for there will be a price to pay.’

I wondered if she had been out in the sun too long and was suffering delirium, but her face was a mask of steely determination and I knew that she was deadly serious.

‘They should leave tomorrow morning and must not return until I decide that it is safe for them to do so.’

I was both confused and bemused. ‘What is the nature of the danger you allude to?’

An evil smile crept over her face. ‘Of a divine kind. You wish to save the empire, son of Hatra?’

‘Of course.’

‘Then you must assist me in enlisting the aid of the gods.’

Gallia was most unhappy when I informed her that she had to leave the city with our daughters the next day and at first refused. However, following a discussion behind closed doors with Dobbai she reluctantly acceded to the old woman’s wishes. Spandarat’s large stronghold was located only twenty miles northeast of Dura so the journey would not be long and I knew that she and my daughters would receive a warm welcome.

‘What a ridiculously sentimental person you are,’ Dobbai scolded as she stood with me at the top of the palace steps watching Gallia, my daughters and her Amazon escort ride from the Citadel the next morning.

‘She is the Queen of Dura, son of Hatra, and has the power of life and death over the kingdom’s subjects, not some landless vagrant who goes in search of people’s charity.’

After they had left Dobbai sent the palace’s chief steward into the city to purchase the wood of a tamarisk, or salt cedar as it is sometimes known, an evergreen tree with grey-green foliage and revered in many lands as the tree of life. When he returned she ordered half a dozen carpenters from the palace to cut the trunk into six equal portions and gave one to each of the craftsmen. She was seated on Gallia’s throne beside me as she gave each carpenter a scroll that contained a name that he was to carve on each piece of his tamarisk. They were told to return to her the next morning with the carved pieces.

She sent a guard to the treasury to bring Aaron to the throne room with a pouch of gold coins, which was given to the chief steward with instructions to go back into the city and bring back six sculptors who worked with clay. Aaron quite reasonably asked what the money was for and was given short shrift by Dobbai, who waved him away. When he said that he was not accustomed to giving money away freely she reminded him that had it not been for me he would have been nailed to a cross by the Romans, which meant that I owned his soul and he should do as he was told. Aaron took umbrage at this and stood before her with his arms folded.

‘Any expenditure should be ratified at the council meeting, majesty,’ he protested.

‘He is the king,’ snapped Dobbai, jerking a thumb at me, ‘and can do what he wants with his own money.’

‘The contents of the treasury belong to the king, of course,’ riposted Aaron, ‘but he has charged me with its safekeeping to ensure it is not frittered away on frivolities.’

Dobbai glared at him. ‘Frivolities! The safety of the empire is not a frivolity, Jew. The matter that concerns me is of the greatest import.’

Aaron laughed. ‘I hardly think a pouch of coins is going to change the course of history.’

Dobbai’s eyes burned with anger. ‘Get out! Before I weave a spell to turn you into a frog that will be eaten up by a cobra.’

Aaron pointed a finger at her. ‘You are an abomination in the eyes of god.’

Dobbai laughed. ‘What god is that, Jew?’

‘The god of Abraham who created the world and everything in it.’

‘Your god is weak and helpless,’ she sneered, ‘and has no power here. What sort of god lets his people be turned into slaves without raising a finger to help them?’

Aaron looked at me, shaking with rage. ‘What she says is blasphemy, majesty. I must protest in the strongest terms. If this was Judea she would be stoned for saying such things.’

Dobbai laughed even louder. ‘Judea? The last I heard it was a Roman province. And whereas your god does nothing while its people are crushed I intend to enlist the aid of our gods to turn back the invaders.’

Aaron was going to reply but I held up my hands to call a halt to their bickering. I placed an arm around Aaron’s shoulder and thanked him for his diligence and loyalty and asked him if he would liaise with Marcus and Arsam concerning the production of the new arrows for the army’s horse archers. Dobbai watched him go contemptuously.

‘The Jews are a most tiresome people,’ she muttered, making herself comfortable on Gallia’s throne.

‘Aaron is a good man,’ I said. ‘You should treat him with respect.’

She waved a hand at me. ‘Why, because he can count beyond one hundred? He has proved useful in filling your treasury with gold but now his usefulness has come to an end. You should get rid of him.’

‘I will do no such thing,’ I replied. ‘He is loyal, hard working and diligent.’

‘So is a mule,’ she retorted, ‘but you would not make one your treasurer. You should have a man who worships our gods instead of a foreign heathen.’

Now it was my turn to laugh. ‘Look around you, Dobbai, this city is full of foreign heathens. Men and women from the four corners of the earth have made Dura their home, that is what makes it strong.’

She curled a lip at me, reached into her robe and pulled out a folded papyrus sheet. She unfolded it and handed it to me.

‘Here. Go and collect these.’

I took it and saw six names written on it: Domitus, Kronos, Drenis, Vagises, Vagharsh and Thumelicus.

‘Go and collect them and bring them here,’ she ordered.

I waved over one of the guards but she held up a hand to him.

‘No, you must be the one who gathers them, son of Hatra.’

And so I left her in the throne room as I went to the stables to collect Remus, on the way passing the chief steward who was ushering the sculptors through the reception hall. I also encountered Thumelicus and told him to attend Dobbai in the palace, ignoring his probing questions and ordering him to change the habit of a lifetime and obey commands without question. I rode to the headquarters tent in the legionary camp where Domitus and Kronos were planning a large-scale exercise involving both legions in the desert. When I told them that they were both to report to the palace immediately they asked why. I told them that I knew as much as they did.

‘And who are we reporting to?’ queried Domitus.

‘To Dobbai,’ I answered.

He rolled his eyes. ‘I sometimes wonder who rules this kingdom.’

‘I do,’ I snapped, ‘now kindly go to the palace. Where is Drenis?’

‘At the training posts,’ said Kronos.

‘Very well, I will see you both at the palace.’

I left them both perplexed and rode outside the camp, beyond the western gate, to where rows of wooden posts had been sunk into the ground, against which legionaries could hone their swordsmanship. I saw Drenis standing watching dozens of men practising stabs, feints, thrusts and lunges with wooden swords and holding dummy shields, the practise swords and shields weighing more than the standard-issue items to strengthen each man’s arms. Drenis was tapping his vine cane against his leg, occasionally bellowing at the men to hack harder and keep the shields tighter to their bodies. I slid off Remus’ back and stood beside him.

‘Come to work on your sword skills, Pacorus?’

‘No, I require you at the palace.’

He raised an eyebrow. ‘Problems?’

‘I hope not. If you could come immediately I would appreciate it.’

He handed over command of the men to a centurion from the Durans and began marching to the city as I left him and galloped away to find Vagises and Vagharsh. Fortunately they were both in the city and so I rode with them back to the Citadel and waited for the others to arrive. Dobbai asked us to gather on the palace terrace where we were served cool fruit juice in the shade of the pergola. Even though it was late afternoon it was still hot and there was no wind to cool us.

Thumelicus, on duty at the Citadel, had already made himself comfortable, his great frame occupying a large wicker chair as young servant girls brought him an endless supply of fruit and pastries. Domitus and Kronos arrived soon after and also emptied several cups of fruit juice to slake their thirsts, servants handing them towels to wipe their sweaty faces and necks. The last to arrive was Drenis, who unlike Domitus and Kronos had never learnt to ride and so walked everywhere. When all had assembled and refreshed themselves Dobbai dismissed the servants and ordered the doors that led to the terrace to be closed, before standing before us all — a frail old woman dressed in aged robes who drew herself up and looked at us each in turn with her black eyes.

‘So, we come to it, the decisive moment in the life of the empire. Parthia is like an injured lion that needs time to recover from its wounds, but there is no time. No time before the Armenians and Romans gorge on its weakened body. If they do then it is all over and Parthia will be no more. The Armenians will take the north and the Romans will conquer the lands between the Tigris and Euphrates, and afterwards those kingdoms that lie between the Tigris and the Indus. This I have seen.’

I felt a sense of dread shoot through me and looked at Domitus who was staring ahead with a stony, emotionless expression.

‘Dura cannot defeat these mighty enemies on its own,’ she continued, ‘even with the assistance of the Agraci.’

‘We are not on our own,’ I said. ‘We have a new king of kings who leads a united empire.’

Dobbai shook her head. ‘You are wrong, son of Hatra. Only Dura among the kingdoms is strong. The eastern realms have been bled white; you should know, you yourself killed most of their soldiers. To the north, Margiana and Hyrcania have been exhausted fighting the numberless nomads of the great steppes. Persis, the former kingdom of Narses, is a shell and Susiana and Elymais are in a similar state. Nergal’s Mesene has not been ravaged by war but is a poor kingdom that can raise few soldiers. You all know the dreadful state that the Kingdom of Babylon has been reduced to, and Media and Atropaiene have also suffered grievously these past few years.’

‘Hatra is still strong,’ said Domitus.

‘Hatra is perhaps the weakest of all,’ replied Dobbai, ‘for it has lost its greatest son. Without King Varaz there is no one to halt the Armenian flood.’

‘What of Surena in Gordyene?’ asked Vagises.

Dobbai shrugged. ‘He is capable but has to deal with an Armenian invasion before he can provide help elsewhere. But by then the Armenians will have conquered Hatra and the Romans will have invaded the empire. So you see there is only Dura and its army.’

‘Well, then,’ said Kronos, ‘what are we waiting for? We must march north to fight the Armenians at once.’

Dobbai chuckled. ‘And if you did, then you and your men would be carrion for crows. You cannot defeat the empire’s foes without assistance.’

‘Who will aid us, old woman?’ asked Thumelicus, a leg hanging over his chair’s arm.

‘The Agraci?’ offered Vagharsh.

‘The Agraci?’ she said derisively. ‘They can barely defend their own patch of scorpion-infested desert.’

‘Then who?’ asked an exasperated Domitus.

‘The gods,’ I said, thinking aloud.

Dobbai nodded her head. ‘The gods, exactly. I intend to call upon the divine ones for their help.’

Drenis looked at Thumelicus who burst out laughing.

‘There may be some among you,’ continued Dobbai, observing Thumelicus with an icy stare, ‘who believe the gods do not exist. More fool them. Only the gods can help the empire, and only you can help me summon them.

‘All of you have fought by the side of the king for many years and are his most trusted and loyal companions.’

Thumelicus winked at me and smiled. Dobbai saw him.

‘Though the gods have blessed some of you with a surfeit of brawn at the expense of a deficit of brains.

‘I therefore ask each of you to support your friend and king by taking part in a ritual to summon the help of the gods. I ask this of you but do not command, for each of you may face danger.’

‘What danger?’ asked Thumelicus. ‘We don’t have to jump over a pit full of snakes or sharpened stakes do we?’

‘Don’t worry, Thumelicus,’ said Drenis. ‘No self-respecting snake would ever sink his fangs into your sour-tasting German flesh.’

‘The gods are cruel and vengeful,’ continued Dobbai. ‘They often demand a high price for their help. They might demand each of your lives. So think carefully before you make your choice.’

She fell silent and looked at me first. I had to admit that I felt nervous, not for myself but for my friends gathered round me.

‘For myself, I have always desired the empire to be strong and free, therefore I will assist you. But do you need all of us?’

‘Yes,’ she shot back. ‘Six of your best men who have stood beside you in battle.’

‘Count me in,’ said Thumelicus casually. ‘Anything other than standing guard duty.’

‘I will assist you,’ said Domitus.

‘And I,’ added Kronos.

Drenis nodded at Dobbai, as did Vagises.

‘Me too,’ said Vagharsh.

Dobbai nodded approvingly. ‘Good. You are all to assemble in the throne room tomorrow, just before sunset.’

She walked across the terrace, opened the doors and disappeared, leaving us all none the wiser. Thumelicus rose from his chair, belched and followed her as the rest of us trooped after him in silence. We had known Dobbai long enough to know that her warnings and prophecies were not to be dismissed lightly, and I think all of us were a little apprehensive about what the following evening would bring.

The next day, after my early morning ride, with Scarab accompanying me I joined a company of horse archers on their way to the shooting ranges. These were located south of the city and comprised rows of targets at differing heights and angles, which horsemen shot at as they rode past. Scarab had never shot a bow in his life and so practised on foot as I emptied my quiver from the saddle. Afterwards we extracted the arrows from the targets and returned those that were undamaged to our quivers and took the broken ones back to the armouries to get replacements. Aaron was always complaining about the amount of arrows that were lost on the ranges but as I had told Rsan when he had been treasurer, a pint of sweat saves a bucketful of blood. Train hard, fight easy.

Scarab’s horse was a dapple-grey mare that had a dependable and steady temperament the chief stable hand assured me. She had a sturdy frame and powerful legs to carry the strapping Scarab. I thought they matched each other well.

‘I shall call her Panhsj, divinity,’ announced Scarab.

‘An unusual name,’ I said.

‘It is the Egyptian word for “Nubian”, divinity.’

‘An excellent choice,’ I agreed.

The evening came soon enough and with it a flurry of activity in the palace as Dobbai ordered the servants to leave their quarters and the guards to return to barracks. The sculptors had arrived mid-afternoon with their work and had been ushered into the throne room, the doors of which were locked after they had deposited their handiwork and departed. As the sun began to dip in the west the whole palace was empty apart from Dobbai, who stood at the top of its steps with her arms folded.

After I had left Remus at the stables I dismissed Scarab and walked into the Citadel’s empty courtyard, the only individuals on view were the guards at the gates and on the walls. I saw Thumelicus exit the barracks and walk towards me, followed by Vagises and Vagharsh. They all nodded to me as we gathered at the foot of the steps. Minutes later Domitus, Drenis and Kronos strode through the Citadel’s gates, all of them dressed in full war gear. Indeed, I noticed that all of them were attired as if for battle whereas I only carried my sword and dagger. Perhaps they knew something I did not.

When all seven of us had assembled Dobbai waved us up the steps and led us through the porch and reception hall to the closed doors leading to the throne room. It seemed odd to see no guards posted at the columns and either side of the doors, and odder still to discern the absolute silence all around.

‘Open the doors, son of Hatra.’ Dobbai’s words made me jump as she held out a large iron key to unlock the doors.

I took it from her, walked to the doors and turned it in the lock. I made to enter but she laid a bony hand on my arm.

‘Me first.’

She pushed open the doors and ordered us to follow her. Our footsteps on the tiles echoed round the empty chamber lit by oil lamps. I saw six statues of what appeared to be sitting animals of some kind arranged in a line in front of the dais and also cages containing chickens. Dobbai turned and held a hand up to us to stop our progression as she walked onto the dais and faced us.

‘Each of these clay figures represents a divine one whose aid I wish to summon. These figures will act as vessels through which the gods will send their assistance. Each of you will bear a figure and by doing so you will reveal yourself to that god. He will then know you, for good or ill.’

She pointed at me.

‘Stand beside me, son of Hatra, for I will summon the gods on your behalf and you must be visible to all of them.’

I walked forward and stepped onto the dais and faced the others. I saw that each statue resembled a sitting hound, though the facial features were more like those of a demon, with bulging eyes, large fangs and a snarling visage. They looked hideous. Each one was also painted a different colour and had a chain around its neck, to which was attached a piece of tamarisk into which had been carved the name of a god.

Dobbai pointed at Kronos and then at the yellow-painted statue on the right-hand end of the row of clay dogs.

‘Stand behind the statue and place your right hand on its head to call Shamash.’

Kronos did as he was told.

‘Speak these words,’ she barked. ‘I call upon you, O Shamash, great lord, to look with favour upon my handiwork. Through thy righteous power may I have abundance of strength. With strong weapons for the fray, protect my soldiers. May my weapons advance and strike and overthrow the weapons of the enemies.’

Kronos repeated the words. Dobbai pointed at Domitus and instructed him to stand next to Kronos and place his right hand on the orange-painted statue, and then to recite the words she spoke, which this time called upon Adad, the god of storms, for his aid. Drenis laid his hand on the next statue in the line, this one painted blue and representing Anu, the sky god who is in charge of the Bull of Heaven sent to earth to avenge the gods. After Drenis had finished his speech to Anu, Vagises stepped forward to stand behind the purple dog that represented Marduk, the supreme god. Vagises recited the summons with solemnity, as did Vagharsh who laid his hand on the head of the green hound, representing Ninurta, the god of war who fights with a bow and arrow and a sickle sword. Last came Thumelicus who recited Dobbai’s words to summon the demon Pazuzu who protects humans against plague and evil forces. This hound was painted red and had a particularly gruesome face for Pazuzu had the head of a monster.

Dobbai stepped off the dais to the cages containing the chickens, opened one and removed its captive. She walked over to where Kronos stood with his hand on the statue dedicated to Shamash; slit the chicken’s throat with a knife allowing the blood to gush over his hand, arm and the statue. She held her arms aloft, the dead chicken in one hand, the bloody knife in the other, and called upon Shamash.

‘Expel the malevolent ones God of the Sun.’

She fetched a second chicken and sacrificed it over Domitus’ hand, calling upon Adad.

‘Consume their lives fierce one.’

The statues of Anu, Marduk, Ninurta and Pazuzu were likewise doused with chicken blood. With each slash of her knife Dobbai implored the deities to kill and put the empire’s enemies to flight. By the time it was over the floor was covered in blood, feathers and dead chickens.

Thumelicus must have muttered something to Vagharsh because Dobbai spun on her heels and glowered at him.

‘Silence! The gods are close and none of you may speak in their presence.’ She looked at me. ‘Not even you, son of Hatra.’

She walked back to the now empty cages and picked up two small earthenware containers and waved me over. She handed them to me and then bent down to pick up another, then turned to face my comrades.

‘Time to unleash the gods,’ she said. ‘Each of you must carry your sculpture from the palace to the riverbank. Do not talk; keep your eyes ahead. Above all keep a tight hold of your statues. You must walk behind me, son of Hatra.’

She walked over to the doors and opened them as I trailed after her and the others picked up their gore-covered clay statues and filed after us. At the doorway she stopped and pointed to me.

‘Pour the contents of the containers you hold on the threshold.’

I removed the cork from one and poured the contents, which was milk, across the threshold as instructed, then did the same with the contents of the other container, which was honey.

Dobbai bowed her head. ‘By milk and honey I ensure peace and prosperity within this palace.’

We walked through the reception hall and into the porch and I saw that the courtyard below was ringed with guards, though each legionary was facing the walls.

‘Avert your eyes,’ bellowed Dobbai, ‘any man who looks round will be struck dead at once by the divine ones.’

We followed her across the courtyard to the gates where she poured oil across the entrance from her container, spreading her arms and looking to the heavens.

‘With oil I seal this portal and protect all within.’

The route from the Citadel to the Palmyrene Gate was lined with soldiers, all of them likewise facing away from the street along which we now walked. At regular intervals along the route legionaries held torches to illuminate our journey, while in front of us Dobbai recited chants and prayers in a language I had never heard before.

On we walked, through the Palmyrene Gate and then north along the western wall of the city, more legionaries lining our route as we moved beyond the city walls to change course towards the banks of the Euphrates. It was night now but the land was illuminated by a full moon that cast everything in a ghostly pale grey glow. There was no wind and the air was warm and dry.

At the river we left the guards and at the water’s edge were told to halt by Dobbai, who hissed that none of us was to say a word until we had returned to the Citadel. She scurried back to the centurion commanding the final detachment of guards and instructed him to take his men back to camp.

She led us to the riverbank directly below the escarpment upon which the Citadel stood and instructed that the statues be placed on the ground, facing east across the river.

‘Stand back, all of you,’ she commanded, before walking to the water’s edge where she once more raised her arms to heaven.

‘O Shamash, great lord, exalted judge,’ she called, ‘the one who supervises the regions of heaven and earth, the one who directs the dead and the living, give life to these statues for the overthrow of those who desire to destroy your subjects. We bow before you and pledge our lives to you and the other gods who have blessed us.’

She let her arms drop to her sides and stood facing the water for a few moments, then turned and looked at us.

‘It is done. We must leave this place. And stay silent.’

I looked at Domitus who appeared completely bemused by it all while Vagharsh looked bored. Drenis caught my eye and shook his head. Kronos was looking at his blood-splattered arm with disgust. Vagises appeared somewhat awed by it all while Thumelicus looked disinterested. The night was completely silent and still as we followed Dobbai back to the city. I looked at the marble-smooth black surface of the Euphrates and then at the far bank. Everything was calm and unruffled. Last in line, I glanced back at the statues standing motionless a few feet from the water’s edge and then saw, to the south, what appeared to be a mist over the river.

As the seconds passed the mist seemed to be getting closer, a thick wall of whitish-grey that covered not only the water but also the riverbanks. How could this be? There was no wind to move it and yet the mist was rolling towards me. I stood transfixed by this celestial wall and then felt a tug on my shirt.

‘Hurry, son of Hatra,’ hissed Dobbai, ‘you will die if you remain here.’

I walked briskly beside her as we tried to catch up with the others, occasionally glancing back at the mist that was now not only behind us but had also enveloped the far riverbank. We caught up with my comrades and walked with them in silence along the city’s western wall to reach the Palmyrene Gate. The atmosphere had now changed from hot and airless to cold and clammy and I began to shiver. Then, suddenly, the acrid scent of sulphur entered my nostrils to make me retch.

We reached the entrance coughing and Dobbai ordered the great wood and iron gates to be closed. She ordered the guards to lock themselves in the gatehouse. By now the legionaries who had lined our route had dispersed back to barracks or camp and as Rsan, under orders from Dobbai, had ordered a city wide curfew, only eight of us remained on the main street of Dura as the temperature continued to drop.

Thumelicus rubbed his hands and breathed on them and I noticed that his breath misted.

‘We must get back to the Citadel quickly,’ hissed Dobbai.

We retraced our steps up the main street as the citizens of Dura hid in their homes and prayed to the gods that had been unleashed on the world. We quickened our pace to the Citadel, though Dobbai’s old and frail legs meant she quickly fell behind. Thumelicus stopped, turned and ran back to her and then scooped her up in his great arms and began running towards the Citadel. Dobbai did not protest as I looked back to see a great wave of mist rise up above the Palmyrene Gate.

We sprinted the last hundred paces to the Citadel and then, after Thumelicus had put her down, Dobbai ordered the gates to be closed and sent the guards back to barracks. She also shouted at those on the walls to return to their quarters. We stood gasping for air in the empty courtyard, the air now chill and burning our lungs as we gulped it in.

‘We are safe now,’ said Dobbai calmly, ‘they cannot enter. You may speak.’

Thumelicus rubbed his arms. ‘I’ve never known it to be so cold.’

‘That is what happens when the veil that separates two worlds, the one of mortals, the other of deities, is temporarily torn,’ remarked Dobbai.

‘Let us get some warm wine inside us,’ I said.

‘What is that?’ asked Kronos, cupping a hand to his ear.

We stood and looked around and then I heard a low growl and then a snarl. The noises seemed to be coming from the shadows next to the palace.

‘A stray dog, that is all,’ said Domitus.

Then there was a louder growl and a thunderous unholy bark that sent shivers down my spine.

‘If it’s a dog it must be the size of a bull judging by that noise,’ remarked Thumelicus.

We heard frenzied barking and snarling all around and we huddled together in fear of our lives. The noises were not coming from the Citadel but from outside, from the foot of the escarpment. The angry, demonic growling, barking and snarling grew louder and louder until we were forced to cover our ears. Then it suddenly changed into a chorus of savage howls that filled the air and pierced our brains like red-hot needles. I fell to my knees and screamed in pain as the howls became higher pitched until I could take it no longer, and was on the verge of passing out. Then suddenly there was silence.

Dobbai, looking pale and exhausted, nodded at me. ‘It is over. The gods have answered my plea and have unleashed the ageless ones upon the world. Now the veil has been restored.’

‘What about that mist?’ asked Vagises. ‘I have never seen anything like it.’

‘We can see it from the palace terrace,’ I said.

We raced up the palace steps, through the porch and reception hall into the throne room, through the door at the rear that led to the private wing and the terrace. We ran onto the terrace and raced over to the balustrade to peer at the mist, except there was no mist, not a trace of it. The moonlight illuminated the still waters of the Euphrates and the surrounding terrain. There was no wind, no unworldly noises and no cold, clammy air. The temperature was once more warm and pleasant. Had it all been a monstrous dream?

We looked at each other in confusion as Dobbai wandered out onto the terrace and announced that she was going to bed and advised us to do the same. But we each pulled up a chair so we could sit and stare through the stone columns of the balustrade at the river below, intent on seeing any other divine apparitions. We said nothing to each other as we waited for the gods to reveal themselves once more, but gradually we all drifted into a deep sleep.

When I awoke it was morning and the sun was shining in my eyes. My mouth felt parched and my limbs ached. Around me the others slowly roused from their slumber and also began complaining of aches and pains. The guards had returned to their positions in the palace and I ordered one to go to the kitchens to fetch us all some breakfast. I left my complaining companions and went to the barracks to find the officer commanding the garrison’s horse archers. I ordered him to send a detachment to the base of the escarpment to bring back the clay statues that we had left there before returning to the terrace.

The others were being served fruit, bread, cheese, wafers and yoghurt to fill their empty bellies, and water and fruit juice to satisfy their thirsts. I joined them and ate a great chunk of cheese and then a large portion of freshly baked bread, then gulped down two cups of water. The servants had also brought silver bowls so we could fill them with water and wash our faces and cleanse the blood from our hands and arms.

The flustered chief steward came to inform me that the dead chickens and their cages had been removed from the throne room and the floor had been cleaned. After he had left the officer from the horse archers arrived, holding his helmet in the crook of his arm and bowing his head.

‘Did your men bring back the statues?’ I asked him, cutting off a slice of watermelon with my dagger.

‘No, majesty, there were no statues.’

The others stopped their eating and looked at him.

‘Are you sure?’ questioned Vagises.

‘Quite sure, sir,’ he replied, ‘there were only…’

He glanced at Vagises and then at me.

‘Go on,’ I ordered.

‘We found only six sets of scratch marks in the ground by the waters’ edge.’

Domitus raised an eyebrow. ‘Scratch marks?’

‘More like deep gouge marks, sir, as though someone had been hacking at the earth with an entrenching tool.’