Carrhae

Chapter 3

Three days later Gallia and the children were allowed to return to the palace. Dobbai had confined herself to her bedroom and had asked not to be disturbed, saying that the ritual had exhausted her and she needed time and isolation to recuperate. The children were disappointed but I explained to them that she was now an old woman who needed lots of rest. Claudia was not fooled, though, and said that Dobbai had told her before she had left the palace that she was going to use strong magic. I shuddered to think what else she had imparted to my daughter over the years.

‘And did it work?’ asked Gallia as she brushed her hair in our bedroom that evening, a slight wind ruffling the net curtains at the entrance to the balcony.

I smiled. ‘Well, as far as I know the Romans and Armenians have not disappeared.’

She turned and frowned at me. ‘Don’t be flippant, it does not suit you.’

I rose from the bed and stood behind her to kiss her on top of her head. I told her about the clay statues, the cold mist that came from nowhere, the chilling growls and howls that filled the air and the disappearance of the statues the next morning. I did not tell her that all those who had taken part might be in danger of divine retribution.

She placed her brush on the table and looked up at me. ‘I hope you are wearing a charm to ward off evil.’

‘Evil?’

She stood and ran a finger down my scarred cheek. ‘I am not a fool, Pacorus. I know that Dobbai sent the children and me away because the spell she was going to weave was potentially dangerous to those taking part.’

I reached inside my shirt and pulled out the lock of her hair I always wore round my neck. ‘This is the only charm I need. Besides, Dobbai called on the gods to protect the empire and since I fight to protect Parthia I don’t have anything to worry about.’

She looked at me with her beautiful blue eyes. ‘Perhaps. Let us hope the gods see things the way you do.’

‘We should have held the ceremony weeks ago. Perhaps then Vata might still be alive and the Armenians would not hold half of my brother’s kingdom.’

She shook her head. ‘Vata took the decision to fight the Armenians, no one else.’

I turned away from her and walked to the balcony entrance, parting the curtains to stare at the night sky.

‘It is my fault he is dead.’

‘What?’

‘When the kings faced the Armenians all those months ago I urged my father to attack them. I knew we could have beaten them that day but he declined to fight. When they returned Vata must have believed that he alone could defeat them.’

She walked over and placed her arms round me. ‘Then he was a fool and paid for his foolishness with his life.’

‘And half my father’s kingdom,’ I added.

Orodes and Nergal arrived at Dura five days later with their combined forces, their men pitching tents on the east bank of the Euphrates, directly opposite the Citadel. It was the first time Orodes had been back to the city since his coronation as king of kings and he received a rapturous reception from the citizens. He had always been a popular figure and now was even more so. People believed that the empire was in a pair of safe and just hands after the tyranny of Mithridates. Gallia and I rode out to greet him, Nergal and Praxima and escorted them through the city to the Citadel, along a route thronged with cheering crowds.

‘If they only knew the peril the empire faced,’ Orodes said to me, smiling and waving at the people as young girls tossed rose petals at him.

‘Sometimes it is better to live in ignorance, my friend.’

That night we gave a great feast in the banqueting hall to celebrate the arrival of our friends and their senior officers. It was an opportunity for old friends to meet again for Orodes and his bodyguard had once lived in the city and had fought as part of Dura’s army. He insisted on ignoring protocol and sat with Alcaeus, Domitus, Kronos, Vagises and other senior officers from my army, men he had shared many dangers with. Gallia and I occupied the top table with Nergal, Praxima and Dobbai, who seemed to have regained her old vigour and appeared to be pleased that we were all together again.

I was especially delighted to have Nergal and Praxima back at Dura. Nergal had been my second-in-command in Italy when we had fought for Spartacus and although Vagises was an excellent leader it had been Nergal who had forged my horse archers into a fearsome weapon. I had no regrets about making them rulers of their own kingdom but sometimes I yearned for the old times when we had been all together.

Dobbai must have noticed that I was in a reflective mood as she remained beside me when Nergal left the table to speak with some of the men he used to command.

‘The years pass and yet we do not notice until it is too late,’ she said.

‘I did not know you were a philosopher,’ I replied.

I pointed at Nergal who was in fits of laughter among a group of Duran horse archers. ‘Nineteen years ago Nergal and I were captured by the Romans and taken to Italy. It seems like yesterday and yet it is also another world. So much has happened since that time, and yet here we are on the verge of another campaign. After Susa I just yearned for peace and yet that is the one thing that seems to elude me.’

I looked at her haggard face. ‘Will I ever know peace?’

‘Alas, son of Hatra, it is both your fate and doom to be a great warlord. You cannot stray from the path the gods have chosen for you. You cannot change your destiny.’

Her words gave me scant comfort but the company of my friends made it an enjoyable evening and the next day I rode with Orodes and Nergal to the legionary camp. Domitus and Kronos arranged a parade of the Durans and Exiles to honour our royal guests and afterwards we retired to Domitus’ command tent. Orodes was still the same amiable character I had known for years but I noticed that there were now some worry lines on his face. I suspected the onerous office of king of kings was already taking its toll.

‘Axsen refuses to stay at Ctesiphon when I am not there,’ he told us, ‘she dislikes its atmosphere and associates it with Mithridates. She has moved back to Babylon.’

‘Babylon is her home,’ I said. ‘Besides, it is only a short distance from Ctesiphon.’

‘Who is in charge of the royal treasury?’ asked Domitus.

A wry smile crept over Orodes’ face. ‘Alas it is not as full as it should be. Mithridates took a sizeable quantity of gold with him when he fled to Syria.’ He smiled at me. ‘There were also a number of kingdoms who refused to pay the annual tribute. What gold remains is under the protection of Mardonius who provides troops from Seleucia to garrison Ctesiphon.’

‘You will use it to rebuild Babylonia?’ asked Nergal.

Orodes nodded. ‘I promised Axsen that I would assist in the rebuilding of her kingdom, which suffered grievously at the hands of Narses and Mithridates. So you see, my friends, I am an impoverished high king.’

Poor Orodes. He had once been banished by his stepbrother Mithridates because of his support for me and had spent years at Dura as a landless prince. Now he ruled an empire that was exhausted by civil strife and beset by foreign invaders.

Horses’ hooves on the baked earth outside the tent interrupted our musings and seconds later a dust-covered Byrd and Malik stepped inside the tent.

‘So,’ beamed Malik to Orodes, ‘this is where you’re skulking.’

Orodes rose from his chair and the two of them embraced, dust coming from Malik’s robes as they did so.

‘It is good to see you, old friend,’ said Orodes, as he hugged Malik again. He then embraced Byrd.

‘And you too, Byrd.’

‘Help yourself to some water,’ I said to the pair as the others greeted them, ‘you look as though you have had a hard ride.’

‘Bring news of Romani,’ said Byrd, taking a cup of water from Malik and sinking into a chair.

‘My contacts in Antioch report Romani legion moving to Zeugma. Governor and Mithridates go with it.’

Zeugma was a former Parthian city that was ruled by the aged King Darius, a child molester who had defected to Rome nearly twenty years ago. Built on the banks of the northern Euphrates, a hostile Zeugma meant enemy troops could pour into northwest Hatra.

‘So the Romans intend to link up with the Armenians and march south to put my stepbrother back on Ctesiphon’s throne,’ remarked Orodes bitterly.

‘The other Roman legion is still licking its wounds at Emesa,’ added Malik. He looked at me. ‘Surely one legion can be dealt with easily enough?’

‘One legion, yes,’ I replied. ‘But one legion plus one hundred thousand Armenians is another matter. Our only hope is to link up with Gafarn at Hatra and meet the enemy north of the city with our combined forces.’

‘How many men do you think we can field against the Armenians, Pacorus?’ asked Orodes.

‘After combining our forces with those at Hatra, perhaps fifty thousand men,’ I answered.

Orodes looked concerned. ‘So few? I thought Hatra alone could muster over sixty thousand men.’

‘That was before Vata’s defeat and the loss of the north. The towns in the northwestern part of the kingdom are still holding out as far as I know and Lord Herneus remains in charge at Assur in the east, but the loss of Nisibus and the surrounding lands is a heavy blow.’

‘And remember Hatra’s army also suffered losses at Susa,’ added Domitus.

‘We all suffered losses in that battle,’ remarked Orodes grimly.

I tried to raise their morale. ‘Gafarn will wait until we arrive and then we can launch a counterattack against the Armenians. Thus far they have tasted only victory and will be over-confident, expecting an unopposed march to the walls of Hatra. In adversity the seeds of our triumph may have been planted.’

I was not sure whom I was trying to convince, myself or them, but I knew that we stood a chance of at least halting the Armenians if Gafarn waited for us to arrive at Hatra.

Except that he did not wait and the next day a courier arrived from Hatra telling of a battle with the Armenians fifty miles north of the city in which Gafarn had been soundly beaten and his forces scattered. He himself had escaped back to the city with the remnants of his army, but Tigranes had now inflicted two major defeats on Hatra’s army in a matter of weeks and the kingdom stood on the brink of calamity.

I showed the letter to Orodes who read it and passed it to Nergal. We stood on the palace terrace in stunned silence as Gallia and Praxima also digested the grim news.

‘Why?’ I heard myself saying. ‘Why would he give battle before we arrived?’

I sat down and stared at the floor. Tigranes would surely now lay siege to Hatra itself. He was probably only one or two days’ march from the city. It was now imperative to get to Hatra as quickly as possible. I looked at Orodes and knew he was thinking the same.

‘We leave at dawn tomorrow,’ he said.

I saw Dobbai wander onto the terrace and walk over to her chair. She smiled at Orodes and ignored the rest of us before easing herself into her nest of cushions. She looked at our glum faces.

‘Did you all eat something disagreeable at breakfast?’

‘We have received ill tidings from Hatra,’ I snapped. ‘Gafarn gave battle to Tigranes and lost.’

‘Naturally,’ she said casually. ‘They do not call the Armenian king “great” for nothing, and who is Gafarn but a low-born slave who has gained a throne by chance?’

I was fuming at her casual attitude to this fresh calamity that had beset the empire and stomped over to face her.

‘I hope that ritual we all took part in was not in vain,’ I seethed.

Her eyes blazed with fury. ‘Do not blame the gods for the vanity of Vata or the idiocy of your brother.’

Orodes and the others looked at us in confusion as Dobbai rose from her chair and pointed at Orodes.

‘You must beware of your brother, high king, for your failure to kill him at Susa will return to haunt you err long.’

‘Mithridates is with the Romans in northern Hatra,’ he replied.

‘He has left them,’ she replied with conviction.

‘Where is he?’ I asked.

She looked indifferent. ‘How should I know? But I would advise you to find him quickly.’

She sat back down in her chair and closed her eyes. I was still fuming and Orodes was shaking his head in confusion.

We left Dura at dawn the next morning; horse archers, cataphracts, squires and camels carrying spare arrows in a great column heading east to Hatra. Domitus and the two legions were left behind with the lords and their men in case the Romans at Emesa and their fat ally decided to try another assault against Palmyra. To this end I sent a message to Haytham with Malik who went back to Palmyra with Byrd, that he was to summon Domitus immediately if the enemy left Emesa, but asked him not to initiate hostilities until my men had reinforced him.

Gallia and Praxima rode together at the head of the Amazons whose numbers had once more been restored to one hundred women following their losses at Susa. The number of my cataphracts had also been made up to a thousand by promoting the eldest among the squires and inducting youngsters to take their places. The horse archers were once more up to three thousand by undertaking a recruiting drive within the kingdom.

We covered at least thirty-five miles each day so that it took us just over four days to reach Hatra. Mercifully, though it was still hot, the fierce heat of high summer was behind us. That said it was still very warm and so riders and horses sweated as we travelled across the sun-blasted sandy ground. The thousands of animals kicked up a huge dust cloud that was our faithful companion each day, covering us in a fine layer of grime that stuck to our clothes and sweaty flesh. It also made us cough as the particles entered our mouths and nostrils until we were forced to cover our faces like the Agraci do.

At the end of the fourth day we camped ten miles southwest of the city and Orodes sent a company of horse archers ahead to make contact with the garrison. I prayed that the city of my ancestors had not already fallen to Tigranes as I watched them disappear with the sun on their backs as it dropped into the western sky. Around me exhausted men and boys unsaddled their horses and let them drink from waterskins before they were corralled in temporary stables made from poles and canvas sheets, while the camels spat and growled as they were relieved of their heavy cargoes.

There were no campfires that night as the sky was devoid of clouds and the glow of any flames would be seen from afar, especially by any Armenian patrols that might be near. As a precaution we posted a heavy guard in all directions and enforced strict noise discipline.

The Durans arranged their eight-man oilskin tents in neat rows as they had done many times before on exercise and on campaign. The horse archers of Mesene did likewise. Only the horsemen from Babylon and Susiana pitched their tents in ever-widening circles around the canopy of the king of kings.

I sat on the ground in front of the tent I would share with Gallia as Scarab cleaned my helmet and cuirass a few paces away. After he had pitched our tent he smeared cedar oil around its base to repel any snakes that might be lurking nearby, while we all scoured the ground to kill any insects in an effort to deter camel spiders approaching us. Though they were not poisonous these giant eight-legged monsters could inflict a nasty bite that could easily become infected in the heat of the day.

Gallia watched Scarab go about his duties.

‘I hope you are not treating him like a slave.’

I was most hurt. ‘Of course not! He knows he is a free man and is with me of his own volition.’

‘He must be the oldest squire in the army.’

‘Yes,’ I replied, ‘but he joined us under exceptional circumstances and will just have to catch up.’

Scarab came over and bowed deeply. ‘Would you like me to clean your sword, divinity?’

Gallia burst out laughing. ‘Divinity? You should put a stop to that nonsense straight away!’

I ignored her chiding. ‘Thank you, Scarab, but I like to clean it myself.’

Gallia whipped the dagger from her boot and stabbed it down to impale a large scorpion that was scuttling past her. She held up the wriggling creature on the end of her blade.

‘Mithridates would be an idiot to return to Parthia. Death awaits him if he does.’

Scarab looked at her in alarm; this foreign woman who was both beautiful and fearsome. He did not know what to make of her. Then again, neither did most of the empire.

She looked at him. ‘Where is your family, Scarab?’

‘I lived with my parents, who were also slaves, in the house of their master in Egypt before I was sold to a merchant from Emesa. That was many years ago, highborn.’

She observed the still wriggling scorpion on the end of her dagger. ‘Perhaps one day you will return to Egypt, to free them from bondage.’

She rammed the dagger into the ground, cutting the scorpion in two.

‘I prefer to stay in Parthia, holiness.’

The next morning the company that Orodes had sent to Hatra returned with news that the Armenians were not laying siege to the city and that King Atrax and a force of Medians had arrived to strengthen the garrison. A wave of relief swept through me and I hugged Gallia because it also meant that Surena in Gordyene, to the north of Atrax’s kingdom, must have halted the Armenian invasion of his land. And Atrax would never have left his kingdom if neighbouring Atropaiene was still under threat, which meant that Aschek must have at least halted the enemy forces threatening his realm.

It took us just over two hours to reach Hatra, a detachment of cataphracts sent by Gafarn linking up with us a mile from the city walls. I was surprised that it was not Vistaspa who commanded these men but was informed by the officer in charge that the leg wound he had suffered at the Battle of Susa had still not fully healed.

If I had been heartened by the news of Atrax’s arrival in the city I was shocked when we reached Hatra and rode from its southern gates to the royal quarter in the north. The city had always been a bustling, thriving place but now it was filled with refugees with fear in their eyes. With listless expressions they huddled in doorways or gathered in cowering groups on the streets as they observed us ride past. I hardly recognised this place that had once been the western shield of the empire.

‘How long have these people been here?’ I asked the commander of our escort.

‘They arrived following the loss of Nisibus, majesty,’ he answered. ‘For a week the road to the north was filled with refugees fleeing the Armenians.’

‘How many?’

‘Thousands, majesty. The king has established makeshift camps in the city’s squares but as you can see, others are living on the streets.’

Hatra was watered by springs supplying sweet water from the earth so its citizens would never die of thirst, but its one hundred thousand inhabitants required large amounts of food each day to subsist, and thousands more mouths to feed would quickly exhaust the city’s food supplies. By the time we reached the palace in the north of the city my spirits had been deflated.

Our horses were taken from us at the palace steps and we were immediately taken to the throne room where Gafarn awaited us. If the city had appeared downcast the atmosphere in the throne room was close to despair.

The cavernous chamber had been cleared of courtiers and slaves and only a few guards remained along the walls and at the doors. The latter were closed as we paced across the marble tiles, our footsteps echoing around the room as we approached the dais. Ahead a downcast Gafarn and a pale Diana were seated on their thrones, while standing to their right were Atrax, Aliyeh and Adeleh, who looked forlorn and lost. On the other side stood the gaunt and frail Assur, chief priest at the Great Temple; Kogan, commander of the city garrison, now in his late sixties; and Addu, the city treasurer. Next to him stood a grim-faced Herneus, governor of the eastern city of Assur who nodded to me, and another, slimmer man with a thick black beard and long black hair. He was dressed in a rich scale armour cuirass, long-sleeved white shirt, brown leggings and boots. I had never seen him before.

When we reached the dais Gafarn and Diana stood and with the others bowed to Orodes, their high king. Gafarn then nodded to Kogan who ordered chairs and refreshments to be brought for us, Diana giving up her throne so that Orodes could sit on it as befitting his status. She sat in a simple wicker chair that was placed beside Gafarn while the rest of us settled into our chairs in front of the dais, though not before we had embraced both Gafarn and Diana. Nergal and I also embraced our friend and companion-in-arms Atrax. I also hugged Adeleh and tried to be warm towards Aliyeh but she waved me away. Always aloof and serious, my sister had turned into a calculating and icy queen who forgot little and forgave nothing. She had never forgiven me for the fact that her husband, the King of Media, had a permanent limp, a disability she blamed on me for supposedly encouraging Atrax to fight the Romans. The result had been his defeat and impediment.

Slaves brought us cool water to slake our thirsts as Gafarn began by thanking us for coming to his aid. He appeared withdrawn, weighed down by the burden of ruling such a great city and I wondered if he was finding it all too much. He smiled thinly at Assur who stepped forward and asked us all to rise and bow our heads.

‘Great Shamash, Lord of the Sun,’ the high priest began, ‘smile down on this Your city, and those who protect it and Your great temple. Unworthy though we are, grant us the wisdom and the means to drive back the godless heathens who have invaded Your lands and threaten those who love and fear You. In this time of strife we ask for Your divine help and deliverance. For only You can give us the strength to repel the foreign invaders.’

He turned, bowed his head to his king and returned to his position as we resumed our seats.

‘Hatra is in great danger,’ stated Gafarn flatly. ‘We lost ten thousand men at Nisibus when Prince Vata was most tragically killed.’ He smiled sympathetically at Adeleh. ‘And a further five thousand when we engaged Tigranes only a few days ago to the north. Now the hordes of Tigranes stand ready to assault this great city. Had it not been for your arrival, my lords, his soldiers might already be scaling its walls.’

‘Where is Tigranes now?’ enquired Orodes.

‘He has pulled his army back to the northeast, towards the Tigris,’ answered Gafarn.

‘He needs to be near a water source to maintain his multitude of men and animals,’ added Atrax.

‘He has requested a meeting with me,’ said Gafarn bitterly.

I looked up. ‘Meeting, why?’

‘To dictate surrender terms, no doubt,’ he replied.

‘You must never surrender, brother,’ spat Adeleh. ‘You must crush this Armenian upstart, this mountain dweller whose presence in our lands defies our father’s memory.’

‘We will not surrender, of course not,’ said Gafarn.

‘You should march against him again, brother,’ said Adeleh, ‘and this time you will have other kings beside you.’

I looked at Adeleh and suddenly it all made sense. I wondered why Gafarn had not waited until we had arrived and now I knew: Adeleh had obviously pestered him into attacking Tigranes to exact revenge for Vata and the result had been a cheap victory for the Armenians.

‘If only some had come earlier,’ said Aliyeh, looking at me, ‘then Prince Vata might still be alive and northern Hatra still free.’

I bristled at her insinuation. ‘If you have something to say, dear sister, then say it.’

‘When the Armenians invaded Hatra, you chose to help the Agraci filth first ahead of your own family. And now my sister is a widow and the enemy are nearly at the gates of this city, all because of you.’

Orodes and Atrax were aghast at her words and Gallia was fuming, while Nergal and Praxima looked distinctly uncomfortable.

‘You should have come sooner, Pacorus,’ said Adeleh. ‘Vata was your childhood friend.’

‘You waste your words, sister,’ hissed Aliyeh. ‘Our brother has become Haytham’s pet and takes orders from Palmyra, not Ctesiphon.’

At a stroke she insulted both Orodes and me by insinuating he was a weak high king who had no control over his empire. I jumped up.

‘Enough! I did not come here to be insulted by you. One day you will talk your head off your shoulders.’

Atrax then rose slowly from his chair. ‘You forget yourself, Pacorus. Aliyeh is a queen and should be treated as such.’

Aliyeh smiled maliciously at me. ‘It is quite all right, Atrax. Pacorus has spent too long in the company of the Agraci and has adopted their manners and customs, it seems.’

Gallia leapt up and pointed at Aliyeh. ‘And you need to learn some manners.’

Aliyeh looked at Gafarn, a hurt expression on her face. ‘Are you going to allow me to be spoken to thus in the palace where I grew up? My father would not have allowed such a thing.’

‘Do not speak of my father,’ I warned her.

Gafarn raised his hand. ‘Can you all please compose yourselves and sit down. This is no time for a family squabble.’

Aliyeh regarded me contemptuously. ‘Is he a member of our family? I sometimes wonder.’

‘And I often wonder how such a spiteful, mean and nasty woman could be the daughter of my parents.’

‘If you insult my wife once more,’ said Atrax, ‘I will have no choice but to draw my sword against you, Pacorus, though I would rather die a thousand times before I did so.’

‘You are a true friend and man of honour, Atrax,’ I said, ‘and because of that I will withdraw from this assembly since I can see that my presence offends some among it. For I would rather cut off my own sword arm than raise it against you.’

I bowed my head to him and then Orodes, turned on my heels and walked towards the doors. Orodes and Gafarn called after me to stop but I ignored their pleas. Gallia likewise took her leave and came to my side.

After we had left the throne room we went to search for my mother, finding her in the garden she had tended so lovingly for years. She was kneeling in front of a bed of red chrysanthemums when we walked slowly up to her and halted. Sensing our presence, she stopped her digging and turned and smiled. I was shocked by her appearance. Her long black curly hair was now streaked with grey and she had lost a lot of weight so that her arms were thin and her face somewhat gaunt. Her brown eyes were full of pain and sorrow and my own eyes misted as I ran over to her and held her tight. She began to cry but then stiffened and released me, composing herself before she walked over to Gallia and embraced her.

‘How are you, mother?’ I asked.

‘Worked off my feet, Pacorus. I have been trying to bed in these chrysanthemums but there are never enough hours in the day.’

I smiled. ‘You have a small army of gardeners to help you.’

‘Oh, they are competent enough but flowers require loving care for them to flourish. Your father is always telling me…’

She stopped and held a hand to her mouth, then turned away from us and went back to her digging. I knelt beside her.

‘I am sorry about father. I wish it had been me in his place.’

She cupped my face with her hand. ‘No, Pacorus. It was his time. He died fighting for what he believed was proper and just and I think events have proved him right. Orodes is a good man.’

‘Yes he is,’ I agreed. ‘And Gafarn is a good king.’

‘Your brother thinks that you should be King of Hatra but I told him many years ago that the gods decided you should take a different path.’

She put down her trowel and stood.

‘Gallia, dear, you are looking very well. Did you bring my grandchildren?’

Gallia looked at me in alarm. It was as if nothing existed to my mother beyond this garden and the Armenians and Romans were mere figments of our imagination.

‘We left them in Dura, mother,’ replied Gallia, linking her arm in hers, ‘but we will bring them very soon.’

And so we walked with her under cypress trees, willow and date palms; along paths between ponds filled with carp and goldfish; the sweet fragrance of jasmine and myrtle filling the air. White doves flew around us and peacocks displayed their plumage. It was a place of serenity and beauty where one could forget the horrors of the outside world and the creeping doom that was approaching Hatra; a sanctuary that my mother had escaped to and in her mind would never leave.

The armies of the kings had made their camp to the north of the city and that was where Gallia and I slept that night, happy to be away from the poisonous barbs of my sisters. Adeleh I could forgive because of her grief but Aliyeh had incensed me.

‘I have a mind to ride back to Dura in the morning,’ I said to Gallia as we sat outside our tent waiting for Scarab to return from the field kitchens with our evening meal.

‘Orodes and Gafarn need you. We must present a united front against the Armenians.’

I scraped at the earth with the heel of my boot. ‘She never used to be like that, Aliyeh I mean. She was always serious and somewhat aloof but never scheming or malicious.’

‘Power has corrupted her,’ mused Gallia.

‘No doubt she has been bending Atrax’s ear about launching an attack against the Armenians to avenge Vata.’

‘You do not think we can defeat the Armenians?’

I shrugged. ‘If we fight them it must be on our own terms, not theirs. At the moment Tigranes is strong and has inflicted two successive defeats on us. He and his army will be confident that they can do so again. On the other hand, if we wait his strength will only increase when the Romans reinforce him. The next few days will be crucial.’

Scarab returned with freshly roasted goat and chicken, plus wine that Gafarn had sent from the city earlier. I told him to eat with us but I could tell he was most uncomfortable because he hardly ate anything and watched both of us all the time, offering to refill our cups after we had sipped from them and generally acting like a slave. Old habits die hard and it would take him a while to adjust to his new life.

The ending of the day was far more agreeable than its earlier part when Nergal and Praxima arrived with a hundred of their horse archers dressed in red kaftans, over which they wore scale armour cuirasses and helmets on their heads. Scarab fetched two more stools so our friends could sit with us while their men dismounted and I told them to go and get themselves something to eat.

The sun was casting long shadows and the sky was now turning orange and purple as the day waned and evening approached. Scarab threw more sticks on the fire and served our guests wine. Praxima found it difficult not to laugh as he bowed and called her ‘divinity’.

‘Actually,’ I said, ‘you are correct to address them so, for to the people of Mesene they are gods.’

Scarab looked most impressed by this news and bowed even lower, averting his eyes from theirs as he retreated from our presence.

‘Where did you get him from?’ asked Nergal.

‘We picked him up during our recent meeting with the Romans,’ I said. ‘He was a slave and now he’s my squire.’

‘There is a meeting in the palace tomorrow, Pacorus,’ said Nergal, changing the subject, ‘to discuss how we are going to deal with the Armenians.’

‘Sending my eldest sister to batter them with her tongue would be a good start,’ I suggested.

‘The Armenians need to be stopped,’ said Praxima, ‘else they will swallow up all the lands between the Tigris and Euphrates.’

She was right. Tigranes stood on the verge of victory and there appeared very little that we could do about it. I thought back to that night when Dobbai had performed her ritual. Where were the gods; had it all been in vain? Perhaps I had been wrong to put any faith in a rambling old woman.

I smiled at Praxima. ‘Tigranes thinks he has already won, no doubt, but that may be his undoing. His aim is to march south beyond Hatra but cannot while the city is still Parthian, for to do so would leave a mighty hostile citadel in his rear. He must take the city if he is to advance further.’

‘The Armenians have no siege engines,’ said Nergal.

‘But the Romans do,’ added Gallia, ‘and if they join with Tigranes then Hatra will be in great danger.’

‘Not necessarily, my sweet,’ I replied. ‘Hatra’s walls are strong and high and the nearest water supply is over fifty miles away, at the Tigris. Not only that, a besieging army would have to fend off forces sent from Media, Dura and Babylon. What Tigranes needs to achieve is to crush us in battle in the hope that a demoralised Hatra opens its gates to him in submission.’

‘That will never happen,’ growled Praxima.

I stood and went over to her and kissed her on the cheek.

‘Perhaps we should make you the city governor, then Hatra could hold out for a hundred years.’

She threw back her head and laughed, shaking her mass of long red hair, then instinctively sprang to her feet and clutched the hilt of her sword, as the calm of the night was interrupted by shouting. I turned to see three of my horse archers approaching on foot, two of them holding the arms of a tall, well-built youth with long black hair.

‘Let go of me, barbarians. I am a prince and will have you flogged for your insolence.’

‘And I’m the King of Babylon. Now be quiet,’ said the unimpressed officer in charge.

We all stood as the group approached and the officer saluted, holding a sword in a scabbard in his right hand.

‘Apologies for the interruption, majesty,’ he said to me, jerking a thumb at the boy. ‘A patrol found this one trying to enter our camp. He says you are his uncle.’

I looked at Gallia and smiled at Nergal and Praxima and then waved the two guards holding the youth forward. The fire illuminated his square jaw and thick neck and the fire in his eyes reminded me of his mother.

‘You can let him go,’ I said to the guards, ‘he is family.’

He yanked his arms free and then glared at the officer holding his sword.

‘That’s mine,’ he snapped.

I held out my hand to the officer who passed me the sword. He bowed then he and his men left us. I drew the sword from its scabbard. It was a beautiful piece, finely balanced and exquisitely made. The long, straight blade was double edged and the hilt comprised a steel cross-guard, a grip wrapped in leather strips and a silver pommel in the shape of a horse’s head.

‘A fine sword, young Spartacus,’ I said.

I slid it back in the scabbard and handed it back to its owner. We retook our seats as he buckled his sword belt round his waist.

‘You should not try to enter my camp unannounced,’ I reprimanded him. ‘It may be your father’s land but my men will still put an arrow in you if you try to sneak past them.’

‘I wished to see you, uncle,’ he protested. ‘Mother told me that you had decided not to stay in the palace. Have you come to fight the Armenians?’

‘I have come to support your father,’ I corrected him. ‘This is King Nergal and Queen Praxima of Mesene, who have also come to support your father.’

He bowed his head to them as Scarab brought a stool for him to sit on and offered him a cup of water.

Spartacus watched him go.

‘Is he your slave?’

‘We do not keep slaves,’ said Gallia.

‘I have heard this. In the palace we have many slaves. They are treated well,’ he said firmly.

‘Not all slaves are treated kindly,’ said Praxima with bitterness.

‘I have heard that your army is made up of former slaves, uncle.’

‘Not all of it,’ I replied, ‘but there are many who have escaped from bondage.’

‘My aunts do not approve of it,’ he said.

‘I can imagine,’ I smiled.

‘They do not approve of me,’ he said softly.

Gallia looked at me and then at Praxima.

‘Why?’ she asked.

‘Because my father, my blood father, was a slave. And my current parents were also slaves. I may be a prince but it makes no difference. The other squires call me servus, which is Latin for slave. By doing so they insult me twice, by reminding me that I was born to slave parents and that they were both killed by the Romans. The gossip in the city is that because the present king and queen were slaves Shamash has abandoned us and will continue to do so until a Parthian noble sits on the throne.’

‘You should be proud of your real father and the parents who have adopted you,’ said Nergal.

‘They say that he was a great leader, the man I am named after.’

‘Perhaps one of the greatest who has ever lived,’ I said.

We spent the rest of the evening regaling him with tales of Italy and Spartacus. I am sure that he had heard them a hundred times before but never from our mouths. So Gallia told him of the founding of the Amazons and how she had maintained their numbers at one hundred ever since, of how she had rescued me on a beach near Thurii and how I had returned the favour later when her father had kidnapped her. He sat open mouthed as Praxima told him about the Battle of Mutina and how we slaughtered the Gauls and Romans and then afterwards marched south instead of north over the Alps. We told him of Domitus, Thumelicus, Drenis and Vagises. He want to bed happy, while I made a promise to myself that I would do everything I could to turn back the Armenian tide.

To that end we rode with young Spartacus back into Hatra the next morning to attend the council of war. It was held in the office next to the throne room, a great hide map of the empire hanging on the wall. Waiting for us was Orodes, Gafarn, Vistaspa, Kogan, Herneus, the man with the black beard and Atrax, the latter shaking my hand and saying nothing of what had happened the day before. I walked over to Vistaspa and clasped his forearm. He tried to get up but his injured leg was still in splints so I told him to stay seated. He looked pale and in pain and I wondered if he would see the new year.

The doors were closed and the meeting got under way with Gafarn introducing the severe-looking man with the beard as Lord Apollonius, the governor of western Hatra who held the towns of Ichnae, Nicephorium, Carrhae and Zenodotium; all of which were under threat of being assaulted by the Romans. No wonder he looked serious!

‘What strength can the Kingdom of Hatra muster?’ asked Orodes.

A grim-faced Gafarn pointed at Apollonius first, who stood and cleared his throat.

‘If I brought all the garrisons of the towns together the number would total two thousand foot and five thousand horsemen, majesty.’

‘And you, Herneus?’ asked Gafarn.

‘There is at Assur ten thousand horse archers and a thousand foot soldiers.’

Gafarn smiled at Vistaspa. ‘There is in this city a thousand cataphracts, twenty thousand horse archers and the garrison of two thousand foot soldiers.’

‘Twenty-one thousand horsemen,’ I said, ‘plus those who have arrived from Media, Dura, Mesene and Babylon.’

These amounted to an additional two thousand heavy horsemen and twenty-two thousand horse archers.

‘Forty-five thousand men in all,’ remarked Orodes with satisfaction. ‘Enough to convince Tigranes not to provoke us, I think.’

‘When we last encountered Tigranes at Nisibus,’ I said, ‘his army was deficient in heavy horsemen so we need to increase the number of our cataphracts to impress him.’

Vistaspa winced as pain shot through his leg and there were beads of sweat on his forehead.

‘Hatra and Dura can muster a thousand each, while Babylon and Media have five hundred apiece. Three thousand men,’ he said. ‘There are no more.’

‘There are another six thousand we can put into the field,’ I replied.

They all looked at me in confusion.

‘It is quite simple,’ I continued. ‘We arm every squire and attire him in scale armour. We can place them behind their masters to stiffen their resolve so Tigranes sees nine thousand kontus points arrayed against him.’

‘If the Armenians attack, majesty,’ said a concerned Kogan, ‘then those boys will be the first to fall.’

‘It is a risk,’ I agreed, ‘but desperate times call for desperate measures and these are desperate times, my friends.’

I looked at Orodes. ‘The decision rests with you.’

He looked at Gafarn and then Atrax, who both nodded at him.

‘Very well, we will try what Pacorus suggests.’

The rest of the meeting addressed matters in Gordyene and Atropaiene. Atrax reported receiving regular updates from Surena who was more than holding his own against Prince Artavasdes and his Armenians. True to form, Surena had initially avoided the invaders, being content to launch raids against their flanks and rear. These had proved so effective that Artavasdes had halted his advance. Intercepted messages had revealed that he had appealed to his father for reinforcements, without which capturing Vanadzor, Gordyene’s capital city, would be impossible. As for Atropaiene, the Armenian force that had invaded the north of that kingdom had been nothing more than a large-scale raid and had quickly retreated after burning and looting a few dozen villages and carrying off their inhabitants as slaves.

As two squires and two camels loaded with spare armour and weapons attended every cataphract, it was relatively easy to create another six thousand heavy horsemen. And while we waited for Tigranes to inform us of the time and place of the meeting the squires practised riding in formation. It was decided that the squires from each kingdom should deploy immediately behind their masters in the front rank. Thus Dura’s cataphracts would deploy in two ranks: five hundred men in the first rank, another five hundred in the second. And behind them would be two thousand squires in four ranks.

This formation was copied by the heavy horsemen of Media, Hatra and Babylon and made for an impressive sight on the arid plain north of the city.

‘That should deter the old man,’ I said smugly as we admired the thousands of horses, men and boys covered in scale armour, a forest of kontus points stretching right and left.

‘Let us hope so, Pacorus,’ said Orodes, not wholly convinced.

‘One more thing,’ I said. ‘If negotiations fail then we must launch an immediate attack against the Armenians. We should not repeat the mistake made at Nisibus.’

‘I agree,’ said Atrax. ‘I was there that day and we could have destroyed Tigranes and his army.’

‘I am with you, Pacorus,’ added Nergal.

‘And I,’ said Gafarn.

‘And you, high king?’ I asked Orodes.

I knew that I was forcing his hand but I feared that Orodes’ sense of fair play and high honour would preclude any talk of fighting before negotiations had failed, but I did not trust Tigranes, who had already seized the northern part of my brother’s kingdom and threatened the rest. For all I knew he was demanding this meeting to gather us all in one place so he could slaughter us.

‘Very well,’ said Orodes with reluctance.

Two days later a messenger arrived from Tigranes saying that he would meet us forty miles north of Hatra, which I found most curious. As he and his army were near the Tigris to the northeast I wondered why he would travel west into the desert to meet with us. It made no sense. But if Tigranes liked to undertake futile marches in the desert, so be it. All I was concerned about was the safety of Hatra.

On the first day out from the city we covered twenty-five miles before making camp in the vast emptiness of the flat desert plain. In this desolate place a city such as Hatra, which drew its water from underground springs that supplied the precious liquid all-year round, was worth is weight in gold. If Hatra fell then foreign armies could pour south into Babylon and Mesene and conquer all the lands between the Euphrates and Tigris with ease. From Hatra an enemy could also strike east towards Media and Atropaiene and west to Dura. It was no exaggeration to state that if Hatra fell then the whole of the western half of the Parthian Empire would crumble.

These thoughts swirled in my mind the next day when we broke camp and headed north to meet with Tigranes. When we reached the designated spot there was no sign of the Armenians and I began to wonder that it may have been a ruse to lure us out of Hatra so Tigranes could assault the city, but as the city garrison would be manning the walls, the gates would be shut and the surrounding moat full I discounted this possibility. My fears were then dispelled when parties of horse archers began to appear on the horizon, and behind them columns of foot soldiers tramping across the dusty plain.

Our own horsemen were already moving into their battle positions — cataphracts in the centre and horse archers on the wings. We extended our line as far as possible to create an impression of strength that would hopefully awe the Armenians. The six thousand heavy horsemen in the centre looked very imposing, pennants fluttering in the easterly breeze and the sun’s rays glinting off steel leg and arm armour and the silver scales of Hatra’s royal bodyguard. The latter were placed in the centre of the line, with my Durans to their left and Orodes’ bodyguard on their right. Atrax’s heavy horsemen were deployed to the right of Orodes’ men. I had to admit that the sight of nine thousand cataphracts was a wonder to behold, even if two-thirds of them were only nervous boys.

On our right wing were deployed the horse archers of Babylon, Mesene and Media — a total of nineteen thousand men — while our left comprised my own horse archers — three thousand under Vagises — and Hatra’s twenty thousand extending far into the distance. Thus did we muster fifty-one thousand soldiers on this barren stretch of earth. In addition, stocked with spare arrows and deployed in the rear of both wings, were the camel trains of Hatra, Media, Dura and Mesene.

As they had both foot and horse the Armenians placed the former in the centre and the latter on the wings. The great majority of the foot soldiers were élite spearmen equipped with large rectangular shields faced with iron and protected by bronze helmets and thick leather armour. They held their long spears with both hands and so their shields had to be strapped to their forearms. Deployed in one huge phalanx, they stood directly opposite our cataphracts and numbered around twenty thousand men. Either side of them were groups of foot archers and slingers to provide missile support for the spearmen. These numbered between five and seven thousand.

On the wings the Armenians grouped their horse archers interspersed with blocks of mounted spearmen, though I noted that they either did not have enough horsemen to match our frontage or were keeping some back in reserve as both our wings outflanked theirs to a considerable extent. I estimated each Armenian wing to number around ten thousand men, which meant on sight we matched the size of the Armenian army, though there may have been a substantial reserve in their rear.

After the Armenians had deployed into position Tigranes himself appeared, riding from behind the phalanx of spearmen and escorted by around two thousand heavy horsemen, his personal bodyguard. The latter were magnificently attired in black leggings and blue tunics, over which they wore short-sleeved mail shirts. Their heads helmets sported purple plumes and mail face veils. They carried long spears and their horses were protected by scale armour covering their bodies but not their heads or necks.

As he had been at Nisibus, the king was dressed in a purple and white striped tunic and had a rich purple cloak around his shoulders. A tall, imposing man, the conical jewel-encrusted hat he wore made him appear even taller.

As I sat next to Orodes watching Tigranes walk his horse into the middle of no-man’s land the other kings came to our side. Nergal and Praxima galloped across the front ranks of the cataphracts with a huge yellow banner carrying a double-headed lion sceptre crossed with a sword billowing behind them. Atrax brought Media’s banner of a white dragon on a black background to stand beside that of Mesene and the horned bull of Babylon and the eagle with a snake in its talons that was the emblem of Susiana, both of these kingdoms being ruled by Orodes. Behind me the brave and loyal Vagharsh held Dura’s banner of a red griffin on a white background. The last banner to arrive was that of Hatra — a white horse’s head on a red background — carried behind Gafarn who had been with the officers of his horse archers on the left wing.

The Armenian ranks were dotted with red, yellow, purple and blue flags and dragon windsocks, while behind Tigranes was carried a huge white flag upon which was a purple six-pointed star, the symbol of Armenia. Tigranes halted his horsemen around five hundred paces from our position as the breeze stiffened and gave life to the hundreds of flags among the Armenian ranks. A lone rider came from behind Tigranes and headed towards us. Orodes turned in the saddle and pointed to one of his own officers, who spurred his horse forward to meet the Armenian rider. This was normal protocol for determining the size of each party in the discussions to guarantee equal numbers.

‘At least we are not outnumbered,’ remarked Gafarn.

‘They may have a reserve behind that phalanx of spearmen,’ I said. ‘We should not underestimate Tigranes.

‘Speaking of Tigranes, it would be to our advantage, I think, not to provoke him,’ Orodes cautioned me.

No doubt he was thinking back to the meeting between my father and Tigranes outside Nisibus when I had goaded the Armenian king and had been rebuked for doing so by my father. Orodes had been a prince that day and had not been part of the negotiations, but I told him what had happened afterwards. That day I was confident we could defeat the Armenians. Today I was not so sure.

‘Have no fear, my friend,’ I replied, ‘it is you who will do all the talking, not I.’

However, when we finally met Tigranes it was he who was intent on goading me. He was at least eighty years old now and though he had plenty of wrinkles his cheeks were no longer sunken and his eyes sparkled with vigour. War and conquest clearly suited his constitution. It was the first time he had met Orodes, the honest and honourable high king of the empire, and though he did not insult my friend he made it plain that he was bargaining from a position of strength. Orodes chose his words carefully not to give offence to Tigranes.

‘Parthia does not want war with Armenia, King Tigranes, but I must demand your withdrawal from all the lands of the empire that you have invaded.’

Tigranes smiled mischievously. ‘King Orodes, Armenia did not start this war but has merely responded to aggression initiated by one of your own kings.’

I stifled a laugh as Orodes’ brow furrowed.

‘I do not understand.’

‘Do you not? Then let me explain,’ he replied, his eyes on me all the time. ‘Gordyene was an Armenian province until Parthia saw fit to send a murdering upstart to wreak destruction upon it. Such an outrage cannot go unaltered.’

Orodes nodded solemnly. ‘I can understand your anger with regard to the shedding of Armenian blood, lord king, but you would agree that Gordyene is a Parthian kingdom.’

Tigranes looked disinterested. ‘I do not know the history of Gordyene,’ that was a lie, ‘only that my Roman allies gave it over to my safekeeping after they had conquered it.’

This was particularly galling because King Balas, the ruler of Gordyene, had supported Tigranes against the Romans when he had been their foe. Balas had been killed fighting the Romans and his former friend had ended up inheriting his kingdom.

‘But I believe I am right in saying,’ continued Orodes, ‘that Hatra has never been part of Armenia and yet your soldiers occupy the northern part of this kingdom.’

Tigranes looked thoughtful. ‘If the upstart king who rules Gordyene leaves that kingdom then I will consider doing the same in Hatra.’

I could no longer hold my tongue. ‘Impossible!’

Tigranes laughed. ‘King Pacorus! I wondered how long it would be before you graced us with your opinions.’

‘I am here at the request of King of Kings Orodes,’ I spat at him.

‘Tell me,’ Tigranes said to me. ‘Are Hatra’s problems still your problems, and are its wars still your wars?’

I tightened my grip on Remus’ reins. ‘They are.’

‘The affairs of Hatra concern all the kings of the empire,’ interrupted Orodes.

Tigranes looked past us to where our horsemen were drawn up.

‘Where are your famed legions, King Pacorus, the men who have spread death and fear throughout Parthia?’

‘I did not think it worthwhile to bring them,’ I answered, ‘such is the mediocrity of the opposition we face.’

Gafarn and Atrax laughed but Tigranes looked at me with hateful eyes.

‘Perhaps you wish for things to be settled here, today, just as you did at Nisibus all those months ago?’

He was right, I did. But I kept my tongue and refused to take his bait.

‘High King Orodes decides the actions that will be taken this day,’ I replied.

Orodes looked relieved while Tigranes looked smug.

‘These are my terms, King Orodes,’ he declared. ‘I am prepared to suspend hostilities in Hatra on condition that all the territory I currently hold up to Mount Sinjar becomes part of Greater Armenia in perpetuity. In addition, once my son has completed the conquest of Gordyene that kingdom will also revert to being Armenian.’

Mount Sinjar was a low limestone ridge that was only just over sixty miles north of the city of Hatra. I could see it now on the northern horizon, a long white strip of high land in the otherwise slightly undulating plain.

‘The alternative,’ threatened Tigranes, ‘is to continue hostilities.’

Tigranes knew that we also faced a Roman invasion in the northwest, to say nothing of the army under Crassus that he surely knew was on its way. I had little doubt that the two wings of our army would be able to shoot the enemy’s flanks to pieces with their bows, but the Armenians also had horse archers and mounted spearmen that could inflict heavy losses on us. And in the centre two-thirds of our heavy horsemen were boys who had never fought in a battle.

‘As a show of good faith,’ said Tigranes, ‘I am prepared to withdraw my forces to the city of Nisibus.’

That was about a hundred and fifty miles north of Hatra, which would at least give Gafarn some respite, though at the cost of losing half his kingdom. It also meant that the city of Assur would no longer be threatened with an immediate assault and, as Surena was still more than holding his own in Gordyene, that kingdom was safe for the time being. Orodes caught my eye and I nodded ever so slightly at him. Orodes then looked at Gafarn and sighed.

‘In the interests of peace, lord king,’ he said to Tigranes, ‘I accept these terms on condition that you immediately pull back to Nisibus.’

Tigranes could barely conceal his delight. ‘Consider it done, King Orodes,’ he replied. ‘I look forward to continual fruitful relations between us.’

Orodes nodded curtly and then wheeled his horse away, followed by Gafarn, Nergal and Atrax. I was about to tug on Remus’ reins when I heard Tigranes’ voice.

‘Do you still think I am a Roman puppet?’

‘I think,’ I replied slowly, ‘that your son will never conquer Gordyene and you should enjoy your stay in Hatra. It will be brief.’

Gafarn was very downcast during the journey back to Hatra despite Orodes’ attempts to cheer him.

‘I have let our father down,’ he said to me as he sank in his saddle.

‘Father would have been proud of you, Gafarn. Had I been on the throne no doubt the whole of Hatra would have been lost by now. At least we have bought some time.’

‘Time for what?’ he said disconsolately.

‘Time to organise,’ I replied.

Two days later we were back in Hatra, whose inhabitants appeared relieved when news spread that the Armenians were pulling back north. On the second morning following our arrival back in the city we gathered in the throne room to say our farewells. Diana was as warm-hearted and generous as ever and I was glad that we had saved her city, at least for the moment. My sisters ignored me but I did not care. What were their opinions to me?

‘We will recover those lands that have been lost,’ promised Orodes, standing next to the dais, ‘that I promise. But first we must assist Surena in Gordyene. To this end I have asked King Atrax to send him reinforcements, which he has agreed to do.’

Atrax smiled at Orodes while Aliyeh shook her head.

I saw Gafarn look up and beckon over a dust-covered courier who had entered the room. Gafarn stood as the man walked to the dais, bowed his head and handed him a letter. We watched as my brother returned to his throne, broke the letter’s seal and read the contents. He seemed to visibly wilt as he handed it to Diana and held his head in his hands.

‘What is it, brother? I asked.

A pale Diana handed the latter to Orodes.

‘We have been duped,’ he said softly. ‘This is from Herneus at Assur. While we were engaged in polite conversation with Tigranes it appears that a great host of horse and foot advanced south past Assur towards Seleucia.’

‘Armenians?’ I asked with concern.

‘It appears not,’ replied Orodes. ‘Herneus’ scouts reported that they saw a great banner depicting an eagle clutching a snake in its talons.’

‘It cannot be,’ I said, dumbfounded.

‘It would appear,’ remarked Orodes bitterly, ‘that Mithridates has returned to Parthia.’