Carrhae

Chapter 6

‘Peace treaty?’

The consumption of wine at the admittedly magnificent feast the night before had done nothing to deaden my sense of outrage concerning the accord that had been agreed behind my back while I had been dealing with Mithridates. I paced up and down in the spacious and well-appointed lounge in the palace’s private wing as Gafarn and Orodes looked at each other. The latter had convened the meeting after I had made it clear the night before that I strongly disapproved of the treaty. He had also asked my wife, Diana, Nergal, Praxima and Vistaspa to attend in an attempt, I believe, to make me see sense. It did not work.

The women reclined on couches and the men in spacious, padded wicker chairs while I paced up and down like a caged lion.

‘Mithridates is dead, the east of the empire is secure and Dura’s army is here, supported by the troops of Mesene. The time is right to assault and recapture Nisibus.’ I threw up my arms. ‘And where is Atrax and his Medians?’

‘As a sign of good faith,’ replied Orodes calmly but firmly, ‘it was agreed that King Atrax should withdraw from Hatra. In return the Armenians agreed to withdraw their forces from Mount Sinjar, which they have done.’

‘Hatra is no longer threatened by enemy forces a mere sixty miles to the north, Pacorus,’ added Gafarn. ‘And for that we have to thank Orodes.’

Diana smiled at Orodes who acknowledged her sign of approval.

‘The Armenians still hold Nisibus and northern Hatra,’ I continued, ‘and in a few months Crassus and his army will be in Syria, after which they will combine with the Armenians to renew hostilities.’

‘The cessation of hostilities, albeit temporary,’ replied Orodes, ‘gives us time to prepare, Pacorus, to marshal the empire’s resources to confront Crassus and convince him not to attack Parthia.’

I shook my head. ‘Rome is intent on conquering Parthia, Orodes. We must destroy the Armenians before Crassus arrives.’

I walked over to stand directly before him. ‘As your lord high general I strongly advise you to authorise an assault against Nisibus. With Tigranes dead they are vulnerable. The time to strike is now.’

Orodes stood to face me. ‘I have given my pledge to Artavasdes, Pacorus, and cannot break it. That is my final word on the matter. I am responsible for the welfare of the whole empire and not just the affairs of Hatra and Dura.’

‘When Crassus arrives the Armenians will join with him and attack the empire, Orodes,’ I countered. ‘Surely you know this?’

He sat back down. ‘The Armenians approached us with an offer of peace, indicating to me that they do not believe that they could take any more Parthian territory. If we persuade Crassus that it would be foolish for him to attack the empire, then afterwards we may reclaim Nisibus and the rest of northern Hatra without a war.’

‘The Armenians were most keen on peace, Pacorus,’ confirmed Gafarn.

I stopped pacing and sat down in my chair. They had been duped and the Armenians, or at least Artavasdes’ closest advisers, had been very clever. They must have known that he was no Tigranes and therefore sought to buy him time in which he could consolidate his father’s conquests. The easiest way to do this was to seek peace with Parthia, offering to withdraw their forces north as a sweetener. They gave up a stretch of desert in return for a few months of peace, knowing that a large Roman army was on its way. Time was on their side rather than on ours.

‘What about Armenian forces in Gordyene and Atropaiene?’ I asked, taking a cup of fruit juice offered me by a beautiful slave girl with olive skin whose shapely body was covered by a long white gown.

‘Artavasdes has given me his word that all his troops will be withdrawing from those kingdoms immediately,’ replied Orodes.

‘Surena has been mauling the Armenians in Gordyene, we hear,’ added Vistaspa with satisfaction.

‘At least someone has the right idea,’ I mumbled.

Orodes was not amused. ‘We cannot allow Surena to wreck the treaty with the Armenians. To this end I ask you, Pacorus, to go to Gordyene and ensure that Surena understands the current situation and abides by the agreement I have brokered with Artavasdes.’

I nodded curtly. Being an errand boy hardly appealed but out of respect for Orodes I would of course obey his wishes.

The meeting over, Orodes called me back as the others were leaving the room, asking me to shut the door to ensure we were alone.

‘Pacorus, I thank you for defeating Mithridates and ensuring the safety of Axsen and her kingdom.’

‘It was a pleasure, believe me.’

He looked slightly uncomfortable as he retook his seat, gesturing for me to do likewise.

‘I cannot blame you for executing Mithridates, considering the insults and losses you have endured at his hands, but I have to act according to the office of king of kings.’

I knew where this was leading. ‘Of course.’

He shifted uneasily in his chair and avoided my eyes. ‘I have therefore no alternative but to issue a declaration to the other kings of the empire expressing deep regret concerning your actions at Seleucia. I am sorry, my friend, but at this time Parthia is in a fragile state and I do not wish to offend the sensibilities of the eastern kings of the empire. I need them to stay loyal to me if we are to prove victorious against the Armenians and Romans.’

‘I understand, Orodes. I will resign as lord high general if it will help.’

He looked at me with gratitude in his eyes. ‘That will not be necessary. I hope you are not offended.’

‘No, but I believe that it is a mistake to adhere to a peace treaty with the Armenians.’

‘It is done, Pacorus, and cannot be undone.’

That was debatable.

He frowned. ‘But I worry about Surena.’

‘You need not. He is a most excellent commander,’ I said.

He nodded. ‘That is what worries me. If he attacks Armenia from Gordyene the peace will be broken. You must impress upon him the necessity of curtailing his warlike tendencies.’

‘And you?’

‘I shall return to Babylon to be by the side of my wife. You did well winning over Phriapatius, by the way.’

‘He will prove a valuable ally.’

Orodes looked thoughtful. ‘I really must organise a Council of Kings to ratify my accession to the high throne. It would be a good opportunity to begin a new era for Parthia.’

More meaningless talking and arguing, more like.

He looked at me. ‘What do you think?’

‘An excellent idea, though perhaps it could be held after we have dealt with the Romans and Armenians.’

He nodded. ‘Perhaps you are right. But I shall notify all the other kings of my intention to gather them at Esfahan soon.’

Not too soon, I prayed. ‘Once again, an excellent idea, my friend.’

Later I visited my mother who was again tending to her flowers in the royal gardens. She seemed happy enough though totally unconcerned about the affairs of the empire. The trees, ponds, shrubberies and flowerbeds had become the limits of her world, beyond which nothing of significance occurred. She rarely attended official functions and shunned guests, seeing only family and old friends. Vistaspa was a frequent visitor, though, and sat for hours in her pagoda as she served him food and wine and they talked of the old days. I was glad that they had each other and that their conversations kept alive the memory of my father. Vistaspa walked with a pronounced limp now though he refused to use a walking stick. He was nearly seventy and a lot of his savagery had drained away, though he still cut an imposing figure. I got the impression that the Battle of Susa and the death of my father, a man he had devoted his life to, had taken a great toll on him and now he too yearned for peace in his dotage.

As Gallia chatted to my mother about her flowers and plants I asked Vistaspa how his leg was.

‘It has never really healed properly and in the mornings it takes me a few minutes of stretching before I can put any weight on it, but otherwise it is fine.’

‘Hatra’s army still needs its commander,’ I told him. ‘Next year there will be a new war to fight.’

‘You do not think the peace treaty will last?’

‘No. If I had my way we would be marching against Nisibus by now, but I am not high king so it is not to be.’

He rested both hands on the arms of his chair, his black eyes fixed on me. ‘You think Orodes underestimates the Romans?’

‘The Romans want Parthia, that much is certain. I would prefer to have destroyed the Armenians before we have to face them. Orodes thinks that a united Parthia behind him will make the Romans think twice before they invade, but the Romans do not think the way he does. He desires to keep Parthia free and strong whereas the Romans wish to conquer the whole world.’

‘When war comes, do you think we can win it?’

‘I honestly do not know, Lord Vistaspa,’ was the best answer I could summon, but in my heart of hearts I feared that we had let a golden opportunity slip through our hands and might pay a high price for doing so.

The next day Domitus took the army back to Dura. He too was most unhappy that we were not going to march north against the Armenians but I told him that Orodes’ decision on the matter was final. The high king himself left Hatra with his men at the same time, with Nergal and Praxima accompanying him. I had to admit that it was a disappointing end to a campaign that had started so well.

I myself, as requested, rode to see Surena who had been asked to travel to Assur. I took with me Vagises and his three thousand horse archers plus Peroz and his five thousand Carmanians. I asked Gallia if she wanted to accompany me but she declined, saying that although she would love to see Viper again she had no interest in meeting Surena. Her view of him as a cocky, arrogant individual with too much to say for himself had never altered and she was glad that he was out of her sight in Gordyene.

Byrd and Malik and their scouts accompanied me, since the army would not need their services as it made its way west across Hatran territory back to Dura. We were not going to make war so I also left the camel train with Domitus though we did take five hundred mules loaded with food and fodder.

We struck east to Assur and found that Surena had already arrived and was lodged in the governor’s mansion, along with Atrax whom I had also invited. Media bordered both Hatra and Gordyene and its fate was inextricably linked to those two kingdoms. Surena had brought with him a hundred horsemen but had left his now pregnant wife, Viper, and Silaces, his second-in-command, in Gordyene in case the Armenians launched an attack. Surena had matured into a serious, thoughtful king who had a thorough understanding of the principles of warfare and thought the same as I regarding the treaty with the Armenians.

We sat in the private quarters of the governor’s palace with Lord Herneus and Peroz.

I brought Peroz along because it would have been bad manners to exclude him. After all he was a Parthian prince and he had brought five thousand horsemen with him. Besides I found his company agreeable enough, as I did Scarab’s who stood behind me as I relaxed in the spacious and airy white-walled room that was Herneus’ study. The governor looked the same as the last time we had met, dressed as he was in a simple beige linen shirt, brown leggings and sandals. His inexpensive clothes and bald head contrasted sharply with the long black hair of Atrax, Surena and Peroz in their expensive silk shirts, leggings and leather boots. But Herneus did not need fancy attire to impress anyone: his record of holding the east of the Kingdom of Hatra against all threats for nearly thirty years had established his formidable reputation long ago.

Slaves served us fruit, pastries, sweet meats and fruit juice as Peroz sat nervously in the company of kings whom he had never met and who had previously been the enemies of his father.

‘This is Prince Peroz,’ I told the others. ‘He has come all the way from Carmania to fight by our side.’

Atrax smiled at him. ‘We welcome you, lord prince, and your men.’

‘Welcome indeed,’ added Surena. ‘We will need all the troops we can muster next year when we are once again at war.’

‘Orodes has bought us time,’ I said, ‘but that is all. When Crassus arrives the Armenians will undoubtedly break the peace treaty and join with their Roman allies.’

‘Orodes believes that if we beat Crassus then the Armenians will not start a war with Parthia,’ said Atrax.

‘It would be better,’ interrupted Surena, ‘if we gave the Armenians a bloody nose now so that they will think twice before starting another war when their friends arrive.’

I looked at him. ‘On behalf of Orodes I must ask you not to launch any attacks against the Armenians, Surena. We must bide our time.’

‘Orodes is mistaken, lord,’ he replied, causing Atrax and Herneus to raise their eyebrows. ‘However, as he is now high king and I have no wish to undermine his authority I will do as you ask.’

‘I too would have preferred to settle affairs with the Armenians before Crassus arrives,’ I added, ‘but Orodes has decided otherwise and so we must abide by his decision.’

‘Who is Crassus?’ asked Peroz, blushing slightly at his intervention.

‘A very rich and powerful Roman,’ I answered, ‘who wishes to make himself even richer by conquering Parthia.’

‘He is a tyrant,’ spat Peroz disapprovingly.

‘Actually,’ I said, ‘he is a pleasant enough individual but suffers from the affliction that possesses many Romans.’

‘Affliction?’ asked Herneus.

I sipped at my freshly squeezed apple juice. ‘An unshakeable belief that it is Rome’s destiny to rule the world.’

‘Forgive me, lord,’ said Peroz, ‘but you have met this Crassus?’

‘Indeed, I was a guest in his house in Rome once, a long time ago.’

‘Perhaps he desires to be a guest in your house, Pacorus,’ offered Atrax mischievously.

‘He would be made welcome if he came in peace,’ I replied. ‘He is congenial enough.’

Peroz looked confused. ‘You would have him under your roof, majesty?’

‘Of course,’ I replied, ‘as long as he does not bring his army with him.’

‘Crassus is your enemy, lord,’ said Surena darkly.

‘Even enemies can be civil to each other,’ I replied.

I could tell that Surena was straining at the leash, eager to attack the Armenians in retaliation for their assault on Gordyene, though he had once again proved to be their superior when it came to strategy and tactics.

‘Artavasdes once more struck for Vanadzor, so I let him advance to nearly the gates of the city before launching a series of attacks against his strung-out army. After three weeks of being attacked night and day he withdrew.’ Surena shrugged. ‘Simple enough.’

‘You did well, Surena,’ I told him.

He smiled. ‘I had a good tutor.’

‘What do you know of this Apollonius that holds the towns in northwest Hatra?’ I asked Herneus.

He rubbed a hand over his bald crown. ‘Capable enough, though overly ambitious and I think he has too few troops to hold the towns under his control.’

With the Armenians in control of Nisibus and much of northern Hatra the towns in the west of my brother’s kingdom were exposed to attack from the Armenians to the north and the Romans just across the Euphrates.

‘Militarily it would make sense to evacuate them,’ suggested Surena.

‘My brother would never agree to such a thing,’ I said, ‘because to do so would quite rightly be interpreted by the Romans as sign of weakness. And both he and I know that the Romans respect only strength, if they respect anything, and despise weakness. For that reason alone those towns must remain Parthian.’

We left for Dura the next day as Atrax headed for Irbil and Surena rode back to Gordyene. After six days of hard riding we crossed over the pontoon bridges below the Citadel and entered my kingdom. Vagises took the Duran and Carmanian horse archers to the legionary camp while Peroz and I trotted through the Palmyrene Gate. I drew my sword and saluted the stone griffin as I passed under it and then headed up the main street towards the palace. It was good to be back home and my wife and children were waiting to greet me as I rode into the Citadel’s courtyard and jumped off Remus’ back. I ran up the stone steps and threw my arms round my daughters and then embraced Gallia. Domitus nodded at me and Rsan and Aaron bowed their heads as stable hands came to take Remus and Peroz’s horse to the stables.

Gallia looked at the young man standing at the foot of the steps.

‘Prince Peroz,’ she called to him, ‘come and meet my daughters.’

He bowed his head and ascended the steps where he was introduced to Claudia, Isabella and Eszter, who reached for his hand and pulled him towards the palace.

‘You had better go with her,’ I said to him. ‘She probably wants you to see a new toy.’

‘And there is someone who wants to see you,’ Gallia said to me.

‘Oh, who?’

‘A man from the east who arrived two days ago and who brings a great gift.’

I was intrigued. ‘What gift?’

‘I have no idea. He is on the palace terrace with Dobbai who sent for him.’

Domitus and the others trailed after Gallia and me as Peroz was being tormented by my two youngest daughters, who were tugging at his hands and waving their fingers at him as they pulled him towards the terrace. He smiled, teased them and listened intently as they told him about their horses and which of the palace servants were their favourites.

‘This guest turned up with a hundred warriors and a hundred camels,’ remarked Domitus. ‘We housed them in Orodes’ old quarters in the city. Apart from their commander they have not moved from there. Very strange.’

We walked through the porch and into the reception hall and then into the throne room, the squeals of my daughters resonating in the empty chamber. Gallia told them to keep their voices down as they led Peroz towards the door at the far end that led to our private wing giving access to the terrace.

‘Dobbai organised their quartering and instructed Rsan to furnish them with whatever they wanted,’ continued Domitus. ‘You can imagine what he thought of that.’

I looked behind and nodded at my stern-faced governor who was walking beside Aaron. He tilted his head curtly in reply.

We reached the terrace to find Dobbai ensconced in her chair next to a figure in a yellow turban. He rose when he saw us arrive, helping Dobbai out of her chair after he had done so. He stood before me as Dobbai clapped her hands and scowled at Eszter and Isabella who were still tormenting Peroz. They let go of the prince and became statues beside him, not daring to look into Dobbai’s eyes.

‘So you have returned, son of Hatra,’ she said, examining Peroz, ‘and you bring help with you. Former enemies have become allies. Good.’

She held out a bony hand to the individual who stood beside her, a man of medium height, thin, with very dark skin and small brown eyes.

‘This is Patanjali Simuka, a lord of the Satavahana Empire, a great power to the east of the River Indus.’

Patanjali bowed deeply, ‘Hail, King Pacorus, Lord High General of the Parthian Empire.’

He certainly looked like a lord, dressed as he was in a red silk shirt, white cotton leggings embroidered with gold and leather boots. Around his waist was a wide leather belt from which hung a curved sword, and in the front of his turban was a large red ruby that must have been worth a small province.

‘I am glad to make your acquaintance, Lord Simuka,’ I replied.

‘He brings a great treasure for you, son of Hatra,’ said Dobbai.

He was obviously a man of some wealth and importance but a hundred warriors hardly constituted a great gift. Still, if he was offering his services I would not turn him away.

‘You and your men are welcome to join us in our fight,’ I told Lord Simuka, who looked perplexedly at Dobbai.

‘He and his men are not the treasure,’ said Dobbai irritably. ‘Please show him, Lord Simuka.’

The dark-skinned lord from the east smiled and stepped away from her, then drew his sword.

‘Guards!’ screamed Domitus who drew his gladius and stood in front of me. Seconds later the six legionaries who had been in the throne room rushed on to the terrace, swords in their hands. An alarmed Lord Simuka slid his sword back into its scabbard and held up his hands.

‘Idiots!’ hissed Dobbai. ‘Put away your sword, Roman, and tell your men to return to their posts. Lord Simuka has travelled a great distance from his homeland to be here and his reward is to be threatened with death?’

I laid a hand on Domitus’ shoulder. ‘We appear to have a misunderstanding.’

Domitus stood like a rock in front of me. ‘It is death to draw a sword in the presence of the king, that is crystal clear.’

‘I merely wished to show the king my sword,’ protested Lord Simuka.

I ordered the guards to return to their posts and told Domitus to sheath his sword.

‘Please give me your sword, Lord Simuka,’ said Dobbai.

He did as he was asked and she handed me his weapon. It was a fine curved sword and had a most curious blade, having what appeared to be swirling patterns along its entire length.

‘A fine sword,’ I said.

‘It is more than that, majesty,’ he smiled. ‘With your permission I would like to arrange a demonstration to show you its qualities.’

I really did not see where this was leading but to accommodate the wishes of our guest and placate a clearly irate Dobbai, who was glowering at Domitus, I suggested we all retire to the throne room while female servants took away our two youngest daughters. I allowed Claudia to stay as she was ten years old now and understood what was expected of a young princess. Compared to her sisters she had a serious nature and smiled little, a consequence of spending too much time in Dobbai’s company no doubt.

Gallia and I sat down on our thrones as Dobbai stood next to her and Domitus beside me, a hand on the hilt of his gladius, while Lord Simuka stood near the dais and slashed the air with his sword. I gave the order to summon one of the officers of the company of cataphracts that was on garrison duty in the Citadel. Rsan and Aaron were clearly bored by it all, which resulted in my governor’s face wearing an even darker expression, while Peroz seemed fascinated.

‘You should let me fight him,’ growled Domitus.

‘He is not here to fight,’ I corrected him.

In any case though Domitus handled a gladius with aplomb it would be unfair to match him against the longer blade wielded by Lord Simuka. Minutes later an officer from my heavy cavalry appeared in his white shirt, his spatha dangling from his sword belt. He was a broad-shouldered man in his thirties who stood at least six inches taller than our visitor from the east.

‘This shouldn’t take long,’ muttered Domitus, grinning evilly.

I told the officer that he was to fight Lord Simuka but that it was a demonstration only and no blood was to be shed. They both bowed their heads and withdrew to the centre of the hall. All my horsemen practised swordsmanship on a daily basis, especially the cataphracts. The hours and hours spent training was evident as the officer directed a number of slashing strokes against Lord Simuka. As it was a demonstration only neither man attempted any thrusts to stab his opponent.

Every horseman in Dura’s army carried a spatha based on the one that Spartacus had given me in Italy. Weighing around twelve pounds, their double-sided blade was over two feet in length with a walnut hilt whose grip had an eight-sided cross section with finger grooves to give the holder a firm purchase. The even distribution of the sword’s weight made it easy to wield as was now apparent as the officer made a striking movement towards Lord Simuka’s shoulders. Our guest whipped up his sword to meet the blow, the two blades crashed against each other in a blur, and the spatha was cut clean in half.

The steel clattered onto the tiles as I stood and looked at it in disbelief, as did the officer who now held a broken sword. Lord Simuka took two steps back, bowed at his opponent and sheathed his sword. The officer sheepishly stooped and retrieved the top half of his sword from the floor and stood to face me.

‘Fetch another sword,’ I told him.

He bowed and left the chamber hurriedly to equip himself with a fresh sword from the Citadel’s armoury.

‘Do you think your eyes have deceived you, son of Hatra?’ asked a smug Dobbai.

I did not reply. Dura’s armouries were famous throughout the empire for producing high-quality weapons and armour. Vast amounts of gold had been lavished on them over the years to procure the best armourers who worked with the finest materials to produce armaments that were the envy of other kings. One broken sword proved nothing.

The crestfallen officer returned with another spatha and again Lord Simuka bowed to his opponent and drew his curved sword, and then the two of them once more engaged in swordplay. The first attacks and parries were half-hearted until Domitus called to them ‘to make a fist of it’, after which my man pressed his attacks with more vigour. He was stronger that his opponent but Lord Simuka was more agile and managed to evade most of his blows. The officer delivered a lightning-fast succession of strikes, slashing left and right as he forced Lord Simuka back towards the wall, before raising his spatha above his head and then slashing it down against his opponent. Lord Simuka’s blade slammed into the officer’s sword and again went straight through it, severing the blade a few inches above the hilt. Once again metal clattered on the stone tiles as we all looked on in stunned silence. How can this be?

Lord Simuka bowed to his shocked opponent, sheathed his sword and then calmly bent over and retrieved the broken blade.

Dobbai stepped from the dais and walked over to Lord Simuka and took the blade from him.

‘Many years ago, when King Sinatruces ruled the empire, he received a number of gifts from a ruler named Satakarni from beyond the Indus in gratitude for him stopping raiders crossing the river and laying waste his lands. Among these gifts was a sword such as Lord Simuka now carries, a weapon with a black blade covered with strange swirling patterns. This sword could cut through the blades of other swords with ease and was among the high king’s most treasured possessions.’

‘What happened to it?’ asked Gallia.

‘No one knows,’ replied Dobbai. ‘He lost it or gave it away in his dotage, no doubt, or perhaps swapped it for a young slave girl. But I remembered and sent a message to the court of the Satavahana Empire that Dura wished to purchase this wondrous material to fashion its own weapons. My gift to you, son of Hatra.’

‘It is as your adviser says,’ remarked Lord Simuka. ‘I have brought a thousand ingots of ukku with me.’

‘A thousand swords to equip all your cataphracts,’ added Dobbai.

‘Ukku?’ I asked.

‘The name of the steel from which the swords are made,’ answered Dobbai.

I pointed to one of the guards standing near the dais. ‘Go to the armouries and bring Arsam here.’

He saluted and scurried from the hall. I looked at Lord Simuka.

‘A most impressive demonstration. You have brought a thousand ingots of this metal, you say?’

Lord Simuka flashed a smile. ‘Yes, majesty.’

‘And what price do you ask?’

‘A thousand ingots for a thousand bars of gold, majesty.’

There were loud gasps from both Rsan and Aaron and even Domitus, who usually never quibbled about the price of weaponry, looked surprised.

‘Majesty,’ said Rsan, ‘that is an exorbitant price for a few swords, especially as your horsemen already have them.’

‘I would have to agree with Lord Rsan,’ added Aaron. ‘The army already places a heavy demand upon the treasury.’

‘What use is a full treasury if the Romans are battering down Dura’s walls?’ said Dobbai scornfully.

‘I will leave the decision to my chief armourer,’ I said at length, still finding it hard to believe that a brace of Dura’s swords had been cut in two so easily. He arrived fifteen minutes later dressed in a leather apron and looking flustered. He was also in a foul mood. He didn’t bother to bow as he stomped into the throne room and stood before me.

‘Arsam,’ I said, nodding at our guest, ‘this is Lord Simuka from east of the Indus, whose sword has just cut two of your spathas in half.’

Arsam’s eyes narrowed as he mulled over what I had told him. Then he smiled. ‘Impossible.’

I nodded at the officer whose swords had been destroyed. He walked forward and showed him the broken blades. Arsam frowned, snatched one of the fragments and then another, turning them over in his hands.

‘I am assuming that there is no fault in the blades,’ I said.

Arsam looked furious. ‘Impossible,’ he said again, glancing at Dobbai, ‘it must be some sort of devilment.’

‘The metal that made the weapons that cut through your swords,’ she snapped at him, ‘was forged by the gods, that much is certain, but it is a gift not a curse.’

‘Lord Simuka has brought a thousand ingots of the metal he calls ukku for you, Arsam,’ I said, ‘so Dura can benefit from this divine gift.’

Lord Simuka smiled at my grizzled, scarred chief armourer. For his part Arsam curled up a lip at him. ‘I will need to see these ingots myself, and forge a blade from one of them to see if it is of the required standard.’

‘I would not expect anything less,’ smiled Lord Simuka.

Partially placated, Arsam agreed that he himself would create the blade and so the next morning we all gathered in his workshop in the city’s armouries. Lord Simuka arrived in the company of an armourer he had brought with him, a wiry man with sinewy arms and thin legs dressed in baggy leggings and a leather apron. Arsam also wore a thick leather apron to protect him from red-hot splinters. In addition, he wore a pair of thick leather gloves on his hands and iron shields over his boots to protect his feet from being smashed if he dropped any metal he was working on.

Arsam’s most experience armourers crowded round the fire to witness the creation of a blade from the magical metal from the east. Though all the workshops had roof shutters that were nearly always open it was still unbearably hot and sweat was already pouring down my face. Most of the armourers and their young assistants worked in loincloths only beneath their leather aprons, though I thought it unbecoming of their king to wear such attire so I stood and sweated.

Lord Simuka’s man handed Arsam the ingot that was round and resembled a baked cake. He explained that once the ore had been extracted from the earth it was packed with charcoal, the bark of an evergreen shrub called cassia and the leaves of milkweed. It was then encased in clay and heated in a fire for up to seven days. The resulting ingot was possessed of the remarkable strength and flexibility that we had all witnessed in the throne room.

Arsam’s workers stood on benches and stools behind us to catch a glimpse of the process as the armourer from across the Indus instructed him in the proper procedure. Domitus and Vagises stood riveted as Arsam place the ingot in the red-hot fire with a pair of tongs and left it there until it was a dull red. Lord Simuka’s man then ordered that it be taken out of the coals and left to cool naturally, during which time Arsam hammered it on an anvil to stretch and flatten it to make a sword blade. After it had cooled it was again placed in the fire until it once more looked a dull red, following which Arsam took it out of the heat and worked it on the anvil once more, his expert hands soon creating a straight blade. This process was repeated a third and final time before the wiry armourer informed Arsam that the blade was now ready to be tempered.

This involved returning it to the fire and heating it to red-hot before withdrawing it to allow it to cool naturally. He informed us that the blade must be left for six hours before it could be hardened, so we all left the workshop to walk back to the palace. Even though the process was not finished the metal already showed the unusual swirling patterns that characterised Lord Simuka’s sword.

Rsan and Aaron did not attend the lesson on sword making and when I returned to the palace I found them both waiting for me in the throne room where Gallia was dealing with a complaint from the head of the city’s guild of prostitutes concerning soldiers of the army demanding free services in return for keeping order in Dura’s brothels.

The great number of trade caravans that passed through Dura on their way to Palmyra were staffed by thousands of young men who were guards, camel drivers and merchants, all with money in their pouches and lust in their loins. Every city along the Silk Road attracted whores, both male and female, to service the carnal needs of the men of the caravans, and Aaron had hit upon the idea of establishing licensed brothels within the city to service these needs. The amount of tax paid was related to the number of prostitutes employed in each brothel, and in return for their taxes the prostitutes were given protection from the city authorities. The number of brothels grew in proportion to the increase in Dura’s prosperity and soon the establishments had formed themselves into a guild and elected a woman to represent them.

Samhat was at least fifty years old now and her once beautiful face showed signs of years of hard usage at the hands of drunken, lecherous men. But her hair was still immaculate and she wore rich robes and gold jewellery on her fingers and in her hair. The throne room was filled with the aroma of her intoxicating perfume.

Gallia did not approve of prostitutes, mainly because Praxima had been forced by the Romans to be one but also because she thought it demeaned women and made them the slaves of men. Anything that even hinted of slavery was bound to raise my wife’s hackles. That said, Samhat was a strong and forceful woman who could hold her own in any argument and after their first few meetings their relationship had stabilised into one of mutual respect, if not admiration. Gallia liked Samhat’s honesty and plain speaking while the city’s head whore liked the fact that my wife was forthright and a warrior.

Now Samhat stood before Gallia, her voice echoing around the chamber.

‘All the city brothels pay their taxes on time, lady, I can show you their records if you so desire.’ She pointed at Aaron. ‘And the royal treasury benefits handsomely from my girls opening their legs.’

Rsan looked mortified and Aaron shifted uneasily on his feet.

‘And in return,’ continued Samhat, ‘we expect the city authorities to maintain order and protect my girls.’

Gallia looked at the squirming Rsan and Aaron and then at Samhat.

‘The soldiers who patrol the streets do not protect your girls?’ she asked.

‘Only if they lie on their backs and spread their legs in payment,’ replied an indignant Samhat. ‘They are therefore paying twice. It is outrageous, lady.’

I smiled to Gallia as we walked towards the door at the far end of the chamber.

‘Domitus,’ she called. ‘May we have a moment of your time?’

Domitus, his tunic soaked with sweat, stopped and smiled politely at Gallia.

‘Of course.’

I followed him as he stood near Samhat who regarded him coolly.

‘This is Samhat,’ said Gallia, ‘head of the city’s guild of prostitutes. It would appear some of your men have been abusing their position.’

Domitus looked at Samhat disapprovingly. ‘I find that hard to believe. My soldiers are the most disciplined in the world.’

I nodded at Samhat who was not in the least intimidated by our sudden appearance in the throne room.

‘Oh they are disciplined all right,’ she continued, ‘the way they extort my girls to lift their robes for them after they have thrown out the troublemakers from one of our establishments was obviously thoroughly pre-planned and expertly executed.’

Gallia smiled but Domitus was far from amused. Hot and irritable, the last thing he wanted was to be berated by an aged whore.

‘Report the incident to the camp prefect in the headquarters building in the Citadel. He will have the offenders flogged.’

‘Flogging is no good,’ insisted Samhat.

Domitus’ nostrils flared at her insolence. ‘What would you suggest, that I have them executed?’

‘They stuck their manhoods in my girls, a service that other men pay for, so they should also be charged,’ replied Samhat. ‘We all have to make a living.’

‘That seems reasonable,’ added Gallia.

Domitus smiled at Samhat through gritted teeth. ‘Very well, report to the prefect and tell him that those responsible are to reimburse you from their wages.’

A delighted Samhat bowed to Gallia, then to me, ignored the others and sauntered from the chamber, her expensive jewellery jangling as she did so.

‘It is her who should be flogged,’ mumbled Domitus.

‘Aaron and Rsan have been waiting for you, Pacorus,’ said Gallia.

‘It is about the purchase of these new swords, majesty,’ said Rsan.

‘A thousand gold bars is a very high price, majesty,’ added Aaron.

‘If they help to give the army victory then the price is worth paying,’ I replied. ‘Besides, nothing is decided as yet. The decision is Arsam’s to make.’

Aaron began to protest once more. ‘But, majesty…’

‘Enough!’ I shouted. ‘I have told you of my decision. Raise the matter again at the weekly council meeting if you must, but I will hear no more on the issue now.’

They both meekly bowed their heads and retreated from the hall. As they departed Dobbai entered from the door at the far end and made her way to my throne.

‘Marvellous,’ I said to myself.

She sat herself down next to Gallia. ‘The demonstration went well in the armoury, son of Hatra?’

‘Arsam has some more work to do before the sword is finished, but yes, so far it appears to be going well.’

‘It is a good job that our enemies are not armed with such weapons,’ remarked Domitus.

‘The metal is confined to only a few areas east of the Indus and is therefore rare and expensive, Roman,’ she replied.

‘As my governor and treasurer keep informing me,’ I added.

‘And as I told them, son of Hatra, what use is a treasury full of gold when the enemy are battering down the gates of your city. And as Orodes has decided not to fight the Armenians you have the time to equip your horsemen with the black swords before you fight them, for fight them you must.’

‘You disapprove of Orodes being high king?’ I asked.

‘I did not say that. I was eager for him to sit on Ctesiphon’s throne for I knew he would bring unity to the empire, which he is doing. He has others to think about butchering his enemies, chief among them being you, son of Hatra.’

‘Pacorus thinks Orodes has made a mistake making peace with the Armenians,’ said Gallia.

‘Events decided that peace would break out,’ insisted Dobbai, ‘not Orodes or the Armenians. The death of Tigranes was responsible for the cessation of hostilities, and the gods decided that would happen, not men.’

‘Were you responsible for his death?’ Domitus asked her, wiping his sweaty brow with a cloth.

She looked at him as though he was deranged. ‘How could I be responsible for his death? He was a great king who lived an immense distance from here and I am a frail old woman.’

But Domitus continued to press his point. ‘I heard that a wolf was heard howling the night he died.’

Dobbai spread her arms. ‘That is what wolves do, in addition to pissing over everything and scavenging. Next you will be telling me that I turned into a wolf with wings and flew to Tigranes’ palace.’

Domitus feigned indifference. ‘It is nothing to me.’

But like me he must have been thinking of that night when she had performed the ritual with the clay dogs that had disappeared by the morning. It was uncanny that just at the moment when the Romans had been poised to invade the empire and link up with a victorious Tigranes, with a prostrate Hatra at their mercy, they had marched south to Egypt and Tigranes had died suddenly.

In the armouries, meanwhile, the blade that Arsam had been working on was once more heated in the fire until it was red hot before being plunged into a vat of heated oil. Afterwards it was allowed to cool naturally to bring the tempering and hardening process to an end. The next day it was fitted with a walnut grip and Arsam himself brought it to the palace in the afternoon.

The throne room was packed when he strode across the stone tiles to present me with it. It had been encased in a red leather scabbard with brass fittings and Arsam looked very pleased with himself as he bowed before me and held out the sword. I rose from my throne, took it and then drew the sword from the scabbard. Like Lord Simuka’s weapon it had a black blade that had strange swirling patterns along its length.

I looked at the dozens of faces staring at me, including Kronos’ replacement, a serious native of Pontus named Chrestus who had travelled from his homeland with his former commander in the aftermath of his land’s occupation by the Romans.

All the company commanders of the cataphracts were present along with Vagises and his senior officers from the horse archers, while opposite them stood the cohort commanders from the Durans and Exiles. I smiled to myself — how tribal men were. Despite Dura’s army being composed of a myriad of different races once men joined a formation their immediate allegiance was to that unit and the men who were a part of it. They all owed loyalty to me but they died for their friends.

I stepped from the dais and nodded at Domitus who left his officers to face me. He raised his arms.

‘This should not take long,’ he shouted, prompting cheers and whistles from those around the walls. Gallia and the Amazons grouped around her laughed as Dobbai waved a hand dismissively at the racket and sat down on my throne, much to the consternation of Rsan and Aaron. Peroz glanced at the tall Scarab nervously but the latter was all reassuring smiles. I saw Arsam standing near the doors to the chamber, arms folded, in the company of Lord Simuka’s armourer. The latter, surrounded by a dozen of his brightly dressed warriors, stood nodding and smiled at me.

I drew my new sword from its sheath and threw the scabbard at Chrestus.

‘Remember,’ I said to Domitus who stood like a ravenous wolf gripping his gladius, ‘this is only to test my sword.’

He grinned evilly and then came at me with a series of blistering attacking strokes, hacking left and right in quick succession. I parried his blows as he forced me back towards the dais. The chamber was filled with whoops and screams as the spectators cheered us on. As I had a longer blade it should have been easy for me to keep him at bay, but he wielded his blade so deftly that I had difficulty and it took all my concentration to block it.

I jumped to the left and aimed two scything strokes at his shoulders that he met with his gladius before aiming a downward cut at my left leg. I blocked this and then raised my sword above my head and used it to deliver a vertical cut. In combat the intent would be to split an opponent’s skull but as Domitus was one of my dearest friends I aimed the blow to miss his head and left shoulder. Nevertheless, he instinctively raised his gladius above his head, parallel to the ground, to block the blow. The two blades struck each other and the top half of the gladius was sheared off and fell to the ground.

I stepped back as the tumult died instantly and a wall of faces stared in disbelief at what they had just witnessed. Domitus stopped, picked up his broken blade and looked at me.

‘That settles it, then.’

I examine the black-bladed spatha etched with its magical swirling patterns. ‘Yes, it is settled.’

The cataphract officers nodded to each other and smiled because they knew that they and their men would now be receiving these marvellous swords. I walked over to Lord Simuka.

‘You have your thousand gold bars.’

He bowed his head to me. ‘Majesty.’

After everyone had left I instructed Aaron to pay Lord Simuka immediately. He generously offered to stay at Dura for a few more weeks to ensure that there was no problem with the rest of the ingots, which in the proceeding days were transported from the storerooms in Orodes’ old mansion to the armouries. Arsam made the production of the new swords a priority, his task made easier by the fact that his armouries were already highly efficient centres of production. The small and costly army of smiths and their apprentices meant that the manufacturing process was both speedy and cost efficient, though if the cost of procuring the base metal was taken into account then Dura’s new swords would be the most expensive weapons in history!

Though Arsam himself had made the first sword, which had been fitted with a temporary hilt, it went back to the workshops to be fitted with a proper grip and was also sharpened. At Dura sword production was carried out in stages and in different workshops. First a blade was forge by two strikers, after which it was sent to a separate workshop for grinding. From there it went to a third workshop for hilting and then to a fourth where it was fitted with a scabbard. On average it took ten days to turn a round ingot into a sword complete with scabbard.

Even working day and night and paying for extra shifts the maximum that the armouries could produce was a hundred of the new swords a month, which meant ten months of work devoted to them alone. In addition, Arsam was also tasked with producing the new arrows as well as manufacturing replacement items — mail armour, scale armour, tubular steel armour for arms and legs, helmets, swords, daggers, bows and arrows — for the army. Aaron’s hair began to show flecks of grey as the weekly council meetings revealed the amount of gold that was being spent on the army.

A month later Lord Simuka and his men made ready to depart Dura with a thousand gold bars loaded on the backs of their camels. He had brought only a hundred men with him on his journey to the city but I gave him an escort of two thousand horse archers for his return trip. It became common knowledge that I had paid him a great sum for the precious metal he brought with him from east of the Indus and a paltry hundred men would be scant protection as Lord Simuka travelled back east. I was especially worried about his crossing of Susiana, Elymais and Persis, all of which were probably filled with roving bands of former soldiers of Narses now turned bandits. I therefore sent a courier to Nergal asking that he allocate more horsemen to Lord Simuka’s party when it reached the borders of Mesene, and another to Carmania to request that King Phriapatius meet with him when he reached his own frontier.

Soon afterwards we had a welcome visit from Orodes in the company of Axsen who had never visited Dura. The day was hot and sunny when he rode through the Palmyrene Gate in the company of his wife and received an ecstatic reception from the population, who lined the main street and threw flowers at the royal couple and their bodyguard as they passed. Many of the latter had been quartered in the city when Orodes had lived in Dura and they tipped the points of their lances towards the crowds so they could be garlanded.

Typically, Orodes and Axsen dismounted to get closer to the crowds, which the legionaries who lined the route had difficulty in holding back. Orodes had always been a popular resident of the city, famed for his generous and warm nature and the people had taken to him as one of their own. Now he was king of kings and they were doubly pleased. It took a full hour for the royal party to reach the Citadel and I was worried that that it might be overwhelmed by a wave of adulation and so despatched Domitus with two hundred legionaries to ensure the royal couple reached the palace in one piece.

Eventually they walked through the Citadel’s gates to polite applause from the city’s most important citizens who had been invited to attend the palace. Soldiers lined the walls and a hundred cataphracts on foot and in full dress stood to attention either side of the palace steps.

Gallia was dressed in a flowing white robe with gold earrings and a diamond-studded gold necklace. She held the hands of Eszter and Isabella as she stood beside me. Claudia was similarly attired, her hair gathered up on top of her head and held in place by a gold diadem. Domitus, Vagises and Chrestus were in their parade dress but I wore a simple white silk shirt and brown leggings.

Orodes and Axsen both wore purple silk shirts and white leggings, Orodes also sported his rich scale armour cuirass covered in shimmering silver scales, and his helmet inlaid with silver and gold. They walked over and embraced us and then Axsen was introduced to our daughters, kissing each one in turn and telling them how beautiful they looked. They remembered Orodes of course and made a great fuss of him. Isabella, now seven, asked if he had been on holiday and was he now coming to live back in Dura? It was a happy occasion and Axsen charmed all and sundry with her kind words and radiant nature.

That night a great feast was held in the banqueting hall to celebrate the arrival of our new guests. I apologised to Axsen that Orodes’ mansion was not available to them and hoped that their quarters in the palace were adequate, as I knew that Babylon’s royal residence was a hundred times grander than our smaller and somewhat spartan home. Slightly inebriated after drinking too much wine, she told me not to be silly and that she thought Dura a charming place.

Byrd and Malik had come from Palmyra bringing Rasha and several of Haytham’s lords with them. Axsen stared at their tattooed faces as they sat a few paces from the high table. In their black robes they cut a fearsome appearance and she thought it most unusual and slightly disturbing that the traditional enemies of Parthia should be sitting a few paces from the empire’s king of kings.

‘They are not our enemies,’ I said, trying to eat baked carp soaked in butter without the juices dripping on my shirt. ‘The Romans and Armenians are.’

‘We have peace with the Armenians at present, Pacorus,’ said Orodes.

‘Until the end of this year,’ I reminded him.

‘I am hopeful Artavasdes might be open to making the treaty permanent.’

I smiled at him but said nothing. Making the peace treaty permanent would de facto make the Armenian conquest of northern Hatra permanent, something that neither I nor Gafarn would ever agree to.

Orodes must have read my mind. ‘I do not intend to sign away parts of the empire, Pacorus, but for the moment we must let Artavasdes think that he has permanently expanded his empire. Once the Romans have been dealt with he will be more amenable to renegotiating the treaty.’

Orodes was no fool but he was taking an enormous risk in thinking that we could defeat Crassus with ease before intimidating the Armenians into meekly withdrawing from northern Hatra. I still favoured attacking and hopefully annihilating the Armenians first but Orodes had decided otherwise.

‘It was most fortuitous that Tigranes died,’ remarked Axsen casually.

‘Indeed,’ agreed Orodes, ‘a stroke of luck.’

‘Or divine assistance,’ I said.

They both looked at me questioningly but I merely smiled and raised my silver cup to them.

The next morning I took them both on an inspection of the legionary camp and showed Axsen the golden griffin of the Durans and the silver lion of the Exiles and the Staff of Victory. Orodes had seen them all many times but he explained to his wife their symbolism and significance and Domitus arranged a display of ten cohorts on the parade square in front of his command tent. Afterwards he joined us as we rode back to the Citadel and took refreshments on the palace terrace. In the distance the road to the city was filled with traffic and on the blue waters of the Euphrates below fishing boats were going about their business.

When we arrived we found Dobbai asleep in her chair, much to the disappointment of Axsen who had wanted to speak to her. She had failed to attend the feast the night before — Gallia explaining that she hardly ever graced such occasions — and now she added insult to injury by sleeping in the presence of the king of kings and his wife. Orodes merely smiled and shrugged — he had spent too long at Dura not to know that Dobbai did entirely as she pleased and came and went according to her own desires.

We spoke in hushed tones as we reclined on couches beneath the gazebo and servants served us cool fruit juices.

‘Phriapatius is most pleased that you made him your deputy,’ remarked Orodes.

‘I thought it best that one of the eastern kings should be trusted with the high offices of the empire,’ I replied, ‘lest they think we do not trust them.

He grinned. ‘And I thought I was the diplomat.’

‘There is another reason why I selected Phriapatius,’ I said. ‘In the event that we cannot halt the Romans between the Tigris and Euphrates, it would be prudent to have another army east of the Tigris ready to give battle.’

Axsen looked surprised. ‘You think we cannot defeat the Romans?’

‘I think, lady, that the Armenians will throw in their lot with Crassus when he arrives, and then we will be fighting perhaps up to two hundred thousand enemy troops. Against such numbers we may not initially prevail.

‘But while Dura, Hatra, Mesene and Gordyene slow the enemy Orodes can assume command of the army that Phriapatius has assembled and wait on the other side of the Tigris.’

Orodes looked mortified. ‘I will not abandon Dura nor any other kingdom, Pacorus. It would be dishonourable to do so.’

‘You would not be abandoning anything,’ I reassured him. ‘You would be merely trading space for time. If I can inflict serious damage on the Romans and Armenians then you can attack their weakened forces and hopefully destroy them.’

‘You forgot to add Babylon to those kingdoms who will stand in the first rank against the barbarian invaders,’ said Axsen defiantly.

Gallia reached over and touched her friend’s arm reassuringly and I smiled but the reality was that what was left of Babylon’s army would be next to useless on the battlefield. The kingdom had lost many soldiers during the two invasions it had suffered at the hands of Narses and Mithridates, to say nothing of the thousands of men it had lost at the Battle of Susa. But the walls of Babylon were still high and strong and the kingdom’s soldiers could still do the empire a great service in holding those walls against an invader until a relief force could be organised.

‘The Romans will not cross the Tigris,’ snarled Dobbai, ‘and neither will the Armenians for that matter.’

Axsen grinned at Gallia like an excited child.

‘You have seen this, lady?’ enquired Axsen.

Dobbai began to rise unsteadily from her chair as Orodes left his seat to assist her. She smiled at him.

‘The son of Hatra desires a noble, heroic death on the battlefield so his name shall be remembered for all eternity just like the slave general he adored. Is that not correct, son of Hatra?’

I frowned at her. ‘Not at all.’

She sniggered at me. ‘Oh I think so. But it shall not be.’

‘You mean I will be defeated?’ I asked.

Her wrinkled brow furrowed. ‘I did not say that. Do not put words into my mouth. I merely remarked that you will not die in battle; it is not your destiny. Your destiny is to save the empire but you will get no thanks for doing so.’

‘We value Pacorus highly,’ insisted Axsen.

Dobbai nodded at her. ‘Naturally. Someone who regularly kills your husband’s enemies is most useful. Is that not so, Orodes?’

‘Pacorus is first and foremost a friend,’ Orodes corrected her.

She weighed up Orodes, dressed as he was in his silver scale cuirass, rich shirt and leggings and expensive boots, his hair immaculately groomed as usual.

‘You are both forgiving and magnanimous, which are most desirous qualities in a king of kings. I chose well, I think. But then there wasn’t much of a choice. It was between you and the son of Hatra.’

‘You are too kind,’ I remarked dryly.

‘Let us not talk about the past,’ said Orodes diplomatically, ‘but rather plan the future.’

‘That is simple enough,’ remarked Dobbai. ‘Defeat the Romans and Armenians and recover those parts of Hatra that are occupied by Artavasdes.’

‘Is that all?’ I said.

Dobbai walked forward to stand over me. ‘With the help of the gods and using what wits you have it should be straightforward enough.’

Axsen was intrigued. ‘Help of the gods?’

Dobbai examined her. ‘The Romans unexpectedly turn around and decide to butcher the inhabitants of Egypt instead of Parthia and Tigranes dies suddenly. You think these things just happened by chance?’

Axsen’s eyes were wide with excitement. ‘You mean the gods made them happen?’

Dobbai said nothing but merely looked immensely smug.

‘You asked them to help and they granted your request?’ Axsen sat in awe of the frail old woman in her presence. She may have been the queen of one of the world’s oldest cities, a city that had high priests and priestesses who carried out elaborate rituals and prostrated themselves before their gods, but here was a woman who had called upon the gods and they had answered. Not only that but had performed miracles that had saved the whole empire.

‘You must tell me how you made the gods answer your appeal,’ ordered Axsen excitedly.

Dobbai shook her head. ‘It is forbidden.’

I thought of the evening of the ritual, the dank mist and the snarling hounds and shuddered. Dobbai had sent Gallia and the children out of the city to protect them. Including Dobbai there had been eight of us that night and now two — Kronos and Drenis — were dead. I knew that the gods did not grant their favours freely and, as Dobbai had warned, there was always a price to pay.

Dobbai suddenly turned and shuffled from the terrace, leaving a frustrated Axsen who looked indignantly at Orodes. But he merely smiled at his wife and said nothing. Dobbai stopped and looked back at us.

‘You need to kill her.’

Gallia looked at me as though I knew whom she was speaking of but I shrugged.

Orodes looked slightly alarmed. ‘Kill who?’

‘Your stepmother, of course.’

‘Queen Aruna?’ I said.

‘Of course, and do it quickly.’

Orodes was both shocked and appalled by the idea. ‘My stepmother lives in exile in Antioch. She must be at least sixty years old now. I will not sanction any attempt on the life of an old woman who is no threat to us.’

Dobbai nodded to herself. ‘Too forgiving.’ She continued to walk from the terrace, calling out as she did so.

‘Send the son of Hatra, then, or better still ask Haytham to send his assassins to slit her throat.’

‘I will not be sending anyone to kill my stepmother,’ said Orodes seriously, looking at me. ‘And would ask that you also refrain from attempting to murder her.’

‘I am delighted that Queen Aruna is far away in Antioch,’ I replied, ‘and hopes she dies there.’

‘Your sorceress could weave a spell to kill her,’ mused Axsen, much to the amusement of Gallia and the disapproval of Orodes.

‘There is always a price to pay for such endeavours,’ I found myself saying.

‘What price?’ asked Gallia.

I thought of Drenis and Kronos. ‘A high price, sometimes too high.’

The next morning, following my ride and yet another lesson in swordplay from Domitus, whose reflexes appeared to quicken as he got older, I rode back to the Citadel, unsaddled Remus and afterwards stood by the gates looking at the granite memorial to the Companions. One hundred and twenty men and women had travelled back with me from Italy in the aftermath of Spartacus’ death. That was sixteen years ago and in that time over half had died, some from natural causes but most in battle. Each one of their names was now carved on the stone before me, Drenis being the most recent one. I looked at the empty space that was yet to be filled. How long would it take until the memorial was filled with the names of all those who had fought with Spartacus, including my own and Gallia’s?

‘Pacorus?’

I turned to see Axsen dressed in leggings, purple silk shirt and red boots. Her face appeared flushed and her hair was in a long plait down her back.

‘I have been on morning exercises with the Amazons. Most exhilarating.’

She looked at the memorial. ‘What is this?’

‘A monument to those who sailed back with me from Italy after Spartacus had died.’

She read aloud the word that was twice the size of the letters that spelled the names below it.

‘Companions.’

‘That is what we were, what we are,’ I said, ‘individuals who were thrown together in the enemy’s heartland and who had to fight for their survival every day. A host of different races united by two things: a desire for freedom and devotion to one man.’

‘You mean Spartacus? I have heard Orodes talk of him, though he did not know him.’

I smiled. ‘I fear I bored Orodes to death talking about him. But yes, his name was Spartacus.’

‘What was it like, being a slave, I mean?’ she asked sheepishly.

‘Terrifying, humiliating and unbearable in equal measure, and I was a slave but for a short time. After I was liberated I met others who had been slaves for many years. After fighting beside them I swore that I would never own another slave in my life.’

‘We have slaves in Babylon,’ she said almost apologetically.

‘So does every kingdom in the empire, as do many mansions in this city. It is the way of things in the world.’

‘Did your friend, Spartacus, seek to change the world?’

I thought for a moment. ‘If he had been victorious and destroyed Rome then yes, he would have changed the world, or at least the Roman part of it, but I do not think he set out to do so. He was a very simple man, really, who wanted nothing more than to live in peace and freedom.’

‘Just as we do in Parthia.’

I thought of her great palace in Babylon, the golden throne she sat on, the opulence she lived in and the small army of slaves who pandered to her every wish. Her notion of freedom was perhaps very different from that of Spartacus’.

I smiled at her. ‘Yes, just as we do.’

‘Do you think we can beat the Romans?’ I detected a note of concern in her voice. Babylon, after all, was only a month’s march from Roman Syria.

I smiled at her. There was no point in alarming her. ‘Yes, we can beat the Romans.’

She looked past me to the gates. ‘He looks like an angry young man.’

I turned to see a well-built individual, with black shoulder-length. He was wearing a white shirt edged in blue, an expensive sword at his hip and a bow in a hide case attached to his saddle. His quiver was slung over his shoulder and a helmet was fixed to one of the front horns of his saddle. He rode a well-groomed brown horse. Behind him were half a dozen other riders on white horses wearing scale armour cuirasses of alternating steel and bronze plates, helmets on their heads — members of Hatra’s Royal Bodyguard.

The angry young man walked his horse into the courtyard and then noticed me standing by the memorial and half-smiled.

‘Uncle,’ he called, raising his hand to me.

I acknowledged his excuse for a salute and pointed at him. ‘The angry man is Prince Spartacus, son of the man we were just speaking of and heir to Hatra’s throne.’

And I could tell from his demeanour that something was wrong.