Parthian Dawn

Chapter 11

That night we camped under a clear, star-lit sky. A myriad of campfires extended as far as the eye could see as I rode to the pavilion of Phraates for a meeting of his war council. In the distance a red glow filled the horizon — the fires of Narses’ army. Palace guards were standing around the royal enclosure every ten paces, while inside a small army of servants attended to the high king’s needs. The retinue of the King of Kings for this campaign was large indeed, in stark contrast to the modest expedition made to Media earlier. I was just thankful that Phraates had left his wife behind. The pavilion itself was oblong in shape, its roof supported by four rows of tent poles, each one at least twenty feet high. Beside each one was posted an armed guard dressed in a blue tunic, baggy yellow trousers with a spear and wicker shield. The soldiers wore felt caps on their heads. I smiled when I saw them, for I was sure that Domitus would have been most unimpressed by their uniforms and armament. The pavilion itself was divided into a number of sections: first, the reception area where I left my sword and dagger; this led into the area where the king’s throne was positioned on a dais. This section was voluminous and accommodated chairs, couches and tables, and it was here that the kings were assembled. I saw my father and nodded. He nodded back, while Gotarzes and Orodes greeted me warmly. Also present were Vardan and Chosroes, the latter looking most agitated at the thought of the approaching slaughter.

Trumpets blasted, servants drew a large yellow curtain back and Phraates emerged from his private quarters located behind the throne area. He was dressed in a blue silk tunic and leggings with his crown upon his head. We bowed our heads as he made his way to the dais and sat on his throne. Enius and Orodes remained either side of him and we took our places in a line before him.

‘Well, gentlemen, here we are at last. Tomorrow we face Narses. I must stress again that it is not my intention to destroy Narses, as he is also a king of the empire. Lord Enius will now give you your battle positions.’

Enius walked over to a table, upon which had been placed carved wooden models of horsemen, each of which carried a flag sporting a different emblem. I saw the banners of Hatra, Dura, Mesene, Babylon, Elymais and Susiana. It was a quaint touch. They had been arranged in a line opposite other models depicting the enemy. We all gathered round the table as Enius pointed to horseman carrying the banner of the white horse’s head.

‘Here, King Varaz and the army of Hatra will secure our left flank. Next to Hatra’s army will deploy King Chosroes and his forces, with King Vardan and the might of Babylon next in line. The army of Susiana will reinforce the centre, led by King Phraates himself.’

Phraates nodded. In truth his was not much of an army as the bulk of it was in the enemy camp under Mithridates. Yet we had the legitimate King if Kings on our side and that was important.

Enius pointed to the right flank. ‘The right wing will comprise the forces of King Pacorus and King Gotarzes, and that concludes our deployment.’

After the council my father met me as Remus was brought into the pavilion.

‘You take care tomorrow, Pacorus.’

I embraced him. ‘You too, father.’

He looked at me with a quizzical expression on his face. ‘Do not provoke a fight tomorrow. Narses must be brought to account, but better to talk him into submission. Phraates does not want this war prolonged.’

‘Of course not, father. I guarantee that is my desire also.’

‘Until the morrow, then.’

‘Until tomorrow.’

It was late when I called together the officers of my army. They crowded into my tent and gathered around me in a semi-circle, Nergal, Domitus, Byrd, Malik and my lords. They all accepted the presence of Malik now without question; indeed, they chatted to him as if he was a friend. Domitus, scarred, muscled and eyes full of fire faced me dressed in his tunic and a pair of sandals, clutching his gladius in its scabbard with his right hand.

‘I will make this brief. Tomorrow we fight Narses on this ground. Byrd tells me that he outnumbers us two to one.’

‘At least,’ growled Byrd.

‘It doesn’t matter,’ I continued. ‘We will deploy on the army’s right flank in the morning, horsemen on the extreme end of the line. Nergal, your horse archers will distract those opposite you while I take the cataphracts around their flank.’

‘What about my legion?’ asked Domitus.

I smiled at him. ‘You, my friend, will deploy your legion in two lines and attack the enemy, straight at their centre.’

‘Who will be on my left flank?’ Domitus’ eyes narrowed.

‘The Babylonians,’ I replied.

‘And they will attack when we do?’

I laughed. ‘Domitus, believe me they will have no choice but to follow you.’ I looked at their faces in the half-light of the oil lamps that flickered on their stands. ‘Remember, we must finish this tomorrow. My father’s cavalry is on the left flank of the army and they will easily defeat what is against them. If we triumph on the flanks it does not matter what happens in the centre.’

They murmured their agreement, some slapping their comrades on the back.

‘Shamash be with you all. Now get some sleep.’

Dawn came all too soon and with it the sounds of an army preparing for battle. Squires rushed around with swords and armour for their masters, ill-tempered mules and camels spat and growled as their drivers tried in vain to get them to obey their commands, and thousands of soldiers checked their weapons and equipment for what could be their last day in this life. I slept perhaps for two hours before I woke when it was still dark. I held Gallia’s lock of hair in my hand and caressed it, praying that I would see her beautiful face again. If not, I hoped for a good death so that she would think of me with pride as I waited for her in heaven. After she had left the army an armourer had fixed her lock of hair onto a chain I kept around my neck. Now I tucked this into the silk vest next to my skin. Over the vest I wore a white shirt and loose, brown leggings, with red leather boots on my feet. My suit of scale armour hung on a stand beside my cot; I would not put it on until I was ready to ride into the battle line.

Domitus shared breakfast with me, a spartan meal of biscuit, porridge, fruit and water. He wore his centurion’s mail shirt adorned with discs and his helmet with its white transverse crest. As usual he had brought his vine cane.

I pointed at the cane now lying next to us on the table. ‘Going to beat the enemy with that, Domitus?’

‘If they are as ragged as the lot that follows Chosroes, I might do just that.’

Outside the tent I could hear the curses and complaints of soldiers being marshalled into their ranks by centurions. Soldiers really were the same the world over.

‘Remember, deploy your men in two lines today to extend their frontage,’ I said. ‘When I give the signal, I want you to charge straight at the enemy.’

‘You are going to start the battle?’

‘Yes, straight at them. The time for talking is over. I will be attacking on the right flank while you are assaulting their centre.’ He nodded.

‘And Domitus?’

‘Yes?’

‘Stay alive.’

He stuffed another biscuit into his mouth. ‘You too, Pacorus.’

Mercifully, the day was overcast as I rode at the head of my horsemen out of camp an hour later. Domitus and his legion had left earlier and were already moving into their battle positions, five cohorts in the first line and five in the second. Each cohort was made up of six centuries, each century comprised of eighty men drawn up in eight ranks of ten men. I never understood this designation because the Latin word centum denoted one hundred, whereas the century actually numbered eighty men or thereabouts. A cohort’s battle formation comprised three centuries in the first line with the other three directly behind.

As our army was forming into line the contingents of Narses were doing likewise. Great numbers of horsemen, both archers and spearmen, were deploying in front of where my cataphracts were lined up behind me. The warriors in front were dressed in leather armour and hide caps. Those carrying spears clasped hide-covered shields to their bodies, while the horse archers wore no armour as far as I could discern. I also spied groups of cataphracts among their ranks dressed similarly to our own. In the centre, between the two wings of enemy horsemen, was the foot. Narses must have emptied the Zagros Mountains of all the hill men who lived there, for such a seething press of men I had never before seen. They resembled a vast black lake that had suddenly been thrust upon the desert floor; hordes of axe men, spearmen, archers, slingers and others carrying clubs and knives. Those who carried shields were banging them with their spear shafts; others were screaming curses at our men opposite, or whooping and cheering at the tops of their voices. Directly opposite my horsemen, kettledrummers were beating their instruments with gusto. The enemy horsemen spread far beyond my flank, perhaps for half a mile or more.

Gotarzes rode up with his cataphracts with Orodes beside him.

‘There’s thousands of the bastards, Pacorus,’ said Gotarzes, who reined in his horse beside Remus as his men formed up on the right of my own.

‘Indeed, the combined might of Narses, Phriapatus of Carmania, Vologases of Drangiana, Cinnamus of Anauon, Monaeses of Yueh-Chih and Mithridates himself.’

‘Hail Pacorus,’ Orodes bowed his head to me. He fell in next to Gotarzes.

‘Good to see you my friend,’ I said. ‘Today we’ll get your kingdom back.’

‘My kingdom?’

‘Susiana,’ I replied, ‘you don’t think that your father will want your brother sitting in Susa after he has rebelled against him, do you?’

‘But my brother is king,’ said Orodes.

‘Not if he’s dead he isn’t,’ I said quietly.

Gotarzes heard me and smiled, though Orodes was out of earshot. ‘I did not hear, lord.’

‘It does not matter, the main thing is that you are here.’

A blast of horns announced the arrival of Enius and his five hundred riders who swept around the back of my own cataphracts and formed into line to the right of Gotarzes’ armoured riders. Around two hundred paces behind us, sitting on the grass and busily chatting among themselves and consciously ignoring the enemy, were Dura’s lords and their two thousand horse archers. Enius trotted up and saluted to Gotarzes and me. His arrival was the signal for Nergal to join us, who rode up and faced us with his back to the enemy. The cacophony of noise coming from the latter showed no signs of abating and I had to shout to make myself heard.

‘Nergal, when I give the signal gather your horsemen and assault the enemy opposite. Pepper them with arrows but don’t get too close. If they advance, you retreat, but you must keep on annoying them to fix their attention on you.’

Nergal turned in his saddle and looked at the masses of enemy horsemen facing him. ‘They will undoubtedly attack us, lord.’

‘I know, but if they do, like I said, withdraw but keep on harassing them. Now go.’

He galloped back to his men, who by this time were in their saddles and mustering around their lords. They didn’t have the discipline of my cataphracts or legionaries, but it did not matter. As long as they stayed in the field, shooting at the enemy and did not get drawn into a melee, then they would prove their worth.

The wall of noise coming from the enemy’s ranks showed no sign of lessening as I rode forward to admire the view, for it was not often that the kings of the empire arrayed their forces in one spot. Next to the legion I spied the purple-clad foot and horse of Babylon, and beyond them the ill-equipped hordes of Chosroes, and in the distance, just visible on our left flank, magnificent in their white tunics and scale armour, the horsemen of Hatra. I saw Phraates sitting on his horse immediately behind the Babylonians alongside Vardan, both kings flanked by mounted spearman and a phalanx of huge axe men standing directly in front of them. Almost exactly opposite Phraates, across the empty space of ground between the two armies, was Narses himself, the handsome, ruthless rebel leader. I could not see his face from this distance but I could see that he was mounted on a large black horse. He wore an armoured cuirass that shimmered in the light, for now the sun’s rays were lancing through the breaks in the clouds. Narses wore a steel helmet with a red crest and was surrounded by all the other kings in his army, judging by the standards that were being held behind his entourage. And on his flanks and behind him there must have been at least five hundred cataphracts. Narses and his horsemen looked magnificent and intimidating in the centre of the enemy’s front rank, but they were in entirely the wrong place. For which I thanked Shamash.

Then the noise coming from the opposition’s ranks began to diminish, until after perhaps five minutes it had completely died away. An ominous silence then descended over both armies as Narses and a group of riders slowly walked their horses forward beyond the front ranks. Immediately behind him his great banner fluttered in the wind — a great yellow flag sporting the black head of Simurgel, the bird-god of Persepolis. So, perhaps he was going to talk after all. I smiled to myself. The time for talking was long past; it was time to fight. I kicked Remus forward to take me about fifty paces beyond our line then halted him. I saw Domitus standing a few paces in front of his legion and lowered my kontus towards the enemy. I kept it there until he raised his hand in recognition of my signal, then I rode back to my horsemen.

Seconds later there was a blast of trumpets and then the whole legion began moving forward. Screams and shouts erupted from Narses’ army, while he himself hurried back to the safety of his densely packed soldiers. And then what I had hoped for happened. Their blood up and expecting an easy victory, the enemy foot opposite Domitus and his legion charged. It was not a disciplined advance but a feral rush of maddened men who wanted to wash their weapons in the enemy’s blood. And so they ran as fast as they could in a disorganised mob to close the gap between the two armies as ten of my cohorts marched briskly forward.

In such an encounter discipline, not weight of numbers, holds the key to victory. The legionaries in the front ranks of the first line centuries carried no javelins but advanced with their swords drawn, the fearsome gladius held ready to stab upwards into thighs and bellies. The men in the rear ranks behind them carried their javelins at the ready. Then the legion’s trumpets blasted once more and the men charged, maintaining their order as they did so. And when the two sides crashed into each other the rear ranks in each century hurled their javelins over the heads of their comrades in front. The front ranks of the legion buckled under the ferocious onslaught of Narses’ foot soldiers, but they held. And then the killing began. Legionaries in the front ranks smashed their shields into the enemy, their shoulders behind their shields as men collided at a run. Javelins flew overhead and felled hundreds of the enemy before they even got close to the legionaries, and then the enemy mass thickened as more and more men raced forward to get to grips with Domitus’ soldiers, but this worked against them because all it did was push their front ranks onto the swords of the legionaries, who kept stabbing upwards repeatedly. Enemy soldiers, their thighs and bellies oozing blood, fell to the ground and were stepped on by a man behind, whose belly was also soon gushing blood as a gladius found its mark. And so the slaughter went on, but it was entirely one-side as the soldiers of Narses were turned into offal. The mass charge had also entirely negated the influence of the enemy slingers and archers, who were reduced to the role of useless bystanders.

Thus far the battle had unfolded exactly as I wanted. But the day was still young and much was left to do.

‘Follow me,’ I shouted to my horsemen behind, then wheeled Remus to the right as he broke into a trot.

Much as I would have liked to watch Domitus and his men cut their way through the enemy, I too had work to do. The cataphracts followed me as I cantered away from our centre, Nergal and his horse archers advancing forward to fill the large gap we had left and to begin shooting arrows at the enemy horsemen opposite. The ground was hard and parched, and soon great clouds of dust were being created by the thousands of feet and iron-shod hooves that were trampling the earth. We rode on, keeping parallel to the enemy’s left wing, whose members were now preoccupied with returning the fire of Nergal’s men. I glanced left and through the haze tried to see any enemy horsemen. I saw none. I continued riding forward for another minute or so then turned Remus left.

‘Wheel, wheel,’ I shouted as Remus shifted speed and tried to move into a gallop. I restrained him; he would need all his reserves of strength this day. There was no point in exhausting him. I glanced behind; my men were still following me. On we rode, the sounds of battle now clearly audible on our left. I slowed Remus down into a trot, then a walk and then halted him altogether. Those behind me did likewise. Enius, Orodes and Gotarzes fell in beside me.

‘We must be behind their battle line now. We will face left and form a line here, on me,’ I said. They both nodded and Enius and Gotarzes rode back to their men.

It took some time to form nine hundred cataphracts into an attack formation made up of one-hundred man companies drawn up into wedge formations. Each wedge was made up of fifty men in two ranks that were both widely spaced. I rode up and down the line and told the commander of each wedge not to employ horns for signalling. We would make our appearance unannounced.

My own cataphracts were in the centre of the line and I took up position at the tip of one of the wedges, Orodes on my left and slightly behind me.

‘Keep safe, Orodes.’

‘You too, Pacorus.’

I raised my kontus, pointed it forward and then nudged Remus to move. He snorted and began walking, while behind me a hundred others did likewise. The clash of steel and cries of men were getting louder in front of us as we broke into a trot and then a canter. I glanced left and right and saw every kontus levelled, ready to strike. I gripped my shaft with both hands tightly on my right side and leaned forward. The sounds of battle grew louder and ahead I could make out figures on horseback moving forward — lightly armed horse archers with bows in their hands and quivers at their hips. We thundered forward, broke into a gallop and screamed our war cries. Directly ahead of me, sitting on a stationary horse, his mouth open in surprise, transfixed by terror, was a bareheaded man wearing a light brown shirt and holding a bow. He did not move as the point of my lance pierced his side and the shaft plunged into his torso. As I released the grip on my kontus he still wore a look of surprise as I raced past him, drew my sword and slashed the rider behind him across the chest, knocking him from his saddle.

We hit the rearmost ranks of the opposition’s left flank with the force of a lightning bolt. At first the enemy was surprised, and after several hundred of them had been skewered, slashed, had their skulls caved in by maces, and been run through, they panicked. These men were lightly armed horsemen, mostly archers but some spearmen also, but they had no chance against heavily armoured cavalry. Some attempted to rally and attack us but their blades made no impression on our scale armour and were easily brushed aside. Most turned their horses around and attempted to flee, not to the rear at first, but towards the centre of their own army. They thus careered into other horsemen attempting to advance in the opposite direction to meet us. The result was chaos, and on the edges of the maelstrom, like wolves circling sheep, my cataphracts were picking off their victims with ease. We retained our formations and kept tight to the enemy, hacking and slashing with our blades and maces. We discovered that most of the enemy horsemen did not have swords only long knives, and it was pathetic to see them try to stab us with them, only to be run through or disembowelled because their blades did not have the reach to harm us. These men also wore no helmets and so many of those under the command of Enius put away their swords and used their maces instead, bringing the weapons down on felt caps and splitting skulls in an orgy of slaughter. We pressed on.

I do not know how long we were in the melee, perhaps an hour, probably less, but suddenly, when my sword blade and armour were smeared with blood, the enemy in front of us evaporated. The entire left wing of the Narses’ army had disappeared. Many lay dead but most had fled the battle on their horses. It did not matter. Horns blasted around me and our tired ranks reformed. I suddenly felt exhausted but knew that victory was near. Ahead I saw cataphracts clustered around Narses and the other kings, who were still observing the battle to their front. I peered left but all I could see through the dust was a large mass of foot soldiers with their backs to me.

I turned in the saddle. ‘Kill Narses, kill Narses.’

Our horses were sweating and grunting and the men were tired, but they fell into their wedge formations once more. I saw Orodes. His helmet was dented and his armour torn, but he grinned at me to indicate that he was fine. I saw Gotarzes some distance away but of Enius there was no sign. Narses and his heavy cavalry were fresh and they still carried their lances. We had to quickly close the distance between them us and to stand any chance of victory. I raised my sword and dug my knees into Remus’ flanks. Horns blasted. He reared up onto his hind legs and hurtled forward, the other riders following.

Once more we hurled ourselves against the enemy, only this time they did not break. Narses had noticed us and was desperately trying to deploy his cataphracts to face us. We were upon his men before they could charge us, but they merely threw down their lances, armed themselves with their close-quarter weapons and met us head-on. And so began a grim battle of attrition, sword clashing against sword and mace against mace. I was suddenly beside a great brute whose face was contorted in hate, and who brought his sword down in an attempt to split my helmet. I parried the blow with my sword and then swung the spatha in a scything movement towards his head. I got lucky — the point sliced his neck. He screamed, clutched at the wound and then fell from his saddle. I suddenly felt an intense pain in my right cheek, as if a red-hot iron had been placed on my flesh. I turned and saw a horseman on my right side who had just hit me with his mace, the blow striking my helmet’s right cheekguard. He drew his weapon back to deliver another blow but at that moment Orodes severed his hand with his sword. The man squealed like a stuck pig and rode away. I nodded my thanks.

‘Are you hurt, Pacorus?’ he shouted.

My face burned with pain. ‘No,’ I lied, ‘I’m fine.’

Around us hundreds of men were fighting for their lives. I saw Narses on his black steed perhaps only fifty paces from me, and beside him the serpent-like Mithridates. I clenched my hand tightly around my sword’s handle.

‘Orodes, with me,’ I shouted, and then urged Remus forward.

A group of my Duran cataphracts closed around me as I charged forward once more. I felt nothing but intense loathing for the two rebel leaders as I closed the gap between us, screaming Narses’ name as I did so.

Whatever Narses was he did not want for courage. He directed his horse straight towards me and attempted to lop off my head with a deft swing of his sword. I ducked the blow and tried to strike him with a backswing, but he was too quick for me and blocked the strike with his blade. He wheeled his horse around as my cataphracts fought his, and then came at me again with a series of attacks directed at my head and neck, for those were the only places where his sword could cut flesh. I was tiring now and found it difficult to defend his powerful strikes, but salvation came from an unlikely source. I had caught sight of Mithridates, wild-eyed and clearly terrified, before I got to grips with Narses, but now I saw him again, this time turning tail and running away. His flight spread panic among the other kings of Narses’ entourage and soon they were doing likewise, taking their bodyguards with them. Narses also saw this undignified retreat. He moved his horse away from Remus and pointed his sword at me.

‘Our business is not finished, boy.’ Then he wheeled his mount away and galloped after his fleeing allies.

The fight now went out of the enemy. Those who could made good their escape, others threw down their weapons and pleaded for mercy. A blast of horns to my left signalled the arrival of Nergal and his men. I ordered him to take them and pursue Narses and his entourage, though I doubted that they would succeed judging by the sweat-lathered state of their horses and riders slumped in their saddles. I gave the orders for the cataphracts to reform into line as ahead I spotted the locked shields of the legion coming into view. They were marching at a steady pace, trampling the dead and dying among the enemy. There was no resistance now as the enemy foot, what was left of them, had seen their lords desert them and had either ran for their lives or else dropped to their knees in front of the legionaries and begged for mercy. They were shown none. Those who surrendered and threw down their weapons were killed as soon as the first legionaries reached them. Then I saw Domitus and felt a surge of joy. He was standing next to one of leading centuries, pointing with his gladius for the men to maintain their order. An enemy soldier, a spearman, seeing Domitus cast aside his weapon and fell to his knees, his hands clasped in front of him like a man in prayer, imploring Domitus to save his life. The latter stepped forward and plunged his blade into the man’s chest, then walked on. Such is war.

Then I saw the ranks of the Babylonian foot come into view, ragged compared to the legion. But at least they still existed. The side of my face still burned and I could feel blood trickling down my neck. I sheathed my sword and removed my helmet. The cheekguard that had been hit by the mace was dented and its hinge smashed. Around me were men sitting on their horses in a state of exhaustion, the scales on their armour battered and missing, their mounts similarly spent. Orodes appeared at my side and surveyed the view ahead. Dead men and slain horses lay scattered all around. Behind us was a similar trail of carnage where we had cut through the enemy’s flank, the earth strewn with slain horse archers. The currency of war is blood and this day the army of Narses had paid a high price.

‘You have won a great victory, Pacorus.’

‘We have won a great victory, my friend.’

I told him to muster the cataphracts and then I rode over to where Domitus lined up with his men. They had halted now, the legionaries leaning on their grounded shields, grinning to each other — glad to be alive. They cheered as I approached and I raised my hand in recognition of their applause. I halted Remus in front of Domitus and he raised his arm stiffly in a salute. Always the Roman.

He now had his beloved cane in his hand, pointing it at me. ‘Nasty wound. You should get it seen to. You broke them, then?’

There was not a scratch on him as far as I could see. ‘Yes, we broke them. We hit them hard in their rear ranks and after that they never recovered. How many did you lose.’

He smiled. ‘Hardly any as far as I can tell. Once we got tight and cosy with them they couldn’t do much apart from be our pincushions. Easy, really.’

‘Train hard, fight easy,’ I said. ‘Narses escaped.’

He spat on the ground. ‘That is shame. You will have to fight him again, though I reckon there’s not much of his army left.’

A rider thundered up and saluted. He wore the colours of Phraates.

‘Hail, highness. King Phraates requests your presence in the company of the other kings.’

I raised my hand in acknowledgement and gladly took the water flask that Domitus offered.

Domitus saw legionaries drinking from their flasks. ‘Don’t gulp it down! Take sips. You don’t know when you will be having your next drink. Save some.’

I put my helmet back on. ‘I must pay my respects to the king. Get the wounded seen to and collect anything of use and put it in the carts. And collect our dead. We shall commit them to the fires tonight.’

Orodes and Gotarzes joined me as we walked our horses across the battlefield.

‘Where is Enius?’ I asked.

‘Dead,’ said Gotarzes, ‘spear straight through his eye.’

‘He was a good man,’ added Orodes.

‘He certainly was. How many more did we lose?’ I asked.

Gotarzes shrugged. ‘Forty or fifty.’

As far as I could tell Phraates had not moved from the spot he occupied at the start of the battle, and I noticed that Chosroes had now joined him. No doubt he had taken no part in the fighting either, and I assumed that neither had his men. I suddenly grew fearful for the safety of my father, as the army of Chosroes had been deployed on my father’s right flank. My fears disappeared when I saw him, white cloak billowing behind him as he too rode up to pay homage to Phraates. I saw no marks on him as he caught up with me a couple of hundred paces from the high king. He rode up beside me and saw my blood-smeared face.

‘Are you badly hurt?’

‘No, father, I will live, and unfortunately so will Narses and Mithridates.’

He looked ahead. ‘Phraates will forgive you that, I think. I am less inclined to do so.’

‘Oh?’

‘There was no need to fight this day. Narses was ready to yield, or at least discuss matters, but you were determined, weren’t you. Could not let it rest. Well, you have your victory.’

‘Our victory, surely?’

He said no more and in truth his words did not diminish the sensation of euphoria that I felt, which was increased further when we reached Phraates.

He clapped his hands when we reached him, provoking his bodyguard and the ranks of axe men to begin cheering. Phraates, previously inclined to negotiation, was now basking in the glow of triumph.

‘Hail to you, Pacorus, the bringer of victory. First you defeat Porus and now you are instrumental in dispersing Narses. A truly great day.’

I bowed my head. ‘The victory is yours, high king.’

This seemed to delight him even more, for he again clapped his hands frantically.

‘I hereby make you lord high general of Parthia. Let all those here bear witness to my words, for Pacorus of Dura has today become the sword of Parthia.’

More cheering and applause erupted and the pain in my face seemed to magically disappear. I raised my arms aloft as the axe men started chanting my name. Out of the corner of my eye, though, I noticed that my father was frowning, an expression noted by Phraates, who had the commotion stilled instantly.

‘King Varaz, you disapprove of your son’s new appointment?’

He bowed his head. ‘No, majesty, but there is still much work to be done.’

Phraates waved his hand at my father. ‘Nonsense, you are far too serious, just like your father before you. Let us rejoice that God has granted us victory and that He has sent your son to be our deliverer.’

And so it was that I became lord high general of the Parthian Empire. Afterwards, when Alcaeus was stitching my wound as I sat on a stool in camp outside my tent, Domitus brought me the casualty figures.

‘Fifteen dead, sixty wounded, none seriously.’

‘It is a credit to you, Domitus. You have turned the legion into a fearsome machine.’

He seemed unmoved by my flattery. ‘They were trained to do a job and they did it. Straightforward, really.’

‘Have you noticed that Domitus doesn’t have a scratch on him,’ remarked Alcaeus. ‘You should take some lessons from him.’

He finished stitching and tied off his handiwork. ‘It will heal, but you’ll have a scar. Nothing I can do about that.’

‘Ha!’ said Domitus, ‘Gallia won’t like that.’

‘Indeed,’ said Alcaeus. ‘Perhaps you should be the kind of king who sits in his palace and sends others to fight his wars.’

I stood up. ‘The day that happens, I’ll order Domitus to run me through with a sword, for such a king is dead already.’

Alcaeus shook his head. ‘A poet as well as a warrior.’

Nergal rode up and dismounted, taking off his helmet as he handed a squire his horse. He looked dirty and tired, his sweat-drenched hair matted to his head. I pointed to a stool and he sat on it. Domitus poured him a cup of water that he drank greedily.

‘Lord Enius’ body has been conveyed back to Ctesiphon for cremation on the orders of Phraates. Orodes is escorting the body.’

‘What are our losses?’ I asked.

‘Five of your own cataphracts are dead, forty more belonging to Enius and twenty-five of those who fought under Gotarzes’ banner were also slain. Of my horse archers, a hundred are dead and a similar number wounded.’

Alcaeus put his instruments back in his leather bag and slung it over his shoulder. ‘That’s me working through the night, then.’

‘There are other physicians,’ I said. ‘You are, after all, in charge of the medical corps. I would like you to attend the victory feast that is being held at Ctesiphon tomorrow evening.’

He screwed up his face. ‘I can’t think of anything worse.’ Then he was gone.

As the army made its way back to Ctesiphon my father sent out parties of horsemen after Narses. He was convinced that the King of Persis would try to build another army, though I was sceptical. Narses had fled south down the east bank of the Tigris back towards Persepolis, while the majority of my father’s horse archers went east with Gotarzes and his followers to reclaim his capital, the city of Elymais.

I rode with my father and Vistaspa on our way back to Phraates’ palace. Hatra’s army had suffered hardly any casualties during the battle.

‘When you took it upon yourself to commence hostilities,’ said my father, ‘we waited to see what our opponents opposite us would do.’

‘And what did they do?’ I asked.

‘They waited too,’ said Vistaspa, ‘until they realised that their army’s centre and other wing had collapsed, whereupon they decided to run for their lives.’

‘You see, father, you should have given me your cataphracts after all.’

‘They are mine to command, not yours to throw away.’

‘I command all Parthia’s armies now, father.’

He remained impassive to my boast, merely remarking. ‘Do not get too above yourself, Pacorus.’

In truth it was difficult not to, for at the feast I was treated like a conquering hero. Slave girls, beautiful, young and half-naked, dazzled me with their smiles and enticed me with their oiled bodies. Phraates had bards compose poems about me and harpists sang songs of my victory. Phraates was happier than anyone, I think, and acted as if a great burden had been banished from his life, which in truth it had. He was also delighted that his son still lived, despite my best efforts to send him to the underworld. Even Chosroes allowed a smile to spread across his miserable, narrow face. Nergal and Domitus sat at one of the tables in the banqueting hall with my father, Vistaspa and Hatra’s captains, while Dura’s lords sat on their own table and were soon very drunk and very loud. The queen and her ladies frowned at them, but they had earned the right to be here for they had followed Nergal unquestioningly. I sat on the king’s left-hand side, with the queen on his right and Orodes on her other side.

I may have been a king but I was a poor one compared to the rulers who sat at Ctesiphon. Here, guests ate food from intricately carved gold bowls and drank from silver cups that carried gold figures inlaid on their outsides, each one wearing a crown and Parthian dress and carrying a bow and quiver. Everyone in the hall was drinking from such vessels, an indication of the wealth at Ctesiphon. But then every kingdom in the empire paid an annual tribute to the King of Kings based on how many horse archers it could field. And Sinatruces had hoarded his annual tributes like the old miser he was. I wondered how long it would take for Queen Aruna to spend it.

An army of servants carried food on silver platters from the kitchens, where a similar number of cooks and kitchen slaves prepared the dishes. They brought pistachios, spinach, saffron, sweet and sour sauces, skewers of cooked pork, mutton, camel, goat, chicken and pigeon. For those who liked fish there was cooked sturgeon, dogfish, salmon, trout, carp and pike. Then there were almond pastries, pomegranate, cucumber, broad bean and pea, basil, coriander and sesame. The kitchens had also prepared a myriad of rice dishes, some containing almonds, pistachios, glazed carrots, orange peels and raisins; others laced with vegetables and fearsome spices. Even more dishes included stews, dumplings, sweet meats and stuffed vegetables doused in different sauces.

The queen, beautiful and icy as ever, was at least polite to me, even grudgingly grateful for saving her husband’s throne. There was no talk of Mithridates but she would have heard that he had escaped and was, as far as anyone knew, unharmed, much to my regret.

‘A most lavish feast, highness,’ I said to Phraates as he ate rice and raisins from his gold bowl.

‘The least you deserve, Pacorus.’ He leaned closer to me. ‘Tell me, that man over there, the Roman.’

‘Lucius Domitus, highness. The commander of my legion.’

‘Why does he fight for you?’

‘Loyalty, highness, and a shared bond of comradeship.’

‘From your time in the land of the barbarians?’

‘Yes, highness.’

Phraates rubbed his chin as he regarded Domitus. ‘And now he fights for Parthia.’

‘And now he fights for Parthia, highness.’

Phraates looked down at his bowl. ‘You are indeed fortunate that you command such loyalty Pacorus.’

I assumed that he was talking of his son, Mithridates, though I did not press the matter. At the bottom of it all he was a father who had been betrayed by his son. That must have wounded him most severely.

Phraates may have been indifferent as a king and he was certainly no warlord, but the years spent running his father’s errands throughout the empire were not wasted in the days following. His skill as a diplomat came to the fore and he quickly set about isolating Narses from the other kings who had sided with him. He dispatched messages to the rulers of Drangiana, Carmania, Aria, Anauon and Yueh-Chih asking that they now accept him as King of Kings. He did not demand their obedience, merely requested it. He further stated that the past would be forgotten and that the empire should present a united front against our external enemies. When Phraates told us these things in a meeting of the war council I must confess I was deeply sceptical, but I was proved wrong. The army was prepared for a fresh campaign in the eastern provinces of the empire, but after two weeks couriers arrived from Monaeses, Vologases, Cinnamus, Tiridates and Phriapatus begging Phraates for his forgiveness and assuring him of their loyalty. And as surety for their pledges they would be sending members of their families to Ctesiphon to be hostages. Phraates was beside himself with joy, for at a stroke he had secured the eastern half of the empire and effectively isolated Narses.

‘Then, highness,’ I said, ‘all that remains is to march on Persepolis and destroy the last vestiges of the rebellion.’

Orodes, who had returned from Elymais, having seen Gotarzes placed back on his throne, agreed with me. ‘Narses should at least be banished for his treachery, father.’

Phraates, though, thought otherwise. ‘No, no, no. I will not have more blood spilt unnecessarily. Once Narses’ wounded pride has healed, he will see the impossible situation he is in and renew his allegiance. After all, he cannot fight the whole of the Parthian Empire on his own.’

It was at that moment I realised what Phraates’ main failing was — his willingness to believe the best of everyone no matter what their transgression. He should have sent his army south without hesitation to rid the world of Narses for good. Instead he chose inaction.

‘Easier said than done,’ remarked my father afterwards. ‘Persepolis is four hundred miles from Ctesiphon, and I’d bet a great sum that Chosroes for one would find a way of wriggling out of such a venture.’

I shrugged. ‘No great loss.’

‘You cannot defeat Narses on your own, Pacorus.’

‘I would not be on my own, father, for I would have Orodes, Vardan and you with me. More than enough to destroy the remnants of Narses.’

We were riding to his camp along the banks of the Tigris. He suddenly pulled up his horse.

‘We are going home, Pacorus. Back to Hatra.’

‘Surely you wish to see Narses destroyed?’

‘No, Pacorus. I wish to see peace restored to the empire, and it has been. And you will find that Vardan is of the same opinion. Let Narses fester at Persepolis. Phraates has no stomach for more fighting.’

‘And you?’

He sighed. ‘I have done what I came here to do.’

My father was right, for Vardan came to see me personally and confirmed that he was indeed going home.

‘I’m too old to be tramping halfway across the empire to fight Narses. Besides, he’ll probably make his peace with Phraates now.’

‘You really think so?’

He shrugged. ‘He has no army to back up his demands since you have destroyed it. He will sulk for a while and then accept Phraates’ offer of friendship. He has little choice. None of the other kings will support him. His credibility has gone.’

‘Perhaps you are right.’

He placed an arm around my shoulder. ‘If I were you I would get myself back to that young wife of yours. Baby on the way, as well. Far better to be with her than living in a tent in some God-forsaken stretch of desert chasing after a beaten king, if you ask me.’

I smiled. ‘You are right. How is Axsen, by the way?’

‘Like all daughters, looking for a husband.’

He left the next day, the long column of purple-clad Babylonian soldiers and their horses and camels kicking up great clouds of dust as they marched west. Chosroes and his rabble departed the day after, a move welcomed by everyone as we all thought that we would catch the plague or some other pestilence from the army of Mesene.

‘You are being unkind,’ remarked my father as I dined with him as a guest of Phraates in his private chambers. It was an intimate affair, just the three of us being served food and drink as we reclined on couches in a small but beautifully appointed room with frescos painted on the walls depicting a lion hunt. And as a bonus, the queen had made herself scarce.

‘Chosroes and his army were useless,’ I replied.

‘But at least they fulfilled their duty.’

Phraates, dressed in a simple blue robe with a red leather belt and pointed red slippers on his feet, was in a relaxed mood. ‘How can I thank my two most loyal generals?’

‘Serving you is our reward, highness,’ said my father.

Phraates smiled at him. ‘Well said, King Varaz, but fealty must be rewarded, for it seems to be in scarce supply these days.’

He clapped his hands and four guards, escorted by a captain of the garrison, brought in a large wooden chest carried by means of two poles inserted through metal rings fastened to each corner. It was placed on the floor in front of Phraates, who ordered it to be opened. The captain opened the lock with a key and I gasped as the lid was lifted. The chest was filled with drachmas, thousands of them.

‘Enough to pay for your campaign, I think, King Varaz.’

My father rose from his couch and bowed to the king. ‘You are too generous, highness.’

Phraates waved away my father’s protest then looked at me.

‘And for you, King Pacorus, a reward for each of the three times you have come to my aid.’ Phraates ordered my father’s chest to be taken away, then clapped his hands again.

‘Three occasions, highness?’ I was confused.

‘First you defeated Porus, then you helped me awe the Romans, and finally you were instrumental in beating Narses. All quite simple.’

Three more chests were brought into the room, each as large as my father’s, and laid before Phraates who likewise ordered them to be opened. I was truly speechless when the lids were lifted to reveal neatly stacked rows of gold bars in each one.

Without thinking I left my couch and stood beside one of the chests, extending my arm to stroke some of the bars, just to make sure they weren’t a mirage. They were cold to the touch.

‘They are quite real, I can assure you,’ said Phraates, smiling.

I felt myself blushing. ‘Of course, highness, I did not mean to imply otherwise. Forgive me.’

Phraates clapped his hands and grinned. ‘This is most excellent. You are pleased with your gift?’

‘Words cannot convey my gratitude, highness.’

In truth his gift was beyond my wildest dreams. Three chests of gold would go far, and in my mind I was already making plans for the expansion of Dura’s army.

‘And what will you do with this wealth?’ asked Phraates.

‘Strengthen my army, highness.’

Phraates rose from his couch and embraced me, much to my surprise.

‘I congratulate you, King Varaz, you have raised a most excellent son, both wise and brave.’

My father bowed his head. ‘You are too kind, highness.’

I have no recollection of the rest of the evening. I just kept going over in my mind what I could do with such a sum. Dura suddenly seemed too small a kingdom for my ambition.

I found my father’s ability to read my mind disconcerting to say the least during his probing of me the next day. Hatra’s horsemen had packed up their tents and were heading back west, and so my father took the opportunity to ride over to my camp and bid me farewell.

‘I will bring Gallia to Hatra soon, I promise.’

‘Good,’ he said, ‘your mother misses her, as do Gafarn and Diana.’

We were both staring at the opened chests containing the gold that had been placed in my tent for safe-keeping, legionaries standing inside and outside to make sure they did not ‘walk’ before they were loaded on to a cart for the journey back to Dura. Even Domitus wore an expression of wonderment at my good fortune.

‘I have not seen such a haul since Spartacus captured that silver mine in Italy I was condemned to. Do you remember?’

‘Indeed I do,’ I said, ‘only this time all of it belongs to me.’

‘Phraates is indeed a clever king,’ mused my father.

I was hardly listening. ‘Mm?’

‘He has paid a high price to secure your loyalty.’

I was annoyed at my father’s attempt to spoil my good fortune. ‘He had that already. Loyalty has nothing to do with it.’

‘Oh I think it does. He knows that you will use this gold to strengthen your army, and a strong Dura means a strong Phraates. He can achieve much with such a weapon as you in his arsenal.’

I really did not see where my father’s logic was heading so I merely agreed with him. But we parted on good terms and he reminded me again not to get ‘too big for my boots’. After he had gone I told Domitus to bring all the legion’s officers to my tent so they could view our bounty, and also had Nergal bring Dura’s lords. I told them all that the gold would be used to increase Dura’s strength, for a strong kingdom was a safe kingdom. Then we dismantled the camp and headed for home, back to my Gallic queen who was carrying my child.