Parthian Dawn

Chapter 13

After the forty days had passed the extra guards were stood down, the charms that had been secreted around our bedroom were taken away by Dobbai and consigned to the fire and everyone finally relaxed and began to feel joyous. The lords came and paid their homage to the kingdom’s new princess. I sat in the throne room with Gallia, her health and strength now fully restored, as they gathered before us, grizzled and ruthless men who all knelt before a helpless infant. Each insisted on kissing Claudia’s tiny hand and embracing me, usually in an iron-hard bear hug followed by a hearty slap on the shoulders. I was black and blue by the time they had all finished. They laid gifts at Gallia’s feet — gold and silver coins, swords, armour, saddles and beautifully crafted horse furniture. Fit indeed for a princess. They all noticed that Claudia had her mother’s blue eyes and fair hair and reckoned that it was a good omen. And all the while Dobbai watched over the child with an eagle eye. In truth Gallia had become immensely fond of Dobbai and I had to admit that even I found her tolerable, for the most part.

Two days after the lords had paid homage, Haytham, Malik, Byrd and Noora arrived at the city with an entourage that must have numbered at least three hundred. They also brought Haytham’s gift for Claudia — five hundred camels. The entry of Haytham into the city was a sombre affair. This was the man who had formerly brought death and terror to Dura and its lands, and many of the city’s residents thought little of his arrival. Most stayed indoors as he and his horsemen passed under the Palmyrene Gate and trotted up the main street to the Citadel. Domitus, sensing the unease of the city, had wanted to line Haytham’s route with guards and double those who stood watch in the Citadel itself. I refused his request.

‘You don’t bat an eyelid when Malik comes and goes, and he is Haytham’s son.’

Domitus screwed up his face. ‘That’s different. He’s a friend of ours and everyone knows him. Besides, he has fought beside us so his heart does not contain treachery.’

‘So, by that logic, if Haytham made a trip to Dura a regular occurrence you would accept him just as you accept his son?’

‘All I am saying is that before we arrived he was killing these people, your people.’

‘What is done is done. He is a friend, Domitus, and we shall treat him as such.’

Haytham was accorded all the courtesies his rank as a king demanded. We met him at the foot of the palace steps and Domitus arranged for a full guard of honour to greet him and his escort. Behind Haytham rode Malik, who smiled at Gallia and me. Behind him were the turban-clad Agraci warriors, their faces adorned with black tattoos and their bodies wrapped in black robes. They all rode black horses with black saddles and carried round black shields. Long spears and curved swords hung at their hips in black scabbards. They resembled demons from hell sent to inflict tortures upon mortals, but Haytham had them under tight control. We all bowed our heads to him in acknowledgement of his royalty and he reciprocated, dismounting and bowing his head to me and then Gallia. He gestured for Rasha to join him and all protocol vanished as she was helped down from her horse, raced over to Gallia and wrapped her arms around my wife. At once all edginess that had existed evaporated and we escorted Haytham and his men into the palace. He insisted on seeing Claudia before he took rest or refreshment, and smiled in approval when he saw her lying in her cot in the nursery next to our bedroom. He was also aware of the eagle-eyed Dobbai sitting nearby, watching his every move. He nodded ever so slightly at her but her visage of concentration did not alter. We retired from the nursery and I showed him to his quarters, a room located just off the banqueting hall. The latter was given over to his warriors, whom I assumed would want to be near their lord, and in any case we did not have anywhere else to accommodate such a large party. Like our bedroom Haytham’s quarters had a balcony with a splendid view of the river.

‘That was your sorceress?’ he asked me, unfastening his scabbard and leaning it against the wall.

‘Some say she is so, lord.’

‘And you?’

‘Gallia finds comfort in her presence, and in truth she was a great help during the birth of our daughter.’

Haytham gazed at the blue Euphrates. ‘She regards me with the same contempt as many in this city.’

‘Old hatreds die hard, lord.’

‘It matters not, but I thank you for your invitation. I am pleased to be here. Perhaps we can go hunting together.’

The next day we did and he presented me with a beautiful female saker falcon named Najya, meaning ‘victorious’. Haytham had brought his chief falconer, and I was in awe of his skill as he directed Najya to bring down a brace of partridges and three bustards. She was a magnificent bird, almost two feet tall with large eyes and a short, hooked beak. Her plumage was a light grey, almost white.

‘Your gift is most generous, lord.’

He raised a hand in acknowledgment as we sat down to partake of a midday meal of pancakes and roasted lamb his men were cooking over a fire. Najya sat on a perch nearby with her head covered by a leather hood.

Malik sat beside his father, who stared into the fire then looked directly at me.

‘My people have no great love for the Parthians, Pacorus. This you know. And yet you have shown nobility in your heart and have built a bridge between our two peoples.’ He placed a hand on his son’s shoulder. ‘My son has even fought beside you and my daughter thinks of your wife as a surrogate mother.’

‘You are too generous, lord.’

He waved away my protest.

‘It is thus as a friend, Pacorus, that I have to tell you that I have received ambassadors from the Romans requesting passage through my lands.’

My blood ran cold. ‘They mean to attack Dura?’

‘They did not say so, but why else would they seek a treaty with me?’

I looked at him. His black eyes betrayed no emotion, though Malik was frowning with displeasure.

‘What was your answer, lord?’

‘I told them that the King of Dura was a friend of mine and that I do not betray my friends.’

Relief swept through me, these words were indeed heartening to hear. Haytham continued. ‘They offered much gold to facilitate my support. Their master must be a very wealthy man.’

‘Their master?’

‘Yes,’ said Haytham, trying to remember the name. ‘I think he was called Crassus.’

Haytham went back to his people three days later, assuring me that he would not give the Romans free passage through his land.

‘You have my word on that, Pacorus. What kind of king would permit such a thing in any case?’

He offered his hand and I took it. ‘I thank you, lord.’

He mounted his horse and looked down at me. ‘But they may come anyway. I know they are a greedy people, greedy for land, greedy for slaves. If they invade my lands I will fight them.’

‘And Dura will stand by your side, lord,’ I said.

He nodded and then bowed his head at Gallia standing behind me holding Claudia in her arms. Domitus gave the signal, the colour party’s trumpets blasted out, the guard century snapped to attention and Claudia began wailing. King Haytham wheeled his horse around and trotted from the Citadel followed by his warriors. I had instructed that the route he took out of the city was to be lined with legionaries standing at attention, as a salute to his friendship. Byrd and Malik stayed behind as there was much work to be done, though Rasha and Noora went with Haytham back to Palmyra. I did not want them in the city if it was attacked.

As soon as Haytham had left I convened a war council in the palace, and asked Byrd and Malik to join us. Gallia, Dobbai, Diana and Gafarn also sat with us, and Claudia was placed in her cot next to Gallia, to the discomfort of Rsan and the amusement of Godarz. Domitus said nothing but sat with his eyes down as he toyed with his dagger.

‘It appears that our old adversary, Marcus Licinius Crassus, has decided to come to the East.’

‘He is a fool,’ sneered Nergal.

‘A rich fool,’ added Godarz. ‘One whose wealth and influence has reached these parts it would seem.’

‘If he attacks your father’s lands,’ I said to Malik, ‘then I will take Dura’s army west and together we will destroy the Romans.’

Malik beamed. ‘We will fight together once more.’

I smiled at him. ‘Yes, Malik, we will fight together once more.’

‘Brave words, son of Hatra. But you will not have time for such nonsense,’ Dobbai could always be relied upon to cast a pall of gloom over proceedings.

‘You are wrong,’ I told her. ‘Byrd and Malik can ride west and give us accurate information as to the Romans’ whereabouts. Two scouts can move faster than an army on foot.’

Dobbai walked over to the map of the empire on the wall and ran a claw-like fingernail across its hide surface.

‘Last night a cold wind came from the north and in a dream I saw an eagle flying among flames and dead bodies.’ She turned and pointed at me.

‘You look west when you should be giving your attention to the north.’

Domitus stopped fiddling with his dagger and looked up at her. Rsan seemed decidedly nervous, Gafarn bemused.

‘You speak in riddles,’ I said.

‘Then let me make it plain, son of Hatra. War is upon Parthia and you must act quickly if all is not to be lost.’

‘The gods speak to you?’ asked Nergal.

Dobbai threw her head back and gave a feral laugh. ‘Don’t be absurd. Why should they speak to me, much less an idiot whose only talent is to ride upon a horse and shoot a bow? They reveal glimpses of things, that is all.’

Nergal looked confused as to whether she was referring to him or me. Perhaps she was talking of both of us.

‘I have heard no word from the northern frontier,’ I said, trying to restore some semblance of normality to the proceedings.

‘Have it your own way,’ she said, and with that she said no more.

It was impossible to continue with her staring blankly at the wall, so I dismissed everyone and left her sitting alone. But her words had fomented an air of foreboding in me that crept through my body like a chill. My mind told me to ignore such outbursts but my instincts told me that she was right. Diana and Gafarn travelled back to Hatra the day after, Diana pleading with Gallia for her and Claudia to go with them. My wife embraced them both but told them that she would be staying, and so we watched our dearest friends and their escort ride from the Citadel. I prayed that we would live to see them again.

Byrd and Malik rode into the desert to keep watch for the Romans, and Malik informed me that he would form a screen of Agraci watchmen to be my eyes. I liked Malik. He was honest, brave and loyal. He would have made a good Parthian king, but one day he would rule his own kingdom and I hoped that he would continue the alliance between our two peoples. After a week he and Byrd returned with news, and it was not good.

‘Romani army has marched from Antioch, striking for the Euphrates. They will then march down the western bank to attack Dura.’

‘They have decided not to march through my father’s lands, Pacorus,’ said Malik.

‘They are clever,’ I said. ‘They think to settle affairs with me first. But Antioch is three hundred miles from Dura and it will take nearly three weeks for them to get here; plenty of time to organise a proper reception for them.’

Or at least it would have been had it not have been for the arrival of a courier three days later with news that the combined forces of Media and Atropaiene had been defeated near the shores of Lake Urmia, and that a Roman army was now approaching Irbil. I sat in my chair on the palace terrace and read the latter from Farhad to Gallia sitting beside me. Dobbai was next to the balustrade listening attentively.

‘So,’ I remarked with a heavy heart, ‘the Romans are attacking us from the north as well.’

Dobbai rose and faced me. ‘Farhad’s words do not say that. He states that he has been defeated and now squeals like a little girl for you to come to his aid.’

‘And aid him I shall,’ I said.

Claudia was fast asleep in Gallia’s arms and her serene manner comforted me.

‘Farhad is a fool,’ said Dobbai.

‘What are you going to do?’ asked Gallia.

‘Reassure Farhad that help is on its way. I am, after all, lord high general and have a responsibility to assist the kings of the empire.’

Dobbai scoffed at this. ‘Farhad is beyond hope.’

I sent urgent messages to Dura’s lords informing them of the Romans’ approach and requesting their presence. When they arrived I assembled everyone in the council chamber, which was barely big enough to accommodate everyone who clustered around the table. Domitus, Nergal, Rsan, Byrd, Malik and Godarz were also present. Gallia left Claudia with Dobbai and also joined us. The room was warm, made worse by the press of bodies, and so sweating servants brought water and fruit juice. Godarz, who had been a slave in Italy for many years and had great knowledge of Roman affairs, addressed everyone first.

‘We know that the Roman army approaching Dura’s lands is sponsored, perhaps led in person, by a man named Marcus Licinius Crassus.’

A wall of blank faces indicated that the name meant nothing to the lords, though Gallia, Domitus, Byrd and Nergal knew it well enough. Godarz continued.

‘Crassus is a very wealthy man who has an eye for a business opportunity. There are two reasons why he would send an army to Dura. The first is to exact revenge on King Pacorus, who inflicted many defeats on the Romans in their own country.’

The lords stepped forward and banged their fists on the table in acknowledgement of my achievements. When they had finished Godarz again continued.

‘The second reason is our trade route with the Egyptians. If Crassus takes Dura, then he will control the flow of goods that runs through this city to Egypt.’

‘So he’s a cheap merchant, then,’ said one of the lords, which prompted laughter among the others.

Godarz regained his seat as I stood and raised my hands.

‘He may be a cheap merchant but he is no fool. He will have calculated that he stands a good chance of achieving his aims. He does not spend his own money without great consideration.’

‘You know this man, majesty?’ asked another lord.

‘I stayed in his house as a guest once.’ They looked in confusion at me. ‘It is a long story and one I do not have time to tell now. Suffice to say he is a dangerous opponent. Byrd, what news have you heard of the Roman army?’

‘I hear of three Romani eagles, plus some horse and auxiliaries. Many wagons.’

‘Three legions, plus horse and support troops; so slingers, archers and skirmishers. Around twenty thousand men, maybe more,’ I surmised.

One of the lords slapped his companion on the arm. ‘We can raise more than that among ourselves. We can beat this rabble before they get near Dura.’

The others roared their approval. And he was right. Each of them could raise a thousand or more men from their estates, lightly armed horse archers that could muster and attack the Romans before they bore down on the city. Wave after wave of horsemen crashing against the locked shields of the Romans, just like the horsemen of Farhad and Aschek had attempted to do, no doubt, and just like them they would be slaughtered.

‘No,’ I said. ‘We will not attack the Romans.’

I saw the confusion and disappointment in their eyes as they looked at each other and fell silent, and I smiled.

‘That is exactly what the Romans want us to do, and that is exactly what we shall not do.’

‘If the Romans engage us in battle, their slingers, archers and javelins will cut us down, and we will be unable to penetrate their wall of shields. You have all seen the damage the weapons of a legion can inflict on the enemy, and I will not permit the same to happen to you. Instead, we will weaken the enemy before we have even raised a sword against him.’

I knew I had them interested now. The kingdom of Dura was a frontier region of warlords. Each of them had as his base a stronghold surrounded by high walls, battlements, towers and thick gates. These great residences were built to withstand attack and were places of refuge, so I told each of them that they must now be prepared to withstand a Roman assault.

‘The Romans will march along the river, therefore those of you with lands near the Euphrates must stock up with supplies and send the women, children and those too old or young to fight across the river into Hatra. Those of you whose lands are away from the river must also evacuate the women and the young and old, as the Romans will undoubtedly send out foraging parties far and wide, and will lay waste anything they cannot use. This being the case, those being evacuated must also take their livestock with them to deny the Romans supplies.’

One of the lords was most unhappy. It was Spandarat, the grizzled old warrior who had escorted Gallia back to Dura after we had defeated Porus. ‘You wish us to hide behind our walls like old women?’

‘No,’ I replied. ‘I want you to attack the Roman supply lines once the main army has passed. They will establish fortified camps along their route of march to safeguard their lines of communications with Antioch. We offer no resistance until their main force has arrived before the walls of Dura, then I will send word for you to attack.’

‘Majesty,’ spoke one of the lords, a wiry man with a pointed jaw and eyes bereft of emotion, ‘you have your own legion, a formation bloodied in battle and undefeated. Why do you not use it against the Romans?’

‘I intend to,’ I said. ‘But I want the Romans to suffer a grievous defeat here, at Dura, one that will make them think twice before they invade my kingdom again and tangle with its lords.’

They growled their approval of my plan. A thin smile creased Domitus’ lips.

‘What about the citizens of the city?’ said Godarz. ‘If there is a siege they will eat up the food quicker than a plague of locusts strips a field of crops.’

‘Bring in as much food from the outlying areas, and purchase food from across the river. Once you have done so the city’s population will be evacuated across the river to Hatran territory. The city will be populated by its garrison only. The merchants and caravans will disappear quickly once they get wind that the Romans are approaching, so we will not have to worry about them.’

‘What about the workers living in tents to the north of the city?’ asked Rsan.

‘Pay off those who want to leave, the rest will go with the civilians. There are enough oases across the river to water a few thousand people until we can defeat the Romans and get them back to their homes. Godarz, you will have to organise tents to house the civilians.’

Godarz nodded. ‘We should have enough, though people won’t be happy about having to evacuate their homes.’

‘They will be happy enough when they know an enemy army is coming to kill or enslave them,’ I replied.

‘What of the army?’ queried Domitus.

‘It cannot remain in the city. Domitus, you will take the legion and the men from Pontus across the river and there wait for my orders. Nergal, you will do likewise with all the horse. Gallia and my daughter will be leaving for Hatra and will be escorted there by the Amazons.’

With hindsight it was foolish of me to presume that my wife would do as she was instructed. When roused to anger, her jaw set solid and her eyes burned with defiance. This was the visage that now confronted me.

‘The queen,’ she said slowly and deliberately, ‘will remain in Dura. She will not flee before a few Romans, to become a fugitive in her own kingdom.’

The lords rapped their knuckles on the table to indicate approval of her words, as did Nergal and Domitus. Godarz smiled wryly and Rsan looked helpless.

‘Silence!’ I shouted. I turned to Gallia. ‘Perhaps we should discuss this further in private.’

She raised an eyebrow at me. ‘Further discussion on the matter is useless. I and my daughter will be staying here. The day I flee from my home will be the day that the stone griffin on the gate flaps its wings and flies away.’

I decided that it was futile to argue further, and it was also unbecoming of a king to cross words with his queen in public.

That night I tried to convince Gallia to leave the city but she would have none of it.

‘But think of our daughter,’ I implored her, to no avail.

‘Stop whining, Pacorus. Our daughter is safe behind Dura’s walls. Have you not invested heavily in strengthening the city?’

‘Yes, but it’s not the same.’

Gallia held Claudia in her arms on the palace terrace, while Dobbai remained to one side observing us both.

‘Oh, Pacorus, the Romans will never breach these walls.’

‘I wish I could share your certainty.’

‘I have told her so,’ interrupted Dobbai, ‘and it will be so.’

I had to confess that the old woman’s words, irrational as it may seem, calmed my nerves and reassured me. So I said no more on the matter.

‘When the griffin no longer sits upon these walls,’ said Dobbai, ‘then Dura will fall, but not until then, and certainly will not fall to a red-haired manservant.’

She was speaking in riddles again but I was not listening to her words. There were things to attend to. As I left the palace the next morning to ride to the Palmyrene Gate, Praxima and the Amazons were striding up its steps and then disappearing into the interior. I shook my head. For individuals supposedly under my command they were a law unto themselves.

Domitus must have read my thoughts, because when I tethered Remus at the gatehouse and climbed the stone steps to the battlements my legion commander was already there. He stood beside the griffin talking to a dozen centurions, who snapped to attention when they saw me. I told them to carry on. I stood to one side listening to the words of Domitus. He was looking west, towards the legion’s camp and the vastness of the desert.

‘Now remember, they can only attack the walls from this direction. The wadis on the north and south sides of the city are too deep and their sides too steep for ladders or siege towers. And they can’t attack from the river because it’s a sheer cliff face. So that leaves the west.’ He gestured with his right arm at the area in front of the city.

‘Therefore this is the direction they will attack from. First of all they will line up every soldier they have in front of the city, like a giant parade, trying to intimidate you. Expect lots of flying flags, red cloaks and trumpets blasting. Then their commander will send an emissary to demand the city’s surrender. Governor Godarz will politely refuse. Resist the temptation to use the emissary for target practice. It is considered bad manners to kill messengers under a flag of truce. There will be time enough for killing. Besides, you need to conserve your missiles for later.’

‘Don’t give them any easy victories. Keep your men off the walls and inside the towers. Their slingers and archers will be hired professionals from Crete and Greece most likely, and they can shoot. So keep the walls clear until the fighting begins. And watch out for their ballista. They will use them against individual targets on the walls. Taking the head off some poor daydreaming sentry boosts the morale of the besiegers and reduces it among the garrison. Above all do not underestimate your enemy. The Romans have conquered half the world by being determined, disciplined and professional, and they know how to conduct a siege.

‘First they will try to soften you up with ballista, both to demoralise you and clear the walls of defenders. As they can’t storm the walls on the riverside, or to the north and south, they will concentrate their efforts here. But all the firing with engines, slingers and archers is just a preliminary to an assault, and again it will come from this direction. They may employ a battering ram to smash in the gates or build siege towers to storm the walls, or both. Either way they will not try to starve you out. They don’t know the size of the garrison, and in any case as far as they are concerned Dura is garrisoned by Parthians who don’t know how to defend a city. All this you can use to your advantage. And finally, remember that you are not alone. The army is just across the river. You are the bait, but you are not expected to fight the Romans on your own.

‘Dismissed.’

They saluted and left us, and I noticed that every one of them, now battle-hardened veterans, laid a hand on the griffin as they trooped away.

‘So,’ I said to Domitus, ‘the trap is set. Let us hope they take the bait.’

‘Oh, they’ll take it all right. You think Crassus is with them?’

‘I do not know. Byrd will tell us more when he returns.’

Domitus stared into the distance, across the yellow baked ground that had become his homeland.

‘You need to deal with the situation in the north, Pacorus. Otherwise there will be two Roman armies in Parthia, one on each side of the Euphrates.’

‘Do not worry, my friend, we faced more daunting odds in Italy.’

He still looked to the desert. ‘True, but then we were one army under one general, an army that was well drilled and armed, and using the same tactics as the enemy. But here…’

He stopped, as though fearful to say more.

‘If two friends cannot be truthful to each other, then who can? Speak freely.’

He turned to face me. ‘The Romans know that Parthia is a collection of kingdoms rather than a unified domain. And they know that the recent civil war has aggravated divisions within its borders, so they seek to take advantage of that.’

‘I know this, Domitus.’

‘But do you know that they wish to conquer all the lands between the Tigris and Euphrates?’

I did not believe him. ‘You exaggerate the threat, my friend.’

‘I do not. The Romans are not interested in Media or Atropaiene, though they will seize those lands readily enough. What they really desire is control over the Silk Road, and if they conquer Hatra then they will have it. So I hope that Dura can hold out, for its army may be needed in your father’s kingdom.’

His words stayed with me for the rest of the day, and that night I shared a quiet meal with Gallia. A sombre mood hung over me like a dark cloud, though I tried to conceal it from her, to no avail.

‘What is the matter?’

‘Nothing,’ I replied, but she knew me too well.

‘I will ask again, then. What troubles you?’

‘I am worried that I have made a mistake. Perhaps I should have taken the army and engaged the Romans further north.’

She shook her head. ‘It’s too late for changing your mind. The die is cast.’

And so it was. In the early hours of the next morning, before dawn had broken, I kissed my daughter’s forehead and whispered my farewells to Gallia, then I left them both. I ate a meal of biscuits and cheese washed down with water and went to the stables to saddle Remus. There was much activity as stable hands began the daily chore of mucking out the stalls and the men of my escort went about saddling their own mounts. The air smelt of leather, horse dung and hay. The horses chomped on their bits and scraped the flagstones with their hooves impatiently. Remus moved his head away from me as I grabbed his reins and led him into the courtyard. He was in a bad mood, no doubt resentful at having to be readied at this unholy hour. I pulled him forward and he snorted in disgust. The others followed me into the courtyard and on my signal we vaulted into our saddles to trot through the gates and into the still slumbering city.

The Palmyrene Gate was opened and so we left Dura, swinging right to join the road that would take us across the pontoon bridge. We moved quickly, riding east towards Ctesiphon and the palace of Phraates, taking the same route as I had the year before when we had marched to defeat Narses and his rebels. Once across the Tigris we headed north towards Media.

Media, Gordyene and Atropaiene are forested regions carpeted by beech, yew, juniper, oak, poplar and cypress trees. In the far distance, on our right as we rode, lay the massive, brooding Zagros Mountains, but we rode across lush forest steppe teeming with life. In these lands were bred great herds of horses that carried Parthia’s warriors, and which were sold throughout the empire. And there was good hunting in these parts, the rich vegetation being home to leopards, lynx, brown bears, wild boar, wolves, badgers and otters. To the east roamed the mighty Caspian tiger, though I had never seen this magnificent beast, only their pelts lying on the floor of Farhad’s palace. Domitus was wrong about this land. Any foreign conqueror would want a land rich in such wildlife.

A week after leaving Dura we arrived at Irbil, which thankfully was not ringed by a Roman army. As we trotted down the main road leading to the city, everything appeared normal in the immediate vicinity. There were no rising columns of smoke on the horizon or dead animals or bodies lying in the fields, though as we got closer I noticed a distinct lack of activity on the road. In fact, we were the only people on it. There was no sign of life either side of it. Nothing. When we reached the huge ramp that led to the fortified city we were met by at least a dozen spearmen at its base who barred our way with their weapons, while on the walls high above archers pointed their bows at us.

One of the spearmen, a tall man with a large belly and long, straggly hair, pushed though his comrades and raised his spear at us.

‘That’s as far as you go. State your business.’

‘My business is not your concern. Tell your king that his brother, Pacorus of Dura, is here to see him, and be quick about it.’

It took a few seconds for his miniscule brain to understand my words, then he grinned broadly.

‘Yes, majesty, apologies, majesty.’ He turned around and shouted up at the walls. ‘King Pacorus is here, King Pacorus has arrived! Salvation is at hand!’

The group of soldiers, their misshapen faces wearing smiles, parted and I nudged Remus forward, walking him up the ramp, through the gates and into Farhad’s capital. The streets were crowded with frightened women and children huddled in groups on every corner and in every doorway. As we made our way to the palace I could smell fear, the city was rank with it. It was as if the world’s most wretched and hopeless had been gathered up and dumped in this place. All I could see were listless expressions, filthy bodies, unshaven faces, children dressed in rags and men with dread in their eyes. The Romans would not have to lay siege to this city. It was like a rotting apple; all they would have to do was wait for it to decay from within. I was glad to leave the press of refugees that clogged the city and reach the palace gates, which were swung open to allow us to enter. As we did so guards carrying spears and shields raced past us to bar the way of anyone who might try to force an entry into the king’s compound. None did, but the tired looks on the faces of the guards who had screened our entry told me that panic stalked these men.

Our horses were taken from us and I told my men to get some food inside them. I had a feeling that we would not be staying long in the city. A steward escorted me into the palace and thence to the great hall where Farhad was sitting on his throne. His wife had died in childbirth giving life to his only child and most precious possession, his son Atrax. Ominously I did not see his son anywhere, though I did see my sister, Aliyeh, standing as straight as a spear on Farhad’s right side, her stare cold and unwelcoming.

I bowed before the king, who looked nothing like the proud, confident and strong figure he had been at my wedding. Now he looked a haunted man.

‘Pacorus, the gods be thanked that you have come.’

‘I came as soon as I could, lord king.’ I glanced at Aliyeh. ‘Sister.’

She said nothing, merely giving me the faintest of nods.

‘How far away is your army, how many men did you bring?’

‘Twenty riders, lord,’ I answered.

‘Yes, I was told. But when will your army arrive?’

I shook my head. ‘It defends Dura, lord, for a Roman army is marching on my city.’

Farhad let out a groan and buried his head in his hands. Aliyeh laid a hand on his shoulder and he looked up at me with black-ringed eyes.

‘Then Media is lost.’

I was shocked by his reply. ‘Surely you have some troops left? What of those from Atropaiene?’

Farhad leaned back in his throne and chuckled. ‘Aschek is in a far worse situation than me. Most of his men lie dead on the battlefield; at least I managed to save some to have the luxury of dying at a later date.’ The reprieve from his despair lasted only seconds before his dark mood returned and he cast down his eyes once more.

‘We will speak later. Go and get some food. Aliyeh will escort you.’ He grasped her hand with both of his. ‘Your sister is of great comfort to me. It was a mating of eagles when she married Atrax.’

Aliyeh looked upon him with eyes full of comfort, her expression changing back to ice as I walked with her from the hall. She said nothing until we were marching down a corridor towards the kitchens.

I attempted to converse with her, though was afraid to ask about her husband.

‘Where is Atrax?’

‘Recovering from his wounds.’

‘I hope they are not severe.’

‘He will live, no thanks to you.’

‘How are his wounds my fault?’

She stopped and swung round to face me, jabbing a long finger into my cuirass. ‘Because you filled his head with nonsense about honour and glory, and for weeks after you had left he pestered his father about retaking Gordyene, about how the Romans were weak and that it was an insult to Media’s honour that the death of Balas had not been avenged. And so Farhad enlisted the support of our neighbour, Aschek, and a meeting was arranged with the Romans at the same spot where you and Phraates met Lucullus. Only this time Farhad and Aschek demanded that the Romans leave Gordyene and pay reparations to Parthia for their gross insolence.’

I closed my eyes. I knew what was coming next. Aliyeh continued, her words as sharp as arrowheads.

‘The Romans killed our emissary, and so thousands of our horsemen charged across the river to be felled by their slingers and turn the water red with their blood. And Atrax, my brave and foolish husband, led them. And the flower of Median manhood perished at that wretched river. Atrax kept rallying them and our allies, and again and again he led them against their shields and spears and accursed engines and slingers, and each time they killed more of our men. Our allies from Atropaiene died beside our own until the ground was soaked with Parthian blood. Atrax was knocked from his horse and speared in his leg.’

She said no more but turned away from me, her body shaking with grief.

I laid a hand on her shoulder. ‘Sister.’

Quick as a cobra she turned and slapped my face.

‘Do not touch me. I do not want your pity. I wish you had never come to Media.’

I held her stare. ‘Take me to see Atrax.’

She snorted in disgust and strode away. I followed her and we reached her private apartments in the palace. Before she entered what I assumed was a bedroom she pointed at me.

‘Take off your armour and sword and leave them outside.’

I did as she instructed and we entered. It was a small-sized room with a single bed against one wall with a small table next to it. A silver jug, cup and bowl were lying on the table; while on the bed lay the sleeping Atrax. Because the shutters were closed the only illumination came from an oil lamp that hung from the wall. A tall, lean man with a neatly cropped beard and hair, a silver band around his head, was gently dabbing Atrax’s forehead with a cloth. He stopped when he saw Aliyeh.

‘How is he?’ she whispered.

The man smiled. ‘Much better, highness. Almost no fever. I have changed the dressing on his leg and the infection is slowly receding. I have reduced the dose of jimson weed and he should start to regain full consciousness very soon.’

Jimson weed was the substance used by physicians to deaden pain in patients, so that even the deepest wound could be cleaned out and sewn up without the patient screaming in agony, though it required great skill to administer the juice of the weed. Too much could induce coma and death. Clearly this man was a skilled practitioner in the healing arts. Aliyeh laid a hand on his arm.

‘Thank you, doctor, I am in your debt.’

He bowed his head then looked at me. ‘Prince Atrax is too weak to receive visitors, highness.’

My sister allowed herself a wry smile. ‘Do not worry, he isn’t staying.’ She then ushered me from the room and led me away.

‘I suppose we had better find some food for you. We cannot have the hero of all Parthia going hungry.’

‘I am sorry for Atrax. Alas, sister, being wounded is one of the hazards of being a soldier.’

Once again she spun round to face me. ‘You may like playing heroes but I would rather have Atrax as a husband, not some dead warrior in a bard’s poem. Thanks to you he will have a limp for the rest of his life. A daily reminder not to follow fools.’

There was no reasoning with her, and once we had reached the kitchens she left me to share a meal with my men. I got talking with one of the cooks, a short, chubby man with stubby fingers and a cheerful disposition, notwithstanding the dire predicament his city was in. He told me that after the battle Aschek and his men had fled for their homeland, leaving Media to the mercy of the Romans. The homes that lay outside Irbil’s high walls had been abandoned and the people had taken refuge inside the citadel, though how much longer they could remain was uncertain given the paucity of supplies. Farhad had sent word to his kingdom’s lords to attend him at Irbil with what men they could muster, but the injury to Prince Atrax had demoralised them and was seen as an evil omen. The prince was popular among his countrymen, the more so since he had married the tall and stern Princess Aliyeh of Hatra, the sister of King Pacorus the Slayer.

‘Slayer?’ I said, dipping a piece of bread in a thick vegetable broth that tasted exquisite.

‘Yes, sir, that is what they call you in these parts. The king who slays all those who dare to cross him. So we’ve no need to worry now your here.’

I thought of Narses and Mithridates still striding the earth and smiled.

He was skinning a rabbit, his stubby hands wielding a razor-sharp knife with ease to separate the meat from the skin. ‘Anyhow, until Prince Atrax is back on his feet Media’s soldiers won’t be sticking their arrows in anyone. Some say that the prince is dead.’

‘He isn’t,’ I corrected him.

‘I know that, sir, and you know that. But not many others do.’

I realised how much of a talisman Atrax had become the next day at Farhad’s war council. His six generals, all of them middle aged and experienced leaders, I had met when we had marched together to parley with Lucullus months ago. Then Media could raise at least twenty thousand horsemen.

‘I doubt if we could put five thousand in the field now,’ said Farhad without emotion.

‘You lost fifteen thousand men at the battle?’ I was staggered.

‘No, sire,’ said one of Farhad’s commanders, ‘but many men have returned to their homes and may not answer the call to arms if summoned again.’

The situation was worse than I had thought. Panic and fear were obviously sweeping through Media like a plague.

‘If only Prince Atrax could ride through the kingdom, majesty, it would give heart to the people and their leaders,’ said another commander, to the murmurs of agreement from the others.

‘Prince Atrax will not be riding anywhere until his wounds are healed.’ My sister’s words left her mouth like arrows.

‘Aliyeh, daughter,’ said Farhad, ‘your husband is greatly loved in Media. He is needed to rally our people.’

Aliyeh moved slowly and purposely to take her seat.

‘He was close to death. He is far too weak to go on a goodwill tour.’ Her eyes narrowed and she looked at each of the commanders, daring them to challenge her. None did.

‘That being the case,’ I said, ‘it is best to prepare this city for a siege, for Lucullus will be here soon enough.’

Farhad looked up. ‘You are wrong, Pacorus. Lucullus has departed the Roman army, so my scouts tell me, leaving his subordinate, whose name escapes me, in charge.’

‘Aelius Gabinus, majesty,’ said one of the commanders.

‘Gone where?’ I asked.

Farhad shrugged. ‘Back to Rome, hopefully.’

I doubted that. Any Roman worth his salt would not let the opportunity pass to follow up his victory. Something more important must have caused Lucullus to leave his army, though I knew not what.

‘Shamash has been kind,’ I said, ‘for now we have an opportunity to retrieve the situation.’

‘We do?’ Farhad was surprised and Aliyeh suspicious.

‘Yes, lord. You must evacuate your stronghold of all those who cannot fight. Send them to your outlying towns and villages. If the courage of your lords has faltered then at least they can care for Media’s most vulnerable. The fact that the Romans have not moved south on Irbil means that their attention has been diverted elsewhere. We must use this opportunity. Keep only foot soldiers in Irbil and send your horsemen to your southern border. I will ride to Ctesiphon and gather what forces I can to come to your aid.’

Farhad was nodding and his commanders were looking at each other and doing likewise. At least now they had something to focus on rather than waiting for the Romans to storm Irbil and put them all to the sword.

Those who were too old, too young or too infirm to shoot a bow were evacuated south, a long line of bedraggled humanity whose abodes and livelihoods they were leaving behind. Their homes still stood, but they lay outside the walls of the citadel and any invading army would use them to house their own troops, either that or burn them. I had suggested to Farhad that he pull them down to deprive their use to the enemy, but he was horrified by the idea and so hundreds of buildings stood intact and empty, hopefully only temporarily. I told Farhad that I would ride south to Phraates with the intention of convincing him to send an army to Media. Before I left I went to see Atrax.

The shutters of his room were still closed though he was sitting up in his bed, propped up by large pillows. Even in the half-light he looked pale but at least he was conscious. I sat on a stool beside the bed as Aliyeh finished feeding her husband a bowlful of soup. She made sure that he finished his meal before she allowed me to speak to him. A servant took away the empty bowl and she sat holding his hand, her eyes like those of a hawk watching me all the time.

‘You must stay here until you have regained your strength.’

‘I will, lord. Your sister is an excellent nurse.’ He smiled at Aliyeh.

‘I will send an army to assist your father, of that I promise.’

He seemed cheered by this. ‘And then we will crush the Romans and throw them out of Gordyene. Avenge the death of Balas.’

Aliyeh’s eyes narrowed to slits. The last thing she wanted was to see Atrax ride off to war once more.

‘The Romans have won a battle, Atrax, but they will lose the war. But in war we must be patient to await the right opportunity.’

‘And now Pacorus has to leave us,’ said Aliyeh forcefully. ‘He has a long ride ahead of him.’

I leaned forward and laid a hand on Atrax’s arm. His flesh was clammy to the touch.

‘Regain your strength, valiant prince. Until we meet again.’

He smiled and raised his hand in salute. Aliyeh kissed his forehead and ushered me out of the room.

Seven days later I stood before Phraates in one of his throne rooms at Ctesiphon. The atmosphere in the palace was drenched in mistrust and sullen resentment. No wonder, because the King of Kings was sitting on his throne flanked by his wife on one side and his son, the reptile-like Mithridates, on the other. I had ignored the latter when I had entered the hall, bowing to Phraates and then his wife but not to his son. The insult was intentional and was noticed by the court officials and courtiers who stood in clusters around the walls like vultures gathered round a rotting carcass. Guards armed with spears and wicker shields stood at regular intervals along the walls and either side of the dais on which Phraates and his family were seated. I was dressed in my full war gear when I presented myself, my Roman cuirass having been cleaned meticulously the night before and my helmet burnished until it shone. I had my boots cleaned and wore my white tunic under my cuirass, my brown leggings and spatha in its scabbard completing my appearance. I stood before Phraates, my helmet under my right arm; its crown filled with new white goose feathers.

‘Welcome, King Pacorus, we are glad to see you.’

‘And I you, highness,’ I replied. I kept my gaze upon Phraates but was aware of the disdainful stares directed at me by Queen Aruna and Mithridates.

‘I wish I was here under more agreeable circumstances, highness.’

Phraates nodded thoughtfully. ‘Alas, we have heard of the discomfort that has fallen upon Farhad and Aschek. Grim tidings indeed.’

‘Yes, highness,’ I said, ‘that is why I must request that the army of Susiana be sent north to reinforce Media before the Romans lay siege to Farhad’s capital.’

‘Impossible!’ said Mithridates.

‘You have something to say, my son?’ asked Phraates.

‘Great king, it is not for me to offer you advice on matters of state.’

‘Indeed,’ I remarked.

Mithridates’ nostrils flared as he glared at me. ‘But if we pander to hysterical demands and send our army north, then who will defend Ctesiphon?’

‘Highness,’ I said firmly, ‘you can call upon the armies of Babylon and Mesene, whose kingdoms lie nearby, their rulers at least are loyal and trustworthy. Though perhaps not Persis.’

There were gasps around the hall as I reminded Mithridates of his recent treachery. Mithridates momentarily appeared as if he was going to take the bait, his face a mask of hatred. But with great difficulty he managed to restrain himself.

‘And,’ I continued, ‘there are also the kingdoms in the east of the empire who will lend assistance to Ctesiphon. Gotarzes of Elymais is a man whom any general would want fighting by his side.’

Now it was the turn of the queen to intercede. ‘The armies of those kingdoms have been recently weakened and will be in no condition to lend us aid. Indeed, Sakastan has no king who can lead that kingdom’s army.’

This was a sly reference to my having killed Porus during the recent civil war.

‘Traitors often suffer a bad end, majesty,’ I remarked casually.

‘Enough,’ said Phraates, ‘we will not argue among ourselves, for the laughter of our enemies shall be our only reward. I fear that I cannot send my army north, King Pacorus. To do so would leave the heart of the empire vulnerable.’

I was confused, but then saw the leer on the face of Mithridates.

‘Of course, you will not have heard. The Romans have invaded Hatra.’

I felt sick in the pit of my stomach and it was some time before I could utter a response.

‘Hatra?’

Mithridates leaned forward, an evil grin on his face. ‘That is correct. After he had finished with those imbeciles Farhad and Aschek, Lucullus invaded your father’s kingdom with a new army. Even now his soldiers lay siege to Nisibus. So you see, if Hatra falls then a Roman army will be marching from the northwest towards Ctesiphon.’

‘It is as my son says,’ added Phraates.

I was speechless. The Romans had seized the opportunity offered by Media’s aggression to defeat Farhad and use his actions as a pretext for attacking my father’s kingdom. Domitus had been right. The Romans aimed for nothing less than the conquest of all the land between the Tigris and Euphrates rivers.

‘Susiana has no troops to offer Farhad or Aschek,’ said Mithridates.

I became angry at that moment. I pointed at Mithridates. ‘Does this man, who formerly fought in the army of the rebels, speak on your behalf, highness?’

Phraates looked alarmed. ‘Mithridates has my confidence, King Pacorus,’ he said meekly.

‘Last year he was prepared to slit his father’s throat.’

The queen stood up. ‘How dare you insult my son.’

‘How dare he sit there lecturing me.’

Mithridates smirked once more. ‘Is this behaviour becoming of the lord high general of the empire?’

‘I quite agree,’ added his mother, ‘such vulgarity in the presence of the high king is unforgiveable.’

In the heat of the moment I then made my mistake. ‘If you no longer have confidence in my abilities, highness,’ I said, ‘I will gladly relinquish my command.’

Phraates looked most uncomfortable and began to babble an incoherent reply, which was cut short by his wife.

‘We accept your resignation.’

‘We do indeed,’ said Mithridates.

Phraates began to say something once more, stopped and then looked down at his feet. The queen and her son regarded me with haughty disregard. And so I lost my position as chief general of the empire. When I bowed and then marched from the hall many of the courtiers turned their backs on me, so disgusted were they with my behaviour. My escort was livid when I later informed them of what had happened, but what could be done? Phraates was completely under the control of his wife and son, and where those two ruled, truth, justice and honour withered. I had little time to brood, though, because a crisis was unfolding in the west that made the affairs of Media seem almost irrelevant. I had to get back to Dura and then see what assistance I could offer to my father. But before all of this, I still had to honour the promise I had made to Farhad. And so I stayed at Ctesiphon to be treated like an outcast once more.

The next day I had another audience with Phraates to see if he would change his mind about sending reinforcements to Media. But it was the same story — the queen and his son made sure my request fell on deaf ears. But then, amazingly, Mithridates revealed a surprising development.

‘We have received an offer of assistance from Chosroes of Mesene, who wishes to help his brother Farhad. To this end he is willing to send a large number of horsemen to Media. It seems appropriate that you should lead this force, King Pacorus.’ His face still displayed disdain and his words were uttered without emotion, but reinforcements were reinforcements, no matter where they came from.

‘We are not unmindful of the predicament Hatra and your own kingdom find themselves in, Pacorus,’ said Phraates, ‘but you must understand that if Ctesiphon falls the empire would receive a mortal blow.’

I doubted that. Ctesiphon was the capital of the empire, that was true, and it had a full treasury that was also true, but it did not pay for the other kingdoms in the empire. Indeed, it received tribute from them. It had no army that was the backbone of the empire and certainly no great king that could lead it. If it fell the empire would continue, but if Hatra fell then the empire truly would be weakened.

Even though the army of Mesene was not one I would wish to command, any reinforcements would be enough to stiffen the resolve of Media, and it certainly needed stiffening.

‘Perhaps Babylon might also be convinced to lend assistance to Media,’ I said.

‘I doubt that,’ replied Mithridates. ‘I would have thought Babylon will be looking to the northwest and Hatra, for if your father’s kingdom falls then Babylon will be next.’

I disliked Mithridates intensely but he was right in what he said. A Roman army that occupied the kingdom of Hatra would be able to strike at Babylon with ease, to say nothing of Dura, where another Roman army was heading.

Phraates gestured to one of his stewards, a tall, severe man dressed in yellow robes who had a neatly cropped brown beard. Phraates handed him a scroll that had a red wax seal. The steward took the scroll, bowed and then handed it to me.

‘That is a personal guarantee from me,’ said Phraates, ‘that if Chosroes provides you with all the soldiers you need to send to Media, then he will be handsomely recompensed for his loyalty.’

It was as much as I could hope for. The King of Kings ruled because the other kings elected him, but the recent civil war had revealed that his power could often be challenged. If he was a mighty warlord or commanded great respect then the other kings would obey him without question. Unfortunately Phraates was neither. Still, Chosroes had voted for Phraates and had brought his army to fight for him when asked to do so. I saw no reason why the King of Mesene would refuse his request, especially as he would receive gold in exchange for sending his soldiers north. It seemed that even loyalty now had a price.

I bowed to Phraates and his wife, the silent, sullen Aruna. ‘Thank you, highness.’

I would never bow to Mithridates, who bridled at my insolence. And he had one last mouthful of venom to spit.

‘King Pacorus. We have sent heralds to each of the kings of the empire announcing that you are no longer lord high general. It is better that there exists no uncertainty on the matter in these troubled times.’

‘But we will always seek your advice on military matters,’ added Phraates, who glanced at his wife. ‘We are grateful for your efforts in our service.’

He was truly a broken reed.

I was relieved to depart Ctesiphon, and especially glad to leave behind Mithridates and his mother. I was surprised to see that there were no heightened levels of activity among the garrison as I rode through the gates in the perimeter wall south towards Mesene. In fact there was hardly any activity at all. If the Romans did reach this place they would batter down its crumbling and aged walls with ease. I shuddered at the thought. But the defences of Ctesiphon were no longer my responsibility.

We made good progress south, following the course of the Tigris as it made its way to the Persian Gulf. Keeping to the eastern bank we made at least thirty miles each day, so on the third day we were on the northern border of Mesene. The land either side of the river was green and full of birds and animals. I saw warblers, white-tailed eagles and babblers. The area from here south was dotted with large and small lakes and marshlands — great swathes of wetlands that were inhabited by the Marsh People. I had heard that they lived on small slivers of dry land above the waterline and fashioned their homes from the reeds that they harvested from the waters. They also crafted boats from reeds, which they used to travel throughout the wetlands, or so I was told. From our position on the eastern bank of the Tigris the marshes on the other side of the river appeared vast and limitless, continuing on into the distance.

It was now nearly three weeks since I had left Dura and I knew that the Romans would be near my city, if not already before it. I also knew that Domitus and Nergal were on the other side of the Euphrates by now, ready to spring their trap when I returned. But I worried that my father might request their assistance further north and my mind was filled with thoughts of my two commanders marching north while the Romans assaulted Dura. I went cold at the thought of Gallia and Claudia trapped in the city. But surely Godarz would send them to safety; perhaps they were both already in Hatra? One thing I knew: I had to get back to Dura as quickly as possible.

‘Highness.’

I was torturing myself with different scenarios when the commander of my escort shook me out of my daydreaming. Riding beside me he was pointing at dark shapes ahead, which were shimmering in the heat.

‘Ready,’ I shouted, and we all reached behind to pull our bows from their hide cases fastened to our saddles. We instinctively pulled arrows from our quivers, strung them in the bowstrings and formed into line. The shapes grew larger and I recognised men on horses, a long column of them. I held up my hand and halted the others. I peered at the approaching horsemen, who had made no attempt to change their formation or pace. Indeed, I wondered if they had seen us at all. Then two from the front of the column detached themselves and began riding towards us. As one my men raised their bows and pointed them at the two figures approaching. As they got nearer I could see that neither had any weapons in their hands, and the leader held his right arm aloft. The two then slowed their horses, a brace of mangy looking brown mares, to a walk and they both raised their arms above their heads to show they meant us no harm. I signalled to my men to lower their bows and I returned my arrow to its quiver and slipped my bow back in its case. The two riders halted in front of me and bowed their heads.

They were both dressed like nomads, with baggy brown trousers and light brown shirts with the sleeves rolled up to above their elbows. Their bows were slung over their shoulders and on their heads they wore linen hats.

‘Greetings, majesty,’ said one, a swarthy man with a long moustache and untidy beard, ‘my name is Kaspar. I was sent by my king, Chosroes, to escort you south.’

He led a company of ragged riders, one hundred men dressed in similar attire to their commander. One carried a long staff from which hung a banner sporting the viper symbol of Chosroes.

‘How long until we reach the rendezvous?’ I asked Kaspar who rode beside me.

He smiled at me, his teeth as brown as his shirt. ‘Not long, majesty. Two hours at most.’

‘How many horsemen has your king sent to the rendezvous?’

Once again he smiled like an imbecile. ‘Many companies, majesty, enough to do you honour.’

Eventually we reached a collection of mud-brick huts located a mile from the Tigris, a desolate place that was deserted as far as I could see.

‘We are here, majesty,’ said Kaspar, who halted his horse and nodded to himself.

‘I see no horsemen,’ I said.

‘They will be here, majesty, that I promise. Would you like to rest out of the sun?’

It was certainly hot and my tunic was drenched with sweat, but I was more annoyed that there were no troops waiting for me. But then, this was the army of Chosroes and it was probably futile to get annoyed with Kaspar, so I gave the order to dismount and led Remus over to one of the water troughs while others gathered round the well in the centre of the village and hoisted up the bucket to quench their thirst. My men took off their helmets and I did the same. It was midday now and the sun was burning the earth, made worse by the lack of any wind. Once Remus had finished drinking I led him over to the shade of some stables located behind one of the buildings. Kaspar followed me and tethered his mare next to Remus.

‘Where are the villagers?’ I asked.

Kaspar lowered his head. ‘I do not know, majesty.’

I turned away from him and stared at his men and mine intermingling in the centre of the village. ‘Well, I hope we will not be here long. We have a long journey north ahead of us.’

I suddenly felt a sharp pain on the side of my head and then all was black.