Parthian Dawn

Chapter 18

Seven months and ten days after I had left Dura I rode across the pontoon bridge over the Euphrates and returned to my kingdom. It was good to be back and I inhaled the rich aroma of horses, camels and spices coming from the heavy traffic on the road going east and west. Indeed, so choked was the road leading to the bridge that I ordered my horsemen to dismount and walk through the throng. We removed our helmets. Our bows were in their cases affixed to our saddles. Ahead of us was a fat man bellowing at the drivers of his camel train, who were allowing too wide a gap to develop between each beast.

‘Keep them together,’ he shouted, ‘if we get separated in this crowd it will take hours to get you all together again. And we are on a tight schedule. Use your sticks!’

I walked up behind him, Remus following. ‘A busy day, friend?’

He turned to look at me, shielding his eyes from the sun as he did so. He had a dirty brown turban on his head and grey stubble on his chin. ‘I blame the idiot who built this bridge for all this mess.’

‘But surely,’ I replied, ‘it is quicker crossing here than further upstream?’

He looked at me as though I was a simpleton. ‘Of course, but they should have built two bridges, one for eastern traffic and one for western traffic. Quite simple, though I suppose that king in his palace up there,’ he gestured at the Citadel sitting atop the escarpment, ‘thinks it’s great fun to see us all struggle like this. Charges us for the privilege as well.’

By this time my men had made the congestion worse, as mules, horses, camels and dozens of men and women tried to get on the bridge. It was chaos, and soon people were arguing and pushing and shoving each other as tempers ran high.

‘You see?’ said the merchant, shaking his head, ‘if he had built two bridges we wouldn’t have all this. Keep those camels together, you sons of whores.’

Then we heard a blast of trumpets and whistles, which startled the beasts and briefly made everyone forget their grievances. Remus flicked his tail nonchalantly — he had heard those sounds many times before. Seconds later a century of Dura’s legionaries pushed its way through the crowd, the men ordering some to retreat back down the road and others to continue with their journey over the bridge. They used their shields to herd people back, while the centurion at the front employed his vine cane to ‘persuade’ the more recalcitrant to move aside. Then they were in front of me.

The centurion frowned and then his eyes widened as he recognised me. He stopped and bowed his head.

‘Majesty, forgive me, I did not know that you were back at the city.’

‘Why should you? A lot of people on the road, I see.’

He shook his head. ‘It is easier fighting than keeping control of this mob, majesty.’

He turned around. ‘Clear a path, clear a path for the king.’

The merchant’s mouth opened as I mounted Remus. ‘I will think on your suggestion of a second bridge. Shamash keep you safe on your journey.’

I raised my hand to the centurion as his men cleared a path on the bridge and we rode across it and back to the city. The watch-outs on the towers saw us coming and sent word back to the Citadel, so that when we rode through the Palmyrene Gate a guard of honour was waiting for us, as was another in the Citadel itself. And there, on the steps, in boots, leggings and a white shirt edge with blue, her long blonde hair shimmering in the light, stood Gallia, my gorgeous Gallic queen. I vaulted from Remus, ran up the steps and embraced her, locking my lips on hers. The Amazons arrayed behind her began rapping the ends of their bows on the flagstones in salute and my men began cheering. Claudia, in the arms of Dobbai, began crying due to the din. I released Gallia and scooped up Claudia kissing her forehead, then wrapped an arm around Gallia’s shoulders.

‘You have been gone too long,’ said Gallia, struggling to hold back the tears.

I too was choking with emotion. ‘Yes. I have done with the empire and politics. This is my home and this is where I stay from now on. No more adventures for me.’

We held each other closely as I dismissed the men and went into the palace with Claudia in my arms and Gallia beside me. Dobbai trailed after us. I had hoped that I could spend some time alone with my family, but Rsan arrived after dealing with a trading dispute in the city, followed by Godarz.

‘It is good to see you again, majesty,’ remarked Rsan, bowing his head, spreading his arms out wide in front of him in homage. ‘The financial affairs of the city are in order, you will be glad to hear.’

‘I don’t doubt it,’ I said, one leg drooped over the arm of my throne. ‘Trade appears to be thriving if what I saw on the road today is anything to go by.’

‘Indeed, indeed,’ smiled Rsan, ‘though our overheads are still high.’

I embraced my old friend Godarz when he arrived, who likewise expressed his happiness at my return.

‘Last we heard you were in some god-forsaken hole near the Caspian Sea.’

‘No place is god forsaken,’ I replied.

Later Domitus and Nergal arrived at the Citadel, the former giving me a hearty hug.

‘You are forbidden to go away again without the army at your back.’

He noticed my purple top. ‘What’s this, gone all oriental on us?’

‘No, Domitus, it was a gift from a friend.’

‘You should burn it,’ he sniffed, ‘the lads will think you’ve gone soft.’

‘And how are they?’

He grinned. ‘Lean and mean and ready for another fight.’

The next day, after I had spent the night hours and the morning alone with my wife, I called everyone together on the palace terrace. In the early evening the heat of the day had abated. Dobbai attended, as did Orodes, now a prince without a home, Malik and Byrd. I told them what had happened in Media and how we had been saved by Musa and Khosrou. Of how we had journeyed to Ctesiphon, where the rumours about Dura being given up to the Romans were confirmed to me by the high king himself.

‘What of it?’ said Gallia, ‘we are here and will defend our home no matter what an idiot king says, no offence meant, Orodes.’

‘And none taken, lady,’ he replied. ‘Would that there were more kings in Parthia who had your courage and determination.’

There were murmurs of approval from all present. Even Rsan managed an enthusiastic nod.

‘Phraates is not long for this world,’ said Dobbai, suddenly. She looked at Orodes.

‘You were lucky to escape with your life; your father will not be so lucky.’

Orodes was outraged. ‘You are wrong. No one would dare strike down the King of Kings.’

Dobbai laughed. ‘What is the King of Kings but the guardian of a meaningless title who sits in his palace at the behest of the other kings? You think your brother…’

‘Half-brother,’ Orodes corrected her.

Dobbai ignored him. ‘You think your brother will wait until your father is dead before he wears the high crown? And you think that viper of his wife cares about Phraates, whose weakness is apparent throughout the whole world? Mithridates wishes to sit on Ctesiphon’s throne.’

‘So does Narses,’ I added.

Dobbai stood up and began pacing the terrace. ‘You are right in that, son of Hatra, though the only thing you have been right in of late. Narses and Mithridates are united in their ambition, but their alliance is only temporary.’ She stopped and jabbed a bony finger at me. ‘You should have killed them long ago. Now they will return to haunt you.’

‘I have more urgent things to think about, the Romans for one.’

She raised her eyes to the heavens in despair. ‘The Romans, what of them?’

‘They will be marching on Hatra again soon enough,’ said Orodes, ‘now that my father has ceded Dura to them.’

Dobbai waved a hand at him. ‘The desert will rise up and see them off. You should look to the east.’

‘Speaking in riddles again, Dobbai?’ I queried.

‘The only riddle is why you let your enemies live?’ She then walked over to Gallia, kissed her on the cheek and shuffled from the terrace.

We resumed discussing matters at hand. It was agreed that Malik and Byrd should ride to Syria to discern the movements of the Romans, and to gather news of any new army that they were raising to throw against us. Rsan reported that Haytham had sent a large amount of gold to Dura’s treasury, half the proceeds of the sale of the Roman prisoners that we had taken at the battle near the city last year.

‘What about their engineers?’ I asked Domitus.

‘Growing fat and lazy on the food we give them,’ he replied.

‘And their siege engines?’

‘All safe and in working order.’

Nergal reported that he had visited Babylon as ordered and that Vardan and Axsen were safe and their city unharmed.

‘The walls of Babylon are high, Pacorus. Chosroes could not take it and so retreated after burning all the outlying villages.’

‘Will Vardan march against Chosroes, Nergal?’ I asked.

Nergal shook his head. ‘Not unless Dura marches beside him, but even then I suspect Babylon has no appetite for war.’

‘Chosroes will have to wait,’ I said, ‘we must look to our own defences first. Especially as we have a new lord high general who might just be tempted to try his luck against us.’

‘The last we heard,’ remarked Nergal, ‘he was preoccupied with subduing rebellious tribes in Sakastan.’

‘Perhaps someone will stick an arrow in him,’ said Gallia.

‘Alas, my love,’ I replied, ‘I doubt that we will be that lucky.’

‘The Romans won’t take kindly to have been given a good thrashing here, Pacorus,’ remarked Godarz. ‘They will be back.’

He was right, of course, but the question was — when would they return? It was late spring now, and I estimated that there would be no campaigning until the fierce heat of the summer had disappeared.

During the days that followed I went to see Dura’s lords to tell them the news of developments at Ctesiphon. I could have ordered them to attend me at Dura, but it gave me an excuse to visit them and to take Gallia and her Amazons with me. They liked entertaining their queen and I liked to show her off to the kingdom. Her blonde hair and her women warriors endlessly fascinated them, the more so since her exploits in defending Dura against the Romans. No Parthian woman had done such a thing before.

‘But I’m not Parthian,’ she whispered to me one evening as we were being entertained by a group of jugglers throwing swords above their heads as though they were scrolls.

‘You are now, my love. They have adopted you.’

My own escort included Surena, now a fully fledged cataphract, and Orodes, whose banishment from his own kingdom had been announced throughout the empire. It was a terrible slight but one which he took in his stride. Everyone made him welcome at Dura and Gallia wanted him to stay with us permanently. But though he maintained his jovial, endearing manner, I think his father’s abandonment of him cut him to the core. Surena, on the other hand, walked around without a care in the world, though I noticed that he always gave Gallia a wide berth. He never let an opportunity slip to be near Viper, though, and his boyish charm and confidence began to weaken her defences, just as a besieging army grinds down a city.

On the way back to Dura we diverted our journey to pay Haytham a visit. We found him at a much-enlarged Palmyra, which had become a veritable tent city. Trade was excellent and the Agraci had obviously profited handsomely from it. Indeed, there was even some discourse between Dura’s lords and Haytham’s people, a thing previously unheard of.

‘Trade means profit and while there’s money to be made there’s no point in slitting each other’s throats.’ Haytham may have been a king but his tent was austere and his clothing functional. No decadent comforts for him.

‘You should erect some buildings, lord,’ I suggested. ‘I can send you some of Dura’s architects if you wish.’

He shook his head. ‘We can pack up and disappear into the desert if the need arises. The whole of Palmyra can vanish like a mirage.’

‘Why would you wish to do that?’ asked Gallia, Rasha snuggled up in her arms.

‘We still have many enemies,’ said Haytham. ‘Romans to the west and Parthians in the east.’

‘The Parthians are not your enemies, lord,’ I said.

Haytham smiled wryly. ‘I like you, Pacorus, I really do, but sometimes my Rasha has more common sense than you do.

‘The Romans are like ravenous wolves. They will not be satisfied until they have conquered the whole world. And there are many Parthians who see the Agraci as cockroaches, to be stamped on.’

‘Not this Parthian, lord.’

‘No, not you. But few have your foresight. We have heard that your new lord high general has vowed to rid the earth of the Agraci.’

‘I would not worry about him,’ I said, ‘he would not dare venture near my kingdom, not unless he wants another mauling.’

‘Well,’ he said, ‘the Agraci know who their friends are and we know how to survive.’

Our stay in Palmyra was extremely pleasant and we took the opportunity to visit Noora, Byrd’s woman. Once again Gallia asked her to come back with us to Dura but again she refused. I said that I was sorry that I was responsible for her husband being away for long periods. She just shrugged and said that Byrd came and went as he pleased.

‘It does not matter, lord, for we will be together when we are old and frail, and then the days will be filled with nothing but each other’s company.’

Gallia was moved by these words.

‘I hope that we are still together when we are old.’

‘Why wouldn’t we be?’ I asked, as we were riding back to Dura.

‘Because it seems that you are always away fighting on behalf of the empire.’

I smiled. ‘I told you, I am done with all that. Now I shall stay in the Citadel and become fat and indolent and sire lots of children.’

She looked at me. ‘Is that right? A queen’s duties are endless, it seems.’

I smiled at her. ‘Duty? I thought it was a pleasure.’

‘Don’t flatter yourself, Pacorus.’

I had hoped that Dura would go unnoticed while Narses and Mithridates played their games of intrigue at Ctesiphon, and that the Romans would stay away after they had been given a bloody nose at the gates of my city. But when I told Domitus this he merely laughed and said that Mars had not finished with me yet. He himself seemed happy enough. The Duran Legion had been brought back up to strength, the Pontic contingent had been replenished with exiles from Armenia and more from Pontus itself, so that we now had nearly ten thousand foot soldiers, all trained and equipped in the Roman style. In fact we had so many legionaries that we were forced to billet them along the Euphrates in small mud-brick forts, each one having a watchtower and a small barracks for half a century — forty men — together with stables for four horses. We built fifty of these forts; the legionaries themselves carrying out their construction, each one spaced at five-mile intervals along the riverbank both north and south of the city. In this way two thousand soldiers were garrisoned outside Dura who also provided eyes and ears right up to the kingdom’s northern and southern borders. Not that they needed to do so, as the lords and those who lived on their lands kept a close watch, but it alleviated the crowded conditions in the camp outside Dura.

Nergal’s horse archers now totalled eleven hundred men and by promoting the most promising squires we had brought the cataphracts up to five hundred in number. Orodes had only two hundred and fifty out of his original five hundred heavy cavalry, but there was nothing that could be done about that. With his banishment he was forbidden to have any contact with his homeland or the other kings and princes of the empire; indeed, his men were free to leave him and travel back to Susa, though none did. I felt guilty that I was the cause of his misfortune but Gallia dismissed the notion, saying that he would not have stayed with me this long had he not wanted to. Nevertheless, in an effort to make him feel at home I hung his banner beside mine in the throne room.

With the horse archers that the lords could muster, Dura could now field an army of around twenty thousand men, a most respectable number given the modest size of the kingdom.

I had had no contact with my father since our argument the previous year, though there had been a flurry of letters between Gallia and my mother over the issue. My mother also wrote to me, usually begging me to visit Hatra, and I always wrote back expressing my love but evading her invitation. But no word came from my father and I would not budge on the matter. If he did not apologise then I would not contact him. I found it all rather tedious, but then a happy interlude occurred when Gafarn and Diana visited us and brought with them the welcome news that she was pregnant. They had left little Spartacus at Hatra but assured me that he was thriving.

‘He acts more like a prince every day,’ said Diana as we relaxed one evening on the palace terrace. Below us, small boats with lanterns at the prow were night fishing on the marble-smooth waters of the Euphrates.

‘Well, that is what he is,’ I replied, refilling Vistaspa’s cup with wine.

‘Thank you, majesty,’ he replied.

‘There is no need to be so formal, Vistaspa,’ said Gallia, ‘we are all friends here.’

Gafarn laughed and Vistaspa looked awkward. A lifetime of strict adherence to protocol was difficult to put aside. I had been most surprised that Vistaspa had come to Dura, but he must have missed Godarz. Diana told me that he had been delighted with the invitation to accompany them. Rather than billet him at the palace I had lodged him at the governor’s house with his old friend.

‘It is so good to see you, Diana,’ Gallia was smiling as she held Diana’s hand.

‘When are you two going to visit Hatra?’ Diana looked at me.

‘When my father apologises, of course,’ I replied.

Gafarn was shaking his had. ‘Same old Pacorus, stubborn as a mule.’

‘If you had been arrested,’ I said, ‘you would think the same as me.’

‘No I wouldn’t. I would be grateful that I had a father.’

‘I will visit Hatra,’ announced Gallia, ‘with or without Pacorus.’

‘Do as you wish,’ I said.

‘I will,’ she replied.

Vistaspa was staring down into his cup, no doubt highly embarrassed by the conversation.

‘It is not good that Dura and Hatra do not have warm relations. Is that not so, Lord Vistaspa?’ asked Diana.

Vistaspa cleared his throat. ‘I think that Narses fears a united Dura and Hatra, especially as King Pacorus worsted him in battle. A divided father and son plays into his hands.’

‘Well said,’ remarked Gafarn, ‘though perhaps we should write it on the wall in big letters so Pacorus can understand it better.’

Gallia and Diana laughed. Vistaspa looked more embarrassed.

‘Did you come all this way just to annoy me, brother?’ I asked.

‘Of course not, it’s far too easy and therefore no fun at all.’

I toyed with the idea of riding to Hatra and making amends with my father. Everyone urged me to do it, even Dobbai, who usually took no interest in emotional matters.

‘You are Hatra’s heir, though you will never wear its crown.’

‘I do not understand,’ I replied.

‘Of course you do not. The gods made you useful with a sword not with your brain. The future king of Hatra is at this moment within your walls.’

Her ramblings became worse by the day and in truth I took what she said with a pinch of salt. The visit of Gafarn and Diana was over too soon, and on the morning of their departure they again both urged me to make amends with my father. Finally relenting, I promised them that I would, and that Gallia and I would be journeying to Hatra soon after they had departed. This pleased them immensely and they both left Dura happy, as did Vistaspa. As Gafarn, Diana and their escort were leaving the Citadel, the commander of my father’s army halted his horse beside me.

‘Your army is a credit to you, Pacorus, well done. The empire is all the stronger for having a king such as you serving it.’

With that he bowed his head to Gallia and then me and rode away. Strange as it may seem, his few words of praise meant the world to me.

It was just two days after our friends had departed that Malik and Byrd arrived at the Citadel, both unshaven and covered in dust from what had obviously been a hard ride. The look on their faces told me the news they brought was not good.

Byrd gulped down a cup of water that was offered to him. ‘Romani army marching from Syria.’

I grew alarmed. ‘Marching to where?’

‘To Dura, Pacorus,’ replied Malik, holding out his cup to a servant to be refilled.

Two hours later the war council was gathered at the palace, where Byrd told them the news that another Roman army was marching on Dura.

‘At least eight legions, plus cavalry and light troops. Also siege engines,’ reported Byrd.

‘I estimate around fifty thousand men in total, perhaps more,’ added Malik.

‘That’s a lot of men,’ commented Domitus, ‘they obviously mean business this time.’

‘Does Crassus lead them?’ I asked.

Byrd shook his head. ‘No, they are commanded by a man named Pompey.’

The name meant nothing to me, though the fact that he led fifty thousand men indicated that he had great power and influence. In the next few minutes, though, I became more acquainted with Pompey, the new Roman commander in the East. He had certainly been busy of late. Byrd informed us that it had been Pompey who had destroyed the power of the Cilician pirates. In this I was not displeased, for they had betrayed the army of Spartacus when it had been trapped in southern Italy. A vision of the pirate leader we had dealt with suddenly appeared in my mind, a slippery fellow named Shirish Patelli. He had flattered and deceived us with his false smile and deceitful promises, and then suddenly vanished with the gold that Spartacus had given him. I hoped that this Pompey, who had apparently destroyed the pirate scourge in a matter of months, had nailed Patelli to a cross.

Byrd continued to relate how Pompey had gone on to finally defeat King Mithridates of Pontus. Next, Pompey had turned his attention to Antioch, the sad rump of what had once been the mighty Seleucid Empire. Nearly two hundred years ago that empire had ruled from the Mediterranean Sea to the Indian Ocean, but now it had vanished. Its last ruler, Antiochus XIII, had been a Roman puppet who had ruled Syria on their behalf. But now Byrd told us that Pompey had expelled Antiochus from Antioch and then had him murdered.

‘A lesson for you all,’ said Dobbai, holding each of us with her eyes, ‘Once a mighty empire, ruled by the heirs of Alexander, turned into a plaything of the Romans and now vanished from the earth.’

Her eyes narrowed as she fixed her gaze on Domitus, who returned her stare.

‘And yet it seems that the gods have earmarked Dura as a special place, that much is certain,’ she said at length. ‘Why else would they gather Parthian, Roman and Agraci together, were it not for a specific purpose?’

‘And what purpose would that be?’ I asked.

She pursed her lips. ‘How should I know? I am not a god.’

‘You are right, there,’ remarked Domitus casually.

Dobbai turned on him. ‘Have a care, Roman, your gods have no power here. “The Follower” will stop your kin.’

‘Follower?’ asked Gallia.

Dobbai waved a hand at us. ‘I have said enough, go back to listening to the ramblings of the Cappadocian pot seller.’

She shuffled from the room, leaving us none the wiser. I told Byrd to continue, who informed us that Pompey had declared the whole of Syria a Roman province.

‘Can he do such a thing?’ asked Rsan.

‘With eight legions he can,’ answered Domitus, who looked at me. ‘What will you do?’

I suddenly felt the weight of expectation bear down heavily on my shoulders. They were all looking at me, waiting for my speech of deliverance. My next words would probably decide my own fate and that of the kingdom of Dura.

‘We have no choice, we must march north to meet the Romans before they set foot on Duran territory.’

‘We will be outnumbered by more than two to one,’ said Godarz with alarm.

‘If we do not engage them at the border,’ I continued, ‘they will destroy all the villages and lords’ strongholds as they march south. Each lord will fight them and be defeated in turn, and by the time this Pompey sets down before the city we will have lost half our army.’

‘We could harry them as they marched south,’ suggested Nergal, ‘launch hit-and-run raids on their army and attack their supply lines and garrisons they leave behind, like we did last year.’

‘If we had time on our side I would agree,’ I replied, ‘but we do not. And there are a lot more of them than last year. Hit them hard before they set on Duran territory, that is the only option.’

Domitus looked up. ‘And then?’

He knew as well as everyone else that we would not be able to defeat eight legions plus auxiliary troops and horsemen. We might scatter their cavalry easily enough, but when it came to fighting their legions we did not have enough men. There was an unbearable silence as each of us created what would happen in our minds. Domitus would lead his men against the Roman line while Nergal and I defeated their horsemen, but in the centre Domitus would be forced back as the sheer weight of numbers began to tell. On each wing our horsemen would wheel inwards and strike at the enemy’s flanks and try to get behind him, but we would be met by unbroken shield walls and would be forced to call off our attacks. And in the centre the Roman legions would be grinding down the foot soldiers of Dura into dust.

‘There is no alternative,’ I said at last. ‘That is my plan. We march in two days.’

Messages were sent to the lords to muster their men and then link up with the army as it marched north to Dura’s northern border. As the city and the legion’s camp outside the city burst into activity, I went to see Godarz. I found him in his residence issuing orders to a group of city officials concerning the collection of food from outlying areas. I stood outside his study until he had finished.

‘Collect as much as you can. We will slaughter the livestock and salt the meat. Don’t bother with fruit, but bring in enough wheat so we can produce biscuit in the bakeries. It keeps for months and is reasonably nutritious.’

He dismissed them and they filed out of the room, some of them slightly startled by my presence. I went into the room.

‘Expecting a long siege, Godarz?’

He stood up. ‘Pacorus? I didn’t expect you to be here.’

I sat down in a chair opposite his desk. ‘Take a seat, my friend.’

‘I wish I was marching with the army,’ he said, taking his seat across the table.

‘Your place is here, and I have an important mission for you.’

He wore a confused expression. I continued. ‘We both know that Dura will not be able to hold out for long against a large army, especially if there is no hope of relief.’

‘But surely?’ I held up my hand to still him.

‘I do not intend to sacrifice the people of this city needlessly. If you receive word that the army has been destroyed, I want you to evacuate the city. Seek refuge in Hatran territory. Better that than death or slavery.’

‘That is an order that only you can give.’

I smiled. ‘If the army is beaten then I shall be dead, my friend, in which case you will command the city, so please do as I say.’

‘What of Gallia?’

‘She is marching with the army.’

He was horrified. ‘And Claudia?’

‘Will remain here with Dobbai. If the worst happens make sure they both get to Hatra. They will be safe there, or as safe as anyone can be in this world.’

‘Gallia will fight?’

I nodded. ‘Of course, she and her women are itching to get to grips with the enemy. You know what they were like in Italy.’

‘You could evacuate the city now and leave it to the Romans.’

Now it was my turn to be horrified. ‘No, Godarz, what sort of man would that make me? I do not intend to run from the Romans. Remember what Spartacus told us — it is better to die on your feet than forever to live on your knees.’

‘He still casts a shadow over us all,’ mused Godarz.

‘Indeed he does.’

‘You know, I always believed that he would fail in the end. The world was not ready for a man such as Spartacus. But I have a feeling that his memory will outlast us all and will reverberate through history.’

‘I would like to think so, Godarz, I would like to think so.’

‘Well,’ he stood up, ‘I can’t sit here chatting to you; I have a city to organise.’

The rumour of the approaching Roman army spread like wildfire and soon the volume of caravans on the road diminished to a trickle and then stopped altogether. This cast Rsan into the pit of despair but I told him there was nothing to be done, and in truth I was glad for it was one less thing to worry about. Not that there was any alarm in the city. The citizens had already been evacuated once, albeit for a short time, and they must have expected the same this time. After all, the Romans had been defeated here once, why not again? This result had given them a false sense of optimism; but then, that was better than panic.

It is around three hundred miles from Antioch to Dura, though the journey can be shortened by striking southeast from Antioch, across the desert, to reach my city. But that involves crossing vast stretches of wasteland, and whereas a lone traveller or a small group may attempt it, especially if they have a local guide to plot their course from waterhole to waterhole, no commander would lead his army into such a desolate vastness. Instead, Pompey would lead his legions directly west to the town of Aleppo, a centre of Greek learning and culture, and then west again until he reached the River Euphrates. He would then march down the west bank of the river, thus ensuring his men and animals had plentiful supplies of water, until he eventually reached Dura. It would take him just over three weeks to reach the city, which meant that I had a week to get the army to the kingdom’s northern frontier to meet him before he set foot on Duran territory. Preparations had gone smoothly, however, and the army was ready to march north when an agitated Domitus arrived at the Citadel. I was in the treasury explaining to Rsan that he must box up the city’s reserves of gold and silver for transportation across the river to Hatra in the event of my defeat.

‘I will leave sufficient soldiers behind to act as a guard for the treasure, but it is imperative that it gets to my father’s city. You are one of the few who know about the city’s evacuation and you must not tell anyone else.’

He was delighted that I had entrusted so big a secret to him, though perturbed about what it meant for his precious treasure.

‘But, majesty, I, you, have a great deal of gold and silver stored here, and if word got out that it is being moved.’

‘That is why it must remain a secret, Rsan. Tell no one, not even your most trusted official. On pain of death.’

He went ashen faced, but then recovered when I laid a hand on his shoulder. ‘Just keep it to yourself and liaise with Godarz, who also knows of my plan.’

Domitus came in unannounced and threw his helmet on Rsan’s table. ‘You need to keep that bitch under control.’

Rsan frowned at such rude behaviour but said nothing. He knew to stay clear of an angry Domitus.

‘What bitch is that?’ I asked.

‘Your sorceress, that’s who.’

‘Dobbai?’

‘Yes, and lucky for her that she has your favour, otherwise I would have slit her throat there and then.’

‘Calm down,’ I said, ‘and tell me what she has done.’

Dobbai usually restricted herself to the Citadel, occasionally going into the city to purchase herbs and spices for her concoctions, usually potions to cure Claudia’s teething problems and other minor ailments or to produce incense that she burned in her private quarters. She had endless arguments with Alcaeus concerning medicine and the treatment of illnesses. Alcaeus accused her of being a charlatan who took advantage of people’s fear and ignorance, while she accused him of being an ill-educated foreigner who had no business telling her about things he did not understand. But now she had commandeered a cart and driver and had visited Domitus’ camp, whereupon she had begun to order the soldiers to stop what they were doing immediately and seek refuge in the city, otherwise the desert sands would bury them. These men were battle-hardened veterans but they knew of Dobbai’s prophecies and her words had spread alarm throughout the camp like wildfire, much to Domitus’ fury.

‘Please go and get her,’ he said to me through gritted teeth, ‘otherwise I swear by Mars that I will cut her head off.’

So I rode from the Citadel to the camp where Domitus had confined Dobbai to his tent and placed her under armed guard. When I arrived she was sitting behind his desk, her hands resting on the polished surface. She leaned back in her chair when she saw me.

‘Where is your Roman pet, son of Hatra?’

‘Your words are not helping, Dobbai, we are preparing to march north.’

She shook her head. ‘You need to get everyone into the city, a storm is coming.’

‘Storm?’

‘I told you,’ she continued, ‘but you chose to ignore me.’

The day was hot and airless, like every other day of late, and the sky cloudless.

‘I have eyes, Dobbai, and the sky has no clouds. There is no wind, so I see no reason to believe that any storm is on its way.’

She rose from her chair and began pacing. ‘You have eyes but cannot see. As for your reason, it is deceiving you.’ She stopped pacing and looked at me, her expression one of almost pleading. ‘Do you trust me, Pacorus?’

A shiver went down my spine. She never called me by my name but she did so now. There was no mockery in her eyes, only a deadly seriousness that made me apprehensive.

‘I trust you.’

‘Then give the order to get everyone into the city. All the buildings must be boarded up and everyone must stay inside. You must give this order today or all will be lost.’

Reason told me that this was idiocy, that to disrupt our plans was foolhardy in the extreme. Yet my instincts screamed at me that it was the right thing to do. So I gave the order.

Domitus was at first enraged by my decision and then dumbfounded, but he carried out my order. I told Nergal to call in all his patrols as thousands of men and horses, and hundreds of carts and wagons filed into the city. The men were billeted in barracks in the city and Citadel, and fortunately there was enough room in the stables to accommodate the horses of the cataphracts, their squires and the horse archers, though it was a squeeze to say the least. But eight thousand foot soldiers could not be housed in the barracks, even with men sleeping on floors, and so they had to be billeted on the city’s citizens. I was thankful that two thousand more were safely housed in the forts that we had built up and down the Euphrates. The citizens grumbled but acquiesced — they had no choice — and the soldiers assisted each household in boarding up and securing the properties. The carts and wagons were stored in the city’s squares and along the sides of roads, and the supplies, spare clothing, tents, weapons and utensils they held were secured in homes, temples, offices and storerooms. Then the carts and wagons were themselves covered over with canvas.

In the Citadel itself soldiers were allocated to any spare rooms and bedded down in the feasting hall, throne room and even in the corridors. The Amazons filled the rooms next to our bedroom, though no one wanted, or dared, to bed down in Dobbai’s room. That night I held a grand meal in the feasting hall, though Domitus sat with a face like thunder and ate next to nothing throughout. He was close to despair, I think, and avoided my gaze all evening. Eventually he slammed his fist on the table and stormed out. I think he believed that I had taken leave of my senses and that we had let any chance of meeting the enemy at the border slip through our fingers. And then the storm struck.

Al-Dabaran, they call it, ‘The Follower’, one of the great sandstorms that sweep down from the north, caused by a prevailing northwesterly wind that kicks up the fine desert sand and dust and carries them south. Where there had been quiet and no wind, suddenly there was a dark sky as a wall of sand descended on the city, accompanied by a howling noise and a fierce wind, a wind that at first rattled the shutters and doors and then, as it grew in intensity, produced a banging noise at though huge fists were hammering on the shutters and doors, demanding entry.

‘It is the storm demons,’ shouted Dobbai, ‘they wish to enter and spread their desolation.’

For five days the storm raged. Such was its fury that no one could venture outside, with visibility reduced to nothing and skin and clothes running the risk of being sand-blasted after even a few seconds of exposure. On the third day the wind increased in intensity, a ceaseless roaring noise surrounding the Citadel and driving everyone inside to distraction. I thought the roof and doors would be ripped off such was its rage. I saw fear in men’s eyes as the wind and sand assaulted our fortress. Claudia screamed and wailed and people began to pray to their gods. I too prayed to Shamash that He would spare us, or at least my wife and daughter. Even Domitus looked alarmed. No, not alarmed, helpless, something I had not seen in his eyes before. This in turn made me alarmed. Nergal held Praxima close and I held Gallia and Claudia, while Dobbai paced up and down, seemingly oblivious to the terror that was spreading among us. Only one person seemed truly unconcerned, happy even, and that was Surena, who held a pale Viper in his arms, her face buried in his chest. And then, after the fifth day, when our nerves had been frayed to breaking point, when we had despaired of getting solace from the pounding noise that filled our world, the wind stopped. There was suddenly absolute silence. At first I thought that my hearing had given out after the days of howling and roaring, but then Dobbai laid a hand on my arm.

‘It is over, they have returned to the underworld once more.’

We sighed with relief and embraced each other. Some fell to their knees, wept and thanked their gods. Domitus caught the eye of Dobbai and nodded in acknowledgement that she had been right. She nodded back. Then it was back to normality.

Domitus called together his officers and began the task of preparing the march north once more. Men were recalled from the outlying forts. Thanks to Dobbai’s warning the army and its supplies were unharmed, and soon men and materials were moving out of the Palmyrene Gate to assemble once more in camp. Shutters and doors had been pummelled by the storm and some roofs had been torn off, but in general the city was relatively unscathed. Then I remembered the stone griffin statue at the Palmyrene Gate. High and exposed, it would have taken a terrible beating from the sand and dust — if it was still there at all. I rode down to the gate and raced up to the battlements, to find the statue untouched. I ran my hand over its contours. It was as if it had just been carved; there was not a mark on it. How could this be?

It took two days before the army was ready to move. I was still concerned that the Romans had stolen a march on us but Dobbai scoffed at my worries.

‘You think the Romans were able to march through Al-Dabaran? They will be in a perilous condition. It will take them many days to recover from the punishment they have received.’

‘Thank you,’ I said.

‘It is of no consequence.’

‘If it is of no consequence,’ I said, ‘then why did you bother to warn me of the storm?’

‘Because I am fond of your wife and daughter, son of Hatra, that is why. If anything happens to you then they will suffer, and I do not wish to see that. And the gods have not yet finished with you, so go and play at being a general.’

Byrd and Malik rode ahead as the army began its march from Dura, the legionaries marching six abreast and Nergal’s horse archers forming a flank guard for the foot, wagons and mules. Domitus, as always on foot, marched at the head of his men in front of the colour party carrying the gold griffin and the standard of victory. I rode at the tip of the army with Gallia and Orodes. Behind us came the standards of Dura and Susiana, and behind them Gallia’s Amazons. The cataphracts, their squires and camels were in the centre of the column, Domitus and his legionaries trailing behind. Nergal also had two hundred horse archers acting as a rearguard. I left five hundred foot and fifty horse archers behind at Dura, plus the Roman engineers that we had captured.

We marched north at a steady pace, covering around fifteen miles a day, and each day our numbers were increased when we linked up with one of Dura’s lords and his retinue. Many of their sons were members of my cataphracts and each day brought a happy reunion of father and son, sons in some cases. Each lord brought at least five hundred horse archers, so that by the time we reached the northern boundary of the kingdom the army totalled over twenty thousand men. How absurdly proud we all were, for we were unvanquished and rated ourselves among the best warriors in the empire. And we all also knew that our numbers were too few to take on the might of Pompey. We travelled under an intense clear blue sky, the army strung out over many miles as it hugged the Euphrates. Camels grumbled and spat, mules brayed and men sweated. Each night we slept in tents in a large camp erected in the Roman fashion, surrounded by a ditch and rampart surmounted by a wooden palisade, and each day it was disassembled ready for its erection on another site at the end of the march. As men spent between three and five hours a day disassembling the camp, Nergal sent his scouting parties far ahead into the surrounding desert, and ahead of them all rode Byrd and Malik.

We kept close to the Euphrates as we passed a mountain called the Jabal Bishri, a massive limestone and sandstone plateau with huge basalt outcrops that some said were fifty miles in length. We halted in the large expanse of land between the Jabal Bishri and the river, in the irrigated strip beside the Euphrates. At first I thought I might anchor one flank of the army on the river itself, as I had done at Dura last year, but Pompey had so many foot soldiers that he would be able to outflank our own legionaries with ease, and then herd them into the river while he fended off our own cavalry. So I decided to fight him inland on the plain, where at least our advantage in horsemen would keep his own cavalry at bay, and where the hard-packed dirt surface made excellent ground for charges and flanking manoeuvres. But eight legions against two was still sobering odds.

This was the furthest extent of Dura’s lands. Further north there were no fields or homes — just flat desert, the Euphrates disappearing into the distance.

On the final day of marching, with the sun beating down on us with relentless savagery, Surena came galloping up to the head of the column. Since the sand storm he had been in a ridiculously happy mood and today was no different. Like all of us he wore only his white baggy shirt and loose leggings and boots, a floppy hat on his head — helmets were carried on our saddles until the fighting began, unless you wanted to roast your brain. Gallia and her Amazons wore wide-brimmed floppy hats to keep the sun off their necks, and they let their hair fall freely about their shoulders. Some, such as Viper, cut their hair short to save them having to plait it when they donned their helmets, but Gallia and Praxima kept their hair long, which I was glad of. But it was Viper who was the topic of conversation today.

Surena halted his horse beside Remus and bowed his head. ‘Lord, I have happy news.’

‘Excellent, Surena. Have the Romans retreated?’

‘No, lord, I don’t know anything about them, but Viper has agreed to see me when we get back to Dura.’

I looked at Gallia on my other side, who rolled her eyes. ‘My congratulations.’

‘I knew I would win her round in the end. Bit of luck that storm blowing up when it did, though’

‘I’m sure the gods arranged it especially so you could woo her, Surena,’ I said.

‘Yes, lord,’ he beamed. ‘I was wondering, lord, if I might have some leave after the battle.’

‘Leave?’ The idea that he might be killed during the next few days had obviously not entered his mind.

‘Yes, lord, so I can take Viper to meet my people.’

I thought of the reed huts of his people, the marshes, the dried dung they used for firewood and the water buffaloes sharing the dry land with the villagers. ‘I’m sure she will enjoy what will be a unique experience. You have my permission. Now kindly rejoin the ranks.’

He whooped with joy, bowed his head and then galloped back to the cataphracts.

‘Idiot boy,’ remarked Gallia.

‘He’s not so bad, and he is a good soldier.’

‘I don’t know why you indulge him. He has a rebellious streak as wide as the Euphrates, and I don’t like the way he pesters Viper.’

‘You mean he reminds you of yourself.’

She was outraged. ‘He is nothing like me.’

‘Not in looks, obviously, but as for a rebellious streak, what can I say? Anyway, young Viper seems happy enough with him.’

She wore a look of mischief. ‘I could forbid her to see him.’

‘That would be cruel, and cruelty is not one of your vices.’

‘Do I have any vices, Pacorus?’

‘Aside from stubbornness, rebelliousness, volatility and a refusal to obey orders, absolutely none.’

‘Well, perhaps Surena will be killed when we fight the Romans,’ she said happily.

I laughed. ‘We may all suffer that fate, my love.’

On the seventh night Byrd and Malik returned to camp and brought with them a tall, wiry man riding a camel. The man’s name was Martu. He was one of the people who lived on the Jabal Bishri, the descendents of an ancient race called the Amorites who had possessed a great empire many hundreds of years ago. Now these people lived a semi-nomadic existence on the desert steppe of the great mountain. Byrd and Malik had made contact with them two days before, and Martu had agreed to accompany them to our camp. He brought with him desert truffles the size of a man’s fist, which he roasted in the dying embers of our fire and then served them to us with a sauce called Samneh, which was fomented butter made from goat’s milk.

‘This is delicious, Martu,’ I said, ‘you honour us with your presence.’

Martu sat cross-legged near the fire, his weather-beaten face resembling a piece of old leather, his eyes dark brown and his teeth brilliant white.

‘Martu has knowledge of the Romani,’ said Byrd.

‘It is true, lord,’ Martu’s accent was strong and I had to concentrate to understand his words.

‘Where are they?’ I asked.

‘We heard that they left Aleppo and marched east, but were then hit by the great storm.’ His eyes were on Gallia as he spoke, his stare fixed on her long blond locks. ‘Last I heard, lord, they were at Tabaqah.’

‘That is a small town on the Euphrates,’ said Byrd, ‘three days’ march from here.’

‘It is a great army that marches against you,’ remarked Martu casually, still staring at Gallia. ‘Are all your women like her?’

I smiled at him. ‘No, she is unique. She is my queen.’

He laid his right palm on his chest and bowed his head at Gallia. ‘You are indeed fortunate, lord.’

‘He is indeed,’ answered Gallia.

The next day Nergal and a hundred horse archers accompanied Martu, Byrd and Malik into the desert. I did not want any Roman patrols getting close to our position and reporting back to their commander. I wanted to retain the element of surprise at least. The next day Byrd and Malik returned.

‘We had a fight with about fifty Roman horsemen,’ said Nergal, ‘killed about half of them but the rest got away.’

‘Romani army is close, only five miles away,’ said Byrd.

‘And they will know that we are here by now,’ remarked Malik.

That night was subdued as the next day’s battle grew ever closer. The morale of the army was still high, which made my mood darken even more. Most of them would be dead by this time tomorrow. I glanced at Gallia; perhaps she too would also be lying dead beside me. I had brought them all to this place and the burden of responsibility weighed heavily upon me. But what was the alternative? There was none. At least here, in the open, we could try to maul the enemy. To sit in Dura was to invite certain death. But then, as my old adversary Lucius Furius had said, all death is certain. As usual, Gallia stayed with her Amazons on the eve of battle, each woman checking her quiver, sword, bow and dagger. I went to the stable section and ensured Remus was comfortable for the night. He rested his head on my chest as I stroked his neck.

‘Well, old friend,’ I said to him softly. ‘We have ridden far together and shared many great victories.’ His ears twitched as I spoke the words.

‘And now we have to fight again. I thought that we would live in peace once we got back to Parthia and that you would grow old and grey beneath its blue skies. It appears that I was wrong.’

His head rose and he looked at me. I stroked the top of his head.

‘The Parthians are horse lords, Remus, but I think that of all the horses that have carried the kings of the empire you are the finest. I pray to Shamash that if I should fall tomorrow, He will keep you safe and direct you to a new master, one worthy of you. But as He is merciful then perhaps I will ride you again in the next world for all eternity. I would very much like that.’

He nodded his head and I stroked his neck. ‘Until tomorrow then, old friend.’

I walked back to my tent, clasping the arms of Companions who were gathered round fires, talking of the old times, and acknowledging others who had joined me after my time in Italy. Back at my tent Domitus sat sharpening his sword.

‘The night passes too slowly,’ I grumbled.

He looked up. ‘Eager to die?’

‘Eager to get to grips with the enemy, more like.’

‘There is no point in fretting. The morning will come soon enough.’

‘Do you think that god of yours?’

‘Mars?’

‘Yes, that’s him. Do you think he will favour us tomorrow?’

He put down his stone and regarded me for a few seconds. ‘I think all gods admire courage in mortals, and you have it in abundance. But as to whether he will show us any favours.’ He held out his hands. ‘Who knows?’

I sat down in a chair. ‘Well, it’s all in God’s hands now.’

Malik appeared at the entrance to the tent, Byrd following him.

‘Good,’ said Domitus, ‘perhaps you two can cheer him up. He thinks he’s going to die tomorrow.’

‘Never say that, Pacorus,’ said Malik, looking alarmed, ‘to say such a thing can sometimes make it come true.’

They both sat down beside me, stretching out their legs.

‘This isn’t your fight, Malik, you can return to your people if you wish. You too, Byrd. Go and make Noora a happy woman.’

They both looked at each other and then at me. ‘I thought we were friends,’ said Malik.

‘So we are,’ I replied.

He smiled. ‘Well then, I will be staying. I will not abandon a friend in his hour of need.’

‘Me too,’ was all Byrd said.

In all the years that I had known Byrd I had never seen him fight. Indeed, the only weapon he carried was a long knife, and I doubted that he had used that in anger. Still, it was reassuring that he would be with us tomorrow to face the Romans.

Domitus was right, the morning came soon enough, and with it the sounds of trumpets and horns as men were mustered into their companies and centuries. Today I decided not to wear my scale armour. Instead, I wore my Roman leather cuirass over my white top. My helmet had a new crest of white goose feathers. I pulled on my boots, secured my belt that carried my spatha on my left hip and my dagger on the other hip, and then went to the stables.

Nergal sent out riders before the first rays of the sun announced the dawn, and they reported back that the Romans were leaving their camp and deploying on the plain. As Dura’s foot soldiers were marching out of camp I called the commanders of the army together in my tent. We had already visited our horses to saddle them and ensure they had been fed and watered. The only thing left was to ensure that everyone knew what to do.

‘The legions will deploy side-by-side in two lines, not three. In this way we can present as broad a front as possible in the centre of our line.’

I looked at Nergal. ‘Your horse archers will be with me on the right wing, interspersed between the cataphracts, just as we did at Dura last year, but you yourself will be on the left wing leading the lords and their men.’

This would give Nergal ten thousand men to command, a massive number to deploy on one wing.

‘No reserve?’ queried Domitus.

‘A small reserve,’ I replied. ‘I will come to that. Nergal, you must extend your line as far as possible, so the Romans will have to place troops in front of you. Hopefully this will dissipate their strength in the centre.’

‘What about me and my men?’ asked Orodes.

I smiled at him. ‘I would consider it an honour if you joined me on the right, Orodes.’

‘Or you could stand beside me,’ said Domitus, ‘see a bit of real fighting for a change instead of galloping around waving your sword in the air like Pacorus does.’

They all laughed and Nergal slapped Orodes on the back. Even facing great odds their morale was unshakable.

‘Have no fear, Orodes,’ said Gallia, ‘I and my Amazons will be riding beside you.’

‘I had hoped, my love,’ I said tentatively, ‘that the Amazons might form a reserve behind Domitus’ men.’

‘Well, you thought wrong.’

More laughter as Gallia stood before me, unbending. I held up my hand. ‘Very well. May Shamash protect us all and give us victory this day.’

They gave a hearty cheer and then we departed for our commands. Though it was early morning it was already warm; it would be a hot day. The legionaries were marching across the plain and deploying opposite the enemy, while on the wings the horse was also forming up. Each lord led his own followers, which meant that there were twenty blocks of horse archers, each numbering around five hundred men. They looked imposing and were spread over a great distance, but these horsemen lacked the discipline of my cataphracts and Nergal’s horse archers. They were essentially hardy farmers who could ride and were expert in using a bow in the saddle. Their only advantage was their numbers. On the right wing it was very different. Here we only had seventeen hundred men, plus Gallia’s Amazons, a further one hundred, but these men were, I liked to think, the best-trained horsemen in the empire. We would first deal with the Roman cavalry we faced by placing horse archers among the cataphracts. The archers would ride beside the heavy cavalry, shooting their bows as the two lines closed. Even if the Romans matched our tactics their bows did not have the range of our recurve type. When it came to the melee, those enemy horsemen who still lived would stand no chance against my armoured horsemen. And then we would reform and wheel left to attack the exposed left flank of the Roman foot.

It took two hours to get the army into its battle positions, and shortly afterwards the enemy came into view. No, that is incorrect — we heard them first, a great rumbling noise that came from the horizon. Straining my eyes to peer at the distant haze at first I saw nothing. Then, as if by magic, the horizon was filled with a long black line. It shimmered in the heat and seemed to just stand still, not getting larger or smaller. But the noise increased, a loud rasping sound as thousands of sandal-clad feet tramped towards us. And then the black line dissolved to become rows of shields and a forest of javelins, the sun glinting off their points. It was a seemingly unending line of legionaries marching towards us, cohort after cohort moving in perfect unison.

Directly opposite us was the cavalry of their left wing, spearmen with oval shields protecting their left sides. And beside them was a remorseless tide of wood, leather and steel, red banners dotted along the line and trumpet calls rending the hot air. I nudged Remus forward so that I moved ahead of the first line of our horsemen, most of whom had their helmets pushed up on their heads. Dura’s cataphracts were a ferocious sight in their full-face helmets, but for the wearer it could become unbearably hot very quickly.

Then the Romans halted and there was silence, an oppressive silence as thousands of men stared at each other across the thin strip of ground, no wider than four hundred paces, that separated the two armies. Horses scraped at the earth and chomped on bits, others flicked their tails to rid themselves of the flies that buzzed around them. Some legionaries were standing ahead of the front ranks beside their scorpion bolt throwers, while the vast majority of their comrades rested their shields on the ground as they waited for the killing to begin. I had seen scorpions in Italy and how effective they were. In appearance the scorpion looked like a large bow lying parallel to the ground on a wooden bolt carrier, the whole on a wooden stand. Just under the height of a man’s chest, the scorpion was a complex piece of equipment, the two arms that fired the two-foot-long bolt being pushed through ropes made of animal sinews, which are then twisted to create hugely powerful tension devices that push each arm forwards. The arms are then pulled back by means of a bowstring, the bolt is placed on the carrier and then the bowstring is released. The bolt has a range of around five hundred feet and can inflict terrible damage on the densely packed ranks of an enemy.

And then, behind me, I heard horn blasts and drums. I looked round and saw no movement in my ranks, aside from others peering behind them. Then the sounds from behind us grew louder and suddenly to our right, from the desert vastness, came similar sounds. Suddenly I saw a rider, and then another and another, until the horizon was filled with horsemen. And I saw banners flying and windsocks. Then I caught sight of a banner I had not seen in a long time. A great scarlet square embossed with a white horse’s head — the standard of my father. The army of Hatra had come.

As rank upon rank of cataphracts formed up to swell and extend our right wing, my father and Vistaspa galloped to where I was sitting, halting their horses beside me. They were accompanied by wild cheering from Dura’s army as the news of their salvation spread through its ranks.

Vistaspa bowed his head to me and then wheeled his horse away to oversee the proper deployment of his companies.

‘Well, Pacorus,’ said my father, gazing at the Roman masses opposite, ‘you know how to pick a fight, I give you that.’

For a moment I was speechless, hardly believing what I was seeing was real. And then other riders came from the desert, and I knew that Shamash had performed a miracle for me. Gotarzes trotted over to halt before me, and behind him came Vardan of Babylon and Atrax of Media, brave Atrax who never stopped grinning. And the line of horsemen on my right was extending ever further into the distance as the soldiers of the kings of the empire filled the desert.

‘I don’t understand,’ I stuttered, ‘how?’

‘How?’ replied my father. ‘It is quite simple. The water level of the Euphrates drops considerably this time of year, so it was relatively easy for horsemen to ford.’

‘I did not mean that.’

He laughed. ‘I know. Do you think that I would allow my son to stand alone against his enemies?’

‘But Phraates has given Dura to the Romans.’

‘Poor Phraates. He is so deceived by his own family members that he has lost all sense of reason, I think.’

‘You risk banishment for aiding me, father.’

He laughed out loud. ‘Look around you, Pacorus. You can see horsemen from Babylon, Elymais, Hatra, Media and Atropaiene. If Phraates wants to make war on all of us, so be it.’

‘Aschek is here?’ I was most surprised to hear that the King of Atropaiene had come to assist me, seeing as all the fight had seemingly been knocked out of him.

‘Musa and Khosrou persuaded him. They have formed an alliance with him, which has given him back his courage somewhat. By the way, Khosrou sent a thousand of his wild horsemen as well, said they were a gift for Gallia. Where is she?’

As my father sought out my wife I looked at my heaven-sent reinforcements. The kings had brought only horsemen with them to quicken their journey, but it was enough to match and then outnumber our Roman opponents. My father had brought his fifteen hundred cataphracts and a further seven thousand horse archers; Vardan had brought five thousand Babylonian horse archers and five hundred cataphracts, Aschek a thousand cataphracts and three thousand horse archers, Atrax another five thousand horse archers and seven hundred cataphracts, and Gotarzes rode with a thousand of Elymais’ cataphracts and eight thousand horse archers. Added to this number was Gallia’s gift of a thousand of Margiana’s spearmen come horse archers. Our numbers had been swelled by over almost thirty-three thousand horsemen, and now we outnumbered the Romans, albeit by not a great number. But more importantly, we possessed nearly five thousand cataphracts, a mighty steel fist that would be able to crush the enemy horsemen with ease, leaving their legions to face an endless storm of arrows on all sides as our horse archers swarmed around them like angry bees.

As these reinforcements were being marshalled into position by an increasingly fraught Vistaspa, who had been selected to act as general-in-chief for the day, the kings assembled around my father and me, while Gallia left the ranks of her Amazons to greet each of them in turn. Thus far the Romans had made no movement but I suspected that it would not be long before they attacked, as the one thing that I had learned about them was that they liked to draw the first blood in battle. Hopefully, though, my unexpected reinforcements would have made their commander pause. We now outflanked the Roman army greatly, especially on the right wing where the cataphracts were deployed, and beyond them the tens of thousands of horse archers extending the line far into the distance. A rider on a black horse came through the ranks and cantered over to where we were sitting on our horses. His horse had no armour but he himself wore a leather helmet with ear and neck flaps and his body was protected by leather armour. He carried a bow, quiver, sword, dagger and a long spear. Sensibly, given the heat in these parts, he wore a white surcoat to stop his armour getting too hot in the sun. He halted in front of us and snapped his head forward in a salute. He had a squashed nose and narrow eyes that were almost like slits. His small mouth was topped by a tidy moustache and had a neatly trimmed beard underneath.

‘Hail, majesties. My name is Kuban. My king, Khosrou, has sent me to serve Queen Gallia of Dura. Where is she?’ His tone was terse bordering on aggressive.

‘The gift for Gallia I was telling you about,’ remarked my father.

‘I am she,’ Gallia nudged Epona forward so that she was facing the fierce warrior from the northern vastness of the empire.

He took off his helmet and lowered his head. ‘I and a thousand others are here to serve you, majesty.’

Gallia took off her helmet and stared at him. I could tell that she was delighted with Khosrou’s gift. ‘You and your men are most welcome, Kuban.’

‘Kuban,’ I said, ‘you and your men are to form a reserve around the queen and her warriors.’

Gallia swung in her saddle to look at me. ‘Reserve?’

‘Don’t worry,’ I replied, ‘there are enough Romans to go round today, I think, you will get your turn to fight.’

‘As you wish, Pacorus. Kuban, follow me.’

Gallia wheeled Epona around and rode her back followed by Kuban to where her Amazons were standing. The line was then reordered as the Amazons and Kuban’s men were formed into a block behind the cataphracts. I had no doubt that when the fighting began Gallia would be leading those men against the Romans soon enough.

‘Where is your Roman, Pacorus?’ asked Vardan.

I pointed to a lone Domitus standing around fifty paces in front of Dura’s two legions. ‘Over there, lord.’

‘He does not mind killing his own kind?’ asked Gotarzes.

‘No, lord,’ I replied, ‘he’ll kill anyone given the chance.’

At that moment Nergal arrived. He bowed his head to the kings.

‘The lords are most eager to attack the enemy, Pacorus. They are chafing at the bit, especially now we have greatly increased our strength.’

‘I have no doubt,’ I said, ‘but you must restrain them until the heavy cavalry strikes first.’

I turned to the kings. ‘Lords, and friends, I think it is time to take up our positions.’

‘What is your plan, Pacorus?’ asked my father.

I had thought to let the Romans attack us, but now we possessed so many cataphracts I saw no reason not to hit the enemy first.

‘The plan is simple. The cataphracts will scatter the Roman horse opposite to allow the horse archers to surround the Roman foot. When you see Dura’s heavy cavalry move forward, that is the signal to attack.’

With over forty thousand horse archers even eight Roman legions would have their hands full dealing with us. I decided to ride over to Domitus and inform him that he would now be the army’s reserve, and would be held back until the Romans had been sufficiently weakened.

‘What is that?’

Aschek was pointing to the south and soon everyone else was peering in that direction. I too turned to look, and saw that another army had come to northern Dura. The southern horizon was filled with black-clad figures riding camels and horses, many armed with spears and carrying round shields. There were thousands of them. A lone horseman left their ranks and galloped towards us, passing by the ranks of Dura’s lords. The latter began cheering as he did so and I knew then that yet more allies had come. The horseman kept on riding until he reached me, his mount careering to a halt in a cloud of dirt and dust.

‘Greetings, Malik,’ I said.

‘Hail, Pacorus.’ He pointed at the seething black mass to the south. ‘Behold, my father, King Haytham, brings his army to fight by your side.’

I reached over and laid a hand on his shoulder. ‘You and he are most welcome. This is a great day, when our two peoples are united in the face of a common foe.’

In truth, the other kings sitting in silence were facing an awkward moment. The Agraci had been the sworn enemies of the Parthians for many decades, and yet, even though there had previously existed open warfare between Haytham and Dura’s lords, the latter were now cheering the arrival of their former foes. Nothing lasts forever, it seems. Eventually my father broke the silence.

‘Hail, Prince Malik, you and your father are true friends to my son, and as his father I thank you both for your aid.’

‘Well,’ grunted Gotarzes, ‘what now?’

The Agraci had halted at right angles to our own left wing and faced the right flank of the Roman army, which was now vastly outnumbered. Once again a silence descended over the plain.

‘Now, my lords,’ I said, ‘I think it is time to see if the tongue can achieve more than the sword.’

I nudged Remus forward and began to walk him into no-man’s land between the two armies.

‘Is this wise, Pacorus?’ I detected concern in my father’s voice behind me.

‘Have no fear, father, we have the Romans’ attention. I’m sure they will be most interested in what I have to say.’

As I moved closer to the enemy I raised my right arm and then halted some two hundred paces from their front ranks.

‘Romans,’ I shouted, ‘my name is King Pacorus and I would speak to your commander, General Pompey.’

I received no answer in reply, just the steely gaze of hundreds of helmeted legionaries who stood in their ranks holding their pilum in their right hands and their shields on their left sides. I sat there for what seemed like an eternity but was probably only a couple of minutes, and then a burly centurion shoved his way through the ranks and strode up to me. He could have been the twin brother of Domitus, with his lean face and stern countenance, his transverse crest on his helmet and his mail shirt adorned with round discs.

‘You must dismount, sir.’

‘What?’

‘You must get off your horse, sir, and then the Great Pompey will speak with you.’

‘Does he not own a horse?’

The centurion frowned. ‘He does, sir, but you might try to kidnap him and ride away with him.’

I burst out laughing, which increased his frown. This was absurd.

‘Very well, centurion, I will do as you ask.’ Then I added mischievously. ‘I hope you are not thinking of kidnapping me.’

For a split-second I thought I saw a hurt look on his face. ‘Of course not, sir.’

I dismounted and stood a few paces from him.

‘There you are.’

‘Thank you, sir.’ He cleared his throat. ‘I will also need to hold your horse, just for security reasons, you understand.’

I shook my head and handed him Remus’ reins. ‘There he is. Don’t frighten him, say something nice to him, stroke his head. He likes that.’

As soon as he took Remus’ reins he raised his right arm and then stood to one side, standing statue like. A few seconds later the ranks opened again and a tall, stocky individual appeared and walked towards me. He was bare headed and had a round face with small lidded eyes. His nose was slightly bulbous and he had a thick mane of hair on his head. His clothing marked him out as a man of some importance. He wore a large red cloak that was fastened at the right shoulder by means of a large silver broach. On his feet he wore red leather enclosed boots tied with black leather laces. Over his white tunic he wore a black cuirass not dissimilar to the one I wore. I estimated his age to be around forty.

I took off my helmet and bowed my head to him. He bowed his head in reply and smiled.

‘So, at long last I meet King Pacorus, the Parthian who dresses like a Roman and,’ he looked past me to where my legions were lined up, ‘fights in the Roman fashion.’ His tone was serious though not mocking.

‘I like to think that I have combined the best of Parthia and Rome, lord.’

He looked at the army arrayed against his own. ‘I had been informed that Dura’s army was small and insignificant, but it seems that I have been deceived.’

‘There are other kings of the empire present, lord, and they will fight to preserve Dura’s territorial integrity.’

‘I do not doubt it.’ He then looked to the south where they Agraci were gathered. ‘And those?’

‘More friends of Dura, lord.’

He turned to look at his own men and then once again fixed his eyes on the Parthian host standing opposite.

‘Do you think you can win, Pacorus?’

I looked directly at him. ‘Of course.’

He looked thoughtful. ‘I have claimed Syria for Rome, and vowed in the temple of my forefathers that I would make the Euphrates the eastern border of Rome’s domains.’

‘Tabaqah is on the Euphrates, lord, so you have fulfilled your oath. But I have to tell you that you will have to destroy the army behind me if you wish to advance any further.’

‘But where is Dura’s border?’ he asked.

I stepped away from him and raised my hand at the cataphracts opposite, specifically Surena. I pointed at him and beckoned for him to ride over to me. The centurion looked alarmed and drew his sword.

‘I attempt no ruse, centurion. You can easily strike me down before he arrives.’

Pompey indicated that his subordinate should put away his sword. Surena trotted over and I ordered him to give me his kontus. I took the long lance and then dismissed him. I turned it upside down and then drove the point into the ground with all my strength.

‘This is where the kingdom of Dura ends.’

Pompey nodded and then held out his right hand. ‘Your sword, centurion.’

The centurion saluted and placed the handle of his gladius in Pompey’s palm, who then rammed the blade into the earth next to the upright kontus.

‘And this is where Roman Syria ends.’

I looked at him suspiciously.

‘You do not trust me?’

‘I meant no offence, lord, it’s just that my experience with Romans has not been a happy one.’

His lips creased into a smile. ‘I believe that you were once a guest in the house of Marcus Licinius Crassus.’

I thought back to that opulent home on one of Rome’s hills. ‘That is correct, lord. His hospitality was beyond reproach, and then he led an army against me.’

‘I think my great rival bears you a grudge.’

His rival? That was a positive sign, at least.

‘He has taken your escape from Italy as a personal affront and is determined to rectify it. Your killing his protégé will not have helped, I might add.’

‘And you?’ I asked.

‘I, Pacorus, serve the interests of Rome. Looking at the army arrayed against me, I think that Rome’s best interests will be best served by a diplomatic solution to this situation.’

‘I will never yield Dura to anyone while I live.’

‘I can see that,’ he said. ‘Tell me, out of curiosity, is your queen here?’

I smiled. Gallia’s fame had certainly spread far and wide. ‘She is here, lord.’

He nodded. ‘You may be interested to know that in Rome Queen Gallia has become something of a celebrity among the fine ladies of the city.’

‘I find that difficult to believe.’

‘You are wrong,’ he reproached me. ‘They say that she was the real reason Spartacus managed to survive for so long, that she led his horsemen and that she even told him what to do. They like the idea of a determined woman, and one of royalty too. I believe she was a princess of Gaul?’

I laughed. ‘I thought I was the commander of his horsemen. But yes, she was a princess of Gaul, now a queen of Parthia.’

‘Myths spread quicker than the truth, Pacorus, and I have to admit I have encouraged and indulged these stories.’

I was confused. ‘Why?’

‘To annoy Crassus, of course. His triumph against Spartacus diminishes somewhat if people believe the slaves were led by a woman.’

It comforted me to learn that Rome was riven with rivalries just as Parthia was.

‘This all very interesting,’ in truth it was not, ‘but what about Rome’s intentions here, today?’

‘I decide Rome’s intention, and today I have settled the eastern border of Roman Syria.’ He held out his hand. ‘Do you trust the word of a Roman?’

I had just cause not to trust any Roman, and yet I felt that this Pompey was a person in whom one could place confidence. The fact that he was no friend of Crassus was a recommendation in itself. I took his hand.

‘I trust the Roman who stands in front of me.’

‘Good, that is settled.’ He looked at Remus. ‘A fine horse.’

‘Remus? Yes, we have travelled far together.’

Pompey eyed me quizzically. ‘Remus? You are a strange one, Parthian.’

He turned smartly and ordered the centurion to follow him back to his army. The Roman soldier handed me Remus’ reins and marched behind his commander. I vaulted into the saddle and rode back to the kings.

‘What now?’ asked my father.

‘Now we see if I have made a miscalculation,’ I replied.

For what seemed like an eternity nothing happened, and then a cacophony of trumpet calls rang out from the Roman ranks. As one the cataphracts to my right and left lowered their lances in preparation for a charge, but then the Roman cavalry opposite us wheeled about and began riding away, showing their backs to us, while in the centre the legionaries about-turned and also began to retreat. It was the same on the opposite flank where Nergal commanded the lords. The Romans smartly wheeled about and rode away. I sensed a tide of relief sweep through me and my body began to relax. Around me men began shaking hands with their neighbours as the realisation that there would be no fighting this day rippled through the ranks.

‘Hail, Pacorus,’ said Vardan.

Gotarzes put his own unique slant on the day’s events. ‘Whatever you said must have scared him shitless.’

My father reached over and laid his hand on my arm. ‘This is your greatest victory, Pacorus.’

‘But no blood has been spilt,’ I said.

He smiled. ‘Exactly, my son, exactly. Well done.’

Gallia came from behind me and stopped by my side.

‘So how did you do that?’

In front of us the Romans were disappearing into a great cloud of dust kicked up by thousands of hobnailed sandals and horses’ hooves.

‘I like to think that my charm had something to do with it.’

She raised an eyebrow. ‘Really?’

Domitus came running over, sweat pouring down his face and neck.

‘We’re not going to fight them, then?’

‘Not today, Domitus,’ I replied.

He looked at Pompey’s army gradually diminishing in size to the west. ‘It’s not too late to attack them, given that all these fine lords have made the effort to get here.’

I looked at him, then at my father, who wore an alarmed expression.

‘No, Domitus, I shook hands with Pompey and we agreed each other’s border.’

Domitus took off his helmet and wiped his brow with a cloth. ‘Spartacus was right, that honour of yours will get you killed one day.’

I smiled. ‘But not today, Domitus, not today.’

He put his helmet back on and pointed at the Romans. ‘They will be back, Pacorus, you can be sure of that.’

He saluted us and returned to his men, then gave the order that they were to return to camp. Around us the kings likewise instructed that their horsemen were to withdraw to the river and make camp for the night, all except my father. He pointed at the seething black mass of Agraci warriors gathered to the south.

‘What are you going to do about them?’

‘Invite them to eat with us, of course.’

The next few hours were an exercise in logistics as around eighty thousand men, the same numbers of horses, thousands of camels and hundreds of mules made camp for the night along the Euphrates. Vardan insisted that all the kings, princes and Gallia dine with him in his royal pavilion that took dozens of slaves a few hours to erect. Babylon may not have been the mighty power it was in the time of the Persians, but its king still knew how to impress. The pavilion was at least two hundred paces in length and fifty wide, its enormous canvas roof supported by rows of poles and secured by dozens of ropes secured to long iron stakes that were driven into the earth. It made my own tent look paltry to say the least.

‘Big tents don’t make a good army,’ growled Domitus when I told him of Babylon’s encampment.

‘Do you feel robbed, Domitus?’

He shrugged. ‘There’s always someone else to fight, so we’ll keep our blades sharp.’

I poured myself a cup of water and sat down opposite him. Outside the legionaries were going about their business of checking their equipment, sentry duty and sharpening their swords.

‘Do you think we could have beaten Pompey, Domitus?’

‘Do you mean before or after your father and his friends turned up?’

‘Before, of course.’

He tilted his head to one side. ‘We’ll never know now, but I like to think that we would have given a good account of ourselves.’

I rode from my camp with Malik and Byrd to the black tents of Haytham that extended far into the desert. The Agraci warriors were a mixture of camel riders armed with spears and bows and horsemen who carried spears, swords and small round shields. They all wore flowing robes and turbans that they used to cover their faces and shield their eyes. As far as I could tell none wore armour either on their heads or around their bodies. Malik escorted me to his father’s tent located in the centre of the camp, where we found Haytham with his tribal chiefs. They were like him, big men with unyielding expressions and skin like tanned leather. All carried great swords at their hips and daggers tucked into their belts. The chiefs looked at me suspiciously when I entered, but then relaxed when they saw that I was with Malik, a few even greeted Byrd.

I halted in front of Haytham and bowed my head. ‘Great king, I came to thank you for bringing your mighty army to this place.’

He walked over and embraced me. ‘Don’t be so formal, Pacorus, we are all friends here.’

He looked round at his chiefs, daring one of them to contradict him. None did.

‘So,’ continued Haytham, ‘we were all wondering why you didn’t launch an attack when they turned tail and ran?’

‘I had made an agreement with their commander, lord, which made bloodshed unnecessary.’

He released me and smiled. ‘No bloodshed is unnecessary, Pacorus. Still, it is what it is. How’s that wife of yours?’ He looked at his chiefs. ‘You should see Queen Gallia, long blond hair, blue eyes and the body of a goddess. But even I would not want to get on the wrong side of her.’

‘You will all see here tonight,’ I announced, ‘for I would like the king of the Agraci and all his chiefs to come to the feast being held in honour of our uniting against the Romans.’

The chiefs looked at each other and then at me.

‘Will Parthians sit down to eat with Agraci?’ said one condescendingly, a great brute with a thick beard and black eyes.

‘You forget yourself, Yasser,’ growled Haytham.

‘My apologies, lord,’ Yasser placed his right palm on his chest and bowed to his king, ‘but I have had experience of Parthian hospitality.’

There were mumbles of agreement. I held up my hand.

‘I am Parthian, you all know this, but I esteem Prince Malik, son of your king, as one of my closest friends. I also count your king as a friend, and I say to you that you will all be welcome to the feast tonight, when Parthian and Agraci will sit side by side in peace and friendship.’

I thought it a fine speech that would not be out of place among the great speakers of ancient Athens, though a line of blank faces told me that I would have to sharpen my skills greatly if I wanted to be an orator.

‘Well said, Pacorus,’ barked Haytham. ‘We shall be glad to attend.’

‘We shall?’ said an incredulous Yasser.

‘We shall,’ replied Haytham with such force that there was no further discussion on the matter.

As the sun began its descent in the west, Malik, his father and a dozen of the Agraci chiefs arrived at our camp, all attired in black and riding black horses. I entertained them in my tent while we waited for Gallia. She had brought no fine clothes with her on this journey, but when she finally appeared she made a great impression as usual. Her hair hung loose around her shoulders and tumbled over her white satin shirt edged with blue. She wore gold at her neck, long gold earrings and around her waist she wore her sword. Her slim legs were encased in tight black leggings and on her feet she wore red leather boots. I smiled when I noticed that she had her dagger tucked in the top of her right boot. Haytham smiled, took both of her hands and kissed them, while Gallia kissed Malik on the cheek. I introduced Orodes to Haytham and then we set off for Vardan’s great tent. I told Gallia of Yasser’s hostility to the Parthians, so she insisted that she rode beside him on our short journey to the Babylonian camp. She explained to him of the journey that had led her to Dura, and within no time his wall of hostility had crumbled as they talked and laughed together. I think that he was delighted that she had seemingly picked him at random to be her escort.

Babylon’s pavilion was ringed with guards when we arrived and our horses were taken from us. A captain and a detachment of purple-clad spearmen escorted us inside, where a wall of noise greeted us. The floor was covered in red and yellow carpets and oil lamps hung from every pole. Guards stood around the sides and a small army of slaves served food and drink from silver platters. The kings and their senior officers were gathered in a great circle in the centre, where they were lounging on couches piled high with red and gold cushions. I saw my father, Vistaspa, Vardan, Atrax, Aschek and Gotarzes, who by the look of his rosy cheeks had already had too much to drink. Musicians played in one corner, half-naked girls danced in another and fire-eaters and jugglers went about their craft largely ignored.

We stood at the entrance and the noise suddenly began to fade as Parthians cast their eyes on a party of Agraci in their midst, and not just any Agraci. This was Haytham, the scourge of Parthia’s western frontier, the devil of children’s nightmares, the man whose name inspired both loathing and terror throughout the western half of the empire. All eyes were suddenly upon our group. Some of the officers put down their food and wine and stood up, while I saw the guards posted around the tent look at each other nervously. Vardan slowly rose from his couch. The King of Babylon was dressed in a rich purple robe edged with gold, a jewel-encrusted crown on his head and gold rings on his fingers. He spread his arms wide.

‘Welcome Haytham, King of the Agraci, and his brave lieutenants, new allies of Parthia. Take freely of my hospitality. Be seated, please. Let us forget our animosities and begin a new era in the relations between our two peoples.’

Haytham bowed his head ever so slightly at Vardan and then walked over to Babylon’s king, ignoring the hateful stares that were being directed at him. The silence was deafening. Haytham halted before Babylon’s king. The Agraci king was big and stocky, Vardan also solid. Haytham held out his hand, Vardan smiled and they clasped each other’s arms, then Vardan gestured for Haytham to sit beside him on the royal couch. He did so and the noise slowly returned to the royal tent. We were shown to our couches and suddenly the pavilion was once again alive with sound and activity.

I embraced my father, who then hugged Gallia. He also shook Malik’s hand.

‘Good to see you, again, Malik.’

‘You too, lord,’ smiled Haytham’s son.

‘Another victory, Pacorus,’ said my father, ‘bringing Agraci and Parthian together. I think that you will make a worthy king of Hatra.’

‘Not for many years I hope, father, not for many years.’

It was a most excellent evening and for once I allowed myself to drink a fair quantity of wine, though nothing compared to Gotarzes, who was striking up an unlikely friendship with Yasser, also revealing himself to be a hearty drinker. At the end of the evening they were both singing at the tops of their voices with their arms around each other, before collapsing into a deep stupor. They were both carried from the pavilion to sleep off their indulgence.

Vardan excused himself in the early hours and returned to his private quarters in the royal compound behind the pavilion, and then the other kings, save Gotarzes, did the same. I bid my father and Vistaspa farewell and rode with Haytham and his chiefs back to my camp, the sleeping Yasser strapped to the back of his horse. At the entrance we said goodbye to the Agraci king and his entourage.

‘An interesting evening, Pacorus,’ said Haytham.

‘Hopefully it will be the start of a new chapter in the story of our two peoples, lord.’

He reached over and slapped me on the arm. ‘Perhaps. Take care of yourself.’ He bowed his head to Gallia. ‘Lady.’

Then they were gone and I was alone with my wife. Guards snapped to attention as we rode up the camp’s central avenue to my tent. I felt immensely smug. I had secured Dura’s frontiers without having to fight, several kings of the empire had made a show of force in my favour and the king of the Agraci had even brought his army to fight by my side. As I collapsed onto the floor of the tent after Gallia had assisted me inside, my last thoughts before sinking into a deep sleep was how it had been a most satisfactory day.

I was awoken sharply by a boot being kicked into my side.

‘Get up,’ I had difficulty in focusing but was aware of Gallia’s voice.

There was another sharp pain in my side. I opened my eyes to see my wife standing over me. I smiled at her.

‘Get up, Pacorus.’

I still felt groggy. ‘What?’

I jumped up with a start when a bucket of cold water was thrown over me. I saw Domitus holding the bucket.

‘Is this some sort of joke?’ I snapped.

Gallia pulled me to my feet. ‘Dura is under siege.’