Parthian Dawn

Chapter 5

The new day dawned bright and sunny with a light breeze blowing from the west. Rasha was in a good mood and was even more talkative than usual. There was now no resemblance to the frightened, haunted little wretch we had first seen when we arrived at Dura. In her place was a pretty, inquisitive and intelligent girl who skipped around the palace. She always accompanied me when I went to the stables to groom Remus, and in truth I became quite fond of her. But it was Gallia who was the focus of her affections, and whenever she and her Amazons rode out of the city to the training fields Rasha went with them. As to be expected of a child of nomads, she was at ease in the saddle and could ride as well as any adult. She had her own room in the palace, next to ours, and everyone liked having her around, even the normally stern Domitus. So it was quite poignant when the morning came for her to leave us. After the garrison had mustered just after dawn Gallia, Byrd and I mounted our horses in front of the palace steps alongside the waiting Rasha. Byrd was his usual seemingly disinterested self, though his horse looked remarkably well tended and fed — no doubt Godarz’s influence. When I had asked Byrd to accompany us into the desert he had accepted in a nonchalant fashion, and merely shrugged when I told him that we might not be coming back. Those who were assembled to see us off — Godarz, Nergal, Praxima, Rsan and Domitus — appeared not the least calm. Even the iron-hard Domitus was frowning with concern.

‘Are you certain about this, majesty?’ queried Rsan.

‘Quite certain,’ I answered.

And so we trotted from the courtyard, through the Citadel’s gates and west down the main street of the city through the Palmyrene Gate into the desert, Byrd out in front. Many people fear the desert and in truth it is an unforgiving environment, hot during the day and bitterly cold at night, the abode of snakes and scorpions. The parched white bones of dead animals lying in mute testimony to the desert’s harshness. But the desert is also beautiful and serene. The wide-open spaces and lack of people allowing one to think and be at peace with its vastness. Its yellow and brown hues, the lush green of its oases and the stark outlines of the many outcrops give the desert a unique appearance that I always found invigorating. In truth I loved the desert and found journeying through it gave me an inner calm. I think it was the quiet, the absolute silence that pervades the desert that made me react to it the way I did. Even Rasha fell silent after the first morning.

We encountered no traffic on the track that wound its way west towards the oasis settlement of Palmyra, once a thriving trade centre but now the capital of the Agraci. This would have been the same route that Mithridates had taken during his abortive campaign against them, and the road the few survivors used in their flight back to Dura. I prayed to Shamash that we would not suffer the same fate.

That night we cooked and ate a brace of rabbits that we had brought from the city. Byrd found us some firewood from an abandoned wagon that we passed during the afternoon, and we sat around the fire as it cast our faces in an eerie red glow. Byrd had questioned us lighting a fire, but I told him that we were not on a scouting mission. The night was cool and so Gallia wrapped Rasha in a blanket and put a woollen cap on her head.

Rasha gnawed the meat from a small thighbone and then looked at Gallia. ‘Can I visit you again?’

Gallia smiled. ‘Of course, if you wish.’

‘Good. I like my room, and when I visit you I can put some of my own things in it.’

How innocent the world seemed through the eyes of a young child. I saw Byrd staring at Rasha. I wondered if he was thinking of his own family, now long dead, and his former life. If he was he never said. The next day he rode beside me with Rasha between Gallia and myself. On our right, in the distance, sat a long, squat limestone plateau, while on our left was an expanse of sand and rocks. A glint of light caught my eye and I squinted towards the plateau.

‘We are being watched,’ said Byrd casually.

‘By whom?’ asked Gallia.

Byrd nodded towards Rasha. ‘By her people.’

We saw nothing untoward for the rest of the morning and by noon it felt as though the sun was cooking us in a giant stone bowl, so we laid up in the lee of an outcrop forming part of a granite ridge extending to the north. We unsaddled the horses and used the saddles as back supports as we rested in the shade. I caught sight of a lizard scurrying between the rocks while overhead a buzzard glided effortlessly in the sky. After two hours we saddled the horses to continue our journey. The first hour was uneventful. Once again we appeared to be the only people in the barren landscape. But then I caught sight of a group of riders that suddenly appeared on our left flank, around a quarter of a mile distant. Their black shapes on black horses shimmering in the haze. Byrd rode up to me.

‘Our escort has arrived, lord.’

‘So it seems. You had better stay close.’

‘What do we do now?’ asked Gallia.

‘We carry on, my sweet.’

As we continued our trek west another party of horsemen, six in number, appeared on our right flank, at a similar distance to those on our left. The terrain was becoming hillier now, great sandstone slabs rising out of the ground. We ambled around one such pillar of stone and were confronted by line of at least a score of warriors on horseback. Remus, sensing danger, whinnied in alarm and we halted.

Each warrior was armed with a spear and sword at his waist. On their heads they wore turbans that covered the lower half of their faces. Only their dark eyes were visible. They carried large round shields on their left sides and wore black flowing robes covering their arms and legs. They were mounted on horses that could only be described as beautiful. Parthians love their horses, but I could see that this group of Agraci also held their mounts in high esteem. Their horses were big and powerful, deep chested with short heads, broad foreheads and wide jowls. They were a mixture of greys and chestnuts. Each one was wearing a red halter decorated with cowries and other adornments, finished with two groups of tassels, one on each side of the noseband. The tassels were braided, with the tops gathered and secured by gold threads. The horses’ chest sets were also decorated with coloured beads, cowries and golden silk threads, while red and gold tassels adorned each rider’s saddle.

One rider had halted in front of the group. He was a large, broad-shouldered individual who carried no spear or shield; his only weapons a curved sword with a white horn handle in a black sheath with a gold tip. He nudged his horse forward until he was around twenty paces from mine, fixing me with his black eyes as he did so. He halted and looked at Rasha then removed his turban to reveal a big, square-shaped face with a long nose and a thick, close-cut black beard. He dismounted from his horse and smiled at Rasha.

‘Have you no greeting for your father?’ His voice was deep, his coarse accent typical of the desert peoples.

‘Father!’ Rasha jumped from her horse and ran over to him. He scooped her up in his long arms and held her close. Then putting her down he examined her closely, no doubt to make sure she had not been harmed. Thankfully the marks on her ankles where she had been chained had disappeared. He stood up to face me, his right arm around her shoulder. He said nothing as he regarded us, while behind him his men eyed us menacingly. I decided to break the silence.

‘My lord, my name is…’

‘I know who you are, Pacorus, King of Dura, but I am intrigued as to why you would bring your queen with you?’ He glanced at Byrd. ‘And you bring so few warriors. Where is your army, your famed legion?’

‘I did not think it proper, lord, to enter your kingdom with an army at my back.’

His face betrayed no emotion as he no doubt weighed up our fate. ‘And now you expect me to let you return to your city unmolested?’

‘That is your prerogative, lord. My only thought was to return your daughter to you and therefore atone for the injustice done to your family by my predecessor.’

‘A Parthian army rides into my kingdom, attacks my people and steals my daughter. Parthians are not welcome here.’

‘I am not a Parthian, King Haytham’ said Gallia, ‘so what will you do with me?’

Haytham was taken aback. No doubt a woman had never spoken to him thus, or indeed anyone. Then the semblance of a smile creased his lips.

‘So, you are the famed Queen Gallia, the beauty from overseas who fights like a man. You too we have heard of. No doubt you have heard that we are savages.’

‘I have heard much, lord,’ she replied, ‘but I judge people according to how I find them. I hope you are a man who does the same.’

He said nothing for a while but just stared at us. It was Rasha who broke the silence.

‘Where is your camp, father?’

Haytham looked at his daughter and smiled. ‘Not far. Shall we invite your friends to accompany us?’

‘Oh, yes,’ she replied, ‘we have had a very tiring day.’

He looked up into the sky and then at us. ‘Come, you will enjoy my hospitality tonight.’

Rasha walked back to her horse and Gallia helped her into the saddle. Haytham vaulted back into his saddle and led the way to his camp. His warriors rode all around us, though their demeanour was not threatening. An hour later we trotted into the Agraci camp, a sprawling collection of black tents grouped around one of the many oases that dotted the desert. The camels and horses were tethered among the throng of date palms growing around the waterhole. After we dismounted our horses were taken from us. We were then shown to a large rectangular tent made of strips of woven camel hair laid over a wooden frame. The front section was tied open to allow air to circulate in the interior, and there were rugs on the floor. Moments later Rasha was at Gallia’s side, tugging at her hand for her to go and see her father’s camels. So off they went, leaving me alone with a tall, lean man about my age who had black tattoos on his cheeks. He had removed his turban to reveal long, straight black hair and no beard. He had olive skin and dark brown eyes.

‘My name is Prince Malik, the son of King Haytham.’ His voice was deep like his father’s.

‘I am pleased to meet you, Prince Malik.’

‘Can I get you anything, lord king?’

‘No, thank you.’

He bowed in a perfunctory manner and then turned to leave, stopped and looked back at me. ‘Thank you for returning my sister to us. My father has missed her greatly, as have I.’

With that he was gone. I took off my sword and laid it on the rug, then stretched out beside it. I closed my eyes and listened to the sounds of men talking and laughing and camels bellowing and roaring. Despite being in the midst of the Agraci I felt no sense of danger or threat, just relief that we had made initial contact with their leader and that he had spared our lives thus far. I must have dozed off, for I was rudely awakened by Gallia throwing herself onto the rug beside me.

‘That child has boundless energy,’ she said. I opened my eyes and saw that she had closed the tent flaps.

I was suddenly alarmed. ‘Where’s Byrd?’

‘Oh he’s all right. Last time I saw him he was deep in conversation with one of their warriors concerning a camel.’

‘Byrd, deep in conversation? Perhaps you were seeing a mirage.’

‘What’s a mirage?’

I propped myself up on an elbow to look at her. ‘An illusion created by the heat. Perhaps this is all an illusion and we are actually lying dead in the desert.’

‘Shut up, Pacorus. I need to get some rest before the feast tonight. It’s being given in our honour, apparently.’

‘Feast?’

‘Oh yes,’ she motioned for me to lie back down and rested her head on my shoulder. ‘You know, for a king you sometimes know so little.’

It was dark by the time we had rested and refreshed ourselves, and when Gallia opened the tent flaps two black-clad warriors were waiting to escort us to our feast. We walked among groups of warriors sitting around fires mostly ignoring us, though one or two did act with surprise when they saw Gallia’s blonde locks shimmering in the firelight as she passed. Haytham’s tent, a cavernous black structure, was pitched beside the water among the date palms. A guard took our swords before we entered the tent. Six warriors sitting in a circle momentarily halted all their talk as Gallia unbuckled her sword belt and handed it to the Agraci guard. We bowed our heads to Haytham and entered the tent. He rose when we entered and invited us to sit on his right side, the place of honour. Also present were Rasha and Malik, the young girl rushing up to Gallia and throwing her arms around her before pulling her by the hand to her place. I saw Byrd chatting to a man who looked as sullen and unkempt as he did. He raised a hand to me and carried on talking. Clearly he had found a kindred spirit. Rugs covered the floor and we sat down cross-legged in the circle.

Haytham clapped his hands and food and drink were brought in and served. This comprised jugs of water and large flat dishes piled high with stewed lamb served on a bed of rice and bread and sprinkled with pine nuts. While we ate I noticed that Haytham took only morsels from what was served, all the time looking at Gallia and me. After we had eaten, washed our hands in bowls of warm water and dried them, Haytham clapped his hands once more. The servants disappeared and the flaps of the tent were closed, leaving us alone with our host and what I took to be his senior commanders.

‘A most sumptuous meal, lord,’ I said. ‘I thank you for your hospitality.’

Haytham nodded. ‘It is given freely. But now, King Pacorus, we must talk of things more serious. What do you want of me?’

This Agraci king was clearly no fool. He knew that I could have sent his daughter back to him with a lowly escort of a few guards. I did not need to bring her myself. He knew this, as he also knew that my mission had a dual purpose. I decided to be direct and not insult his intelligence.

‘I desire peace between our peoples, lord.’

As a tired Rasha fell asleep in Gallia’s arms, Haytham said nothing for a long time. I could feel my heart beating in my chest. Eventually he spoke.

‘For years your people, the Parthians, have hounded and killed the Agraci, driving them from their lands and treating them no better than animals. Even your own father, King Varaz, has led raids against my people. And now you, his son, sit in my tent and ask for peace. As a father I thank you for giving me back the life of my daughter, but as a king this is an irrelevance. So I ask you, why should I should be interested in peace with you?’

I knew that what I said in reply would determine whether my reign at Dura would be a success or failure. In my mind I had formulated a plan that I had not even told Gallia of. Now was my chance to put it into action. But only if the right words came from my mouth. I said a silent prayer to Shamash that He would assist me.

‘King Haytham, everything you say is correct. Your people have been wronged by mine, and there is nothing I can say that can change that. However, I would ask that you look to the future rather than the past. If we can have peace between the Agraci and Dura, then the result will be mutual benefits.’

‘What benefits?’ I knew that I had pricked his interest.

‘As you know, the trade caravans that travel between the Orient and the west bring great wealth to those kingdoms they journey through. Hatra, my father’s kingdom, is the richest in the Parthian Empire because of the duties it charges on the non-stop traffic that goes between east and west.’

One of the warlords present interrupted me. ‘Wealth that Hatra has used to purchase weapons and men with which to murder the Agraci.’

‘Silence!’ Haytham’s shout caused me to jump and Rasha to open her eyes.

‘Please continue, King Pacorus,’ he said, more quietly, freezing the man who had spoken with his iron-hard stare.

‘It is five days’ ride from Dura to your capital at Palmyra, and another five west to reach the coast of the Mediterranean. The owners of the caravans would gladly pay to have access to the coast through your territory. There are many in Egypt who crave the spices, silk and riches of the East, and would pay handsomely for them.’

Haytham smiled. ‘So you wish to become rich.’

I saw no reason to lie. ‘Of course, why not? We can both become rich. Is that not more desirous that butchering each other and having the vultures pick at our bones in the desert?’

‘I propose a peace treaty between us. Dura will make no further encroachments upon your territory. Your people can have access to Dura’s markets, and you will be able to levy customs duties on all trade caravans that pass through your territory. In return, I ask that your raids upon my territory cease immediately.’

I pointed at the man who had spoken out. ‘You talk of Hatra being able to purchase weapons and men and you are right, but peace makes trade possible and trade brings wealth. And with wealth you too can purchase weapons, horses and armour to remain strong.’

Haytham nodded thoughtfully. ‘You speak with a maturity far in advance of your years, young Parthian. Some say that you are favoured by the gods. I do not know of such things and in any case your gods are not mine. But I do know that you do not lack in courage, for to venture into an enemy’s lands with only two companions is brave indeed, if a little foolhardy.

‘I will think on your proposal. In the meantime, know that you are free to return to your city and your people. I will send my answer to you in due course. I will say no more on the matter. I bid your goodnight.’

He rose, smiled at Gallia and then picked up his sleeping daughter from my wife’s arms. Everyone stood up and bowed their heads as Haytham headed for his sleeping quarters. The evening was at an end and so we were shown back to our tent, Byrd to his.

In the morning we took our leave of Haytham, Gallia and Rasha embracing as they parted from each other. Byrd was sitting emotionless on his horse and Malik was standing next to his father. Haytham’s face was a stone mask as we rode from his camp escorted by a dozen of his warriors. They followed a hundred paces behind us, then around noon wheeled away and disappeared into the desert. Byrd rode ahead, leaving me alone with Gallia.

‘Do you think Haytham will accept your offer?’

‘I hope so, it will make things a lot easier.’

‘What things?’

‘The defences of Dura need strengthening, the legion needs to be fully equipped and I need to have a force of cataphracts. All this will be possible if Haytham agrees to peace.’

‘For someone who wants peace, you sound as though you are preparing for war.’

‘If Dura is strong then enemies will think twice before attacking it.’

‘You are speaking of the Romans?’ she said. ‘You think they will attack us?’

‘I think the Romans have an insatiable desire to conquer the whole world. You know them; they will come. And I will be ready when they do.’

But thoughts of the Romans had to be put aside for the moment as I waited for Haytham’s answer to my proposals. There was much rejoicing when we got back to the city, not least because everyone thought that we would die at the hands of the Agraci. In the days following I travelled to the estates of all the landowners in my kingdom. Though their failure to present themselves upon my arrival at Dura could be construed as an insult, I decided to ignore their slight; after all, their sons had been prisoners in the city. And so I met them one by one. I took Nergal and fifty horsemen, plus my griffin banner, and was in truth well received. I was honest and forthright with each one, telling them of my trip into the desert to meet Haytham and my desire for peace with the Agraci. I also told them that I had said that his raids upon their lands must stop and that I was waiting for his answer. The expressions on their faces told me that they remained sceptical that I would receive the answer I desired, but I think they were pleasantly surprised I had bothered to visit them and inform them of my plans. Each one asked if it was true that Gallia had accompanied me on my mission, and I told them it had been so. I think they were disappointed she was not with me during my visits to them. I told them I would be inviting them all to a banquet in due course, and assured them the gates of the city and Citadel would be open the whole time during their visit.

‘Do you think you have won them over?’ I sat with Gallia on the balcony of our bedroom perched high on the cliff overlooking the Euphrates below. She was combing her hair, which sparkled in the light of the late afternoon sun.

‘Who?’ I said. ‘The Agraci or the lords?’

‘Both.’

I shrugged. ‘We will know soon enough.’

I looked at her. Her fine features and perfect skin making her every inch the queen she was.

‘I know Dura isn’t Hatra.’

She looked at me quizzically. ‘What do you mean?’

‘I know that Dura is a fortress city and doesn’t have the gardens and grand palace that you were used to at Hatra. I’m sorry if it is a disappointment.’

She put down her comb and fixed me with her blue eyes. ‘Sometimes, Pacorus, you are a complete idiot.’

‘What?’

She gestured at the balcony with her arms. ‘This is my home, the place where I hope to raise a family, the place where I want to grow old. Why should I care if it does not have ornamental ponds or exotic animals wandering around in lush gardens? I would not wish to be anywhere else.’

Of course, she was right. I was a fool. All her life she had never known a home. She had grown up in her father’s berg in northern Italy, was then sold into slavery, had lived in tents during her time with Spartacus, and finally had spent time in my father’s palace in Hatra. Now, for the first time, she had a place that was hers.

‘I’m sorry.’

‘Quite right, too.’

In truth our home was far from lavish, frugal would be the correct word to use. All my father’s money had been deposited in the treasury where it was watched over by Rsan, who displayed the same reluctance to part with any of it as Addu had at Hatra. Every drachma was itemised and locked in a vault below the treasury. Nothing was spent on furnishings for the palace, my only concern being the equipping of the legion. Aside from the Companions who had brought their arms and armour from Italy, most of the men had no equipment.

‘I need five thousand mail shirts, shields, swords and helmets,’ said Domitus, ‘plus another five thousand javelins to start with.’

Rsan was shaking his head. ‘Impossible. Such an expenditure would empty the treasury.’

Now that Domitus has settled the legion into its camp, he was impatient for it to be fully equipped. All three of us were standing in the armoury, a squat, thick-walled building that had grills on its small windows and one small wooden door faced with iron. It was filled with rows of empty stands that used to hold spears and swords, though there were a few bundles of arrows stacked on shelves.

Domitus drew his own sword, a Roman gladius with razor-sharp edges. He moved closer to Rsan and held the point of the blade only inches from his belly.

‘This, Lord Rsan, is the type of sword I desire, very useful when you want to get cosy with your enemy.’

Rsan’s eyes were wide with alarm.

‘No slashing with this little fellow, just three inches into an enemy’s guts a few times will spill his innards without any fuss.’

‘Thank you, Domitus,’ I said, ‘there’s no need to alarm my treasurer.’

Domitus smiled at Rsan and sheathed his blade. ‘Just stressing that my legion needs weapons if it is to keep the city, and your treasury, safe.’

His smile disappeared when he heard the bell in the courtyard being rung frantically. I followed two paces behind him as we raced from the armoury and onto the flagstones. I saw Nergal on his horse with a dozen of his men behind him and one of the guards beside him ringing the bell. Around us other soldiers were spilling out of the barracks to form up, while the gates of the Citadel were being closed. Gallia and Praxima appeared on the palace steps, followed by Godarz.

Nergal saw me and saluted. ‘Agraci war band approaching the city. I was returning from the training fields when a party of Domitus’ men alerted us to their approach. I have ordered the Palmyrene Gate to be closed.’

The garrison had formed up by now — a hundred legionaries and fifty Parthians, the latter on horseback armed with bows. Gallia’s score of Amazons formed the end of the line.

I pointed at Domitus. ‘Stay here with your men. Nergal, we will ride out to meet them.’

I ran towards the stables to saddle Remus. Gallia followed me.

‘I’m coming too.’

We rode through the city and out through the reopened Palmyrene Gate west towards the approaching foe, all of us armed with bows and swords. I was wearing my helmet and leather cuirass. Gallia’s Amazons were clad in their mail shirts and helmets, while Nergal’s Parthians were similarly attired. We galloped past the legion’s camp, the men standing to arms, and saw a great mass of black-clad horsemen in front of us. So Haytham had chosen war instead of peace. As we slowed and riders to my left and right rode forward to form into line, I must confess that I was greatly disappointed. No matter, we would soon scatter these Agraci. Then I reached behind me, pulled my bow from its case and extracted an arrow from my quiver. The others did the same as we slowed our horses to a walk and then halted them. The Agraci were about a quarter of a mile distant. They also appeared to have slowed. In fact they had halted. They made no move to get into any formation. No doubt they would attack us in one great, disorganised mass.

I raised my bow in the air to signal the advance; everyone responded in a like manner. Gallia was at my side, arrow in her bowstring. I nudged Remus with my knees and he began to move forward. Ahead I saw that one of the Agraci was also moving towards us, though he appeared to be the only one. We continued our advance, moving into a trot, when Gallia suddenly called out.

‘It is Prince Malik.’

I instinctively halted Remus.

‘What?’

Gallia had taken off her helmet and was pointing at the lone horseman approaching, with his hand raised.

‘It is Prince Malik, Pacorus.’

‘Halt, halt!’ I screamed, and my riders pulled up their mounts. Gallia was right, it was Prince Malik, and the fact that he was riding alone ahead of his men indicated that he was not here to fight. I rode up and down my line of riders.

‘Stand down, stand down.’

I put away my bow as Malik approached. Gallia was advancing to meet him as I joined her until we halted a few paces from the prince.

Malik removed his turban and bowed his head. ‘Greetings, King Pacorus, Queen Gallia.’

I raised my hand to him in salute. ‘Greetings, Prince Malik. You come well accompanied.’

He looked back to his group of riders, who must have numbered over three hundred. ‘Indeed, my apologies if we appear warlike. My father thought it wise to send me with a strong escort. There are those among your lords who are still at war with us, I think.’

‘How are your father and sister?’ asked Gallia.

‘They are well, and Rasha sends you her greetings.’ He looked at me. ‘I bring a message from my father, lord king, that there shall be peace between you and him.’

At that moment I could have soared like an eagle. ‘This is most excellent news, Prince Malik, you must come back to Dura with me to refresh yourself.’

He suddenly looked solemn. ‘And my men?’

‘They are welcome too, as are all Agraci in my kingdom.’

So we rode back to the city, three hundred Agraci warriors following us. When we entered the city people fled in terror at the sight of them, women scooping children up in their arms and racing back to their homes. Malik diplomatically ignored their shrieks of alarm and some curses. When we reached the Citadel he looked back at the city.

‘I fear it will take a long time before old enmities are forgotten.’

‘We have made a start, Malik,’ I assured him, ‘and that is the important thing.’

He stayed for two days, though most of his men rode back to Palmyra that afternoon. The next day I showed him round the Citadel and then the city. He had a keen mind and an agreeable manner, and did much in his short visit to dispel many old prejudices about the Agraci being bloodthirsty, mindless barbarians. In any case his race meant nothing to Domitus, who was a Roman, or to Godarz, who had spent many years as a slave in Italy and who had only a distant recollection of the Agraci. I noticed that Rsan made himself scarce, but no matter. And of course Gallia admired him greatly. We gave a feast in his honour that night. Malik sat on my right side at the top table. Also in attendance were Domitus, Godarz, Nergal and Praxima. Malik was fascinated by the notion of Gallia’s Amazons.

‘And are the stories about you true, majesty, that you and your women have fought in battle?’

‘Of course,’ replied Gallia. She pointed at Praxima sitting next to Nergal. ‘Praxima over there is my second-in-command and is a fearsome warrior on the battlefield.’

‘And you do not mind your wife being placed in such danger?’ he said to me.

‘When I first met her we were always in danger, surrounded as we were by our enemies.’

He looked down at his cup. ‘You were slaves.’

‘It’s true,’ I said, ‘and I have never forgotten that time.’

‘Do you burn to avenge the wrongs committed against you, by the Romans, I mean?’

‘We killed our fair share of Romans in Italy,’ said Gallia casually.

‘And if they stray near my kingdom we will kill some more,’ I added.

He looked at Domitus. ‘And yet a Roman is one of your trusted commanders.’

‘Yes,’ I said, ‘I trust him with my life.’

‘It is most curious.’

‘They were curious times, Malik. But tell me,’ I said, ‘why did your father agree to my proposal?’

He considered for a moment. ‘Because you gave him back his daughter and because you treated him as an equal. And I think that made a great impression upon him.’

‘And so he is,’ I said, ‘for he is a king.’

‘Not all Parthians think like you do, majesty.’