Parthian Dawn

Chapter 6

With peace agreed upon Malik returned to his people and I began to plan for the future. The first task was to equip the legion. To this end, two large brick buildings were purchased on the other side of the Citadel’s northern wall. Each building was rectangular in shape and gradually filled with workshops, furnaces, anvils, tools and quenching troughs. I told Godarz to send word far and wide that Dura was looking to hire the best armourers and blacksmiths that money could buy. Soon men from Syria, Judea and a host of Parthian kingdoms were presenting themselves at the Citadel. Godarz organised their hiring and Rsan their pay. When my treasurer complained about the cost I told him that the taxes from the markets would help pay for them. In this I was proved correct, for with the cessation of the Agraci raids commerce began to return to the city. Anyone was free to come to Dura and trade their wares, as long as they paid for the hire of a stall in the market. The latter was held in the city’s main square, halfway between the Citadel and the Palmyrene Gate, and was open every day. Domitus’ men kept order and Rsan’s clerks collected duties from each stall. The treasury began to fill. The generosity of the kings who had attended my wedding also helped to equip my army. As wedding presents Gotarzes sent iron, Farhad and Aschek bronze, while Balas sent me two hundred tons of wood to make shields and javelin shafts. The load was floated down the Tigris and then transported on carts via Hatra to Dura. Finally, Vardan sent me two thousand hides.

But commerce within the kingdom was only one half of my plan to swell the kingdom’s revenues. To really fill the treasury, Dura needed the caravans from the East. So I instructed Byrd to ride to Palmyra and then to Judea and south to Egypt and spread the word that I needed bridge builders. A month later he returned with a bald-headed man with black make-up around his eyes who presented a scroll with Greek writing upon it from his king, called a pharaoh. The scroll attested to his skills as a builder of bridges. The man also spoke Greek. I showed him the Euphrates from the palace’s terrace. Though the river was wide at this point, in the middle of the waterway, just north of the city, was an island shaped liked a spear blade. The Egyptian pointed at the island. ‘Bridge should go from this bank to the island, then from island to the far bank, divinity.’

‘The water is deep at this point.’

He shook his head. ‘No matter, divinity. I build pontoon bridge, lay planks across a row of boats. Easy to maintain and safe, and when the wood rots you can replace it quickly.’

We obtained material for the bridge from the many riverine woods, called huweijat, that hugged the banks of the Euphrates. Domitus sent his centuries far up and down river armed with axes to cut down the trees. The wood was loaded onto barges and floated downstream or rowed upstream to Dura, where carpenters under the Egyptian’s watchful eye constructed the road of planks and the vessels that would support them. The caravans would be able to cross the river immediately north of Dura and then take the road to Palmyra. If they so desired they could camp for the night near the city before continuing their journey.

Domitus’ legionaries unloaded the wood and carried it to the workshops. The barges for the pontoon bridge were assembled along the riverbank, a host of carpenters sawing, planing and hammering the beams and planks into place. As the spring gave way to early summer I liked to lend them a hand, unloading tree trunks from barges and hauling them by rope to the benches that the Egyptian had set up under canvas roofs a hundred paces or so from the water. Nergal also liked to pitch in and the two of us, stripped to the waist and covered in sweat, would struggle to lift a thick log from a barge and pull it to where it could be stacked with others to dry out before it was worked on.

‘Come on, your majesty,’ bellowed Domitus, dressed in helmet and mail shirt, his cane in his hand, ‘put your back into it. You too, Lord Nergal. Otherwise the both of you will be pulling extra guard duties for the rest of the week.’

The other legionaries around us grinned to each other as their commander took great delight in pouring scorn on our efforts.

‘You see boys, years in the saddle makes you soft.’

We pulled another thick log from the barge and let it fall onto the bank. Unfortunately it fell into the mud and splattered us. We got into a worse mess when we had to manhandle the log out of the grime, which caked our leggings and torsos in mud. We secured a rope around one end and then the two of us hauled it to where the others were stacked. We stood panting, bent over, our hands on our knees.

‘Only another few dozen to go, majesty.’ Domitus was having great fun.

I looked at the river, where at least a dozen barges were waiting to be unloaded, each one piled high with wood.

The appearance of Gallia and Praxima interrupted our work, the two of them riding to the water’s edge. Domitus raised his cane in salute.

‘You look disgusting,’ said Gallia.

‘Have you had a mud fight?’ added Praxima.

I walked over to a table holding water jugs and filled a cup, handed it to Nergal and then filled another for myself.

‘Honest toil, ladies, good for the soul.’

‘You had better come to the Citadel,’ said Gallia, ‘there is something you should see.’

‘Oh, what is it?’

‘You should see for yourself,’ she replied. ‘And clean yourself up first.’

‘You too, Nergal,’ said Praxima.

We washed ourselves in the river and then we all rode back to the Citadel. The courtyard was filled with horsemen, all on well-groomed mounts fully armed with bows, quivers and swords. Their tunics were a multitude of bright colours and their saddles were trimmed with silver and gold strips. Their harnesses were made of fine red and black leather, and the tails on their horses were all plaited. They numbered a score and they looked magnificent. As I halted Remus I suddenly recognised them. Of course, they had been the captives, the sons of Dura’s nobles. I also saw the look of disbelief on their faces as they stared at my appearance. Then they dismounted and knelt before me.

Gallia had halted Epona beside me. ‘They have come back to serve you.’

‘Get up, get up all of you,’ I shouted. ‘You are all most welcome.’

Nergal organised their stabling and accommodation in the barracks and that evening we all ate in the banqueting hall. Each one presented himself to Gallia and me. They certainly looked much changed since I had last seen them. They were aged between the late teens and early twenties. I told them that I intended to create a force of cataphracts and they would thus become armoured horsemen. They seemed very pleased with this as they already had their horses. All that was required was the armour.

‘That will be difficult, Pacorus.’ Godarz was scratching his head, which I noticed was going bald. ‘The armouries are already at full capacity making mails shirts, shields and helmets for the legion, and now you want more armour.’

‘The sons of the nobles brought money with them, did they not?’

‘Oh yes, enough to keep them and their horses for a year, but not enough to purchase suits of armour for themselves and their horses. And another thing, we will have to obtain leather vests for the legionaries to wear between their mail armour and tunics.’

‘Why?’

He looked at me with a knowing look in his eye. ‘When you decided that you wanted your own legion, you forgot that we are no longer in Italy.’

‘Of course I didn’t,’ I said irritably.

‘Oh yes you did. This is Parthia, and in Parthia and the East in general horse archers are more prevalent than mail-clad foot soldiers.’

‘So?’

‘So, my young king, if the legion goes into battle it will be subjected to heavy arrow fire from horse archers. Mail armour is very good as protection against slashing or blunt weapon attacks, but not as effective as a defence against arrows. Give your legionaries leather vests under their mail and they will have maximum protection.’

I sighed loudly. ‘I see.’

He rubbed his head again. ‘Indeed. So five thousand leather vests are needed as well. So you see, armour for your cataphract project is quite out of the question, even with Vardan’s generous gift. And each cataphract will also need two squires to serve him.’

In fact, Godarz had been too pessimistic when it came to leather. It proved easy to obtain, as the royal estate, my estate that was located south of the city, had vast herds of pigs, goats and sheep. The mail proved more difficult and expensive to produce. Not only did we have to purchase the bronze and steel from which the armour was made, but also hire the armourers and metal workers to create the mail shirts. Watching the latter being made was truly a wondrous experience. Each suit comprised around twelve thousand riveted links alternated with a similar number of punched rings. On average it took forty hours of labour to produce one mail shirt that reached down to mid-thigh. Godarz had two hundred metal workers and a hundred armourers working in shifts night and day.

The one thing that would decide whether I could raise and finance my army would be the willingness of the trade caravans to risk the trip through Agraci territory to Syria and then south to Egypt. The economics made perfect sense, for to undertake such a trip would save at least a month in time. Most caravans came from Ctesiphon and Seleucia and then headed north to Hatra, thence to Antioch and then Syria, before making the long journey south via Damascus and Tyre to Egypt. I sent messages to the trade envoys based in Hatra that if they wanted to do business with Egypt, then Dura should be their destination. This would not be taking revenues from my father’s coffers, for the caravans would have to pay duties to Hatra anyway before they reached Dura.

The pontoon bridge was finished now. The Egyptian was most pleased with his project, as was I.

‘Bridge very strong, divinity, will last a thousand years.’

‘Just thirty of forty will suffice,’ I said.

A month passed and I was growing increasingly concerned that my efforts had been in vain, but then one morning, as the sun shone on the blue waters of the Euphrates, a row of camels appeared on the horizon. Though word was sent to me at the palace I had already spotted it from the terrace, and both Gallia and I raced to the stables to fetch our horses. Like excited children we rode to the bridge, followed by Godarz and Rsan, who were also in an agitated state.

The merchant who owned the camels was a small wiry man of Oriental appearance, with a thin moustache that had waxed ends. He wore a black cloth cap on his head and red sandals on his feet that rose into a point at his toes. His steps were short and quick, and when we were introduced to him he held his hands clasped to his chest and smiled a great deal.

‘My name is Li Sung and I have a consignment of silk to sell to the Pharaoh of Egypt,’ his Parthian was impeccable.

I stood before him with Rsan and Godarz. ‘Greetings, Li Sung,’ I bowed my head to him, ‘you are most welcome.’

As his thirty camels, their attendants and guards crossed over the bridge, I walked beside him.

‘I have heard that you have opened a new route to Egypt, one which can save me much time,’ he said.

‘That is true.’

He nodded his head. ‘I have also heard that this route goes through territory that belongs to bandits.’

‘I have reached an agreement with the people to whom you allude. You will have safe passage through their territory. You will be able to use their watering holes, and they will offer you protection, subject to the usual customs duties, of course.’

‘Of course. I have travelled through your father’s kingdom for many years, and because you are his son I have decided to hazard this journey. Many eyes are upon me, King Pacorus.’

He was right in that, for if he reached his destination safely then many caravans would follow his. I knew what he was intimating at. His eyes did not blink as he looked at me. I blinked first.

‘Of course this one passage, this passage through Dura, shall be free of all charges, Li Sung,’ I said.

He smiled and bowed his head. ‘You are a most gracious king. I shall tell the emperor of your generosity.’

I allowed Li Sung to quarter his beasts and their valuable cargo inside the legion’s camp that night, and in the morning he moved out two hours after dawn. The previous afternoon I had sent a message to Haytham alerting him of Li Sung’s caravan, but I was still nervous as I watched the line of camels fade into the distance.

‘They will be quite all right,’ Gallia reassured me. ‘There is no reason why Haytham won’t keep his word.’

‘I know, but still.’

I had toyed with the idea sending an armed escort to protect the caravan, but that would be interpreted by Haytham as a sign that I did not trust him. It all came down to trust. Gallia laid a hand on my arm.

‘Have faith, Pacorus. Haytham will keep his word.’

And so he did, for after three days Byrd returned with news that Malik had met the caravan with a hundred warriors and was escorting it to Palmyra. Li Sung had paid the agreed tolls and nothing appeared untoward. Upon hearing this news the stress left me like the waters of a burst dam, and I hugged Byrd in gratitude, leaving him somewhat mortified.

‘I would like to go back and accompany caravan to Egypt, lord.’

‘Of course,’ I said, ‘I would like to know that it has reached its destination safely.’

Gallia watched him go the next day.

‘He has his eye on a woman,’ she said.

‘Byrd? I doubt it. He’s a solitary individual.’

‘That’s the image he portrays to the world, but underneath he craves love like all of us. Why else would he want to get back to the land of the Agraci?’

‘To reassure me that all is well with the caravan. He knows how important it is to me.’

She raised an eyebrow. ‘Did not you see the look in his eyes when he was talking about going back?’

I had no time for such trivialities. ‘I doubt Byrd even notices women, and anyway what sort of woman would want his life?’

Life went on at Dura. Weapons production in the city continued apace, though we established the leather tanning centre a few miles to the south of the city walls, as the stink in the Citadel would have been unbearable. Leather was something we all took for granted, though I for one was ignorant of how it was actually produced. So one day I rode to the tanneries to see for myself how animal skins were turned into leather. The foul odour of dung and urine greeted my nostrils about half a mile away. The overseer, a huge fat man who panted the whole time, showed me round his empire of filth.

The animal skins were first soaked in water to soften them, and then scoured to remove any flesh and fat. Afterwards they were soaked in urine and then scraped with a knife to remove any hair. The material was then bated in huge vats of animal dung mixed with water, the workers using their bare feet to knead the material. After this is was ready to be made into sandals, boots, vests, armour and waterskins. I watched the process until I was about to retch, then hastily thanked the overseer for his valuable efforts and fled the scene.

Far more enjoyable was observing the increasing number of mail shirts and weapons being manufactured. With production in full swing it was possible to fully equip one cohort a week, not only with mail shirts but also helmets, leather vests, swords and shields. The helmets had a reversed brim at the rear, cheek flaps and a forehead cross-brace as added protection against downward sword strikes made by a rider from the saddle. I had to confess that Godarz and Domitus had thought of every eventuality.

Domitus rotated each of his centuries through guard duty at the Citadel, and at the end of their week of standing at the gates and patrolling the walls the men were issued with their new weapons and armour. Then the century, resplendent in its shiny helmets, shields and mail shirts, would march back to camp. It was a clever ploy, for every man actually looked forward to guard duty at the Citadel. In this way the legion began to shape into a formidable-looking body. And every day the men were drilled relentlessly. ‘Train hard, fight easy’ was our motto. Learn drills until they become second nature, so when the fighting starts battles become nothing more than bloody drills.

Gallia and I allowed ourselves no indulgences; we didn’t even have crowns.

‘What use is a crown if your quiver is empty,’ she told me, and she was right.

And then, nearly two months after he had left Dura, Li Sung and his camels appeared out of the western horizon. Nergal himself brought me the news and I rode out of the city to meet the wily old fox. Once his men had watered and fed his beasts I invited him to the palace to eat with us. He sat next to me as a guest of honour as he told us all about his journey.

‘Palmyra is very green,’ he said, picking at the roast lamb that was laid before him, ‘a lush green island that stands like an emerald in the desert.’

‘And you encountered no trouble?’ I said.

He looked at me with narrowed eyes. ‘I know that the Parthians and Agraci have been foes, but you and Haytham are wise, I think. He accepted me as an honoured guest.’

‘And what will you tell your guild of merchants, Li Sung?’

He nodded and smiled, for this was the crux of the matter. He took a sip of his wine. ‘That we have a new route to Egypt.’

I personally led the escort that rode beside Li Sung and his camels across the pontoon bridge and into Hatran territory.

‘I hope to see you again, my friend,’ I told him.

‘I think that will be likely. The Egyptians have a great desire for our products. They pay handsomely for them.’

I did not doubt it. The rolled silk that he had carried in waxed leather tubes on his camels’ backs were literally worth a king’s ransom. And now his camels carried gold on their backs, gold for him and for his emperor. The last piece of the mosaic was now in place, and over the succeeding weeks an increasing number of caravans crossed the bridge at Dura on their way west. Prince Malik visited us often, occasionally bringing Rasha with him. As Gallia had promised, she had her own room in the palace, next to ours, with its own balcony overlooking the river. Malik was greatly interested in the legion and he would spend hours talking with Domitus in his headquarters in the Citadel, the ex-centurion, crop-haired and muscular, sitting opposite the long-haired desert warrior swathed in black robes. To my surprise, Malik could speak Latin, a consequence of his father having had him tutored in Alexandria as a child, and the two formed an unlikely friendship. Malik was always full of questions. He had an enquiring mind, and I thought would make a good king when his time came.

After a particularly hard training session, during which my horsemen had been learning to work with a cohort of legionaries, we had all retired to the legion’s camp to rest the horses and ourselves. I wanted my cavalry to be able to fight closely with the foot, which meant learning to ride between cohorts, reforming behind and between lines of centuries as well as protecting the legion’s flanks. The legionaries were at first nervous about having dozens of horsemen thundering around them, kicking up clouds of dust and obscuring their view. But confidence grew with practice. Train hard, fight easy.

‘On the open plain your foot soldiers would be swept away by my horseman and camel riders,’ said Malik as he removed the saddle from his sweat-lathered grey horse.

Domitus, his face streaked with lines of dirt and sweat, took off his mailed shirt adorned with silver discs and then unstrapped his metal greaves that protected his shins. He pulled an arrow from my quiver and snapped it in two.

‘A lone man on the plain is helpless, I agree,’ he said to Malik.

Then he grabbed a bundle of arrows from my quiver and handed them to Malik.

‘Now break those.’ He could not.

Domitus took them from him and replaced them in my quiver. ‘You see, strength in numbers. Five thousand men standing shoulder-to-shoulder and in all-round defence cannot be broken by horses or camels. The beasts will not run into a solid wall of shields.’

‘The Parthians can stand off and shoot you to pieces,’ said Malik.

Domitus handed me a ladle of water from a bucket; I emptied it, refilled it and passed it to Malik.

Domitus wiped his face with a cloth. ‘Not if we lock shields in front of us and over our heads. They will run out of arrows before our discipline breaks.’

‘There are some who have broken a Roman legion,’ said Nergal.

Domitus rested a hand on my shoulder and looked straight at Malik. ‘Only a handful, and Pacorus here is one of them. But even he needed a bit of luck.’

‘And a few thousand Thracians and Germans,’ I added.

‘I do not understand.’ Malik was confused.

‘At a place called Mutina in northern Italy,’ I told him, ‘my horse fought all day under a hot sun against a mighty host of the enemy. Though we shot and cut down many, at the end there were still Romans standing in their ranks, undefeated.’

‘I used up all my arrows that day,’ said Nergal, splashing water on his face.

‘We won because the horse and foot worked together, Roman and Parthian tactics working in harmony, so to speak,’ added Domitus.

‘Like you are doing now,’ said Malik.

I nodded. ‘Like we are doing now.’

‘You were the commander of the army at this place called Mutina, lord?’

I shook my head. ‘No Malik, I fought under a great general named Spartacus.’

As the weeks passed, the number of the caravans travelling through Dura increased markedly. In addition the city’s market thrived, so much so that a new one had to be established to the north of the city, just off the road that the caravans used to travel east and west. The harvest was good, with the local farmers producing an abundance of onions, radishes, beans, lettuce, wheat, barley, millet and sesame seeds. There was also a healthy trade in wool and leather. The tolls from the markets flowed into the treasury, as did the taxes paid by the lords of the kingdom whose sons now served in my army. No Agraci raids meant a peaceful frontier, and a peaceful frontier meant crops could be harvested and cattle, sheep, goats and pigs raised and slaughtered for meat and skins. The canals and irrigation ditches of the whole kingdom were owned by the king, whose responsibility it was to build and maintain them, and so whenever one needed repairing or a new one dug, I sent a century of legionaries to do the work. And if it was a large project I sent a cohort. In return the men were kept in the peak of physical condition and more money poured into the treasury, for everyone who drew water from the king’s irrigation system had to pay for the privilege of doing so. The sums were small, but thousands of farmers paid these water duties so the cumulative amount was large.

Rsan was a very happy man, and I realised that he was in fact a conscientious and able administrator who above all was honest. Under him was a small cadre of tax collectors who rode up and down the kingdom on mules, ensuring his system was working smoothly. And the jewels in the crown of the kingdom’s finances were the trade caravans that crossed the pontoon bridge over the Euphrates each day.

With royal finances so healthy I could now raise my cataphracts. I now had two hundred cavalrymen — Gallia’s Amazons were a law unto themselves so I did not count them — requiring armour for both horse and man.

Domitus and his legionaries wore mail armour, but thick rawhide coats that reached down to their knees protected my cataphracts. Split below the waist at front and back to allow the wearer to sit in the saddle, the rawhide was covered from top to bottom with overlapping iron scales. Each scale had to be riveted onto the rawhide, a process that took a week’s work in total. In addition to the scale armour, each rider’s arms and legs were encased in overlapping rings of steel that gave protection against sword and axe blows but allowed full freedom of movement. Helmets were also made of steel, with steel cheekguards, long leather neck flaps and facemasks. A ring for holding plumes topped each helmet. My father’s cataphracts wore open-faced helmets with a long nasal guard, but I wanted my men to ride into battle with their faces covered, so they would look like steel-clad killers sent from the underworld.

Each rider’s horse was also covered in a coat of scale armour to protect his sides and neck, with additional armour on its head.

Once the men and their horses were fully armoured, they spent much time learning to charge holding the kontus — a heavy, thick lance nearly fifteen feet long that was tipped with a long steel point and had a steel butt spike.

Rsan complained that the cataphracts were an expensive drain on the treasury. He was right, for as well as the weapons and armour, each rider required two squires to accompany him on campaign to help him dress in his armour and get on and off his horse, as well as to mend and maintain the armour. In return the squires would learn to become the next generation of Dura’s cataphracts.

Rsan shook his head. ‘The expense is considerable, majesty.’

He was sitting in his office behind his desk, scrolls neatly stacked on his work surface and tally sheets filling the pigeon holes along one wall. I was opposite him, having spent the afternoon in the city at a company of embroiderers, explaining to the owner the design I wanted for the pennants that would be fixed to each kontus, just below the blade. This was to be a red griffin on a white background, exactly the same design on the standard hanging in the throne room.

Rsan was reading the parchment I had handed him, shaking his head as he did so. ‘Pennants, majesty, are extremely expensive. Are they entirely necessary?’

‘Of course, Rsan. I cannot ride into battle without the enemy knowing whom they are fighting. Besides, has not the harvest been most excellent this year?’

‘Indeed, majesty, but the expenditure of your legion, your cataphracts and her majesty’s horse are proving significant.’

‘Her majesty’s horse?’

We were sitting on our bedroom balcony enjoying the late afternoon sun. ‘If you can have your toys, Pacorus, then I can have mine.’

Her hair, framed by the light, had the appearance of molten gold.

‘I have decided to increase the number of Amazons, as several women have come forward who want to serve me.’

I was sceptical. ‘What women?’

She shot me a disapproving glance. ‘You attend to your business and I shall attend to mine. Besides,’ her tone changed to one of the seductress, ‘you want me to be safe, don’t you, to have a bodyguard.’

‘You are protected, there’s five thousand legionaries out there to keep you safe, and threats from whom?’

She waved her hand in the air. ‘It’s been decided now. I ordered Rsan to furnish me with three score of bows and quivers, an equal number of mail shirts and helmets. In addition, I require white cloaks for us all.’

‘Is that all?’

When the cataphracts and Gallia’s increased number of Amazons had been fully armed and armoured, I decided that it would be a good time to visit my parents at Hatra. I asked Godarz to accompany us since I knew he was keen to see his old friend Vistaspa again. I also asked Malik to come.

‘Me, majesty?’

We were eating our evening meal on the terrace overlooking the river. I found the banqueting hall too large for when Gallia and I took our meals together, as did she. The palace terrace was much more comfortable and intimate.

‘Yes, Malik, you. And I wish you would call me Pacorus. We are, after all, friends, are we not?’

‘I fear that the Agraci are not welcome in your father’s kingdom.’

I wrapped some roasted lamb in a pancake and dipped it into a yoghurt sauce. ‘My father welcomes all my friends Malik, have no fear of that.’

‘Who will you leave in charge of the city?’ asked Gallia.

‘Domitus, I think. Command sits easy on his broad shoulders.’

Malik raised his eyebrows. ‘How strange that you would leave a Roman in charge of your city.’

I bit off a chunk of the pancake. ‘Of course, why not?’

‘Malik, Domitus was a slave, like Pacorus and me,’ said Gallia. ‘He fought beside us in Italy and we both trust him with our lives.’

‘Some say,’ I continued, ‘that the Parthians and Agraci are mortal enemies. And yet here we are, sitting together and enjoying each other’s company.’

He looked thoughtful. ‘You are not like other Parthians, majesty, er Pacorus. In fact, you two are unlike any others I have met.’

Gallia looked at him. ‘In what way?’

He shrugged. ‘I know not, only that you have brought peace when there was war, and trust where there was distrust before. Perhaps what they say about you is right.’

‘And what do they say?’ I asked him.

‘That you are beloved of the gods.’

The Citadel was almost bursting on the morning when we left for Hatra. Two hundred mounted cataphracts were in the courtyard, their faces hidden behind steel masks so that only their eyes could be seen, but only up close. From a distance only two black holes stared out. Gallia’s Amazons, now numbering fifty, were formed up in a block on their left, dressed in brown boots, baggy tan leggings, mail shirts and helmets with closed cheekguards. Praxima sat at their head. Behind the cataphracts were four hundred squires, each holding the reins of a camel loaded with food, tools, spare quivers, a tent and the weapons of his master.

We rode down into the city and through the Palmyrene Gate, then swung north to take us over the pontoon bridge and into my father’s kingdom. I rode in my Roman helmet, cuirass and spatha at my hip. I left my cataphract armour behind as I was not riding to war. Gallia rode on my right side and Godarz on my left, with Nergal and Praxima behind us and a long column of horses and camels behind them. A short while after we had crossed the bridge we were met by a detachment of my father’s army — a dozen horse archers dressed in white tunics and red leggings. Their commander paid his respects and then left us, riding back to his fort.

We halted several miles from Dura to allow the cataphracts to take off their heavy scale armour and that of their horses, as it would have been torture for the riders to travel the whole day under a merciless sun in full armour. We then road north across country avoiding the roads, which were full of traffic — caravans, merchants and people on foot — all kicking up a choking dust that found its way into the eyes and lungs. The heavy traffic was a good sign as it indicated trade was thriving in Hatra.

It took us seven days to reach Hatra, my father and Vistaspa linking up with us five miles from the city with an escort of cataphracts. Vistaspa said little aside from a curt greeting to me and Gallia, though I detected a look of approval as he observed my own men behind us, who were now again dressed in their full war gear. My father, wearing his crown on his helmet, rode at the head of his men, Hatra’s banner of the white horse’s head fluttering in the breeze behind him. He greeted us warmly.

‘It is good to see you both, your mother has missed you.’ He looked at Malik, who laid a hand on his heart and bowed his head. My father shot a glance at me but said nothing, but he must have known that the black-robed warrior was an Agraci.

Hatra was as big, bustling and loud as I remembered it, the streets packed with people going about their business. We moved slowly through the throng, some of Kogan’s guards clearing a passage but not with violence. Many cheered my father and his men, and then myself and Gallia even more as they recognised us. Some reached over to touch my leg or stroke Remus. I also noticed that more than one frowned and shied away when they caught sight of Malik, his cheeks adorned with black tattoos and his black robes indicating his Agraci heritage. To his credit he kept looking ahead, though riding through a sea of potential enemies must have been uncomfortable for him. When we got to the palace my mother and sisters were waiting at the foot of the steps, as were Kogan, Assur, Gafarn and Diana. Our reunion was long and tearful; Gallia hugged Diana for an age and they linked arms when my father insisted that everyone must go inside to their rooms. Nergal led my horsemen and the Amazons to the royal stables as we filed into the vastness that was Hatra’s palace.

As we strolled though the great stone columns Gafarn put an arm around my shoulder. ‘It’s good to see you, brother. I see that you have widened the circle of your friends.’

Malik was trailing behind me. ‘Prince Malik, this is my brother, Gafarn.’

Malik bowed his head to Gafarn. ‘An honour, lord.’

Gafarn burst into laughter, which startled my parents and sisters and caused Assur to frown deeply. ‘I’m not lord, though some call me that. I am a Bedouin, taken captive as an infant and raised a slave in this palace.’

My mother was most upset. ‘Gafarn, you should not say such things.’

Gafarn shrugged. ‘Why not? It is true. I am not ashamed of who I am.’

‘You are a Bedouin?’ Malik was most surprised.

‘Yes, and my wife, Diana, once a Roman kitchen slave, is now a princess of Hatra. So you see, Prince Malik of the Agraci, nothing is ever as it appears to be.’

Assur made his excuses and left, as did Kogan and Addu, clearly made uncomfortable by Malik’s presence, but my father had him shown to a luxurious room in the royal apartments and that evening at the banquet held to celebrate the return of myself and Gallia to Hatra, he was placed on the top table. I sat next to my father with Gallia beside my mother as the hall echoed with the chattering of three hundred of the city’s lords and their wives invited to attend. A small army of servants ferried food and wine from the kitchens to the tables.

‘I like your heavy cavalry, Pacorus.’

‘Thank you, father.’

‘Horsemen armed and armoured thus are expensive.’

‘Very.’

‘Dura’s finances can stand such an indulgence?’

‘Now we have opened up the trade route to Egypt, they can.’

‘I heard about your trip into the desert to meet with the Agraci,’ he said, looking at Malik.

I nodded at Malik sitting next to Nergal and Praxima. ‘That is King Haytham’s son, father, a man whom I esteem a friend.’

‘I know who he is.’

I looked at my father. ‘You do not approve?’

He smiled and laid a hand on my shoulder. ‘You have brought peace and prosperity where there was war and financial ruin. How could I disapprove? There are some,’ he tilted his head towards Assur, ‘who disapprove of you making peace with the Agraci.’

‘And you?’

‘I say that kings have to be above all practical. You have the reputation of being a great warlord, and now you are earning yourself a reputation as a wise king. I am proud of you. How is Gallia?’

I looked at my love, deep in conversation with my mother. ‘Happy. She likes Dura.’

My father suddenly looked serious. ‘I heard that you took her into the desert when you visited the Agraci. That could have been dangerous.’

‘I told her that, but she insisted on accompanying me.’

‘And you let her?’

I grinned. ‘I could have forced her to stay in Dura, but I only have five thousand legionaries and two hundred cavalry. Too few for such a task, I fear.’

My father roared with laughter.

It was good to be back at Hatra, albeit for a short while, and to see my parents again. Those were the happy times, and even Vistaspa seemed to have mellowed somewhat, though perhaps it was because his friend Godarz was back with him. Gallia and Diana spent much time together with the young Spartacus, now grown in size and taking his first steps. Gafarn beat me with depressing ease in the archery competitions we held in the gardens and on the training fields and Addu was most impressed when I told him about Rsan and the treasury at Dura. Those were special days. It was not paradise, for people still died of sickness and disease, thieves still had their hands cut off and murderers were still executed, but peace and contentment reigned over Hatra and Dura.

But peace never lasts, and two days before we were due to head back to Dura, a courier arrived at my father’s palace. It was late afternoon and we were all relaxing in the shade of my mother’s summerhouse when the courier presented my father with a sealed scroll.

‘Where are you from?’ said my father, breaking the seal.

‘Ctesiphon, majesty.’

My father read the words and frowned.

‘What is it, Varaz?’ asked my mother.

My father waved away the courier and breathed a deep sigh. ‘Sinatruces is dead.’

I had to confess that this news came as no great shock to me, for the King of Kings had been over eighty years old and most people died well before that great number. But had I known what this one event would lead to I would have shown more concern, for the passing of one old man was to be the catalyst for tumultuous events that threatened to destroy the empire and would again bring me face to face with my old enemies — the Romans.