Parthian Vengeance

Chapter 12

The empire was fortunate in having an excellent courier system whereby every kingdom maintained a system of post stations along every major road at intervals of thirty miles or so. Comprising nothing more than a one-storey building with stables and barn attached, when a courier arrived he left his mount behind and rode a fresh horse to the next station. In this way letters could travel up to ninety miles a day in extreme circumstances, though it was usual for a courier to travel sixty miles a day. In this way a letter could travel the breadth of the empire — a thousand miles — in around seventeen days. In Dura it was slightly different as the forts that I had built up and down the kingdom also acted as post stations, but the result was the same. It was a curious thing that even in times of civil strife the communications system was respected by all sides and not interfered with, no doubt because couriers were an excellent way of transmitting threats and abuse.

I thanked Shamash that we had such a system, for when we returned to Nisibus I found that there had been a flurry of letters sent to the city, all of them conveying ill tidings. I also arrived to find my father had returned to the city with Vistaspa, neither of them being in particularly good moods. It was late afternoon when we rode through the city’s two surrounding brick walls, between which was a deep moat spanned by several bridges. We left our horses at the palace stables. The wagons and camels carried on south back to camp. I had written a short note to Domitus informing him of our victory over the Armenians and recommending Thumelicus for promotion.

Vata had pointed to my father’s banner flying over the palace when we entered the palace grounds, signalling that the king was in residence.

‘Bad sign that your father is back so quickly. Something must be awry.’

I asked him, Atrax and Orodes not to say anything concerning Surena’s expedition into Gordyene.

‘Perhaps he knows already,’ mused Orodes as we walked into the palace’s main hall.

My father watched us enter and walk to the dais as the doors were closed behind us. He was sitting in a great wooden chair with the black-eyed Vistaspa standing beside him. My father had his elbow resting on the arm of the chair, his chin on his palm. He resembled a brooding wolf.

We stood before him and bowed our heads. He began tapping his fingers on the chair’s other arm.

‘Who rules in Hatra?’ he said at length.

I looked at Vata and then Orodes in confusion.

‘You do, father, of course,’ I replied.

He leaned back in the chair, bringing his hands together in front of his chest.

‘Are you certain of that?’

I spread out my hands. ‘I do not understand, father.’

He stood up slowly. ‘Do you not? Then tell me, Pacorus, what would you say of a king who allows another king into his realm to fight his own private war? How is your war with the Armenians going, by the way?’

Orodes and Vata shifted uneasily while Atrax looked shamefaced.

‘I was merely trying to reinforce the safety of your kingdom, father, by sending a clear message to the Armenians,’ I said.

My father looked at Vata. ‘Did you not have enough soldiers at your disposal to protect the caravan, Vata?’

‘Yes, majesty,’ he replied, ‘but Pacorus, that is King Pacorus, suggested that we might lay a trap for the Armenians.’

‘I see,’ said my father, ‘and as the governor of the north you thought that you would obey the King of Dura instead of me?’

Vata was squirming now. ‘Of course not, majesty, but we had an opportunity to inflict losses on the Armenians that would make the road to Edessa safer.’

‘Whether the road to Edessa is now safer than before remains to be seen, but your decision to support my son in his folly would normally have cost you your command.’

Vata blinked and the colour drained from his cheeks.

‘Father,’ I protested, but he held up his hand to still me.

‘I said normally because events in the east are more pressing and I cannot yet afford to dispense with his services, or yours.’

‘Events in the east?’ I enquired.

An ironic smile crept across his face. ‘Five days ago word reached me at Hatra that a great army has passed through the Caspian Gates and is advancing west.’

Atrax cast me a concerned glance, which was spotted by my father. ‘You are right to be alarmed, Prince Atrax, for a message arrived for you here at Nisibus this very morning.’

My father snapped his fingers and pointed to a servant standing by a pillar to the side of the dais. The man, who held a silver tray in front of him on which was a letter, walked briskly over to Atrax and bowed his head, holding out the tray to my friend. Atrax took the letter and opened it.

‘The seal was unbroken,’ said my father, ‘but if I was to guess I would say that it is from your father urgently requesting your presence at Irbil.’

Atrax read the letter and looked at my father, who leaned back in his chair.

‘You are correct, majesty,’ he said. ‘My father requires me back in Media.’

‘A more serious challenge than killing a few mountain bandits I assume, lord prince.’

My father nodded to Vistaspa.

‘We have received other news, though its accuracy as yet cannot be confirmed,’ said my father’s second-in-command flatly, ‘of a great army assembling at Ctesiphon and another at Persis.’

‘Three armies?’ I said.

My father pointed at Vata. ‘Get a map of the empire and bring it here.’

‘We do not have a map of the empire, majesty,’ said Vata apologetically.

One of his stewards, a gaunt man in his forties dressed in a long brown robe, stepped forward and bowed his head to Vata.

‘The chief archivist may know of such a chart among his documents, lord.’

‘Go and tell him to search his archives, then,’ ordered Vata.

The man bowed and scurried off, leaving the four of us standing before my father and feeling distinctly uncomfortable.

‘You must be thirsty after your great victory,’ said my father mockingly. He nodded to another servant who brought us silver cups filled with wine, serving my father and Vistaspa first.

My father rose from his seat and held his cup aloft.

‘What shall we toast? Victory, or a glorious war before Atropaiene, Media, Babylon and Mesene are all crushed, their cities reduced to ashes and their peoples either killed or enslaved?’

We shuffled on our feet and said nothing. My father drained his cup.

‘Why so bashful? Pacorus, you of all people should be glad that the eastern half of the empire is now marching west. Have you not desired this war for a long time, a final reckoning with Mithridates and Narses?’

‘I have only desired justice,’ I replied through gritted teeth.

Our further discomfort was spared when the steward returned with a stooping man in his sixties at least who was clutching a rolled-up map. He had thinning white hair and took small steps as he shuffled towards the dais.

‘You have a map of the empire?’ my father asked him.

‘Yes indeed, majesty,’ he replied, bowing and dropping the map on the floor. My father rolled his eyes.

‘Place it on the table,’ he instructed.

The archivist bowed again, picked up the map and then shuffled over to the table and unrolled it, brushing away cobwebs from its edges. The hide map was intricately detailed, showing all the empire’s major rivers, kingdoms, cities and mountain ranges.

‘It has been in the library here for at least fifty years though I suspect it is older,’ reported the archivist as he admired it. ‘I believe that it was produced by a Greek whose name escapes me, though he was clearly influenced by his fellow countryman Hipparchos, who I believe lived for most of his life in Greece but who travelled widely in these parts.’

‘Thank you for being most informative,’ said my father, stepping from the dais and walking to the side of the table. ‘You may go.’

The archivist bowed and ambled from our presence.

‘Please join me,’ said my father, his tone indicating it was a command rather than a request.

With our full cups still in our hands we gathered at the table to stare at the map.

My father began to speak, uttering his thoughts rather than engaging us in a conversation.

‘Messages sent from Hyrcania and Margiana indicate that four kings have marched through the Caspian Gates — Monaeses of Yueh-Chih, Tiridates of Aria, Cinnamus of Anauon and Vologases of Drangiana. This host is made up of only horsemen so it may move quickly, and it is heading in our direction.’

He pointed to the area between Lake Urmia and the Caspian Sea.

‘They mean to attack Media, Atropaiene and then Hatra, all the kingdoms that have supported Dura against Mithridates.’

His hand moved further south across the map.

‘If the reports concerning Mithridates and Narses are true, then they are gathering another army at Ctesiphon. This can only mean that they will once again strike at Babylon.’

I looked at Orodes and saw alarm etched on his face.

‘Mesene can aid Babylon, father,’ I said.

My father looked at me and then at Vistaspa, who now spoke.

‘Word is that King Phriapatius of Carmania is moving west with his army and has reached Persepolis.’

‘Which means,’ continued my father, ‘that he will attack the Kingdom of Mesene, which in turn will prevent King Nergal from assisting Babylon. Thus does Mithridates gather the whole of the east to attack us.’

I looked at the map and my heart sank. I had been so preoccupied with planning and preparing my own campaign against Mithridates and Narses that I had given no thought to the notion that they might be doing the same. But now it seemed I had underestimated them once again. The silence in the hall was deafening as we stood rooted to the spot. Atrax broke the silence.

‘I must return to Media, lord.’

‘Let us hope, lord prince,’ said my father, ‘that there is still a Media to return to.’

Atrax left the next morning with his bodyguard. He came to see me in camp before his journey, promising to aid Surena when he could but fearing that the great army moving towards the borders of his father’s kingdom would absorb all his time, to say nothing of Media’s resources. I stood with Domitus and Orodes and watched him and his men ride from camp. I placed an arm on Orodes’ shoulder.

‘Do not fear, my friend, the walls of Babylon are stout and high.’

He smiled wanly. ‘Even the strongest city cannot hold out indefinitely, Pacorus.’

I knew what he was thinking: that he should ride south with his men and be by the side of Axsen when the storm broke against Babylon’s walls. But I needed his men with me where they would be more use rather than cooped up inside a city. That said, if he decided to ride to his beloved there was nothing I could do. I prayed that for the moment his head would rule his heart.

We went back inside the tent and took our seats at the table, an air of uncertainty hanging over us. Domitus extracted his dagger from his sheath and began toying with it.

‘Well,’ he said, ‘are we marching back to Dura?’

‘That would seem to be the most logical course of action,’ added Orodes. ‘If the Kingdom of Babylon falls then Nergal at Uruk will be cut off and Mithridates will be able to reduce Mesene with ease. And after that Dura will be attacked.’

He was right, but I was loathe to leave my father’s kingdom knowing that a great army was marching in its direction. And yet if Babylon fell then Nergal would also be destroyed and after that Dura would feel the wrath of Narses and Mithridates. I suddenly realised that I had only one chance to make the right decision, for otherwise all would be lost. How the gods must be enjoying this.

‘Hatra’s army is strong,’ I said. ‘We will march south to aid Babylon. There may be three armies attacking our friends and allies, but only one of those is important, the one led by Mithridates and Narses. Destroy that and we win the war.’

Orodes was nodding and Domitus had stopped playing with his dagger.

‘It is agreed, then,’ I said. ‘We march east to the Tigris and then down its west bank to Babylon, and then we will have a final reckoning with Mithridates and Narses.’

I heard the sound of horses’ hooves outside and then men’s voices. The flap of the tent opened and my father walked in followed by Vistaspa and two agitated sentries.

‘It is fine,’ I told them.

They disappeared as my father helped himself to a cup of water from the jug on the table and then sat in one of the chairs, Vistaspa standing behind him.

‘This is an unexpected pleasure, father. Have you come to inspect my camp?’

‘A courier arrived two hours ago with news concerning the army advancing from the east. It has divided just west of the Caspian Gates. One half under Monaeses and Tiridates is moving northwest towards Media and Atropaiene; the other led by Cinnamus and Vologases is heading directly west towards Hatra.’

‘The enemy splits his forces,’ remarked Domitus.

My father smiled at him savagely. ‘That is right, Roman, he divides his forces, so confidant is he that he will be victorious. And by doing so he gives us a small chance, a glimmer of hope, to avert disaster.’

He drank from his cup and looked at me.

‘Perhaps we may achieve more if the famed army of Dura will stay in these parts to aid me.’

‘We have a chance to trap and destroy the invaders,’ added Vistaspa.

‘I had thought of taking the army south to aid Babylon,’ I said, looking at Orodes. ‘Surely Hatra can raise enough men to match the combined forces of Anauon and Drangiana?’

My father nodded. ‘I can raise a host of men, yes, but they are not trained soldiers, not like those whose only task is war. I still need Vata to hold the north but will take his five thousand men with me. The lords in these parts can muster their retainers to hold Nisibus and the surrounding area. Gafarn can hold the city of Hatra with the garrison and a muster of my lords — a total of sixty thousand men, give or take. That leaves me with seven thousand horse archers and a thousand cataphracts that I will collect at Hatra, plus my bodyguard and Vata’s five thousand horse archers.’

‘Thirteen and a half thousand men,’ said Domitus.

‘How many march against you, lord?’ asked Orodes.

My father looked at Vistaspa, who answered.

‘We have no accurate reports, but a tally of eighty thousand has been mentioned more than once.’

Orodes’ eyes widened at this great figure and even I was a little surprised.

‘With your own army, Pacorus, that will give us a fighting chance,’ said my father.

‘Under thirty thousand men,’ added Domitus.

Vistaspa looked confused. ‘Do they not teach mathematics in Italy, Domitus? You marched into these parts with over twenty thousand men.’

Domitus looked at me to reply.

‘I sent some horsemen away with Atrax,’ I lied, ‘as reinforcements.’

My father frowned. ‘It would be better if they had remained. Still, we might yet prevail.’

I ordered food and drink to be brought from the field kitchens as he and Vistaspa revealed their plan to us. They had brought with them the map of the empire that the pedantic archivist had unearthed among his records, and which was now spread on the table before us. Despite the current dire situation the western kingdoms found themselves in, my father and his subordinate appeared to have been animated by the prospect of the coming fight.

I looked at the map, specifically at the course of the River Tigris, which the enemy had to cross to enter Hatran territory.

‘The first question is, where will the enemy strike?’

‘That is easy enough,’ replied Vistaspa, pointing at the river to the east of the city of Hatra. ‘They will cross the Tigris at Assur, which lies only sixty miles to the east of Hatra.’

‘Even though it is now nearly summer,’ added my father, ‘there are only a few places that large numbers of horsemen can ford the Tigris. Assur is one such place. The water level will have dropped by now and its depth will be around six feet, perhaps less. The Plain of Makhmur lies across the river from Assur, which is flat and fertile. An army can establish a camp there prior to fording the river. Once over the river they can ride across flat land all the way to Hatra. They have to be stopped at the river.’

‘They could be allowed to cross the river and advance inland,’ I suggested, ‘to walk into a trap.’

‘I do not want eighty thousand horsemen running amok in the east of my kingdom,’ replied my father. ‘No, they have to be stopped at the river.’

‘How far away is this place, this Assur?’ asked Domitus.

‘Two hundred miles south of here,’ replied Vistaspa.

‘Ten days’ march,’ mused Domitus. ‘And how far away is the enemy from Assur?’

‘They have halted at the city of Ecbatana, two hundred and fifty miles east of the Tigris,’ said Vistaspa. ‘The governor, one of Mithridates’ friends, is entertaining Cinnamus and Vologases, so I have heard.’

Domitus stared at the map and counted on his fingers.

‘They can reach the river in nine days.’

My father smiled. ‘Do not worry, Roman, they will linger at Ecbatana a while longer.’

‘We have received reports that a lavish festival has been laid on to celebrate their arrival,’ said Vistaspa, ‘with games, apparently.’

‘We will leave at dawn,’ I announced.

My father smiled and Vistaspa nodded approvingly.

‘Trees,’ Domitus said suddenly.

Orodes looked at him in bewilderment.

‘Trees?’

‘Are there any trees at Assur?’

My father frowned. ‘You are a keen student of foliage, Roman?’

Domitus looked at me. ‘Remember Mutina all those years ago, how we faced a forest of stakes? I have not forgotten that day.’

I nodded. ‘You are right, well done. And no, as far as I can remember there are no trees in the vicinity of Assur, at least no tall ones.’

‘Then we will be marching in three days’ time,’ said Domitus.

Having explained what Domitus was referring to, my father and Vistaspa rode back to the city to inform Vata that they would be taking his troops with them when they rode south and that he was to summon the lords and their men to perform garrison and caravan protection duties.

It took two days to recall Vata’s men from the outlying villages and assemble them in Nisibus, during which time Domitus and Kronos organised parties to cut down as many trees as they could. Six cohorts were sent into the forests to fell trees and the others organised transport to ferry the lumber back to camp where it was fashioned into six-foot-long stakes. Working all day and through the night with the aid of torches and great fires made from freshly cut branches — which produced a great deal of choking smoke — in two days we must have cut down a thousand trees. After we had finished it looked as though a giant had been to work at the edge of the forest with a massive scythe.

I asked Vata to send additional wagons from Nisibus to carry the wood and eventually we filled a hundred and fifty for the journey south. The day before we left Byrd and Malik returned to us with their scouts to report that Surena and his men had entered Gordyene unseen. I told them both what had happened since they had been away and how we were marching south to Assur. That night I wrote a letter to Gallia telling her everything that had happened and adding a footnote concerning Orodes’ desire to marry Axsen. I also asked her to remain at Dura. I said nothing of the army forming at Ctesiphon preparing to march against Babylon. If she got wind of the city being in peril she might be tempted to muster Dura’s lords and march south to Axsen’s aid. If she did they would be cut to pieces by Narses’ heavy cavalry. I prayed to Shamash that He would prevent Dobbai having any visions about Babylon’s predicament until I returned to Dura.

Heavily loaded with provisions and lumber the army marched southeast to the Tigris and then followed the river south to Assur. As the days passed the heat of a Mesopotamian summer began to roast our backs as the country turned from a lush green to a parched brown and then a sun-blasted yellow. The men stashed their leggings on the wagons and horsemen brought out their floppy hats to shield their necks and faces from the unrelenting sun. We made twenty miles every day, most of the horsemen walking beside their mounts for most of the journey, riding only when they were sent out on patrol. Even though we were in my father’s kingdom I sent out reconnaissance patrols to scout the surrounding country, and Byrd and Malik rode far ahead, sending patrols into the villages. With eighty thousand or more enemy soldiers somewhere on the other side of the Tigris I did not want to run into any nasty surprises on our journey south.

The first five days were quiet and uneventful, the only opposition being the heat and the dust that was kicked up as we marched across the parched earth. The days were cloudless, windless and very hot; the nights clear, cooler and welcome. On the sixth day, in the early afternoon, Byrd and Malik rejoined the army after having spent the night with some of their men south of the army. They found me walking with Orodes, Domitus and Kronos in front of the Duran Legion’s colour party. The sun was illuminating its golden griffin and making it appear almost molten.

‘No sign of enemy,’ reported Byrd.

‘We have ridden to within forty miles of Assur, Pacorus,’ added Malik, ‘and have made contact with outriders from the garrison. They too have seen nothing.’

‘It would appear that we have stolen a march on the enemy, then,’ I said. ‘What news of my father?’

‘The king is marching from Hatra with his army, Assur’s men inform us,’ replied Byrd. He nodded towards the river. ‘Water very low, Pacorus. Easy for horses to cross.’

He was right about that. The passing of the spring floodwaters swells the Tigris, especially when it receives the waters of the Upper Zab River that flows into it fifty miles upstream of Assur. But now summer was here the waters had subsided and the depth had dropped, the high-sided banks the only indication of the levels the waters had reached during the spring. Now the Tigris was a lazy brown monster that meandered its way south across the great plains of eastern Hatra and western Media.

We reached Assur two days later, making camp four miles north of the city and inland from the river. The city itself had been constructed on a great bend in the river so that the Tigris protected its northern and eastern walls like a giant moat. In addition, a proper moat had been dug to encompass the other two sides using water from the river so that the city was surrounded on all four sides by water in addition to its walls. There were three entrances to Assur: the Tabira Gate in the northwest, the West Gate and the South Gate, each one reached by means of wide stone bridges that spanned the fifty-foot-wide moat. And from each gatehouse flew the white horse head banner of my father.

I had visited the city several times when I had been a boy and remembered that there had always been a great deal of building work being undertaken during each visit. The city itself was three thousand years old and had been the capital of the ancient Assyrian Empire eight hundred years ago. It had been besieged and destroyed several times since then and it was only during the rule of my father’s father, King Sames, that Assur’s defences were significantly strengthened. It was now the administrative centre of eastern Hatra.

I rode with Orodes, Domitus, Byrd and Malik through the Tabira Gate to visit the governor of the city and the man who held the east of the kingdom for my father, Herneus. In the times of the Persian Empire he would have been titled satrap, as he had both civil and military authority over a large area and controlled the many brick-built forts dotted along the western bank of the Tigris that we had passed on our journey south. Most had been empty because Herneus had summoned their tiny garrisons to Assur.

The northern quarter of the city housed the religious district, with temples devoted to Anu, Ishtar and Shamash. The governor’s palace was located next to the temple area and the garrison’s barracks, stables and armouries occupied the northeastern part of the city. The southern area of Assur was where the general population lived: a sprawling collection of one- and two-storey homes, markets, businesses, workshops, brothels, stables, animal pens and shops arranged along streets that had been constructed in a haphazard fashion. It really was a city of two halves: order, power and serenity in the north; chaos, poverty and over-crowding in the south.

At the gates we were met by a mounted party from the city garrison, soldiers dressed in white shirts and leggings armed with spears and swords and carrying round wooden shields covered with leather painted red and sporting a white horse head emblem. They escorted us to the governor’s palace, a single-storey rectangular building arranged around two courtyards. The palace was surrounded by a high stonewall that had round towers at each corner and along its length, with an impressive three-storey gatehouse that gave access to the compound. Our horses were taken from us and then a steward escorted us up the palace steps and into the large reception hall. Two guards tried to bar the way of Byrd and Malik, mistaking their black robes and untidy appearance for unwelcome guests.

‘They are with me,’ I ordered and the guards went back to their stations.

The hall had a high vaulted ceiling decorated with paintings depicting Parthian horsemen defeating eastern nomads. I took that to be a good omen. The walls were tiled blue and yellow with marble statues positioned in alcoves. We walked through the hall into the first courtyard, around which were the offices of city officials. Across the courtyard was the entrance to the royal hall where the governor held court, though on this occasion he sat on the right of my father who occupied the throne on the dais, Vistaspa seated to his left. City administrators, priests and officers of the garrison stood to one side, whilst officers of the royal bodyguard were grouped behind my father on the dais.

Beyond this royal hall lay the palace’s second courtyard, surrounded by the private chambers of the governor, his family and guests.

Herneus and Vistaspa stood up when we entered for I too was a king. The assembly bowed their heads as Vistaspa gave up his seat for me. My father ordered another one brought for Orodes as befitting his position as a prince of the empire. The officers of my father’s bodyguard shot disparaging looks at Malik and Byrd as my two friends and Domitus went to stand behind my chair.

My father began proceedings. ‘Now that the army of Dura has arrived we can plan our strategy regarding how to defeat the army that approaches our borders. Lord Herneus, I believe that you have received information as to its whereabouts and size.’

Herneus bowed his head, stood in front of the dais and cleared his throat. He was a man of medium height with a round face and a head that was completely bald. There wasn’t an ounce of fat on him. Despite the fact that he was extremely rich and powerful, having a mansion in the city and another in Hatra itself, he was dressed in a simple long-sleeved beige shirt, brown leggings, boots and a leather cuirass.

‘Thank you, majesty,’ he replied in a deep voice. ‘The latest intelligence I have received is that the enemy is fifty miles to the east and advancing at a rate of around fifteen miles a day.’

‘A somewhat tardy advance,’ commented my father.

‘Indeed, majesty,’ continued Herneus. ‘The size of the enemy host means that it has to forage far and wide for provisions.’

‘And what size is it?’ I asked.

‘Upwards of one hundred thousand men, majesty.’

‘One hundred thousand?’ said Domitus loudly. ‘Are you sure your scouts can count?’

Byrd and Malik laughed; the officers of my father’s bodyguard scowled at them.

Herneus, to his credit, did not flinch but replied calmly.

‘Quite sure. We have been receiving reports on a daily basis.’

‘Against which we can muster how many?’ I asked.

‘I have brought twelve thousand horse archers and fifteen hundred cataphracts,’ said my father, ‘and you, Herneus?’

‘I and the other lords have raised five thousand horse archers from our estates, majesty, plus another five hundred taken from the outlying forts.’

‘And what of the city garrison?’ I enquired.

‘Five hundred spearmen, majesty,’ replied Herneus, ‘of little use against horsemen, I fear.’

‘With Dura’s army,’ said Domitus, ‘our combined forces are still outnumbered over three to one.’

‘Long odds,’ remarked Byrd, prompting murmurs of discontent from among my father’s officers.

‘Silence,’ he commanded.

‘Prince Gafarn could bring his horsemen from Hatra, lord,’ suggested Vistaspa. ‘That would give us an additional fifty thousand men at least.’

My father thought for a moment. ‘And leave Hatra virtually undefended? No. I need Gafarn and his men to remain in the city. If Babylon falls then Narses and Mithridates will flood across my southern border. Who will stop them if all my soldiers are at Assur?’

The city officials, priests and officers of the garrison looked at each other, concern and fear etched on their faces.

‘Well,’ announced Domitus loudly, ‘if you want to beat such a large army with so few men you will have to make his numbers count against him.’

‘And how do we do that, Roman?’ asked my father, intrigued.

Domitus winked at me and smiled at him. ‘With a bit of bait and a bit more luck.’

After the meeting I rode with Herneus and my companions to the ford of Makhmur that lay immediately south of the city. Though there was a stone bridge over the Tigris near the city’s South Gate, the river to the south of the bridge was shallow. Indeed, we rode our horses into the waters and walked them to the midpoint of the river where it was around three hundred paces wide at this spot. The current was very slow.

‘As you can see,’ said Herneus, the water lapping round his horse’s body, ‘it is about five feet deep, shallow enough to allow men on foot to cross let alone horsemen.’

Domitus looked back at the western riverbank that rose up from the water a paltry four feet. ‘The river is this shallow for how far?’

‘About four miles,’ replied Herneus. ‘In the spring it is deeper and faster flowing, but in the summer it is as you see it now. It will be no barrier to an army. It can even be forded to the north of the city, though the banks are steeper than here.’

Domitus nodded and then looked south.

‘What are you thinking?’ I asked him.

‘We line up the legions over there, a short distance from the riverbank, stretching south of the city for around a mile. That should be a nice tempting target for them.’

‘They will be able to sweep round your flanks,’ I said.

‘Not if your horsemen stand on our right flank,’ he said.

We rode back to the city and went straight to the palace to consult with my father. According to Herneus’ intelligence we had two days in which to prepare our battle plan, which Domitus estimated was just enough time to place the stakes we had brought from the north. Herneus provided the city garrison to assist the legionaries, Domitus stating undiplomatically that it was the least they could do as they would be useless when it came to the actual fighting. So the stakes were transported to south of the city and dumped on the western riverbank. They were hammered into the dry ground at an angle of forty-five degrees pointing towards the river, after which each one was sharpened to a point. The stakes were arranged in three rows, each one spaced every four feet to a length of a mile — four thousand stakes in total. They were positioned a hundred paces from the water’s edge and presented a fearsome obstacle.

When the work was finished we both stood and admired the newly planted forest of stakes.

‘Tomorrow the first line will stand in front of them to hide them from the enemy,’ said Domitus. ‘Then they will retire just before the horsemen hit them. Should give them a nasty surprise.’

‘They will shower you with arrows first,’ I said, ‘to soften you up before they send in the heavy horsemen.’

‘We’ve been under arrows before. You just make sure you hold them on our flanks. If they get behind us we’re finished.’

He looked across the river towards the Plain of Makhmur.

‘Keeping a hundred thousand men and their horses provisioned is a mighty undertaking.’

I shook my head. ‘Many of them will be poorly equipped and trained, and the condition of their mounts will leave a lot to be desired after such a long journey. The kings and their lords will have taken priority when it comes to supplies, the rest will have had to scavenge for food and fodder.’

‘That will make them all the more desperate to capture Assur,’ said Domitus.

I nodded my head. ‘No doubt they have looted all the villages along their route in Media. I hope the inhabitants had time to bury their possessions and reach the nearest walled town.’

I knew that was a forlorn hope. Fast-moving horsemen could raid and torch villages before their inhabitants knew what was happening. Media would have felt the full wrath of the invading army. My father was right: it had to be stopped here, at the border.

The first to appear were the light horsemen, men without armour or helmets riding small horses and armed with two short javelins and a long knife. They carried a small oblong wicker shield for protection but their main task was to reconnoitre and harry, not stand and fight. At first there were only a few of them riding on the Plain of Makhmur across the river, but as the time passed the plain began to fill with more and more of them. These were the vanguard of the enemy army and I knew it would not be long before the rest of it arrived: the horse archers and heavy cavalry, the two kings and their entourages.

Dura’s army had risen before dawn, the legions taking up position in front of and behind the rows of wooden stakes that extended south of Assur in an unbroken line, the first line cohorts standing in front of them to mask them from the enemy. The Duran Legion was deployed from the bridge south for half a mile, the Exiles arrayed next to them and also extending south for another half mile. Next to the Exiles were Dura’s three thousand horse archers, the three dragons arrayed in a line that extended south for another mile. The cataphracts were positioned immediately behind the Exiles, and behind them were Herneus and his five and a half thousand horse archers.

I stood with Domitus and Kronos at the water’s edge and watched the plain opposite fill with horsemen. Most were content to ride to the edge of the water opposite the legions and stare, though a few rode into the water and shouted insults in our direction, raising their shields and javelins above their heads as they did so in an act of bravado. The legionaries took no notice. They had seen pre-battle rituals many times and largely ignored them, though there was a large cheer when one of the horsemen was toppled from his saddle and fell in the water when his horse tripped while descending the low riverbank.

We all stood holding our helmets for the day was already hot despite the early hour, the sun rising into a clear blue sky. I had my scale armour on and as always before battle it felt heavy and cumbersome.

‘You think they will attack any time soon?’ said Domitus, nodding at the light horsemen opposite, who now lined the riverbank north and south as far as the eye could see.

‘No,’ I replied, ‘they are just a screen for the main army.’

‘Big screen,’ remarked Kronos.

Domitus pointed his cane to the south where the light horsemen disappeared into the distance.

‘If they have any sense they won’t attack here but rather cross the river downstream and outflank us.’

I shook my head. ‘The depth of the river increases substantially the further south you go. That is why this ford is so important, that and Assur. The city is full of stores and people.’

‘People?’ Kronos was confused.

‘Slaves, my friend,’ I replied. ‘Many Parthian kings like to collect a great haul of slaves and gold to take back to their kingdoms after a campaign as proof of its success.’

‘What about the troops under the city governor?’ sniffed Domitus. ‘You think they are reliable?’

‘My father has great faith in Lord Herneus,’ I replied. ‘He will not let us down.’

‘I would prefer your father’s army behind us rather than his,’ said Domitus, far from convinced.

‘We agreed on the plan, Domitus,’ I said. ‘With luck we won’t even need them.’

He drew his gladius. ‘I prefer to rely on this rather than luck.’

Typical Domitus, hard and unyielding, much like Herneus in fact.

Then, in the distance, I heard that sound that I had come to loathe — kettledrums — signalling that the main enemy force was approaching. At first the drums created a low rumble in the distance, but as the time passed the accursed sound grew in intensity until it reverberated across the plain, like ground-based thunder. Without orders the men behind us instinctively rose from the ground, stopped chatting to each other and fastened helmet straps and checked their shields and swords. Kettledrums were designed to spread fear and uncertainty among enemy ranks, but the men of Dura had grown accustomed to their unceasing lament long ago.

‘It won’t be long now,’ I said.

Domitus offered me his hand. ‘Good luck, and don’t let them outflank us.’

I took his hand and then that of Kronos. ‘Keep safe, my friends, and may Shamash be with you. And remember, they must not break through.’

‘Don’t worry,’ said Kronos, ‘they shall not pass.’

We passed the first line of the Durans in front of the stakes, nodding to those men I knew and acknowledging the well wishes of others. Then I came across Thumelicus and stopped and saw that he still wore a centurion’s crest. He grinned at me.

‘I thought I had promoted you,’ I said.

‘You did,’ he answered, ‘but I turned it down.’

‘Why?’

‘A centurion is in charge of eighty-odd men,’ he replied, ‘that’s about as far as I can count. So there’s not much point in putting me in charge of anything bigger.’

He was probably correct: in battle you wanted Thumelicus standing next to you; in camp he was known for being too loose with his tongue, a vice that earned him many extra hours on fatigues and sentry duty. But he was greatly respected for his courage and fighting skill. The whole army knew and loved this prince of rogues, but he and I knew that he would never rise above the rank of centurion.

I slapped him on the arm. ‘Keep safe. One day we will get you a bigger shield.’

‘You too, Pacorus, don’t fall off your horse.’

I walked to where Drenis was holding Remus and he helped me into the saddle. Across the river the light horsemen had left their position at the water’s edge and were being replaced by groups of horse archers in bright tunics.

‘Pretty bunch,’ remarked Drenis sarcastically.

I slipped my helmet on my head and fastened the straps under my chin.

‘I will see you after the battle, Drenis.’

He raised his hand as I rode back to where Orodes and the armoured horsemen were waiting, their helmets shoved back on their heads and their lances resting on the ground. The air was filled with the unrelenting din of the kettledrums, but was momentarily drowned out by trumpet blasts as the Durans and Exiles adopted their battle formation for dealing with enemy archers: every man in both legions knelt down, the first rank formed a shield wall while those behind lifted their shields to create a roof of leather and wood. Then there was a great blast of horns and the enemy’s horse archers walked their horses into the Tigris and began advancing towards the legions.

At a distance of around three hundred paces they began shooting their arrows, releasing their missiles high into the sky so they would drop onto the packed ranks of the foot soldiers before them. The horsemen halted their animals in the middle of the river and unleashed a fearsome arrow storm that made a sound akin to a great wind whistling across the steppe. As each rank emptied its quivers it fell back and was replaced by another with full ones. It was impossible to identify individual arrows such was the intensity of the arrow fire being directed at the legions. I began to worry that not even Domitus and his men would be able to withstand such a battering. The expenditure of arrows was massive. And then there was another blast of horns and the arrow storm abruptly ceased.

Such a deluge of wood and bronze would normally kill and maim foot soldiers and spread fear and panic among those that still lived. Having softened up the enemy thus, I knew that Vologases and Cinnamus would launch their heavier cavalry to smash through the battered foot soldiers, which would then be cut to pieces and destroyed. And so it was.

The enemy horse archers withdrew from the water and filed back through the ranks of the next group of enemy horsemen who were forming up at the water’s edge — heavy spearmen. These riders were not cataphracts but did wear helmets, scale armour cuirasses and carried long spears and large round shields whose faces were reinforced with strips of iron. They moved into the water in an unbroken line, rank upon rank of them until the whole of the river was filled with horsemen. There must have been at least twenty thousand of them, the sun glinting off their helmets and whetted spear points. This mighty wall of horseflesh moved slowly through the water as the first line of the legions fell back through the rows of stakes and before the first rank of the enemy reached the dry land of the western bank and briefly halted to dress its ranks. Then the horsemen charged the legions, realising too late that a forest of stakes barred their path.

As more and more enemy spearmen reached the western bank the first rank crossed the short strip of ground between the river and the legions and ran straight into the rows of stakes. No, that is wrong. The horses reared up in panic before they impaled themselves on the sharpened stakes and confusion reigned among the enemy horsemen as more and more of their comrades rode from the water and pressed in behind them. There was a mighty blast of trumpets followed by a cheer and then three thousand javelins arched into the air as the front ranks of the cohorts hurled them at the packed ranks of the enemy horsemen. Had they been cataphracts then many iron tips would have glanced harmlessly off armoured men and horses, but these men rode horses that wore no armour and the beasts were cruelly struck by iron points that hurt and maddened them. They reared up and collapsed to the ground or bolted forward onto the stakes, throwing their riders or crushing them beneath their great weight. The pitiful squeals and cries of wounded animals filled the air as another volley of javelins was launched at the stationary horsemen. More cries from injured and dying men and horses. Then another and another volley hit flesh and horsemeat. It was slaughter.

Frantic horn blasts up and down the line signalled the withdrawal of the heavy spearmen, though not before another volley of javelins had harvested a further crop of enemy dead. Those riders still in the water turned and withdrew back to the safety of the Plain of Makhmur, followed by what was left of those that had been first to cross the river. In front of the stakes was heaped a great pile of dead and dying horses and their riders.

‘First blood to us, Pacorus,’ said Orodes defiantly.

‘They will attack our horse archers next,’ I said.

While the carnage in front of the legions was taking place Dura’s horse archers were sitting on their horses gazing across the river at the light horsemen who lined the opposite bank and watched them back. How strange is battle when one part of the field is the scene of horror and another part is as peaceful as an empty temple. But now, having seen their heavy spearmen routed, the enemy shifted his attention to where my horse archers were positioned. With the departure of Surena to Gordyene command of Dura’s horse archers had devolved upon Vagises, a Parthian and a Companion, a sober and intelligent individual who retained a sense of calm even in the white heat of battle. It was he who now sent a rider to me, an officer of his horse archers who saluted.

‘Lord Vagises conveys his compliments, majesty, and sends word that enemy cataphracts are deploying in front of him, across the river.’

‘How many?’

‘Three dragons, majesty,’ he replied.

I turned to Orodes. ‘First blood may have been to us, my friend, but three thousand cataphracts can quickly weigh the scales in their favour.’

I looked at the courier. ‘Give my regards to Lord Vagises and inform him that aid will be with him shortly.’

The man saluted and rode back to the horse archers.

‘What is your plan?’ asked Orodes.

‘We will meet them in the water, otherwise their greater numbers will punch straight through us.’

I called forward the commanders of the cataphracts and told them that we would deploy in a long line to match the frontage of the enemy horsemen.

‘Tell your men to leave their lances behind. There will be no charge; we will engage them at the water’s edge.’

They rode back to their companies and moments later over twelve hundred men were cantering towards where Vagises’ men were shooting arrows at the enemy cataphracts now entering the Tigris. The arrows would not be able to pierce the armour of the men or their horses but would hopefully slow them enough to allow us to deploy.

I shook Orodes’ hand and then we galloped to the head of our men, the ground around us littered with discarded lances. I smiled to myself. Rsan would have a fit if he saw items of expensive equipment treated thus. Orodes and his bodyguard formed the extreme right of our long line, which was as thin as parchment — only two ranks. In this way we had a frontage of nine hundred yards.

As the men dressed their lines Vagises’ horse archers moved further downriver to allow the cataphracts to fill the space they had been occupying and to extend our line further south. He rode up to me as we walked our horses forward to the riverbank. Ahead I saw a great mass of enemy riders walking their horses through the water towards us. They moved slowly to retain their order, red, yellow and blue flags fluttering from the end of each kontus.

‘Send a rider to Lord Herneus,’ I told him. ‘Tell him that if the enemy horsemen break through us, he and his men are to retreat towards the city to form a screen so Domitus and his men can get inside the walls. That goes for you and your men also.’

‘What of you, Pacorus?’ he said with alarm.

‘We will most likely be dead so you will not have to worry about us. Now go.’

He raised his hand in salute and went back to his horse archers. The camel train loaded with fresh arrows had been brought forward from the rear to replenish the ammunition expended against the enemy cataphracts, whose front ranks were now at the midpoint in the river. I looked behind me up and down the line and saw every man had armed himself with either his axe or mace. I reached down and grabbed the mace that was hanging from one of my saddle’s front horns.

The mace is an extraordinary weapon — two and half feet of solid steel with four flanges on one end. These sharpened protruding edges can dent and penetrate even the thickest armour. Leather is wrapped round the other end to make a handle, with a metal ring at the base to which is fitted a leather strap that goes round the wrist. I gripped the shaft tightly and raised it in the air, a move reciprocated by every man behind me. Some of my cataphracts were very skilled in the use of the mace and used the strap to spin the weapon round their wrists before delivering a lethal blow, but I frowned on such antics.

The mace is an effective and brutal impact weapon ordinarily used after the charge, but today there would be no charge. Some men preferred to use axes, which were also solid steel instruments with a head comprising a blade and a point on the opposite side.

I nudged Remus forward and the others followed, walking to the edge of the riverbank and then down its side and into the water. In front of me the front rank of the enemy’s horsemen threw their lances into the water and armed themselves with their own maces and axes. And thus began a grim close-quarters battle. There were no battle cries or thunder of horse hooves, just a great clatter as each side began hacking at the other with their weapons.

In such a mêlée the ability to avoid blows is as important as the skill to deliver them. I leaned to my left to avoid a scything blow from a man holding an axe that would have lopped my head off had it hit me. His horse stopped beside Remus as he brought the axe in front of his body then swung it up and then down to split my helmet and then my skull. I deflected the blow with my mace, forcing his axe away from me. But he attacked me with its point using a backswing that I stopped with my mace only inches from my face. I grabbed his axe with my left hand and he grabbed my left wrist with his free hand, and so we pushed and pulled each other like a pair of has-been wrestlers.

He was strong and the only thing that weighed our private war in my favour was the leather strap wrapped round my wrist. His axe had no such attachment and I eventually managed to wrench it from his hand and throw it into the water. I brought my mace back and then with all my strength swung it against the side of his helmet, splitting the metal and causing him to let out a groan. I swung the mace again and again at the same spot, penetrating the metal and his skull. One of the blows must have driven a steel flange into his brain, for he slumped in the saddle and then slid off his horse into the water without making another sound.

I looked left to see a horsemen coming directly at me with his mace held high above his head, ready to bring it down on my head. But before he could reach me one of my own men attacked him and they became embroiled in their own personal fight. I transferred my mace to my left hand and pulled my spatha as another rider attacked me on my right side. This time I blocked his overhead swing with my own mace and drove the tip of my sword into his exposed right armpit, driving the blade deep into his flesh. He gave a high-pitched scream as I forced the blade forward and yanked it back. I was prevented from finishing him off by a mace blow that dug into the steel rings on my left arm.

I instinctively swung my mace back with my left arm and felt it strike something, then turned to see a horse rear up and throw its rider into the river. I must have hit it on the head with my weapon.

And so it went on, men hacking and slashing wildly in all directions in a huge disorganised mêlée that seemed to go on forever. I do not know how long we were in the water. It seemed like hours but in reality was probably around thirty minutes. But as Remus moved back and forth in the brown water streaked with blood it became apparent that the enemy’s greater weight of numbers had not achieved a breakthrough, at least not yet. But their numerical superiority meant that they could feed in more and more men against our tiring ranks, replacing their own injured and exhausted riders with fresh reinforcements. And yet it did not seem so because after what seemed like an eternity, following which my arms and shoulders ached, a gradual lull descended over the two sides. As if by mutual consent each side withdrew from each other, revealing a river filled with armoured corpses, most lying face down in the blood-streaked water. Some men had been unhorsed and these now waded towards the safety of their own lines. My arm armour was battered and dented though it had saved me from serious injury. I looked at the head and neck of Remus, then at his sides and rear. Not a mark on him; indeed, looking up and down the line it appeared that no horses had been killed at all.

Orodes came to my side, his armour missing several metal scales and his helmet’s right cheek guard almost hanging off where a blow had smashed the hinge. He was breathing heavily.

‘Are you hurt?’ I asked.

He shook his head. ‘Exhausted would be a more accurate description. I don’t know if we can hold them if they attack again.’

Around us men had pushed their full-face helmets up on their heads and were breathing in great gulps of air. By contrast their horses appeared relatively fresh. At least they would be able to carry their riders back to the city if we were forced to retreat.

‘They are they falling back.’

I looked at Orodes. ‘Who?’

He pointed with his mace towards the enemy horsemen whose front ranks were now backing slowly away from us, the ranks behind having about-faced and were exiting the water. To the south the mass of enemy light horsemen who had been riding up and down the riverbank in preparation to cross once the cataphracts had scattered us were also pulling back.

‘My father’s army,’ I said, grinning at him.

The army of Hatra had marched fifteen miles upstream to cross the Tigris at a shallow spot that Byrd and Malik had scouted during our march from Nisibus. My father had earlier sent horsemen to the exact same spot to ensure that the enemy did not use it to cross the river and then take us unawares. But the enemy’s attention was focused on the Plain of Makhmur and its wide ford, wide enough for a great army to move across with ease. So my father had marched his horsemen north, crossed the river and then headed south while the enemy attacked Dura’s army. And now Hatra’s horsemen smashed into the enemy’s unguarded right flank.

After the battle I heard from Byrd and Malik, who had ridden with my father, what had happened. It was mid-morning before Hatra’s cavalry were safely across the river and had deployed into their battle formations — cataphracts in the centre and horse archers on the wings. They then rode directly south towards the Plain of Makhmur, driving deep into the mass of unsuspecting horsemen who were waiting to cross the river.

The initial clash cut down thousands of light horsemen, but so many were the enemy that the charge slowed and then stopped as Hatra’s horsemen were literally swallowed by the hostile mass. My father was contemplating ordering a withdrawal but his unexpected arrival on the battlefield had panicked Cinnamus and Vologases, who ordered a general retreat, hence the withdrawal of the cataphracts from the river.

As the horsemen in front of us left the river and then rode away I sent a rider to Herneus with orders for him to bring his men to the river. Notwithstanding that our horses still had their legs their riders were in no fit state to conduct a pursuit. Ten minutes later he arrived.

‘The enemy appears to be retreating. Get your men across the river and harry them. If they reform and attack, fall back.’

‘Yes, majesty. I assume your father, the king, has achieved success.’

‘It would appear so,’ I agreed.

He raised his hand in salute and then rode back to his men who had formed into columns and were now filing into the river, threading their way between dead horsemen floating in the water. I gave orders for a general retreat back to our initial position behind the Exiles. I stayed with Orodes and the rear guard as Vagises and a company of his men joined us.

‘Some of their light horsemen got over the river,’ he reported. ‘We killed most of them before the rest retreated back to the east bank.’

‘What are your losses?’ I asked him.

‘Light, although we have yet to take a roll call.’ He looked at the dead bodies in the river. ‘And yours?’

‘It was a long fight,’ I answered grimly.

Two hours later I was standing with Domitus and Kronos behind the rows of stakes that had served them so well that day. In front of us was a great heap of enemy dead — men and horses victims of the legions’ javelins.

‘They tried another assault after their first one,’ he said disapprovingly, ‘but failed to get even near the stakes, let alone us. They were limited to hurling their spears at us, so we hurled a few more javelins back.’

‘After we emptied many more saddles they fell back,’ added Kronos.

‘What are your losses?’ I asked.

‘Four dead and seventy wounded,’ answered Domitus.

‘And yours, Kronos?’ I asked.

Kronos looked at Domitus. ‘Four dead and seventy wounded are our combined losses.’

It had been an amazingly one-sided fight, the consequence of well-trained men standing behind a wall of impenetrable stakes. My cataphracts had not been so lucky. A roll call revealed that a hundred had been killed and a further two hundred wounded, though at least Vagises’ horse archers had suffered only fifty dead and a hundred and fifty wounded.

The sun was abating in its fury now it was late afternoon but I was still glad to take off my scale armour and leg and arm armour. Already the squires, who had been lining the walls of Assur with their bows to cover any retreat we may have had to make to the city, were stripping their masters’ horses of their scale armour and loading it back onto their camels, as well as collecting the kontuses that had been dumped on the ground earlier. Losses among the cataphracts would be made good by promoting the eldest squires, and when we got back to Dura fresh squires would be inducted into the army.

Orodes had four squires, two for himself and two for me as he was always letting me know, and they now assisted me in unfastening the armoured suit that had protected Remus so well during the battle. As his squires packed his scale armour away, Alcaeus, who with his physicians had been treating the wounded, examined Orodes. Those seriously injured were taken back to the city on wagons where they could be treated more thoroughly.

Alcaeus gave Orodes a bandage to hold next to his wounded face. ‘Nothing serious, you’ll live. Just keep it clean.’

‘Make sure it does not leave a scar, Alcaeus,’ I said. ‘His future bride won’t like it.’

‘Future bride?’ said Alcaeus, mildly interested.

‘Orodes is to marry Queen Axsen of Babylon.’

Orodes looked daggers at me. ‘It is still uncertain,’ he snapped.

‘My congratulations,’ said Alcaeus. ‘I’m sure there will be no scar.’

He looked at my arm that was bleeding from where my armour had been dented by a mace, the white sleeve of my shirt showing red.

‘What about you?’

‘It’s fine, Alcaeus, I hope to have another scar to add to my collection.’

Alcaeus nodded slightly and then looked at the piles of dead horse carcasses and bodies intertwined on and in front of the stakes and then to the bodies floating in the river.

‘What about them?’

I shrugged. ‘What about them? They are dead.’

He sighed and shook his head. ‘Notwithstanding your god-like powers of observation, the bodies need to be collected and burned quickly to avoid sickness spreading to the city.’

‘Oh, the city authorities can deal with that,’ I replied casually.

Alcaeus raised an eyebrow at me. ‘I would advise you to assume the responsibility. You can use those stakes for fuel. It would be a pity if having fought a battle to preserve this city, it was devastated by a plague.’

‘He’s right Pacorus,’ said Orodes, ‘I have seen with my own eyes what pestilence can do to cities.’

‘Very well,’ I agreed, ‘I will detail Domitus to organise it, seeing that his men were responsible for most of the carnage.’

In fact the city garrison did assist the legionaries in their grim task of piling dead horses and men onto a dozen pyres that were erected near the riverbank, but not before they were stripped of anything that could be reused: spearheads, helmets, scale armour and swords.

That night I stood on the walls at the Southern Gate with my father and watched the fires burn, an easterly wind fortunately saving our nostrils from the stench of roasting flesh. Thankfully there was not a scratch on him and losses among his men had been light like my own.

‘Herneus will snap at the enemy’s heels,’ he said, looking south at the funerals pyres that illuminated the night. ‘Tomorrow I will organise the dead on the Plain of Makhmur to be burned.’

‘How many dead are there?’

He smiled. ‘During our initial charge we must have been killing them at a rate of a thousand every minute. There’s probably around twenty thousand dead on the plain.’

‘We counted ten thousand corpses,’ I said. ‘A great victory, father.’

He screwed up his face. ‘They still have seventy thousand horsemen, Pacorus. I have prevented them from invading Hatra but they are still a threat.’

‘Herneus will inflict more casualties on them.’

‘Yes, he will harry them and hopefully force them further east but he will not be able to destroy them, and if he himself is under threat of being destroyed he will retreat.’

‘And then what?’

He spread out his hands. ‘Then we will have more war. I pray to Shamash that Farhad and Aschek still have their armies, for if they fall then Hatra is surely doomed.’

I was shocked. I had never heard him talk with so much pessimism before. But if the worst happened and Media and Atropaiene fell, then Hatra would face two great armies in the east, a hostile Armenia to the north and perhaps another enemy to the south, for Babylon was still in peril.

‘I would like to stay and assist you, father, but I must try to help Axsen. If Babylon falls then so will Mesene, and after that…’

He smiled thinly. ‘I know. Mithridates and Narses have played their hands well. They stand on the brink of victory. What happened here today will not matter if Babylon, Media and Atropaiene all fall.

‘For myself, I must march east to assist Farhad and Aschek.’

I tried to be positive. ‘The game is not yet up, father. If you can prevail with Media and Atropaiene and I can relieve Babylon then…’

‘Then we are back in exactly the same position we were in at the beginning of the year. There can now never be peace between Mithridates and us. It is a war to the death. Well, so be it. I have tried to walk the path of peace and diplomacy, to respect the office of the king of kings as in the old days. And my reward? To see my kingdom threatened.’

He rested his hands on the wall and cast his head down.

‘I did not know that the death of Sinatruces would presage so much misery and tyranny.’

I said nothing. Perhaps he was thinking back to the Council of Kings at Esfahan and his decision to support Phraates in becoming king of kings. Perhaps he was regretting not putting himself forward for the high crown. But then, Mithridates and Narses would have still schemed to promote their own interests. Perhaps we would have been in exactly the same situation as we currently found ourselves in. In front of us the funeral pyres burned brightly and above us the gods laughed at our discomfort.

We stayed at Assur for a few more days to allow the men to rest and the wounded to recuperate. During this time Herneus and his troops rode back to the city after their pursuit of Cinnamus and Vologases. He reported that the two kings had beat a hasty retreat east in the direction of Ecbatana, leaving a host of stragglers and wounded behind them. These he had destroyed but he had been unable to engage the main enemy army, only its fleeing rear guard. He reported that the enemy had left a trail of devastation in Media, burning villages and massacring their inhabitants, sometimes hanging their mutilated bodies from trees to spread terror. He had encountered no living Median who could tell him if Farhad was alive or not. My father sat grim faced in the main hall of the governor’s palace listening to Herneus’ report, and afterwards sent word to Hatra for Gafarn to march with thirty thousand horsemen to Assur. He told me that he was going to march to Farhad’s capital, Irbil, to relieve the King of Media. No one said anything about Aschek but everyone feared the worst and assumed that he was dead and his kingdom conquered by the combined armies of Yueh-Chih and Aria.

The next day my mood lightened when a letter came from Gallia informing me that Axsen was still holding out at Babylon (she had obviously been alerted to the city’s peril) and Nergal had thrown back the forces of King Phriapatius from the walls of Uruk with the aid of Lord Yasser and his Agraci warriors. Phriapatius was still occupying parts of Mesene but had withdrawn his army to the Tigris. I showed my father the letter and his spirits seemed to lift a little. She finished by saying that the border with Roman Syria was quiet.

‘That may change,’ he said, handing me back the letter, ‘when the Armenians begin to complain to their masters about their recent differences with Parthia and they learn that conflict has again broken out within the empire.’

I was more worried about the Romans discovering that Dura was supplying the Jews with weapons with which to liberate Judea, but said nothing of this to him.

‘With the Romans quarrelling among themselves, father,’ I tried to reassure him. ‘I think Mithridates presents more of an immediate threat.’

In camp I sat with Domitus, Orodes and Kronos as we tried to work out our course of action. The city of Babylon lies just over two hundred miles south of Assur — ten days’ march following the course of the Tigris and then heading southwest for the final thirty miles of the journey. Orodes was all for reaching Babylon by the most direct route, which was understandable considering that his future bride was trapped inside it. Domitus and Kronos, however, argued that it would be best to follow the Tigris until we reached Hatra’s southern border — one hundred miles south — and then swing west to the Euphrates and there link up with reinforcements that Gallia could send from Dura. In this way, they argued, we would have more men with which to relieve Babylon. However, it would add another five or six days to the journey.

‘Babylon is surely hard pressed,’ argued Orodes. ‘The longer we delay reaching it the more likely it will fall.’

‘I do not doubt it, my friend,’ said Domitus, ‘but Dura’s army is only fourteen thousand men. What if Mithridates has an army the same size as the one that we fought a few days ago?’

‘What Domitus says is correct,’ added Kronos. ‘We need reinforcements if we are to relieve Babylon. There is no point in fighting our way through to the city if then we are also trapped inside.’

‘I cannot believe that Narses and Mithridates have mustered a hundred thousand men to besiege Babylon,’ I said, not knowing if they had or not, ‘so we will march directly to Babylon.’

Orodes appeared mightily relieved and Domitus and Kronos looked at me with confusion on their faces. But I merely smiled at them. Orodes had been a good friend and had remained with the army when he could have ridden to Babylon before the Battle of Makhmur, but he had stayed. The least I could do now was to ride with him to save his beloved Axsen.