Parthian Vengeance

Chapter 13

The march south along the Tigris was uneventful until we approached Hatra’s southern border and began to encounter groups of fleeing civilians making their way north to safety, or what they thought was safety. The first to encounter them was Byrd and Malik and their men, who stopped to talk with these frightened wretches who had lost their homes and livestock, their only possessions being the clothes on their backs. It soon became clear that Mithridates was not only laying siege to the city of Babylon, he and Narses were systematically destroying the kingdom’s agriculture and either forcing its population to leave or enslaving them. The ones Byrd and Malik had encountered on the road were the lucky ones for they had heard rumours of horsemen attacking villages further south and carrying off their populations, so they had fled for their lives, seeking sanctuary in Hatra.

When we progressed further south into Babylonian territory we saw for ourselves the destruction that had been visited on the kingdom — villages levelled, irrigation ditches and canals wrecked and livestock taken, no doubt to feed the army besieging Babylon. An eerie silence hung over the land that had seemingly been emptied of all life. If the enemy had laid waste to the whole kingdom in such a manner then it would take years before Babylon recovered. Orodes was appalled at the scenes that met his eyes. It not only offended his sense of decency but also his code of honour. This was not how war should be fought, not at all.

‘Ha! You need to spend a few years in the Roman army to learn how war should be fought,’ said Domitus as we relaxed in my tent after another day marching in the dust and heat of a Mesopotamian summer. We had covered a hundred miles since leaving Assur and were nearly halfway on our journey to Babylon.

‘Lucky for Babylon,’ continued Domitus, ‘that Mithridates and Narses don’t have siege engines like the Romans do; otherwise its population would be being marched off into slavery by now.’

Orodes shuddered at the thought of his beloved in chains.

‘Only Dura among Parthia’s kingdoms has siege engines,’ I said, trying to allay Orodes’ growing concern.

‘How I would like to take those siege engines to Persepolis,’ said Orodes through gritted teeth, ‘to breach the walls of Narses’ capital.’

‘Alas, my friend,’ I said, ‘Persepolis lies four hundred miles to the southeast of the Tigris.’

‘Seleucia lies nearer,’ remarked Byrd casually.

We all looked at him.

‘Seleucia?’ I said.

‘Great city on the west bank of the Tigris,’ said Byrd, chomping on a biscuit.

‘I know where it is, but we do not have the siege engines with us,’ I answered. ‘In any case we march to relieve Babylon, not assault Seleucia.’

Seleucia was the ancient city that stood on the western side of the Tigris, opposite the palace complex of Ctesiphon that had been built on the other side of the river. Seleucia protected the great stone bridge across the Tigris that Mithridates and Narses had used to bring their armed forces into Babylonia. Though Seleucia was actually within Babylonian territory, the kings of Babylon had always regarded it as the city that served the court of the high king at Ctesiphon and had thus made no claim upon it — a fatal strategic error.

‘Mithridates and Narses not know you have no siege engines with you,’ replied Byrd.

Domitus looked thoughtful. ‘If we head towards Seleucia instead of Babylon then they might break off the siege of the city to secure the bridge over the river.’

Orodes was not convinced. ‘And they might not. It is far too risky.’

And yet Byrd’s suggestion had merit. If we could draw away the enemy from the walls of Babylon then we would accomplish what we had set out to achieve, irrespective of whether we endangered Seleucia or not. I looked at Byrd and Malik in their Agraci robes and smiled.

‘Perhaps we may both frighten the officials of Seleucia into appealing to the kings besieging Babylon to march north to save them, thereby saving Axsen, and still march towards Babylon.’

The next day I sent Vagises and five hundred horse archers south towards Seleucia, preceded by Malik, Byrd and their scouts. We were only seventy miles from the city so the horsemen would reach it in two days. Vagises was ordered to ride up to the city walls and shout at the defenders that King Pacorus and the army of Dura, with its terrible siege engines, were going to breach their walls and put everyone inside to the sword. For added effect Byrd, Malik and their scouts were also to form up in front of the walls, and then Vagises would announce that they were the vanguard of a great Agraci army that was accompanying King Pacorus. Finally, if the garrison sallied from the walls Vagises and his men were to immediately retreat.

‘You really think that such a hare-brained scheme will work?’ Domitus was far from convinced as I walked beside him as the army made its way south once more, the Tigris on our left flank. It was another blisteringly hot day.

I shrugged. ‘It does not matter what I think, it’s what the authorities in Seleucia think.’

‘If they think at all,’ he said dismissively.

‘They know that Dura is a friend of Haytham and they also know as a consequence of our storm of Uruk that I possess siege engines capable of breaching city walls. When they see hostile horsemen before their walls they will appeal to Mithridates for help.’

‘Seleucia might have a large garrison, have you thought of that?’

I shook my head. ‘A thousand at most. I remember from my time when I was lord high general of the empire. Like Ctesiphon, Seleucia’s defences have been neglected.’

‘And what if Mithridates and Narses break off the siege of Babylon and march towards us with a hundred thousand men?’

I laughed. ‘They don’t have that many. Remember we inflicted heavy losses on their army last year, and killed quite a few of their heavy horsemen as well.’

‘You sound very certain.’

‘You know, Domitus, for the first time in weeks I am. Byrd’s idea is a good one, I should have thought of it.’

My chief scout and the other horsemen returned in three days, in which time we had marched to within twenty miles of Seleucia, passing by the now usual sights of destroyed villages and smashed dykes and irrigation systems. Next spring this whole area would be flooded when the Tigris would be swelled by the northern melt waters, which would breach the broken dykes and inflict yet more damage on an already wasted land.

We had already made camp when Vagises, accompanied by Byrd and Malik, rode through the main entrance with their horsemen. All three reported to me after they had unsaddled their horses and eaten, their clothes and faces covered in a fine white dust that gave them the appearance of phantoms.

‘I did not shout at those on the walls,’ said Vagises, ‘but rather sent a messenger to the city governor with a letter I had composed.’

‘Saying what?’ I asked.

‘Informing him that King Pacorus and Dura’s army would be arriving imminently and that he was to surrender the city when he, that is you, arrived. Failure to do so would result in the destruction of the city and the deaths of its inhabitants. I also told him that King Haytham and his Agraci warriors were marching with you and that I had brought some of his warriors with me to show that I spoke the truth.’

Malik and Byrd smiled at me.

‘And what was his reply?’

‘That he did not have the authority to treat with kings and that he would have to consult with Mithridates first.’

‘Playing for time,’ said Domitus, ‘an old trick.’

‘Indeed,’ continued Vagises, ‘so I ordered the outlying homes to be torched, after which we withdrew as ordered.’

The expansion of Seleucia during the long reign of Sinatruces had resulted in many homes being built outside the city walls. No thought had been given to building new walls to encompass these dwellings.

‘You did well, Vagises,’ I said. ‘That should stir Mithridates up, if only for the fact that his dear mother resides in Ctesiphon, just across the river from Seleucia.’

The next day before dawn Byrd and Malik rode out of camp with their scouts. I was half-tempted to attack Seleucia anyway. Its walls were old and crumbling, its garrison was small and even without siege engines we could probably scale the walls that were no higher than twenty feet in most places. Even a show of force might be enough for the governor to lose his nerve and surrender the place without a fight. But Orodes was adamant that we should make Babylon a priority and for the sake of our friendship I agreed. Most days he was with the vanguard, I think because he believed that if he rode at the very tip of the army then he was always the closest to Axsen. How curious are the thoughts of men when they are besotted!

We had not marched five miles when he rode back to the main column with Byrd and Malik in tow.

‘Enemy force approaching from the southwest, Pacorus,’ said Orodes.

‘Looks like Mithridates took the bait,’ I said to Domitus with relish.

Domitus looked up at Byrd. ‘How many?’

‘Not many, five thousand, perhaps.’

Domitus scowled. ‘That is just the vanguard. How many behind?’

Malik shook his head. ‘No, there are none following the foot soldiers.’

‘They are foot soldiers only?’ I said with disbelief.

‘Well, we can’t ignore them,’ snorted Domitus.

The army was halted and then deployed into battle formation with horse archers on the wings and the legions in the centre, after which it moved slowly in a southwesterly direction. I had Byrd and Malik send their men out far and wide as I could not believe that five thousand foot soldiers were going to engage us. There must be additional forces nearby. But the scouts reported seeing nothing and the flat desert meant that there were no hills, forests of ravines in which to hide another army. The cataphracts donned their armour and the squires formed a reserve in the rear of the army, guarding the wagons, camels and mules.

We halted and awaited our foes, whose line did not even match the frontage of one of our legions as they marched towards us with their shields in front of them and their spears held at an angle of forty-five degrees. I heard the sound of drums being banged and saw many yellow banners among their ranks, indicating that these men were from Persis.

I rode beyond our front line to take a closer look but saw no horsemen and no foot archers. A Parthian army without archers, very strange. Orodes, Vagises, Byrd and Malik joined me as I stared in disbelief at the meagre force that intended to fight us.

‘Are you certain that there are no more enemy troops nearby?’ I asked Byrd and Malik as I peered ahead and to the left and right of the enemy.

‘Unless they can fly,’ said Malik, ‘then those are the only ones we face today.’

Domitus trotted up, sweating in his mail armour and helmet.

‘Straight through them, then? Shouldn’t take long.’

‘No,’ I answered. ‘Vagises and his archers will destroy them. I see no reason to commit the legionaries when we can shoot them to pieces.’

And so it was. The Durans and Exiles stood and leaned on their shields and the cataphracts roasted in their armour as Vagises’ companies rode round the enemy and killed them with volleys of arrows. After an hour what was left of them threw down their weapons and surrendered. I had their surviving commanding officer brought to me as the rest were escorted from the scene of carnage and the army was stood down.

The man wore a linen tunic reinforced with bronze scales and a bronze helmet on his head, his scruffy black hair showing beneath it. He was armed with a sword though his men had carried spears and shields only and wore felt caps on their heads. He had the aroma of an old mule.

‘How did you expect to defeat us with so few?’ I asked him.

‘My general was ordered to stop you, majesty. We were camped thirty miles south of Seleucia and received an order from the governor of the city to engage you.’

‘How many men does your king, Narses, have in Babylonia?’ I asked him.

He looked at me blankly. ‘I do not know, majesty.’

He was probably telling the truth. He was, after all, but a low-ranking officer. I shook my head. It had been the most one-sided battle that I had ever taken part in: we had suffered fifteen casualties including one man who had grazed his arm during the act of pulling an arrow from his quiver and nocking it in his bowstring. By contrast the enemy had lost three and a half thousand dead and three hundred more wounded. Those who were not injured and who had surrendered were ordered to dig pits in which their dead comrades could be interred, as not even five thousand wicker shields were enough to burn three and a half thousand corpses. Besides, as it was now late and we had pitched camp two miles further east near the Tigris, I did not want the stench of roasting flesh filling my nostrils all night.

According to the rules of war I could have executed all the prisoners or kept them as slaves, but I decided that they should not only live but were to be set free the next day. They slept outside the camp perimeter that night, having been first escorted to the river to drink and wash the filth from their bodies. Alcaeus went among their wounded with his physicians and tended to their injuries — I saw little point in heaping cruelty upon their defeat and misery. The officer who had surrendered I had brought to my tent that evening to dine with my commanders and me.

When he first took his seat at the table he wore the look of a man who was expecting to receive a death sentence, but after a while and a few cups of wine he relaxed and became very talkative. He told us his name was Udall.

‘All the royal foot guards,’ he informed us as more wine loosened his tongue, ‘went to Babylon with the king. We stayed behind to guard the road back to Seleucia.’

I smiled and poured more wine into his cup.

‘And what do you hear about the siege of Babylon?’

He screwed up his face. ‘Only rumours that things are not going well and the two kings are arguing. Can’t scale the walls, you see.’

Udall finished his wine and belched.

‘Pardon, majesty, too much wine on an empty stomach.’

‘Rations are sparse?’ probed Domitus.

Udall laughed. ‘Sparse? They are non-existent. They ran out weeks ago. We have had to forage for ourselves as well as keep a lookout for enemy raiders.’

‘Raiders?’ asked Orodes, pouring more wine into Udall’s cup.

‘Yes, riders from Mesene. I spoke to a man from the garrison at Jem det Nasr who told me that some of his men had been killed by them, and he further informed me that there were Agraci among them, can you imagine that?’

He shuddered and drained his cup. His wine-soaked brain had failed to notice that Malik was an Agraci, but then like most Parthians he had probably never actually seen the feared and loathed people who lived in the great desert west of the Euphrates.

‘How large is the garrison at Jem det Nasr?’ asked Orodes, smiling and refilling Udall’s now empty cup.

‘Not sure, but the governor sent them a message that they too were to attack you, begging your pardon, majesty.’

‘You were doing your duty, Udall,’ I reassured him. ‘You have nothing to apologise for.’

After two more cups of wine he collapsed and I had him carried back to his men outside the camp, leaving us to mull over what he had blurted out.

‘It would appear that things are not going well for Mithridates and Narses before Babylon,’ said Orodes with satisfaction.

‘And it also appears that they have had to disperse their forces throughout Babylonia to keep their supply lines open,’ I added.

‘Lord Yasser must be aiding Nergal,’ said Malik.

‘If what Udall told us is true,’ I said, ‘then it means Nergal is raiding north of Babylon. No wonder the enemy are worried about their supply lines. It also means that the threat posed to Mesene by King Phriapatius must have greatly lessened.’

Suddenly the overall situation did not appear as bleak as a few days ago. Taking cities can be very debilitating for the besiegers as well as the besieged, and if supplies were not getting through to the army sitting in front of the city then that was good news indeed.

I was now more convinced than ever that if we stormed the city and took possession of its strategic bridge over the Tigris then we would deal the enemy a mortal blow. Babylonia had been pillaged but there was only so much a plundered country could supply to an invader.

An hour after dawn I had a bleary eyed, unshaven and dishevelled Udall brought to me, clearly the worse for wear after the copious amounts of wine he had consumed the previous evening. I told him that he and his soldiers would be deprived of their weapons but would be allowed to leave as free men. I advised him to avoid Seleucia, as the city was our destination. If he and his men were inside it when we attacked they would receive no mercy when I put the entire garrison to the sword. He asked me where they should go but I replied that it was not my concern.

‘Go where you will, Udall, for that is the prerogative of a free man.’

So they trudged east to the Tigris. At least they would have access to water and might find some rafters who could convey them to the eastern bank of the river.

The army began its march south towards Seleucia once more, but the last centuries were still waiting on the site of the previous night’s camp when Byrd and Malik returned with news that another enemy force was approaching, this time from the south.

‘Both horse and foot,’ said Byrd.

‘Numbers?’

‘Around five thousand foot, same number of horse.’

‘This must be the garrison of Jem det Nasr that our friend Udall was talking about last night,’ I said. ‘Give the order to form a battle line. Domitus, send word that the wagons and mules are to return to camp. We will be staying here for another night, it seems.’

As I watched the leading centuries of the legions fall back and form into their battle positions of three lines, the horse archers taking up position on their flanks, the enemy appeared on the horizon — a long black line that shimmered in the summer heat. I did not bother to don my scale armour as Orodes would command the cataphracts this day. When Byrd and Malik returned once more and reported that the enemy horse consisted of spearmen with no armour and horse archers similarly attired, I gave the order that the legions were to deploy in two lines to extend their frontage. My scouts also told me that the enemy had no camel train carrying spare ammunition for the archers. I assembled the senior officers of the army.

‘This is the disadvantage of filling an army with ill-equipped farmers,’ I told them. ‘Domitus, the legions will advance against them in a hollow square formation to draw their arrow fire. I have no doubt that their spearmen will launch an attack against you after their horse archers have softened you up. You and your men will be today’s bait.’

He smiled grimly. ‘Don’t you worry, Pacorus, my boys will deal with them.’

‘Vagises,’ I said, ‘when their horse archers have expended their arrows your men will charge and disperse them, after which Domitus will be able to destroy their spearmen.’

‘What about the cataphracts?’ asked Orodes, clearly annoyed that he had been left out of things.

‘What about them?’ teased Domitus. ‘They can sit on their arses and watch proper soldiers at work.’

Orodes was most unhappy but the only role for the armoured horsemen was as a reserve. As Domitus went back to his men and the legions deployed into a great hollow square, he remained at the head of the cataphracts in frustration. I stayed beside him, my helmet heating up my head, the sweat running down my cheeks and stinging my eyes. Behind me twelve hundred horsemen roasted in their armour. Fighting in the height of summer could be a most uncomfortable as well as a deadly experience.

The enemy commander knew what he was doing in that he adopted the correct tactics to suit the soldiers he had at his disposal. His spearmen halted around five hundred paces from the legions as the latter inched their way across the hard-packed earth towards them, retaining their formation as if they were on the parade square. Then the enemy horse archers attacked from the wings, companies darting towards the dense ranks of the legionaries and loosing their arrows. But the legionaries had already halted to form a continuous shield wall to face their attackers, while the ranks behind hoisted their shields above their heads to make an impervious roof of leather and wood.

Horse archers swept around the square, riders galloping to within a hundred paces of the shield wall to loose their arrows, then retreating and then attacking again and again, the hiss and whoosh of flying arrows enveloping the Durans and Exiles. While this thunderstorm of arrows was taking place Vagises’ men on both flanks actually fell back to further isolate the square and lure the enemy in. And behind them the cataphracts continued to roast in their armour.

After around half an hour the inevitable happened: the enemy horse archers ran out of arrows and withdrew to take up position either side of the spearmen, who were now banging their shafts against the insides of their wicker shields and shouting and screaming their war cries. Then they advanced against Domitus’ square.

Having believed he had weakened the opposition with his horse archers, the enemy commander now committed his spearmen to deliver the mortal blow to the soldiers who had been peppered with arrows. The spearmen advanced at a steady rate, retaining their lines as they did so. These men were obviously professional soldiers, well trained and equipped, the sun glinting off their helmets and spear points. Against ordinary soldiers they would have prevailed easily enough. But they were not facing ordinary soldiers; they were facing the legionaries of Lucius Domitus. And in the next few minutes the enemy commander’s battle plan and army disintegrated before his eyes.

As Vagises’ horse archers thundered across the ground to attack the two wings of enemy horsemen, trumpet blasts ordered the legions to deploy from square into line, the five cohorts at the top of the square halting while those that had formed the left-hand and right-hand sides of the square fanned out to take up position either side of them. They presented a line of fifteen cohorts to the enemy spearmen who, to their credit, continued their steady advance undeterred. In the rear the five cohorts who had formed the bottom of the square closed up on the first line, ready to act as a reserve to plug any gaps that might appear. None did.

I heard another blast of trumpets followed by a mighty cheer and then the cohorts raced forward to assault the spearmen, the first five ranks in each century hurling their javelins and the first rank then drawing their swords moments before they collided with the enemy, ramming their shield bosses into wicker shields and attempting to push their owners over as they stabbed with their swords. Javelins hit flesh and bone and bent on impact as they embedded themselves in wicker shields and the front ranks of the spearmen buckled and then collapsed as gladius blades went about their deadly work.

I felt elation sweep through me as, above the ghastly din of close-quarter combat, I heard the chant that had graced so many battlefields — ‘Dura, Dura’ — and knew that the enemy had been broken. And on the flanks Vagises and his horse archers charged at the enemy horsemen who now had no arrows. At the gallop they shot arrows at the stationary ranks that within minutes had turned tail and fled the battlefield, abandoning their foot soldiers to their fate. Vagises and his men gave chase. Orodes drew his sword and raised it in the air, turning in the saddle to order his men to move forward. I stopped him.

‘No, my friend, today we let Vagises and Domitus have all the glory.’

He looked disconsolate as he slid his sword back in its scabbard and slumped in his saddle, while behind him the cataphracts continued to sweat in the heat.

The last, tragic act of the battle was played out as the sun at last began its descent in the western sky and began to lose some of its heat. Fifteen cohorts of legionaries methodically destroyed the enemy spearmen, who were attacked from the flanks as the five reserve cohorts were moved to the wings to envelop what remained of the opposition. The enemy commander died with his men who formed a tight circle around both him and their standard as they were cut down. Domitus brought me the flag, a great square of yellow cloth with a leering black Simurgel stitched in its centre, and threw it at my feet.

‘Burn it,’ I ordered.

I stood the cataphracts down as the sweating but jubilant legionaries filed back to camp to once again pitch their tents. They would sleep like the dead tonight. Orodes and his men led their horses back to the camp’s stable area, they and their horses soaked with sweat and gripped by frustration.

Vagises returned after dark and reported to me immediately. He looked tired, filthy but elated, which only increased Orodes’ discomfort.

‘We chased them all the way to the walls of Seleucia,’ he beamed. ‘They ran their horses into the ground trying to flee us.’

‘Well done, Vagises, you and your men have earned their pay today.’

He took a jug of water from the table, filled a cup and then emptied it.

‘One thing you should know, Pacorus. We saw lots of foot soldiers on the road, all of them heading into Seleucia, horsemen as well.’

‘They must be reinforcing the garrison,’ said Orodes.

‘Your plan has worked,’ I said to Byrd, ‘they must be sending troops from Babylon in response to our presence here.’

Vagises shook his head. ‘We did not stay around long enough to get an accurate assessment of what was happening, but there are hundreds of tents pitched outside the city walls. Very odd.’

‘Tomorrow we will find out what the enemy is up to,’ I said.

As a rule Parthians do not fight in the hours of darkness but I increased the number of sentries that night as a precaution against an attack. Acting like thieves in the night suited Narses and Mithridates and it was obvious that their attention had now turned towards us following Vagises’ report. But no attack came and in the morning we struck camp, cremated our own dead and marched south once more, leaving the enemy corpses to rot in the desert. Our own losses had amounted to a hundred legionaries killed and thirty wounded, with a further fifty horse archers slain. It had been another easy victory.

The army had not marched seven miles before Byrd and Malik returned to report that their scouts had detected another force approaching, this time from the southwest. Then they rode off to gather more information. This was getting tiring! For the third day the army deployed into its battle positions and waited for yet another enemy force to present itself. Would we ever get to Seleucia?

Again the cataphracts deployed behind the legions with the horse archers on the wings. The legionaries stood or sat on the ground and chatted to each other, relishing the thought of another day’s easy slaughter.

Domitus sauntered over to where I was sitting on Remus next to Orodes.

‘Your turn today, Orodes,’ he said.

‘Depends on what they send against us,’ I said.

‘If it’s a bunch of kitchen maids armed with spits then Orodes is your man,’ beamed Domitus. Orodes was far from amused.

We waited an hour before the familiar black shape of a large group of men appeared on the southwestern horizon. Worryingly neither Byrd nor Malik had returned to us. I prayed that they had not been captured or killed. I felt a knot tighten in my stomach. I would exchange all the victories I had won for their safety. I closed my eyes and prayed to Shamash to deliver them back to me safely.

The shapes grew bigger, shimmering in the heat and appearing like black liquid. Centurions blew whistles and their men dressed their ranks and awaited the coming clash in silence. The enemy was moving at speed, heading directly towards our right flank, a great banner fluttering in the centre of their line.

‘I recognise that banner,’ said Orodes straining his eyes. ‘It is Nergal.’

I did not believe him and stared at the approaching horsemen to identify them myself. Utter relief swept through me as I saw that it was indeed the banner of Mesene that came towards us. And beside Nergal rode Malik and Byrd, and I also saw the black-robed Yasser with them.

I clasped Nergal’s arm as he eventually halted before us, smiling as ever, and then greeted Orodes.

‘We found them wandering in the desert, lost,’ beamed Malik.

‘Glad to have your men with us, Nergal,’ I said. ‘Vagises told us that there is a great army gathering at Seleucia, which is now probably heading this way.’

He looked surprised. ‘No army is approaching, Pacorus. Narses and Mithridates have fled back across the Tigris, taking their army with them.’

‘And Babylon?’ Orodes looked momentarily concerned.

‘The city is safe. My horsemen made contact with the garrison yesterday.’

‘The last I heard,’ I said to Nergal, ‘you were beset by the hordes of King Phriapatius.’

‘If I can wash the dust out of my throat,’ he replied, ‘I will tell you our story.’

That night he revealed what had happened in Mesene and Babylon. The Carmanians under Phriapatius had indeed invaded Nergal’s kingdom and had marched towards Uruk. But Nergal had called on Yasser for help and as the enemy advanced on his capital Nergal’s horsemen launched a series of hit-and-run raids against the Carmanians.

‘Small parties, mostly,’ said Nergal, chewing on a biscuit, ‘just to slow their advance. But we kept up the pressure on them day and night to fray their nerves. And you know how Parthians hate to fight at night.’

‘I’ve never understood that,’ remarked Domitus. ‘War is not a game. The enemy is there to be beaten irrespective of whether it’s night or day.’

‘Those of us who follow Shamash believe that it is better to fight during the day when we have His protection,’ I replied, ‘though I would not expect a heathen such as you to understand that, Domitus.’

‘Better a living heathen than a dead worshipper,’ he sniffed.

‘The enemy got as far as Umma, a town less than fifty miles from Uruk,’ continued Nergal, ‘but I had strengthened its walls and the garrison was not to be intimidated, and we continued to launch raids against the besiegers until it was they who were besieged.’

He smiled at Yasser. ‘It got worse for them when Lord Yasser arrived. After five days the Carmanians gave up and fell back towards the Tigris. Two days later Phriapatius asked for a truce. So you see, there was never a battle and Uruk was never threatened.’

‘I get the impression that Phriapatius is a rather lukewarm player in the grand scheme of Mithridates and Narses,’ I said.

‘That is why I am here, Pacorus,’ replied Nergal, ‘to take you to see him.’

The next day I gave command of the army to Orodes and told him to take it directly to Babylon to secure the city. Mithridates and Narses may have retreated but there were still probably roving bands of the enemy at large that had either been deliberately left behind or had deserted and were nothing more than groups of brigands. I took a thousand horse archers with me as I accompanied Nergal and Yasser south. We travelled at speed through a land laid waste by a cruel enemy. Every village we came upon had been destroyed and its population either killed or carried off into slavery. The bodies of the slaughtered still lay where they had been cut down, the stench of decomposition filling our nostrils and making us want to retch. Occasionally we saw a dead dog next to a corpse where a master and his faithful servant had been killed side by side.

We rode into the now deserted Jem det Nasr and straight into a scene of horror. The enemy had obviously killed those remaining members of the population before they had fled. As we made our way to the centre of the city we rode through streets strewn with bodies, mostly the elderly, frail and children, those who were not strong enough to endure a forced march. Any able-bodied men and women and teenage girls would have been taken away as slaves, though we did come across the naked corpses of women whose breasts had been cut off, no doubt having first been raped before their mutilation and murder.

‘And they say that we are savages,’ remarked Yasser.

At that moment I was ashamed to be a Parthian, ashamed that Parthians could do such things to each other. It was worse than the scenes I had witnessed at Forum Annii in Italy when Crixus and his Gauls had stormed that place and butchered its inhabitants. There was literally no one left alive, in fact nothing left alive, just the usual repellent odour of death that hung over the whole city.

We reached the centre of the city where the Temple of Shamash stood, its massive twin doors shut. It fronted a large square and behind it was the governor’s palace and the royal barracks. We filed into the square and Nergal organised parties to search the palace grounds to see if there were any survivors. Fortunately the enemy had not had time to torch the city.

Yasser seated on his horse looked at the shut doors of the temple.

‘There are no braces against the doors, they must have been shut from the inside.’

‘Perhaps there are people in there,’ said Nergal.

I looked at the temple, the barred doors facing east like every temple dedicated to Shamash. They were set back from the yellow stone columns that surrounded the building on all four sides to support the high arched roof. There was a smaller entrance in the west wall of the temple but an officer reported that it too was closed.

I dismounted and walked up the dozen stone steps that led to the main entrance. There were square windows cut high in the walls allowing the rays of the sun to enter the temple. In the mornings the priests would welcome its first rays, signifying that Shamash had left the underworld to bring the sun to warm the earth once more. The sound of hundreds of horsemen riding into the square would have been carried through those windows to whoever, if anyone, was inside. Aside from horses scraping at the ground and chomping on their bits there was silence. Any people inside would probably be filled with terror at the thought that their tormentors had returned. I stood in front of the doors.

‘I am Pacorus, King of Dura and a friend and ally of your queen. If there are any within the temple let them come forth in the knowledge that I am here to protect you.’

There was no reply to my plea.

‘I say again, my name is King Pacorus of Dura and I am a friend of Queen Axsen. The enemy has left your city. You are safe.’

I looked behind me to where Nergal was sitting on his horse beside Yasser, the latter smiling and shaking his head at me. I walked back down the steps.

‘What now?’ asked Nergal.

‘We will break down the doors.’

I called forward the commander of the horse archers who organised an empty stone water trough to be used as a battering ram. A dozen men, six on each side, supported the trough on iron bars and rammed it against the doors, which were eventually forced open after being struck a dozen times.

The pungent aroma of dead flesh and emptied bowels met our nostrils the moment we stepped inside the temple, shoving aside the tables that had been used to brace the doors. Light was still flooding through the windows, illuminating the interior where bodies lay on the marble-tiled floor. Only Nergal, Yasser and I entered the temple, picking our way through the dead towards the altar at the far end. I knelt down and examined one of the bodies. There were no marks on it, no signs of a violent struggle and no gaping wounds. The expression on the woman’s face was one of calm resignation. I went to another corpse, this time an old man in his sixties. Once again there were no marks on the body, no signs of violence. The eyes were closed and I saw an empty cup in his hand. Looking around I saw other cups scattered on the floor.

‘They took poison. Hemlock, probably,’ I said.

‘Suicide?’ Nergal was shocked. Parthians generally frowned on the taking of one’s own life, seeing it as a cowardly and disgraceful act.

‘The priests have also taken their own lives,’ I said, pointing to the high altar where white-robed figures lay on the dais. ‘They must have authorised the distribution of the poison and thus sanctioned the act. That being the case, I assume that the suicides were a way of protesting against submission to tyranny, and in the women’s case a way of avoiding the shame of rape. Shamash will care for their souls.’

I ordered that the bodies were to be removed from the temple and consigned to funeral pyres along with the other corpses in the city. That night we camped outside the city walls to sleep well away from so much death.

The next day I left the horse archers to garrison the city and rode on with Nergal and Yasser. Amazingly, as we journeyed south we encountered small groups of people who had come out of hiding and were making their way back to their homes. Some had fled from Jem det Nasr and were now heading back there, though perhaps it would have been better if they had not, such was the scene of desolation that awaited them.

As we rode from Babylonia to Mesene we left behind death and destruction and travelled through a countryside untouched by war. Nergal told me that Phriapatius had kept his men under control and his own attacks had confined them to a small corridor that extended from the River Tigris to Umma. We slept at the latter place the night before my meeting with the King of Carmania. Praxima had ridden to the city to await her husband and me, and I embraced her warmly, my face engulfed in her wild red hair. She told us that High Priest Rahim had things in order at Uruk and had delivered a sermon to thousands of people at the White Temple in the city, telling them that the retreat of Carmania’s army was a miracle worked by Anu and proof that Nergal and Praxima were beloved of the gods.

‘He told me that he frowns upon the Agraci being in Mesene,’ she said, smiling at Yasser as we were served roasted chicken coated in a delicious sweet sauce.

‘Let Rahim believe that the gods saved the kingdom,’ said Nergal, washing his hands in a bowl of warm water. ‘I am glad that eight thousand Agraci warriors are with me.’

‘You do not believe your gods are helping you?’ asked Yasser.

‘The gods help those who help themselves,’ replied Praxima.

‘It is as my wife says,’ added Nergal.

‘Then the gods must look favourably upon our alliance with your people, Yasser,’ I said.

‘That is one way of looking at it,’ he agreed. ‘If I had been told that one day I would be sharing a meal with Parthian kings…’

‘And a queen,’ interrupted Praxima. Yasser smiled at her.

‘Then I would have told them they were mad. And yet here we are, so perhaps the gods are indeed weaving their magic around us.’

‘How many men does Phriapatius have?’ I asked, turning to more practical matters.

‘Around ten thousand,’ answered Nergal.

‘A few less now,’ grinned Yasser. ‘Nergal wants to talk but I urged him to attack them. I can smell their fear from here. They are weak and should be slaughtered like lambs.’

I smiled thinly at him. I sometimes forgot that our Agraci allies were ruthless as well as cunning. They despised weakness and respected strength. Yasser did not become a lord by diplomacy and Haytham did not become a king of these fierce desert people by being merciful.

‘I think we shall hear what the Carmanians have to say before we put them to the sword,’ I said as Yasser screwed up his face at my words.

‘When words run out the conversation is carried on with weapons,’ he replied, holding a rack of lamb in his hand and tearing off a great strip of meat with his teeth. ‘It has always been so and always will be.’

He pointed at all three of us in turn.

‘You talk of peace but only when it suits you, and only from a position of strength. When you, Pacorus, were trapped in the desert before my king and your queen came to your aid, did you squeal like a little girl and ask for quarter? You did not. And you, Nergal, when the enemy invaded your lands did you lie down like a lamb and invite him to steal your kingdom? You are more like me than you like to think. Now that the enemy has retreated you wish to talk, but I know that you would both prefer war.’

There is an old road that runs from Uruk through Umma and across the Tigris to the city of Susa and thereafter to the east. From Uruk the road heads north into the Kingdom of Babylon and then into Hatra. It spans the Tigris between Umma and Susa by means of a multi-arched stone bridge that was built by Greek engineers after Alexander of Macedon had conquered the Persians over two hundred and fifty years ago. Ever since that time it had been maintained by engineers employed by the king of kings himself, for it was the only bridge south of the one at Seleucia and as such was strategically important. Though in summer the level of the Tigris drops considerably, below Seleucia the river is still at least twenty feet deep even in the hottest months and thus an army not in possession of the bridge would need a great number of rafts to get across the waterway.

Nergal had decided not to fight Phriapatius at the bridge but rather let him and his army cross into Mesene. Afterwards, as the Carmanians were advancing towards Umma, Nergal’s horsemen attacked and destroyed those enemy forces left behind to defend the bridge. Phriapatius was thus cut off and surrounded at the beginning of his campaign. He had negotiated a truce with Nergal soon after, one of the terms of which was that he and his army would be allowed withdraw to the east bank of the Tigris. We now dismounted and left our horses at the western end of the bridge and walked across the yellow flagstones that covered its surface.

The day was hot and airless, the waters of the Tigris below us brown and slow moving. I walked with Nergal, Praxima and Yasser as Nergal’s horse archers together with their Agraci allies lined the riverbank either side of the bridge. On the opposite bank the army of Carmania was drawn up to face them — a mass of cataphracts at the bridge, with horse archers and mounted spearmen carrying huge round shields on either side. Green dragon windsocks hung limply from their poles among the ranks of the horse archers but I knew that the symbol of Carmania was the golden peacock.

Four figures approached us to equal the number of our own party. As we got to within a hundred paces of each other both groups slowed as if by mutual consent, though more likely mutual suspicion. I rested my left hand on the hilt of my sword as I studied the king and his subordinates. Phriapatius himself walked a couple of paces in front of the others. He was a man of medium height with broad shoulders, a thick black beard, large nose and skin turned dark brown by the sun. He wore an open-faced bronze helmet on his head and a short-sleeved silver scale armour cuirass. Sculptured bronze plates bearing a peacock motif, the design also appearing on the sleeves of his red silk shirt, also protected his shoulders. His sword was held in a red scabbard decorated with gold and on his feet he wore a fine pair of red boots.

All of the men behind him also wore scale armour, two of them were about half the king’s age while the third carried his helmet in the crock of his arm and wore red leggings edged with gold and silver greaves. By the look of his weatherworn face I guessed he was one of the king’s senior commanders. We halted ten paces from each other.

‘Greetings King Phriapatius,’ said Nergal, holding out his hand to me. ‘This is King Pacorus of Dura.’

I bowed my head ever so slightly to Phriapatius, who nodded back.

‘I remember you from the Council of Kings at Esfahan all those years ago. You look older now and more severe.’

‘Constant war does that to a man, lord,’ I answered. ‘How can I be of assistance to you?’

‘Straight to the point, I like that. I can tell you have not spent any time at the grand court at Ctesiphon lately.’

‘I find the atmosphere there disagreeable, lord, and the man who occupies its throne even more distasteful.’

He smiled wryly. ‘So I have heard. Mithridates would pay me handsomely if I drew my sword and slew you right here, on this bridge.’

He made no movement to draw his sword but Nergal, Praxima and Yasser instinctively clasped the hilts of their swords; the three others behind Phriapatius did the same. I stood dead still and fixed his brown eyes with my own. He smiled.

‘But then that would make me a worthless murdering wretch like he is, not a responsible king who desires only to be back in his kingdom.’

The atmosphere, seconds before tense, relaxed as he waved his hand at his subordinates to show restraint.

‘I would talk with you in private, King Pacorus,’ he said.

I nodded to the others who withdrew a few paces behind me, while those with Phriapatius likewise retreated. The king walked over to the edge of the stone parapet and stared at the water below.

‘I thank you for coming here today,’ he said, still staring at the river. ‘I would not have blamed you if you had brought your army to do your talking.’

‘My army has done its talking in Hatra and Babylonia, lord. Even as we stand here and talk, Narses and Mithridates crawl back to Ctesiphon with their tails between their legs.’

He looked surprised. ‘Babylon has not fallen?’

‘No, lord,’ I answered, ‘though grievous damage has been inflicted upon Queen Axsen’s kingdom.’

He nodded to himself. ‘Narses promised an easy victory against Babylon. He also promised those who marched with him would be richly rewarded with lands and gold at the expense of those kingdoms who sided with you. The reality has turned out to be very different, it appears.’

‘You should also know that Cinnamus and Vologases were also turned back at Hatra’s border. I know; I was there.’

He stared once more at the meandering waters of the Tigris. ‘So the grand scheme begins to unfold.’

‘Next year,’ I announced, ‘Dura and others will be marching across the Tigris to put an end to Mithridates once and for all. I would be honoured to have the banner of Carmania fly next to mine.’

He turned his head and looked at me. ‘How many children do you have, Pacorus?’

‘Children?’

‘Yes, how many? One, two, a dozen?’

‘Three, lord, all daughters.’

He jerked his thumb to where his three subordinates stood facing Nergal, Praxima and Yasser. ‘The two young ones are my sons, Phanes and Peroz.’

‘They are fine young men, lord.’

‘I have two other sons, who are currently “guests” at Ctesiphon, and you will find that the other eastern kings of the empire also have their children being held hostage at Mithridates’ palace. If my banner flew beside yours, Pacorus, their heads would be adorning his palace walls.’

I shook my head. Many years ago Mithridates had been the ruler of Dura and had taken the sons of the kingdom’s lords hostage to ensure their fathers’ continued allegiance. Now he did the same to the kings of the eastern half of the empire.

‘He is a tyrant,’ I said.

Phriapatius laughed. ‘So are most king of kings, though I grant you this one seems blessed by particularly cruel traits. If it was a matter of dealing solely with Mithridates then I would give your offer serious consideration, but as long as he has my sons and his lord high general stands behind him then Carmania will not assist you.’

‘And will Carmania fight beside Mithridates and Narses next year?’ I asked.

‘Next year Carmania will answer Ctesiphon’s summons if you march against Mithridates.’ He picked up a small stone and flicked it into the river. ‘Though it will take a long time to muster its army and even longer to march it to Ctesiphon. By then affairs either way will most likely be settled.’

His strategy made sense. His kingdom sat in the southeast corner of the empire but was bordered by Persis to the northwest and Sakastan to the north. Narses ruled both kingdoms and could easily launch punitive raids against Carmania if he suspected Phriapatius of treachery.

‘I understand, lord,’ I said at length. ‘And what will you do now?’

‘Now, King Pacorus, out of strategic necessity I will be withdrawing my army back to its homeland.’

We watched the Carmanians pull back from the river and take the road to Susa, a long line of horsemen and camels carrying their tents and supplies. Phriapatius may have wanted to return to Carmania, a distance of some eight hundred miles, but Mithridates would retain his army nearer the Tigris in view of his own retreat from Babylon. As we watched the horsemen disappear on the horizon Yasser urged Nergal to ride across the bridge and attack the withdrawing Carmanians but he declined.

‘I have enough men to hold my own kingdom but not enough to invade Susiana, even with your men, Yasser.’

‘In any case,’ I added, ‘Phriapatius may be a useful ally when we cross the Tigris next year.’

Yasser threw up his hands in exasperation.

‘Next year? We could all be dead by then. The time to strike is now, Nergal. Take revenge on those who have sprinkled the earth of your kingdom with blood.’

‘They should pay for what they have done,’ agreed Praxima, always ready to act first and ask questions later.

‘My friends,’ I said, ‘they will pay, I promise. When we have taken Ctesiphon the royal treasury will be opened to pay compensation to those kingdoms that have suffered at the hands of Mithridates. I ask only that you show restraint now.’

Praxima shrugged and Yasser curled his lip in the direction of Phriapatius’ vanishing army, but Nergal thankfully saw sense.

‘We will accede to your wishes, Pacorus, but Mesene will want restitution for the outrages committed on its territory this year.’

I said my farewells to them at Umma and then travelled north to Babylon. As I had left my horse archers at Jem det Nasr, Nergal gave me a hundred of his men for an escort to Axsen’s capital. When we arrived five days later Dura’s army had already established its camp to the west of the city near the Marduk Gate. The scenes of devastation that I had seen on my journey to Mesene were repeated, with villages destroyed and irrigation systems wrecked. It would take Axsen years to repair the damage done to her kingdom.

In camp I discovered Vagises and his horse archers, who had returned from Jem det Nasr following the despatch of soldiers from Babylon to replace them. I called the senior officers to my tent to inform them of what had happened at the meeting with Phriapatius, though Orodes was not present.

‘He’s with the queen in the city,’ said Domitus.

‘He has taken up permanent residence in the palace,’ added Kronos.

‘Well, it will be his palace as well soon enough,’ I remarked. ‘Babylon will need a strong hand to guide it through the coming years.’

‘There isn’t much of a kingdom left,’ said Domitus. ‘Half of it has been carried off into slavery.’

‘We will get them back,’ I promised. ‘Mithridates and Narses will be held to account for what they have done.’

‘Turning to matters at hand,’ said Domitus, ‘it might be wise to get the army back to Dura. Near fourteen thousand soldiers, two thousand drivers, two thousand squires and thousands of horses, mules and camels will sap an already exhausted kingdom further.’

‘I would concur, but for a different reason,’ added Alcaeus. ‘I have visited the city and it is still thronged with refugees. It is amazing that plague has not broken out in the city already. I would advise that the army leaves the vicinity of the city for fear of any sickness spreading to your soldiers.’

‘Agreed,’ I said. ‘Make the preparations to march north immediately, Domitus. In the meantime I will visit the queen and her husband to be.’

Domitus gave me a century as an escort with Thumelicus in command. He and his men left their javelins in camp but retained their mail armour, helmets, swords and shields, and had been issued with wooden clubs in case of any difficulties they might encounter. The Marduk Gate was guarded by Babylonian spearmen and the gates themselves were open, though very few people were leaving the city. They had no doubt previously fled from the depravations of the enemy and were unwilling to leave the safety of the city without protection. The commander at the Marduk Gate, a tall, thin man in his thirties made gaunt by the siege, reported to me when we entered the city.

‘It is chaos, majesty. There are thousands of people camped on every street and in every doorway. Lord Mardonius is organising companies to escort people back to their villages but it will take an age.’

‘Did the garrison lose many men during the siege?’ I asked.

He shook his head. ‘The enemy attempted no assault against the city. Their favoured tactic was lobbing the severed heads of villagers over the walls to try and cower us into surrender. It struck fear into those who had fled from the countryside, though.’

‘What about your food supplies?’

‘We went on half-rations two months ago. Another two months and we would have had to start eating those lot,’ he nodded towards the crowd of filthy, starving refugees that had begun to gather around Thumelicus and his legionaries.

‘They would not make much of a meal.’

‘Do you want an escort to the palace, majesty?’

‘No, we will make our own way there.’

I left him to his command of the gate and its garrison, whose drawn, sunken faces looked similar to those of the refugees. As I led Remus by his reins further into the city the legionaries closed around me, shoving aside individuals with their shields. As we walked from the gate the stench of a long siege: the smell of human and animal dung, rotting refuse and death entered our nostrils. The road was literally carpeted with people, both men and women, young and old, many too malnourished and weak to stand and move aside. The crowd who had gathered round Thumelicus and his men had followed us, probably in the hope that the big, well-fed soldiers in their shiny helmets and mail shirts might toss them a few morsels to eat. My German centurion soon grew tired of their imploring and clawing and hit one of them on the arm with his club, sending the wretch sprawling. This sparked angry shouting and some waved their fists at him, which on reflection was the worst thing they could have done.

‘Ready,’ he shouted and his men raised their clubs in preparation to attack the crowd.

A gaunt man was jabbing his finger angrily at Thumelicus, a stream of abuse coming from his twisted mouth, who then fell silent as a great German hand deftly flicked the club it was holding into the side of his face, splitting his nose and also sending him tumbling. The crowd were outraged at this and began shouting and threatening the legionaries, who faced the crowd with their clubs at the ready.

‘No violence,’ I ordered as a stone hit Remus’ rump. ‘Let us get to the palace as quickly as possible.’

‘Raise shields,’ shouted Thumelicus.

The legionaries in the front rank closed up and locked their shields together on all four sides of our formation, those behind raising theirs above their heads to form a roof as we were pelted with stones, dung, rotting vegetables and sticks. The smell was disgusting.

As we inched our way towards the palace Thumelicus and those beside him in the front rank clubbed some more civilians who got too close, splitting heads and cracking ribs. More and more people gathered round us as the tumult alerted others to what was going on and the pack instincts of a hungry and desperate crowd took hold. I was unconcerned about my men, who were more inconvenienced than threatened, but I did worry about the crowd’s safety. My fears were confirmed when I heard Thumelicus curse and saw that he had been struck in the face by a great clump of animal dung. The crowd thought this hilarious and began pointing and laughing at him.

He threw down his club. ‘Swords!’ he bellowed and I heard the scraping sound of eighty blades being pulled from their scabbards.

The crowd must have numbered between three and four hundred people by now and I had visions of the same number lying dead in front of Axsen’s palace.

‘No violence,’ I ordered again as the gates of the palace suddenly opened and horsemen rode from the royal compound, at least three score carrying shields and spears and attired in purple. They charged at the crowd, which rapidly dispersed from in front of the gates.

‘Stand down,’ said Thumelicus as he and the others returned their swords to their scabbards.

‘It was a good job those horsemen appeared when they did, otherwise we would have sliced open a few bellies.’

‘You really must try to keep your temper in check,’ I told him.

He wiped his face and then smelt his fingers and screwed up his face.

‘I don’t take kindly to being pelted with shit. They should turf all those people out of the city. They stink and it stinks.’

I slapped him on the shoulder. ‘And so do you! Get your men inside and then they and you can get cleaned up.’

The horsemen kept the crowd at bay as we entered the palace compound where Mardonius was waiting to greet me. He looked immaculate as usual, though his face wore a deep frown when he saw we had been the brunt of a hostile crowd.

‘My apologies, majesty.’

‘Think nothing of it,’ I said as a stable hand took Remus from me. ‘People do desperate things in desperate times.’

‘And these are desperate times,’ he agreed. ‘I fear that the kingdom is ruined.’

So did I but said nothing.

‘The queen is well?’ I asked.

He smiled. ‘Indeed, the more so since the arrival of Prince Orodes. He is a great friend of Babylon. As is King Nergal. I did not think I would live to see the day when Mesene and its Agraci allies would prove to be Babylon’s allies against the empire’s king of kings.’

‘We live in strange times,’ I agreed.

We walked towards the palace as Thumelicus and his men were shown to a barracks block to wash the filth from their clothing. Thumelicus barked orders at his men, still fuming at his treatment in the street and his frustration at not being allowed to kill a few civilians in reprisal.

‘You travelled through the eastern part of the kingdom, majesty?’ asked Mardonius.

I thought of the despoiled villages and the empty Jem det Nasr. ‘Yes, it has suffered greatly during the recent strife.’

His head dropped. ‘Mithridates has impoverished the kingdom.’

‘There is gold enough at Ctesiphon to rebuild this kingdom,’ I replied.

He looked shocked. ‘You will march against the capital of the empire?’

‘Next year, yes, and I will not be marching alone.’

We walked on in silence. Despite the kingdom of his queen having been ravaged by Mithridates I could sense that Mardonius was ill at ease with the notion of making war against the office of king of kings. Fortunately I did not share his reticence.

The palace itself was a place of calm and order and contrasted sharply to the scenes immediately beyond its walls. Well-dressed officials walked along its long corridors and among its pillars, white-robed priests talked with other in hushed tones and courtiers with neatly trimmed beards and wearing brightly coloured robes bowed their heads to us as we entered the throne room where Axsen awaited us.

She had inherited her father’s full frame and in her teenage years her figure had earned her the cruel nickname ‘Princes Water Buffalo’. With the passing of time, though, she had lost much of the baby fat of her younger years. And now the responsibility of ruling a kingdom alone and the recent siege had resulted in her losing more weight, and I have to say that the slimmer Axsen appeared more regal and attractive. Adversity suited her.

I took off my helmet and went down on one knee before the dais upon which her throne stood. Beside her Orodes occupied the other throne. Mardonius struggled to get down on his aged knee.

Axsen smiled, rose from her throne and placed her hands on my shoulders.

‘Hail, great queen,’ I said. ‘Dura salutes you.’

She leaned forward and kissed me on the cheek. ‘Oh, Pacorus, you are so formal. Please get up. And arise, Lord Mardonius, before you do yourself a mischief.’

I assisted him back onto his feet as he winced from the pain in his joints. Axsen retook her throne and smiled girlishly at Orodes. So, he must have proposed and she must have accepted his offer. I was pleased.

‘We have news for you, King Pacorus, the liberator of Babylon,’ said Axsen, to polite applause from the officers, priests and courtiers present. ‘I am to be married to Prince Orodes of Susiana.’

Louder applause greeted this announcement and I nodded and smiled at Orodes. I went down on one knee again.

‘This is truly great news, majesty, and heralds a new age for the Kingdom of Babylon.’

‘Rise, Pacorus, my dear friend,’ commanded Axsen as Orodes stepped forward and we clasped arms.

‘Well done, my friend,’ I whispered.

I stepped onto the dais and kissed Axsen on the cheek.

‘May Shamash bless your union,’ I said, earning me a glower from Nabu who stood by the side of the dais and looked as though he had just had a tooth pulled.

Later, when we relaxed in Axsen’s private wing in the palace, sitting in a small courtyard with fountains and an ornamental pond in which swam large golden fish, I asked Axsen the reason for Nabu’s miserable face.

‘When the city filled with refugees I knew Babylon would not have enough food to feed all the people, but I also knew that the temples would be able to ease our burden and so ordered them to distribute their offerings to the people.’

‘The daily tribute,’ added Orodes.

Every major city had its great temples whose gods demanded daily tribute from the people. It was customary for granaries to be built near those temples to produce bread that was then sold to worshippers who laid it on altars, after which it was removed by the priests and preserved in the many storehouses built at the rear of the temples. It was then sold to bakeries in the city, and the other tributes were either eaten by the priests or sold by them. It was a very lucrative enterprise.

‘High Priest Nabu,’ continued Axsen, ‘was most upset and declared that Marduk would punish the city, to which I reminded him that if the city fell then his temple would be destroyed by the followers of the bird god, so he agreed.’

‘Reluctantly,’ added Orodes.

‘Each day,’ continued Axsen, ‘the faithful lay before Marduk over two hundred containers of beer, two hundred and forty loaves of bread, fifty rams, three bulls and great quantities of dates, lambs, ducks and eggs. Enough to help feed a city packed full of people.’

‘And what of the Temple of Ishtar and its offerings?’

Axsen giggled. ‘I have to confess that I have made no demands upon Afrand as I do not want to offend the goddess before our wedding.’

She reached over to Orodes who took her hand in his.

‘That annoyed Nabu even more.’

‘I think Lord Nabu’s annoyance will soon disappear now that the city is no longer besieged and his storehouses begin to fill again,’ remarked Orodes.

‘And his treasury,’ said Axsen dryly.

‘What of Babylon’s treasury?’ I asked.

Axsen showed her palms. ‘Empty, and likely to remain so for many years to come.’

No more was said on the matter as I politely asked about their forthcoming marriage, but it made me more determined than ever to make Mithridates pay for what he had done. And after I had taken Ctesiphon then the treasury at Persepolis would also be emptied of its contents.

I stayed in Babylon for another week, though the army began its march back to Dura the day after I had arrived at the city. It travelled along the eastern bank of the Euphrates, now somewhat diminished in numbers compared to its size at the beginning of the campaign. We had suffered low casualties but Surena had departed for Gordyene with eight thousand horse archers and Orodes announced that he was staying in Babylon with his two hundred and fifty men. The latter was a grievous loss. He had become like a brother to me and I would miss his company greatly. Domitus was also sad to see him go but was happy that the army was returning to Dura in triumph following its victory at Makhmur.

‘That will be another silver disc on the Staff of Victory,’ he announced.

‘What about our other triumphs near Seleucia?’ I asked.

‘Slaughters don’t count,’ he sniffed. ‘I wonder what happened to those soldiers you let go? What was the name of that drunk who commanded them?’

‘Udall,’ I answered.

‘You should have killed them by rights. You will only have to fight them again next year.’

I shook my head and smiled. No matter how long he remained in Parthia a part of Domitus would always remain Roman.

The day before I left Babylon, which was now returning to a semblance of normality with the gradual return of the refugees back to what remained of their homes, I rode to the Temple of Ishtar. The temple guards at the entrance let me pass and I trotted into the first courtyard that was empty aside from two young priestesses who hurried out of sight when they saw me. I dismounted and led Remus to the stables that fronted one side of the courtyard where I left him in the care of a young stable hand dressed in the temple’s livery. For some reason there were no worshippers in the temple grounds, the only movement being the white birds entering and exiting their dovecotes. I walked across the courtyard and through the arch that led to the second, smaller courtyard, passing the guards that stood before it. I continued towards the temple doors but the two guards who stood either side of them barred my way.

‘Out of my way,’ I ordered but they remained where they were and stared menacingly at me.

‘Do you know who I am?’

‘The whole world knows who King Pacorus is,’ said a voice behind me.

I turned to see Afrand standing a few paces from me, her hair tumbling over her breasts that were barely held in place by her flimsy transparent white top.

‘I wish to enter the temple,’ I said.

‘The goddess is not receiving guests today.’

‘I wish to speak to the one who spoke to me when I was last here.’

‘There are no words for you today, highness.’

I was starting to get annoyed. ‘I will be the judge of that.’

‘No,’ she calmly, ‘you will not.’

I folded my arms across my chest.

‘It will take more than two guards to prevent me.’

She smiled. ‘The goddess Ishtar has been kind to you, King Pacorus, and now you come to her home with threats of violence. Why would you treat her so disrespectfully?’

I suddenly felt very uncomfortable. ‘I did not mean to insult the goddess, of course not. I merely wished to see if she would speak to me once more.’

She held out her hand. ‘Walk with me majesty.’

She led me away from the temple doors, the fragrance of myrrh on her body entering my nostrils as I walked beside her. Her robe was slit from the waist, revealing her lithe legs, and I found it hard not stare at her voluptuous breasts. She was most intoxicating.

‘Most people who come to worship at the temple are ignored by the goddess because they are unworthy. That she sent you a vision shows that you are beloved of the gods, Pacorus of Dura. But you do not command them to do your bidding any more than I do.’

She was right. ‘I apologise for being so rash.’

We walked from the courtyard into a spacious hall that was rich with the aroma of lavender. A flight of marble steps before us led to a second storey of red-painted doors and walls adorned with scenes of fornication. I blushed as I found myself staring at depictions of naked couples intertwined.

‘The murals offend you?’ asked Afrand, noticing my discomfort.

‘They are a surprise, that is all.’

She laughed. ‘Ishtar is the goddess of love. Why are you surprised that her temple grounds should show depictions of that emotion?’

‘Perhaps because I believe such things should remain private,’ I replied.

She considered for a moment. ‘The friend who spoke to you when you were here last, she is dead, is she not?’

‘How did you know?’

She smiled. ‘I could tell by the look on your face when you left us. Her spirit must be strong to be able to leave the spirit world to enter the domain of the living.’

I thought of Claudia, the wife of Spartacus, and nodded. ‘She was strong, yes.’

‘You will see here again.’

I felt my heart increase its beat. ‘When?’

She cupped my face with her hand. ‘Not yet, great king. Not until you have fulfilled your destiny.’