Parthian Vengeance

Chapter 14

I rode back to Dura in the company of Malik, Byrd and their scouts, following in the wake of the city’s army, which had left a well-beaten track where thousands of hooves, sandals and wheels had trampled the earth. At the border of my father’s kingdom we were met by a courier who brought news that the combined forces of Media and Atropaiene had fought a great battle west of the Caspian Sea. They had defeated the armies of King Monaeses of Yueh-Chih and King Tiridates of Aria, who had retreated back east. The victory was bought at a heavy price, though, for King Farhad had fallen in the battle and now his son, Atrax, ruled Media. In addition, my father and Gafarn had pursued the armies of Anauon and Drangiana back to Ecbatana where they had linked up with Atrax and Aschek. My father ended his note by stating that he believed the enemy would now retreat back through the Caspian Gates to their homelands. The threat to Hatra, Media and Atropaiene was for the moment over.

‘Atrax will make a good king,’ said Malik after he had finished reading the letter and had passed it to Byrd.

‘Yes, he will,’ I agreed.

Byrd handed the note back to me. ‘So, the great plot of Mithridates has failed. What now?’

It was a good question and I would have liked to have announced that I was going to march straight to Ctesiphon, batter down its aged walls and remove Mithridates. But the truth was that the army had been campaigning for nearly six months continuously and needed a spell of rest and recuperation. Of my allies, Babylon was on its knees, Media and Atropaiene had both been invaded and no doubt ravaged and even Hatra had been forced to send its army far from home, and in addition still had to contend with the Armenian threat in the north. As far as I knew Musa and Khosrou were still campaigning in the vastness between the Caspian and Aral seas, so they would be unable to support any offensive against Ctesiphon. I consoled myself with the thought that our enemies were probably in a worse state having suffered heavier losses. The whole empire was exhausted.

‘We go home, Byrd, that is what we do.’

It was good to see Dura again, to see the road thronged with traffic and to catch sight of the Citadel glowing yellow in the sun above the blue waters of the Euphrates. The army had received a tumultuous reception when it had returned but our small party slipped quietly into the city and rode unnoticed along the main street to the Citadel. We dismounted in the courtyard where Gallia, my children, Rsan and Aaron waited at the foot of the palace steps. I embraced my family and then sat with them on the palace terrace as Rsan gave me his report first. While he did so Dobbai slept in her wicker chair by the side of the balustrade. Servants brought us drink and food as Eszter played with her maid and Isabella and Claudia arranged their chairs beside mine.

‘Notwithstanding the recent conflict, which did interrupt trade, revenues have remained largely stable, majesty.’

‘And the deliveries to Alexander?’ I asked Aaron.

‘All is in order, majesty,’ he replied. ‘Deliveries are on time and payment is prompt.’

‘Indeed,’ said Rsan, ‘though we will need the gold to pay for the costs incurred by the army during its recent campaign. General Domitus has once again put in a large request for javelins and Lord Vagises has requested a sizeable amount of arrows.’

‘That is the nature of war, Rsan. Surely the gold that comes from Alexander is more than sufficient to pay for the army’s requirements, especially now Silaces and his eight thousand men are no longer with us?’

Rsan nodded gravely. ‘It is as you say, majesty, though it would be better to build up the treasury’s reserves rather than continually dipping into them.’

Rsan was in essence a hoarder, an individual who liked nothing more than to amass ever-greater quantities of items around himself, in his case gold.

‘The revenues from the caravans and from Alexander are more than enough to pay for the army and build up the treasury’s reserves,’ I told him. ‘However, it may comfort you to know that next year your treasury will be benefitting from another source of gold.’

Rsan’s eyes lit up. ‘Most excellent news, majesty. May I enquire the nature of this new source?’

‘The treasury at Ctesiphon,’ I replied.

Rsan looked confused. ‘I do not understand.’

I waved my hand at him. ‘It has been a tiring day, Rsan, you may go.’

He wanted to know more but I was in no mood to explain so he bowed his head and retreated from the terrace, followed by Aaron.

‘Aaron,’ I called after him, ‘I would speak with you.’

He retraced his steps and stood before me.

‘Majesty?’

‘You have been in contact with Alexander?’

He nodded.

‘When will he begin his rebellion?’

‘Next year, majesty, as Arsam has increased the quantities of weapons being produced by the armouries.’

‘And Alexander is pleased with the weapons we are supplying?’

Aaron smiled. ‘Very pleased, majesty.’

‘Good, you may go.’

‘Viper was most upset that you sent Surena away from the army,’ said Gallia after Aaron had left the terrace.

‘He is a good commander and has eight thousand men with him. He will be safe enough.’

‘She wants to know how long he will be away.’

I closed my eyes and stretched out my legs. ‘I have no idea but it could be a few more months yet.’

‘She has requested that she be allowed to go to his side.’

‘Well,’ I replied, ‘she is one of the Amazons so it is your decision.’

‘Since Praxima’s departure Viper has become one of my best warriors. I do not wish her to leave.’

‘Then tell her so,’ I replied.

‘What did you mean when you told Rsan that the treasury gold at Ctesiphon will be made available to him?’

‘He means, child, that next year the King of Dura will be marching against the king of king’s capital. Is that not correct, son of Hatra?’

Dobbai had awoken from her slumbers and was now ambling towards me.

I opened my eyes. ‘Mithridates must pay for the damage he has caused in the empire. I have seen what his troops did in Babylonia and attempted to do in Hatra. My father is in agreement that he should be removed, and with Hatra’s army beside mine no one will be able to stop us.’

‘We received word from Atrax,’ said Gallia, ‘that Media had also been devastated and large parts of Atropaiene.’

‘There is gold enough at Ctesiphon to compensate all.’

‘Not if the Romans get it first,’ said Dobbai, cupping Claudia’s face in her palm.

‘The Romans?’

‘You did not think that they had gone away did you, son of Hatra?’

‘I have heard no reports of Roman activity in Syria,’ I answered.

‘They watch and wait,’ said Dobbai, pointing at me. ‘They have seen the empire tear itself apart by civil strife and they wait. I told you once that you would face two mighty armies, one from the east and one from the west. You have helped to turn back the one from the east but have yet to vanquish it, but you must act quickly so that you will be able to face the one from the west when it comes. And it will, mark my words. The eagles are gathering.’

But Byrd and Malik assured me that there was no indication that the Romans in Syria were preparing an offensive against Parthia. So, as the year faded and then died, a strange calm descended over the empire. From the Taurus Mountains to the Persian Gulf there was an uneasy peace and gossip picked up from the trade caravans informed us that the eastern kings had limped back to their homelands where they remained. Nothing was heard from Musa or Khosrou and many thought that they had both been killed in the northern wastes, while other stories spread that they and their armies had been swallowed up by the endless steppes across which they marched and were doomed to forever wander the empty vastness. Word reached us from Nergal at Uruk that Phriapatius had returned to Carmania and that Narses brooded in Persis, but no one heard anything from Ctesiphon. And when the new year began the king of kings received no annual tribute from the kingdoms of Hatra, Media, Atropaiene, Babylon, Mesene and of course Dura. The list of kings in open defiance of Mithridates grew.

Everyone knew that war would be renewed in the spring but before then the activity that preoccupied us all was far more pleasant, for there was an unexpected spate of weddings. The first to take place was that between Domitus and Miriam. Gallia was most pleased by this news and in the weeks before the actual event took every opportunity to gloat at my expense. To say that you could have knocked me down with a feather when my grizzled Roman friend informed me was an understatement.

‘I’ve been thinking of it for a while,’ he told me as we strolled through the camp one early evening, the sun turning orange in the western sky. He stopped and looked at me.

‘I hope you do not mind.’

‘Of course not. It is a surprise, that is all.’

‘A surprise to me also,’ he said. ‘But I find Miriam’s company agreeable and I am not getting any younger. A man should have someone to talk to in his old age, after he has sheathed his sword for the last time.’

I laughed. ‘You are not that old, Domitus. You have many years left in you.’

We arrived at the tent that contained the legion’s golden griffin and went inside. It rested on its metal plate in the centre of the tent as usual, the air still and warm. The guards looked like statues around the rack that held the sacred object. Beside the griffin stood the Staff of Victory, now with an additional silver disc depicting a battle by a river to celebrate our victory at Makhmur. Domitus walked up to the griffin and gently laid a hand on it, bowing his head in reverence as he did so. I did the same, then stepped back to admire it.

‘When Godarz was killed I began to think of my own mortality,’ he said. ‘And every year there are more names on the memorial in the Citadel, a daily reminder that death stalks us all.’

I had no idea that he was such a deep-thinking man. To me he had always been Lucius Domitus, iron hard and the army’s talisman, but Gallia told me that even the fiercest warrior is alone with his thoughts in the quiet of the night hours, when he has time to reflect on his life. It appeared that Domitus had done much reflecting.

‘Miriam will make a fine wife,’ I said, trying to lighten the mood.

He smiled. ‘Yes she will. The ceremony will be according to her own religion, of course, but I do not mind that.’

He turned and looked at me. ‘I would like you to come to another ceremony before the wedding, Gallia too.’

‘I would be delighted to,’ I answered, intrigued.

Like all soldiers Domitus was superstitious. And like me he had a routine when it came to dressing on the day of battle that he followed religiously. Though he was going to be married according to the Jewish faith, the day before the ceremony he sought the blessing of his own god. He invited a small number of the Companions and Kronos to a tent that had been erected in the desert five miles to the west of the legionary camp. We arrived in the late afternoon to find Malik, Noora and Byrd also in attendance and a score of Agraci warriors. In pens beside the tent were an ox, boar and ram.

‘This is all very mysterious,’ remarked Gallia as we slid off our horses’ backs and tethered them next to the Agraci animals.

Domitus stood at the entrance to the tent, welcomed us and asked us to enter. He was dressed in a simple white tunic and wore sandals on his feet.

The goatskin tent was spacious and open at the far end. A white-robed individual with a veil stood at this opening beside a young boy also in a white robe holding a flute. Beside him were grouped what looked like three butchers in leather jerkins. There were no chairs in the tent and no refreshments, just a group of similarly confused individuals. I nodded to Drenis and Kronos who were standing talking to Alcaeus and Thumelicus. Gallia and I sauntered over to where Byrd, Noora and Malik stood.

‘Any idea what this is about?’ I asked them.

‘Domitus wishes to pay homage to his god,’ answered Byrd, ‘to bring luck to his marriage.’

‘Byrd has opened an office in Antioch,’ said Malik, nodding at the white-robed figure. ‘That man is a Roman priest at the Temple of Mars in the city. Byrd hired him as a favour to Domitus.’

‘It was our wedding gift to him,’ added Noora.

Antioch was now the capital of Roman Syria, though until fairly recently had been part of Tigranes the Great’s empire. But more to the point I was intrigued by Byrd’s business venture.

‘What sort of office?’ I asked.

‘Of no significance,’ replied Byrd, ‘very modest. It is run by my brother-in-law, Andromachus.’

Malik laughed. ‘Byrd is being too humble. Noora has a keen business mind and while our friend here is away enjoying himself as a scout she has helped to build up his business interests, and now his growing army of camels moves grain, pottery, fruits, wool and linen between Palmyra and Antioch.’

Byrd looked disinterested. ‘I like to keep Noora happy.’

‘Quite right, too,’ said Gallia, smiling at Byrd’s wife.

‘I do not mean to keep Byrd away from you for so long, Noora,’ I said.

‘Part of him will always be a wanderer,’ she replied. ‘In any case he likes to know what is going on far and wide.’

Byrd smiled slyly at me. ‘Andromachus also keeps me informed of developments among the Romani.’

The priest clapping his hands to get everyone’s attention interrupted our conversation. Domitus stood before him and raised his hands.

‘My friends, I have asked you here on the eve of my wedding to bear witness to my paying homage to the god that I have followed ever since I was a young legionary in the army of Rome.’

‘Can you remember that far back?’ shouted Thumelicus. Drenis told him to hush.

‘Though I am to be married tomorrow before another god, I ask Mars to look kindly on me as I embark on a new journey of my life.’

We all clapped his words as the priest spread his arms and raised them to the ceiling. He then prayed to Mars in a deep voice that could be heard clearly despite his veil.

‘Father Mars, I pray and beseech thee that thou be gracious and merciful to Lucius Domitus, his house and his household; that thou keep away, ward off and remove sickness, seen and unseen, barrenness and destruction, ruin and unseasonable influence from him and his loved ones; and that thou permit his harvests, his grain, his vineyards and his plantations to flourish and to come to good issue; preserve in health his shepherds and his flocks, and give good health and strength to him, his house and his household. To this intent, to the intent of purifying his farm, his land, his ground and of making an expiation, as I have said, deign to accept the offering of these suckling victims, Father Mars.’

He turned and nodded to the three butchers who disappeared and then reappeared moments later, bringing the ox, boar and ram into the tent. The priest sprinkled wine and salt over the animals’ heads while the flautist played a rather pleasant tune. Then the priest picked up what looked like a small cake off the floor and sprinkled bits of that on the heads of the animals.

‘That is sacred cake made from flour and salt,’ whispered Byrd.

‘Why the flute?’ asked Gallia, fascinated by the proceedings.

‘To drown out any ill-omened noises. The priest wears a veil to shut out evil influences from his eyes.’

‘He means you, Pacorus,’ said Malik, grinning.

The priest had been mumbling prayers as he anointed the heads of the animals and when he had finished he stepped back and nodded to the three butchers, who each held a mallet in their right hands. In a flash each one struck their beast on the top of the head with it. The animals grunted and their legs buckled by being stunned thus, then the men dropped the mallets and pulled their knives to expertly slit the animals’ throats. Blood gushed on the ground as the beasts collapsed, dead. The butchers then went to work with their knives to disembowel each beast; the priest examining the entrails of each one carefully to see that there was nothing untoward.

‘This is the most important part of ceremony,’ said Byrd. ‘Bad insides mean god not pleased.’

The smell of blood and guts reached my nostrils and I recoiled somewhat. But after a few minutes the priest spread out his hands to us once more.

‘Father Mars has blessed Lucius Domitus and his marriage.’

Afterwards, as the vital organs of the three dead animals were thrown onto a burning brazier to the accompaniment of music from the flautist, we all congratulated Domitus on the auspicious omens. I had never seen him so happy, now secure in the knowledge that his god was smiling on him. I saw Byrd give a large pouch of money to the priest once he had finished consigning the vital organs of the slaughtered animals to the fire and removed his veil. Malik also saw it.

‘The blessings of the gods do not come cheap, it seems.’

As the priest, his flute player and the three butchers, who had also come from Syria, took their leave us of and began the journey back to Antioch with their Agraci escort, Domitus embraced Byrd.

‘Thank you for your most generous gift, my friend,’ said Domitus.

‘Think nothing of it,’ replied Byrd. ‘I glad that you are happy.’

As the tent was dismantled and packed onto a camel, Byrd, Noora and Malik joined us for the journey back to Dura to attend Domitus’ wedding. We travelled with the rest of the Companions and Domitus. Thumelicus, unused to riding, jumped onto his horse’s back and slid off the other side.

‘Pull yourself up using the saddle,’ I told him as Domitus and Kronos, both of them no masters of horsemanship, laughed at him.

After several more attempts and more laughter he eventually managed to hoist himself into the saddle and we began our journey. His large frame looked slightly ridiculous perched on the back of the medium-sized mount of a horse archer, which fortunately had a docile nature. It did not take long, though, for the mischievousness of Thumelicus to surface.

‘So, Domitus, you are to become a Jew?’

‘I am being married by a Jewish priest,’ Domitus replied, ‘but I will not become a Jew.’

‘I have heard that Jewish males have the ends cut off their manhoods.’

Gallia frowned and Noora looked most uncomfortable. Domitus rolled his eyes and shook his head.

‘Begging your pardon, ladies,’ said Thumelicus.

‘The thing is,’ he continued, ‘my gladius is very sharp and you know I am always willing to help out a friend.’

‘Be quiet,’ ordered Domitus.

‘Imagine the shock that Miriam will get tomorrow evening.’

Domitus halted his horse. ‘That’s enough!’

Thumelicus held up his hands and we resumed our journey, Drenis shaking his head and Noora maintaining a stoic silence. We had not gone three hundred paces when Thumelicus continued his ribbing of Domitus.

‘I can do it now if you wish, shouldn’t take more than a few seconds. Mind you, a gladius might be too big. I’ll use my dagger instead.’

He winked at Gallia. ‘It’s a good job that I’m not becoming a Jew, otherwise you would require the services of a two-handed axe. You know what they say about Germans, don’t you?’

‘Yes, their brains are in their balls,’ she replied.

‘Brains?’ said Domitus. ‘I have heard that German brains make grains of sand look large and ungainly. That is why their heads are so thick, they don’t require space for anything else.’

Thumelicus looked hurt. ‘What is this, gang up on Thumelicus day? That’s the thanks you get for trying to help a friend.’

The next day Domitus and Miriam were married under a white canopy in Godarz’s old mansion. I had discussed with Gallia what we should do about the empty residence and it had been she who had suggested giving it to the couple as a wedding gift. Rsan was now the city governor but he had his own mansion and Domitus needed his own home. Technically he was homeless as the headquarters building in the Citadel was a depository for records and filled with offices and the tent that he occupied in camp became mine on campaign, so it made sense that he should have a residence that befitted his high rank. It was a most enjoyable day, made more so when Aaron announced that Rachel was pregnant.

‘You will be a granddad,’ Thumelicus said to Domitus, beaming with delight.

Three weeks later Gallia and I rode with Domitus and Miriam to Palmyra to attend Malik’s wedding. This was an altogether more lavish affair and was attended by all the Agraci lords in Haytham’s kingdom. Palmyra was bustling and full to bursting when we arrived. Haytham had set aside two tents for us near his as the wedding ceremony lasted for a week. The Agraci are a people that favour black for everyday wear but for Malik’s wedding there was a profusion of colours as the lords dressed their best camel riders in red, yellow, orange and blue to take part in the races that took place on a daily basis.

We saw little of Haytham or Malik in the days before the actual ceremony, though Rasha took great delight in informing us what was happening. She was maturing into a beautiful young woman now and was also becoming aware of her status as Haytham’s daughter. She still dressed in leggings and boots but also wore the black robes of her people on her upper body and a black headdress draped around her head and under her chin to cover her throat. She carried the bow that Gallia had given her in its hide case on her saddle with her quiver slung over her shoulder. Behind us rode a dozen Agraci warriors, her permanent bodyguard. The daughter of the king of the Agraci was too important to be allowed to travel without an armed escort, even through the tents of his capital.

She rode a magnificent young black stallion that was obviously bred from the finest stock with his wedge-shaped head, broad forehead, large brown eyes and nostrils and small muzzle. He had the distinctive bulge between his eyes that marked him as a horse of the desert people. Called a jibbah, it gave him additional sinus capacity to help with the dry desert climate.

‘I like your horse, Rasha,’ I said, admiring its compact body with its short back, deep, well-angled hips and laid-back shoulders.

‘It was a gift from my father. He said that he suited my temperament.’

‘What is his name?’ asked Gallia.

‘Asad,’ she replied, ‘which means lion.’

‘Most appropriate,’ I agreed.

We arrived at the tent of Byrd and Noora to discover more large camel corrals in the area behind it and many herders tending to the animals. Byrd’s commercial empire was growing apace.

We spent the next few days in his and his wife’s company, the excited Rasha acting as our guide to the wedding ritual.

‘First Lord Vehrka and my father will sit down with each other and work out the marriage agreement. After that is concluded the bride’s hands and feet will be decorated with henna.’

‘To symbolise beauty, luck and strength,’ added Noora as we ate mansaf — rice covered with stewed lamb cooked in a sauce made from dried yoghurt — with our fingers from huge metal dishes.

‘One day your friends will be painting your hands and feet, Rasha,’ said Noora.

Rasha screwed up her face. ‘I am going to be an Amazon and ride beside Gallia in battle. Is that not correct, Gallia?’

Gallia smiled at her. ‘Let us not talk of war at the time of your brother’s marriage, Rasha.’

I leaned over and kissed my wife on the cheek. ‘A most diplomatic answer.’

I knew that in two summers’ time Haytham would be looking for a husband for his daughter, no doubt the young son of one of his lords. But for the moment all eyes were on his son, and with the successful conclusion of the negotiations between the two fathers the week culminated with the Al Ardha, a war dance performed by dozens of warriors with swords and whips, after which the guests presented Malik and his bride with gifts in celebration of their union. Dura’s gift was a thousand camels that Rsan thought was excessive, but both Gallia and I believed it to be the least we could give in view of Malik’s service to us.

We stood next to Vehrka as thousands of Agraci watched their prince and his new wife leave for the desert to spend some time alone together, and hopefully their intimacy would not be spoiled by the three hundred warriors, fifty camel riders and three score servants that accompanied them. Malik and Jamal rode on a pair of richly attired camels, and Jamal’s had silver bells round its ankles.

‘They make a handsome pair, lord,’ I said to Vehrka as we watched the royal couple and their entourage ride into the desert south of Palmyra.

‘Your shipments all reach their destination without harm,’ he said, keeping his eyes on the long line of camels diminishing in size on the horizon.

‘I am sure they do, lord, though that was not my immediate concern.’

He regarded me out of the corner of his eye. ‘Of course it was. That’s the only reason you came over to stand by me. Well, as I said, the shipments all reach their destination.’

I was slightly taken aback by his brusque manner, but then he was an Agraci lord and they were not known for their diplomacy.

‘It is good that we aid our allies, lord.’

He looked at me with a bemused expression. ‘Allies? I don’t care if the Jews live or die, Parthians too for that matter. It is a business arrangement, that is all.’

‘And a lucrative one,’ I added.

‘For you too,’ he said, ‘unless you are doing it out of the goodness of your heart.’

‘Of course not.’

‘How long will you be sending weapons to the Jews?’ he asked.

‘A few more months yet.’

‘And you hope that they will slaughter the Romans and save you the trouble.’

He really was quite perceptive. ‘I hope that they are able to win their freedom.’

He curled his lip. ‘Only the strong have freedom. The weak and the vanquished do not deserve it. It has always been so.’

There was little point in pursuing this line of conversation so I went back to his daughter’s new husband.

‘Malik is your new son, Vehrka.’

‘He is a brave warrior and will produce many fine sons. I hear that you have no sons.’

‘The gods decreed it thus,’ I replied.

He looked at Gallia. ‘Your child-bearing years are over.’

She bristled at his effrontery. ‘That is an impertinent question. I assume your balls are withered like your face.’

His eyes narrowed for an instant then he smiled at her. ‘I meant no offence, lady. But a man should have sons, especially a great warrior like your husband.’

She sneered at him and then stomped off. I made to follow her but Vehrka grabbed my shirt.

‘I have two more young daughters, very fertile, should you wish for a new queen.’

‘A most generous offer, lord, but I could never leave my queen.’

‘Women are put on the earth to bear children, nothing more. When they can no longer do that then they become worthless. Think on my offer and visit my camp some time. It would be a great honour for one of my daughters to bear the sons of a famous warlord such as yourself.’

He looked at Gallia walking away from us.

‘But come alone next time.’

After Malik’s departure we too left Palmyra and headed back to Dura, and a month later we were in Babylon for the wedding of Orodes and Axsen. Gallia was very happy during this time as the marriage meant that she could be with Praxima and the rest of the surviving Amazons once more. Viper had risen to be Gallia’s second-in-command now, a position that never failed to amuse me, as she still resembled a teenage girl with her small breasts and lithe figure. She rarely heard from Surena, none of us did, but both Vata and Atrax sent me frequent messages that they had regularly supplied his men in Gordyene so at least he was still alive. He had been in the kingdom for nearly a year now and I was considering recalling him; after all, twelve months was long enough for a husband to be separated from his wife, and Gallia did not wish Viper to go to Gordyene and live like ‘a beggar among a bunch of thieves’ as she so eloquently put it. But all that could wait until after the wedding.

I was delighted to discover that the city of Babylon had been transformed since the last time I visited it. The refugees had been persuaded or coerced to return to their villages and the streets and buildings had been cleaned and repaired. The stench that had hung over the buildings had also disappeared and the spring melt waters of the Euphrates had washed away much of the debris that had clogged the river. The area around the city where the armies had conducted the two recent sieges was still largely flat and barren, but at least the replanting of crops and trees had begun. In addition, both my father and Nergal had sent additional troops to Axsen’s kingdom to strengthen its garrisons. Seleucia was still occupied by the soldiers of Mithridates and pointed like a dagger at Babylon but there was nothing that could be done about that at the moment. However, Mardonius reported that there had been no hostile activity along the Tigris.

I met with him, Orodes and Nergal one morning when the old commander took us on a tour of the city’s defences. Like most Parthian kingdoms Babylon had a city garrison comprising spearmen and archers, though Mardonius also commanded a large detachment of slingers. The spearmen who guarded the walls and gates of the city were dressed in purple trousers, purple tunics that covered their arms and ended just above their knees and wore turbans on their heads. They carried wicker shields, six-foot-long spears and long knives. Adequate for defending Babylon’s high walls that were protected by a deep moat, they were poor battlefield troops. Still, they had defeated two sieges so I commended the commander of the Marduk Gate when we encountered him. It was the same officer I had met following the second siege. He had looked gaunt and tired then but now he was well fed and full of energy and showed off his men to me enthusiastically. All their spears had whetted points and their uniforms were spotless.

‘The soldiers of the garrison appear reinvigorated,’ I said to Mardonius, who was now walking with the aid of a stick. Out of politeness I did not inquire if it was the result of a wound or old age.

‘We have the arrival of Prince Orodes to thank for that,’ he smiled at Orodes.

‘You are too kind,’ replied Orodes. ‘I have merely assisted when I can.’

‘Word is,’ said Nergal, ‘that the lords in Susiana and in the kingdoms in the east of the empire are unhappy with Mithridates and his lord high general. They have lost many sons and subjects these past two years.’

‘So has Babylon,’ remarked Mardonius grimly.

All of us present knew that a third invasion of Babylon would probably finish the kingdom for good. Though the Silk Road ran from Seleucia through the Kingdom of Babylon the dues raised from the caravans were insufficient to pay for the rebuilding of Axsen’s realm. The only way that would be possible was to capture the royal treasury at Ctesiphon, and that meant in turn taking Seleucia first, which meant plunging the empire into a fresh war.

‘Well,’ I said, ‘at least Babylon has Mesenian and Hatran troops on its territory to reinforce its own army.’

I had sent Marcus and a contingent of engineers to Babylon at the turn of the year to assist in the rebuilding of the irrigation systems that had been damaged during the last siege. The next day I found him standing on the edge of one of the many canals that emanated from the Euphrates. He looked like a vagrant dressed in his wide-brimmed floppy hat and dirty tunic. He was surrounded by a score of workers carrying spades and picks. I waited until he had finished briefing them and then walked over when they had dispersed.

‘You look like a poor farmer, Marcus.’

He raised his arm in salute after the Roman fashion. ‘Yes, sir, though master dredger would be a more accurate description.’

He took off his hat and wiped his crown with a cloth for it was a hot day.

‘How is it going?’

‘Slowly. The damage done to the irrigation system can be repaired easily enough, but some of these canals are over a thousand years old so people tell me. The farmers and villages cannot hope to maintain such an old system efficiently. I have suggested to the queen that she establish an irrigation corps to maintain the whole system.’

He pointed at the river and then moved his arm to encompass the surrounding countryside.

‘Weirs and diversion dams are what we need to create reservoirs to supply canals that can carry water far into the countryside. That and a small army of dredgers to prevent the new canals and the old ones from silting up.’

I was impressed. ‘You have been busy.’

‘The queen and Orodes have accepted my ideas. I like her and she’s clever.’

‘In what way?’

‘To build a new irrigation system and raise the manpower to maintain it on a permanent basis will be expensive, so she approached her high priest.’

‘Nabu?’

‘Yes, that’s him,’ he replied. ‘Face like a caravan dog chewing a wasp. Anyway, he has agreed to fund the project from the temple treasury.’

I thought that highly unlikely. ‘He has?’

‘Of course, more irrigation means more crops, which means more tribute for his temple. These religious types are all the same: as long as their temples are full of worshippers paying tribute they are happy enough.’

Nabu appeared to be positively beaming during the time preceding Axsen’s marriage to Orodes. The city was a blaze of colour with painted statues of horned bulls along the Processional Way, purple flags flying from the temples and palace, and a great stream of people flocking to his temple to offer their gifts to Marduk. In the days before the ceremony the huge palace compound was filled by the arrival of other kings and their retinues. My mother and father arrived with Gafarn and Diana, plus Diana’s young son and the boy Spartacus. Vistaspa and my father’s bodyguard camped outside the city, as did the retinues of Atrax, Aschek and Nergal. I think Axsen found it all a bit overwhelming but Orodes was the perfect host, welcoming the kings and their wives and making time for all of them.

The day before the wedding my father invited Gallia and me to a family meeting in a wing of the palace that had been set aside for him. It was the first time in years that my sisters and I had been all together in one place. Adeleh was still smiling as she hugged Gallia and then me, happy in the knowledge that the next wedding she would be attending would be her own. Aliyeh, now Queen of Media, was polite, aloof, serious and icy in equal measure in contrast to her husband who was gracious and friendly. Aliyeh blamed me for the fact that her husband walked with a limp and thought me a bad influence on him. Gallia also knew what Aliyeh thought of me and the greeting between the two was uncomfortable to say the least. After their curt embrace, Gallia threw her arms around Diana.

We sat on couches as slaves served us wine and food and we smiled politely at each other. After a while, though, the atmosphere became oppressive.

‘This is nice,’ said my mother, trying to lighten the mood as Gallia and Aliyeh stared unblinking at each other.

‘How are the Armenians, father?’ I asked.

‘Quiet, thanks be to Shamash.’

‘We should have settled affairs with them last year, then they would be even quieter.’

‘We do not need more war, Pacorus,’ said Aliyeh. ‘Media needs peace to repair the damage visited upon it last year, which also claimed the life of its king.’

‘Of course, I meant no offence, Atrax,’ I said. ‘We all grieve for your father.’

My father nodded gravely and my mother wiped away a tear. They had been good friends of Farhad. My father looked at me.

‘Hatra has been hearing stories from Gordyene, of an undeclared war being fought within its borders. Do you know anything of this, Pacorus?’

I felt distinctly uncomfortable. He obviously knew something, but how much?

‘Gordyene is Armenian,’ I replied evasively.

My father smiled knowingly. ‘Then let me ask you another question. Do you know of a man named Surena, who appears to share the same name as one of your commanders that accompanied you to Hatra last year?’

I saw Atrax blush and shift uncomfortably. My father looked at him and then at me. I felt my cheeks burning.

‘I see that you do. You play a dangerous game, Pacorus, and were it not for the fact that you aided me last year I would order you to recall this adventurer, this bandit, who fights on my eastern border. Hatra wants no war with the Armenians.’

‘And neither does Media,’ added Aliyeh, speaking for Atrax and out of turn.

Gordyene lay to the north of Media, just across the Shahar Chay River.

‘If the Armenians are occupied in Gordyene they will not trouble Hatra or Media,’ I answered.

‘Do you not think that you should have consulted Hatra and Media before you launched your private war, and Atropaiene for that matter?’

‘I quite agree,’ added Aliyeh.

‘Be quite, Aliyeh,’ snapped Atrax.

‘Can we all try to be civilised?’ implored my mother. ‘This is the first time we have all been together in an age. I will have no more talk of war, Varaz, and that goes for you too, Pacorus.’

So we sat picking at sweet cakes and pastries and indulging in polite conversation about children, weddings and the weather, all the time Aliyeh glaring at me, Gallia glaring at her and my father regarding me with suspicious eyes.

The wedding was an altogether more enjoyable affair, the streets full of cheering and happy people and Babylon’s finest attired in bright colours and dripping with gold and silver jewellery. The road from the palace to the Marduk Temple was carpeted with flowers and garlands and on either side had been placed silver altars heaped with perfumes. Cages on wooden plinths held leopard and lions, which roared with anger as small children with sticks tried to poke them. We walked from the palace to the temple, the crowds being kept at bay by ranks of purple-clad spearmen who lined the route. The sun shone in a clear-blue sky and white doves released by the sensual followers of Ishtar flew over us as we followed the royal couple to the temple.

Axsen and Orodes both wore long purple robes as they led the procession, Nabu walking a few paces in front of them, a great white and gold mitre on his head and jewels entwined in his beard. Axsen had strips of gold in her hair and gold on her fingers, but both she and Orodes walked barefoot to the temple on a strip of rose petals that had been painstakingly laid out earlier by a host of palace slaves. The bride and bridegroom each wore a gold necklace with pendants of amethyst to protect against nightmares, thieves, hail, locusts, plagues and infidelity; red coral to ward off evil; and rubies to safeguard them against evil and the dangers of storms and floods.

I walked with Gallia, Praxima, Nergal, Gafarn and Diana. It was good to be in the company of old friends and I felt relaxed and happy. Though our time in Italy seemed like yesterday we had all aged to a lesser or greater degree, me most of all I think. Gafarn’s thin frame had padded out somewhat since he had been my slave, too many palace feasts no doubt, though he certainly looked more regal with his neatly cropped beard. Diana looked remarkably similar to when I had first met her on the slopes of Mount Vesuvius and had effortlessly slipped into the lifestyle of a Parthian princess. Ahead of us my father and mother were walking with Atrax, Aliyeh and Adeleh, the young Spartacus ambling along with them, his long black hair around his broad shoulders.

‘I can see his mother in him,’ said Gallia.

‘That is what I tell everyone,’ agreed Diana, ‘but Gafarn only sees his father’s frame.’

‘It’s hard to miss,’ I added. ‘He must be as tall as I am now. How old is he now, thirteen?’

‘He will begin his training as a squire in our father’s bodyguard next year,’ said Gafarn. ‘Four years after that he will be a cataphract. Diana and I have great hopes for him.’

‘You think he will make a good soldier?’ I asked.

‘He is his father’s son,’ replied Gafarn. ‘He does not take to discipline readily, but if he can cure his headstrong nature he will make an excellent soldier.’

‘What does he know of his father and mother?’ asked Gallia.

‘We have always told him who his parents were,’ said Diana, ‘but he never knew them so it is difficult for him. He does not talk about them. I think he is embarrassed that they were slaves.’

‘He sees himself very much as a Parthian noble,’ said Gafarn, ‘which is what he is, I suppose. He seems to have inherited his father’s dislike of the Romans, though. Perhaps it is a Thracian trait.’

‘What news of the Romans, Pacorus?’ asked Nergal.

‘Crassus and Pompey and another are still dividing up Rome between them, I believe,’ I said. ‘So for the moment all is quiet to the west.’

‘It will not remain so, lord,’ said Praxima, her hair still red and wild. ‘The Romans are always hungry for more land.’

‘You are right, Praxima’ I agreed. ‘When they come I will send for you and we can fight them together.’

‘Like the old days, lord,’ she beamed.

‘Yes, like the old days.’

As we followed Axsen and Orodes through the entrance into the temple young Spartacus turned and nodded to me. I smiled and nodded back before he disappeared into the cavernous structure whose walls were covered with gold leaf.

It may have been large but inside there was hardly any space to spare that day. The temple’s vast numbers of clergy were in attendance in their robes, all gathered around their high priest as he chanted prayers before Axsen and Orodes. As well as priests the temple employed numerous musicians, singers, magicians, soothsayers, diviners, dream interpreters, astrologers and slaves. The air was pungent with the scent of frankincense as we were shown to the front of the congregation to witness the marriage ceremony, row upon row of the kingdom’s nobility behind us. To one side of the altar stood a score of priestesses from the Temple of Ishtar, scanty white tops barely covering their breasts and short white silk dresses that hung from their shapely hips to above their knees, their feet bare and their beautiful young bodies oiled and glistening. I saw Afrand standing beside Nabu in front of the altar, her long hair oiled and dark make-up around her eyes that gave her a feline appearance. Her top was even sparser than those worn by her priestesses, her ample breasts threatening to liberate themselves at any moment.

The temple was decorated with flowers, plants and candles and set upon the altar was a pot of burning incense and charcoal, a cup of water, a bowl holding grain and another containing oil.

As the singers ended their rather hypnotic hymn Nabu raised his hands to the ceiling and his voice resonated over the heads of the assembly.

‘Great Marduk, defender of Babylon and all things true and just in the world, we ask you to bless your servants, Orodes and Axsen, who have come to your temple to be joined in marriage in your great presence. May they be welcome.’

As one the priests and priestesses said ‘we welcome you both’.

Nabu then turned to the altar and held the palms of his hands over the incense, the cup of water and the vessels of grain and oil.

‘May these elements of water, fire, earth, air and ether be hallowed for this ceremony.’

He took the cup of water and dipped his middle finger in the liquid, then marked Orodes and Axsen on the forehead.

‘Through this water from a holy well may true vision awaken in each brow.’

Nabu turned and took the pot of incense from the altar and handed it to Orodes and Axsen.

‘Together you shall hold a pot of fire so you may use your will for good.’

Having both held the pot they returned it to Nabu.

‘How long does this go on for?’ whispered Gafarn. ‘My knees are starting to ache.’

Diana put a finger to her lips to still him.

Nabu, holding the pot of incense before him, nodded to Afrand who took the cup of water and offered it to Orodes and Axsen. They dipped a finger in the liquid and let a few drops fall into the pot of incense.

‘Water is now added to fire,’ said Nabu, ‘so that calm emotion can harmonise with will. Now let the element of air, symbol of the mind, combine with water and fire.’

Nabu handed the pot of incense back to the couple so that they could they hold it aloft and move it about to allow the smoke to circulate freely. Then they handed it back to Nabu.

‘Strength and abundance from the fruitful earth,’ continued Nabu, ‘must now be added through these grains of oats.’

Afrand took the pot of grain from the altar and held it out to Orodes and Axsen who each took some and then dropped them into the pot of incense.

‘Ether,’ said Nabu, ‘through this oil, blends water, earth, fire and air to find harmony.’

‘I’ll need some of that ether to revive me if this goes on much longer,’ muttered Gafarn. I had to stifle a laugh and Nergal was grinning.

‘Gafarn, be quiet,’ hissed Diana. My father turned round and frowned at us.

Nabu placed the pot of incense back on the altar and then he and Afrand placed their hands and feet against the bare feet and hands of Orodes and Axsen respectively. Axsen then laid her head on Orodes’ shoulder who now spoke.

‘I am the son of nobles. Silver and gold shall fill your lap. You shall be my wife and I shall be your husband, and like the fruit of a garden I shall give you offspring.’

The priests held out their hands and were handed pairs of sandals by their subordinates. Nabu and Afrand then slipped the sandals on the feet of the royal couple, kissing their insteps.

I smiled as my friends were married and then heard a woman’s voice. ‘The gods are with you, Pacorus. Your faith has been rewarded.’

I turned to Gallia. ‘What did you say?’ I whispered. She looked at me in confusion.

‘I did not say anything.’

I heard the voice again. ‘We are always with you, little one.’

I glanced left and right and saw only the faces of my friends looking forward. I looked up and then behind me but saw nothing untoward. Nabu and Afrand had now risen to their feet and the former faced the congregation and held his arms aloft. Once more his deep voice filled the temple.

‘May Orodes like a farmer till the fields.

May he like a good shepherd make the folds teem.

May there be vines under him, may there be barley under him.

In the river, may there be carp-floods.

In the fields, may there be late barley.

In the marshes, may fishes and birds chatter.

In the canebrake, may dry and fresh reeds grow.

In the high desert, may shrubs grow.

In the forests, may deer and wild goats multiply.

May the watered garden produce honey and wine.

In the vegetable furrows may the lettuce and the cress grow high.

In the palace may there be long life.

May the Tigris and the Euphrates bring high-riding waters.

On their banks may the grass grow high, may they fill the meadows.

May holy Nisaba pile high the heaps of grain.

O, My Lady Axsen, May he spend long days in your holy lap!

Let all here assembled know that the Great Marduk has blessed this union and that Queen Axsen and King Orodes are united in marriage. All hail to Marduk.’

The congregation replied ‘hail’ and then the singers began reciting another melodious song to the accompaniment of flutes and harps. Nabu gestured to the newlyweds that they should now seek the blessing of Marduk and so they disappeared into the holy of holies before reappearing to make their way back to the palace and their new life. Thus began the reign of Orodes and Axsen of Babylon.

Afterwards we attended the great feast at the palace where jugglers, acrobats, contortionists and magicians entertained us while we ate. The palace kitchens had prepared enough food to feed the thousand people who sat at the tables in the vast banqueting hall. And outside the palace the generosity of Axsen allowed her people to feast on freshly grilled goat, mutton and pork from stalls set up on every street corner throughout the city. They could also purchase roasted beef if they wished, though as cattle were usually slaughtered at the end of their lives the meat could be rather stringy. The wedding guests feasted on gazelle, duck, fish and pigeon, all seasoned with herbs including coriander, cumin, fennel, fenugreek, mint, mustard, saffron and thyme. I had to smile when slaves offered porridge with dates on large silver platters, which had been considered a delicacy in Babylon for hundreds of years. The city’s nobility would be taken aback if they learned that porridge was the staple diet of my legionaries.

We sat on the top table with Axsen and Orodes, the newlyweds separating myself, Gallia, Nergal and Praxima from my father and mother, Atrax, Aliyeh, Gafarn, Diana and Adeleh, and thus preventing any uncomfortableness. Young Spartacus looking bored was at the end of the table next to Adeleh. Both Axsen and Orodes wore jewel-encrusted gold crowns on their heads and during the feast Mardonius presented Orodes with King Vardan’s old sword, the pommel of which was a gold gauw. I was pleased that he at last wore a crown for Orodes deserved to be a king and would be a just and noble ruler.

I began to relax and chat with Nergal and Praxima while Gallia giggled with Orodes and Axsen. She was very smug, believing with some justification that she had engineered their romance. Both wine and beer flowed in abundance and the level of noise increased in direct proportion to the amount of alcohol that was consumed. Wine had been almost unknown in Babylon until quite recently, the ancients preferring beer, but later generations had become acquainted with the agreeable produce of the grape following Alexander of Macedon’s destruction of the Persian Empire.

I thought about the words that I had heard in the temple, or what I thought I had heard. There was so much incense being burned that my senses had obviously been dulled. A slave filled my golden rhyton with more wine and I leaned forward to catch Orodes’ eye. I raised the vessel to him.

‘To you, my friend, may your rule be long and peaceful.’

He smiled and nodded, then frowned after something else caught his eye. I looked to where he was staring and saw a scruffy looking man at the entrance to the hall. Dressed in beige baggy leggings and a dirty purple tunic, he was a soldier of Babylon’s army and stood clutching something in his hand as one of the guards at the entrance pointed towards Orodes and Axsen, and then escorted him through the tables towards us. The loud chatter and laughter continued as the two threaded their way among now drunken nobles and their gaudily dressed wives and concubines. When he arrived at the top table he went down on one knee before Axsen and Orodes. My interested father leaned forward, as did Gafarn. Mardonius, seated on the table immediately in front of ours with his senior officers and their wives, stood up as Orodes commanded the soldier to rise.

‘Forgive me, highness,’ he said, looking left and right at us all at the table. ‘I have a message for King Pacorus of Dura.’

All eyes were now upon me as Orodes pointed to me.

‘You had better give it to him, then.’

The man walked over and bowed his head to me, keeping his eyes down as he extended his right hand and proffered the rolled parchment that had a wax seal. I stood and took it, going to break the seal but then stopping when I recognised that it bore the lion of Gordyene. What nonsense was this?

‘Is there something wrong, Pacorus?’ asked a now slightly concerned Orodes. My father also wore a look of curiosity. As I broke the seal I looked up and saw that all eyes in the hall were now upon me and all chatter had stopped. I unrolled the parchment and read the words, re-reading them as the significance of what they revealed dawned on me.

‘This cannot be,’ I said.

I read the words on the parchment again as Orodes and my father rose to their feet, followed by everyone else at the top table.

‘The gods are with you, Pacorus. Your faith has been rewarded.’

Still clutching the letter in my hand I left the dais and walked to stand before Orodes and Axsen, both of whom were wearing perplexed expressions. I knelt before them.

‘The gods have blessed your marriage, my friends, for they have sent me word that Gordyene is Parthian once more.’

I rose and smiled at them, then handed Orodes the letter. My father looked at my mother and then Gafarn, who raised an eyebrow at him.

‘What is this?’ asked my father.

‘This,’ I answered, pointing at the parchment that Orodes now handed to Axsen, ‘is a letter sent from Vanadzor, the capital of Gordyene.’

‘I know where it is,’ he replied.

‘But what you do not know, father, is that Surena now occupies the city and indeed the whole kingdom.’

‘Surena has liberated Gordyene?’ Orodes may have read the words but still dared not believe them.

‘It is true, my friend,’ I said, ‘I recognise the seal on the letter. There was no way Surena could have used it unless he had possession of the palace in Vanadzor.’

My mother smiled at me and then hugged my father, then began to cry. She and King Balas had been very close and his death had upset her deeply, compounded by the subsequent conquest of his kingdom by the Romans and their handing it over to the Armenians. Atrax was similarly delighted as it meant that his kingdom would no longer be subjected to Armenian raids. He held his wife’s face in his hands and kissed her on the lips, which somewhat mortified her. Around us a general hubbub arose as the news was conveyed to each table. Mardonius came up to me and bowed his head.

‘Hail to you, majesty, for making this possible.’

‘Yes, Pacorus,’ said Axsen, ‘hail to you for returning the Kingdom of Gordyene to the Parthian Empire.’

Orodes held his arms aloft and the commotion died away. He raised his drinking vessel.

‘To King Pacorus, liberator of Gordyene.’

The guests raised their cups and toasted me, then began banging their hands on the tables and shouting ‘Pacorus, Pacorus’, as they acclaimed me. I turned and raised my hands to them, allowing myself a moment to bask in the glory. Then I composed myself and remembered that I had done nothing. This was Surena’s victory. I raised my hands again to still to noise.

‘I thank you for your kindness but this triumph does not belong to me but to another and it would be unjust of me to steal his glory.’

But they would have none of it and began chanting my name once more as I retook my seat.

‘This is Surena’s victory,’ I shouted to Orodes above the din.

‘They have not heard of him but they have heard of you, Pacorus,’ he said. ‘What will you do now?’

‘I do not understand?’

He smiled. ‘Surena has freed Gordyene but he is still under your command. Will you take the kingdom for yourself as Balas left no heirs to inherit his throne?’

It was a question that my father also wanted an answer to when he requested my presence in his quarters the day after the feast.

He was in a frosty mood as Gallia and I sat down with him and my mother, Gafarn and Diana. As slaves fussed around and cleared away the breakfast they had all enjoyed in the small garden, Diana’s young son, Pacorus, played with young Spartacus, waving his small wooden sword at the elder boy and screaming with delight at the top of his voice. My father shouted at him to be quiet, earning him a rebuke from Diana and a scowl from Gafarn. My mother played the role of diplomat and asked the steward who attended Hatra’s royal party to take the boys to see the animals in the palace zoo. Diana warned the boys not to put their hands near the cages and told the steward not to allow any harm to come to them.

I smiled at the boys as they were led away by the steward and two male palace slaves dressed in purple tunics and black belts. Other slaves offered Gallia and me fruit juice after we had kissed my mother and Diana and sat on plush couches arranged near the ornamental pond filled with large goldfish.

I smiled at my father. ‘This is all very pleasant.’

‘You intend to claim Gordyene for yourself?’ he asked, his eyes boring into me.

‘Straight and to the point,’ I answered.

‘Father is in no mood for idle chatter,’ remarked Gafarn as my father brushed away a slave proffering juice in a jug.

‘I can see that,’ I said.

‘You have not answered my question,’ pressed my father.

I sighed half-heartedly. ‘I have not given the matter much thought. Surena is a good man. He will hold the kingdom until I have decided what is to be done with it.’

My father clenched the sides of his couch, his knuckles turning white.

‘Who is this man, this Surena?’

Gallia’s answer served only to increase his agitation. ‘A simple boy from the great marshlands that lie south of the city of Uruk. Pacorus found him and brought him back to Dura. He was his squire.’

My father rose from his couch and began pacing — always a bad sign.

‘A squire? A squire is in charge of Gordyene?’

‘Calm yourself, father,’ I said. ‘This squire has risen to become the commander of Dura’s horse archers, and has, since I sent him to Gordyene last year, apparently managed to defeat the Armenians and expel them from Balas’ old kingdom.’

‘Not bad for a squire,’ agreed Gafarn. ‘He’s not related to that sorceress of yours, is he?’

My mother shook her head at Gafarn but my father did not see the amusing side of the matter.

‘The Armenians will not take kindly to this.’

‘Indeed,’ I agreed.

My father stopped pacing and looked at me. ‘Is this what it is about, to provoke the Armenians so you can have the battle that you were denied last year?’

I too now rose to my feet. ‘No, father. It is about returning the Kingdom of Gordyene to the Parthian Empire where it belongs.’

‘Behind the Armenians stand the Romans, Pacorus,’ said Gafarn, suddenly looking serious.

‘And Hatra lies next to Gordyene,’ added my father.

‘If the Armenians, or the Romans for that matter,’ I replied, ‘attempt to retake Gordyene then they will at the very least be preoccupied with a campaign against Vanadzor. Hatra will not be high on their list of priorities.’

My father was not convinced. ‘It will be if they decided to march from Zeugma across the north of my kingdom to get at Gordyene instead of via Armenia.’

‘In which case, father, I will attack Syria in retaliation.’

Gallia looked at me with surprise for it was the first time that I had given any intimation of aggression against Syria. But Surena had changed everything by freeing Gordyene. No longer would the Armenians be able to launch raids against Hatra or Media using it as a base, and nor would the Romans be able to use it as a base from which to make further inroads into the empire. Better than that, Gordyene itself might be used as a base to attack Armenia should the need arise, and of course my father did not know that I was arming the Jews in Judea who would rise against the Romans in the coming months. Rome would have more than enough to occupy itself with in the near future.

‘Have you forgotten about Mithridates?’ asked my father.

I have to confess that in all the excitement I had. ‘Of course not,’ I replied. ‘What of him?’

‘He may have been thwarted in his plans to destroy his enemies, but he is still king of kings and will be seeking revenge next year.’

I smiled. ‘The liberation of Gordyene will allow us to settle affairs with Mithridates without you having to worry about your northern border.’

‘And the Romans?’ asked Gafarn.

‘The Romans are preoccupied with their own internal affairs,’ I answered. ‘We do not need to worry about them.’

‘You seem very certain of all this, Pacorus,’ mused my mother.

‘The Romans above all respect strength,’ I answered, ‘if they respect anything at all. Evicting the Armenians from Gordyene will send a clear message to Rome that Parthia is not weak but strong.’

My father retook his couch. ‘You still have not informed us what the status of Gordyene will be now that you, or should I say your commander, has conquered it.’

‘Gordyene will be under Duran control until I decide what its future shall be. In the meantime I shall visit Vanadzor to convey my gratitude to Surena for the great service he has done the empire.’

‘And I shall be coming with you,’ declared my father.

I stayed at Babylon for another two days, during which time I informed Orodes and Axsen of my intention to ride north. In contrast to my father they were both delighted that Gordyene was a kingdom of the empire once again, Axsen because Balas had been an old friend and ally of her father and Orodes because a Parthian Gordyene appealed to his sense of correctness concerning the status of kingdoms within the empire. Gordyene had been conquered by a foreign power and that had aggrieved him deeply. With the old molester of children Darius at Zeugma it had been different. He had become a client king of Rome in exchange for an uninterrupted supply of young girls and boys. I think Orodes was not alone in thinking that the empire was better off without such immoral individuals. Atrax was also delighted about Gordyene, not least because it meant that his kingdom would no longer be subjected to cross-border raids. He too decided to ride north with my father and me, though thankfully his wife stayed at Babylon. Gallia declared that she too would remain in the city. I think she wanted to be with Diana and Praxima for as long as possible, and she also had no interest in congratulating Surena. In all the years he had been with us she had never taken to him, tolerating him only because he was the husband of Viper.

‘I shall make him governor of the province,’ I told her on the morning of my departure.

She was unimpressed. ‘Someone of greater status should be the governor of a province. Someone like Domitus.’

‘Domitus would hate being away from Dura. In any case I need him with the army for the campaign against Mithridates.’

‘What about Kronos, then? He might like being nearer to Pontus, his homeland.’

I buckled my sword belt. ‘Gordyene is around four hundred miles from Pontus. Besides, I also need him to command the Exiles. You will just have to accept that Surena has exceeded all expectations. He deserves to rule the land that he has liberated.’

‘He will rule it in your name,’ she corrected me.

I picked up my helmet and inspected its white goose feather crest.

‘A governor should also have his wife beside him,’ I said casually.

She spun round. ‘Viper?’

‘Yes, they have been apart for far too long and now it is only right that she should travel with me to be at her husband’s side.’

Her eyes narrowed as she regarded me. Gallia protected her Amazons fiercely and resented any interference in their affairs. However, now Surena was going to be a governor Viper was going to be a governor’s wife and could no longer be part of the queen’s bodyguard.

‘She is not yours to command,’ she snapped.

‘She cannot remain in your bodyguard while her husband is a governor, or satrap, of a province of the empire. It is a high position that I am bestowing on him and, de facto, his wife,’ I shot back.

‘She should be consulted at least.’

I saw no reason why I, a king, should consult a mere girl in my queen’s bodyguard. But I could tell that Gallia’s temper was starting to arouse itself and as I had no desire to part from her on bad terms I agreed that Viper should be consulted. And so we walked to the throne room while Gallia summoned Viper from the palace barracks. We had to say our farewells to Orodes and Axsen anyway so I suppose it made sense to kill two birds with one stone, so to speak.

Orodes and Axsen were already sitting on their thrones upon the dais as a steady stream of people entered the throne room to begin the morning’s proceedings. Mardonius, dignified as ever, took his place to the right of the dais though Axsen ordered a chair to be brought for him to save his aged knees. My father, mother and Adeleh came to pay their respects and to bid the newlyweds farewell, as did Gafarn and Diana who would be travelling back to Hatra with my mother, my sister and their two boys. Next to appear were Nergal and Praxima and then Atrax and Aliyeh, the latter looking contemptuously upon the king and queen of Mesene. It was difficult for a former pampered princess of Hatra to accept that a woman who had been a slave could wear a crown like herself. I had to laugh at such a notion; crowns were nothing but pieces of metal. It was the swords and bows behind a crown that were more important.

Finally Viper appeared dressed in her mail shirt, leggings and boots. Her short-cropped hair and girlish face making her seem as though she had stolen her clothes from an adult. But she was no child and knew how to use the sword that hung from her hip. She bowed to Axsen, Orodes, Gallia and me and ignored everyone else.

‘We welcome you, Viper,’ said a smiling Axsen.

Viper smiled back. Axsen was a friend of Gallia’s, which made her a friend of every Amazon, and my wife’s warriors also liked Orodes who had fought by their side for many years.

‘Before I take my leave of your majesties,’ I said to Axsen and Orodes, ‘I have something to say to Viper.’

My father sighed irritably. He thought the idea of the Amazons complete nonsense and was also clearly impatient to be away. My mother froze him with a stare.

‘Of course,’ said Orodes politely, ‘we are all interested in the affairs of the Amazons.’

Aliyeh rolled her eyes but Atrax was most intrigued.

‘You will have heard,’ I said to Viper, ‘that Surena has liberated the kingdom of Gordyene.’

‘Yes, majesty,’ she replied with pride.

‘I intend to make your husband the governor of the kingdom, Viper.’

My father suddenly became very interested in what I was saying.

‘And I would like you to accompany me north so you can be a governor’s wife.’

Viper looked at Gallia who nodded.

‘Yes, majesty,’ beamed Viper.

‘This is most excellent,’ said Axsen as Viper hugged Gallia, Diana, and Praxima and then bowed to Axsen and Orodes before scampering away to prepare for the journey.

‘So Gordyene becomes a part of the Kingdom of Dura,’ said my father.

‘For the moment, father.’

‘Gordyene will need a king, Pacorus,’ said Orodes. ‘It was a self-governing kingdom and should be again.’

‘I quite agree, lord king,’ I replied. ‘But until a suitable candidate is found I think it is safe under Surena’s governorship.’

We left two hours later, a long column of my father’s bodyguard, Atrax’s two hundred horse archers and my own hundred horsemen. Thankfully my father’s bodyguard also rode as horse archers and left their camels and squires behind and so we covered around nearly thirty miles a day to arrive at Gordyene’s southern border, the Shahar Chay River, ten days after we had left Babylon. Messages had been sent ahead to announce our visit and thus at the frontier we were greeted by Silaces and a thousand horse archers. There was a stiff northerly breeze behind him that showed the banner of the four-pointed star, the flag of Elymais, to full effect and I thought I saw my father nod approvingly when he saw it.

We walked our horses across the shallow river and entered Gordyene, the land of tree-covered mountains, mountain steppes and lakes, and lush, deep valleys and fast-flowing rivers. The kingdom of great forests of beech, oak, pine and peach; home to bears, deer, wild bore and wildcats. Higher on the rocky slopes were mountain leopards and white panthers. It was also an ancient land where wheat had been first been cultivated twelve thousand years ago, and where Alexander of Macedon had discovered the apricot and had sent it back to Greece. And now it was Parthian once more.

Silaces’ men lined the far riverbank and he bowed his head to us as we exited the water.

‘Greetings, majesties.’

‘It is good to see you again, Silaces,’ I said to him.

‘And you, majesty. Surena waits for you at Vanadzor.’

The new governor would undoubtedly have met us at the border had he known that his wife was with us, though it took us only two more days to reach Vanadzor, the brooding city built in the valley of the Pambak River. When we arrived on the morning of the second day Surena was waiting for us. Rank upon rank of white-clad horse archers paraded in front of the city gates and he himself was mounted upon a magnificent grey horse with the lion banner fluttering behind him. Lion banners also hung from the walls and towers of the city, the battlements lined with spearmen and archers. I turned to Viper as we neared Surena and his officers.

‘Go to your husband, Viper.’

She whooped with delight and kicked her mount forward. Moments later the two embraced as the kings of Dura, Hatra and Media brought their horses to a halt before Surena. He had removed his helmet to kiss his wife and now he smiled at us all.

‘Hail, majesties, and welcome to the city of Vanadzor. The garrison awaits your inspection.’

He may have been only still in his twenties but the months spent conducting his own campaign had matured Surena beyond his years. As he showed us round the walls and the palace stronghold that in truth was nothing more than an ugly squat building with thick walls and tall towers at each corner, I detected a change in him. The cocky, carefree boy seemed to have disappeared, to be replaced by a more serious, calculating individual.

That evening, as we sat in the dour banqueting hall, he told us how he had reconquered the kingdom. Viper, her eyes afire with excitement and pride, sat next to him. I could tell that Atrax was delighted to be back in Vanadzor, not least because he and his father had often visited the city in his youth to participate in great hunting expeditions organised by Balas, but also because a Parthian Gordyene made his own kingdom much more secure. My father was, I think, bemused by it all. He was above all a traditionalist, a man who believed in the natural order of things. That meant kings ruled, nobles and the sons of nobles served as cataphracts and rose to be the commanders of armies and governors of cities, those who were not nobles tilled the fields, served in temples, worked in towns and cities and fought in the king’s armies when required. It was a strict hierarchy blessed by the gods and was thus sacred. At the bottom were slaves who were not worthy of thought or consideration. But now, in the banqueting hall of his dead friend, King Balas, my father was forced to listen to a young man who was Ma’adan, a member of a people regarded as little better than slaves by many Parthians — marsh dwellers, individuals who lived among water buffaloes and filth. It must have riled him enormously. But then, for all the great nobles and wealth in Hatra, Media and Atropaiene, it had been Surena, a former urchin from the marshlands, who had freed Gordyene. And now he told his story. As he did so the fire in the great hearth crackled and spat for it was still cool in the northern uplands in the evenings.

‘When I first came here I did not know the strength of the enemy or the dispositions of his garrisons, so for the first month we made camp in the forest and gathered information. We rode into the villages, just small parties, and gave food to the inhabitants, saying we were their friends, nothing more. We made no demands or threats, merely promised that we would return with more food. And we kept our promises.’

He looked at me and a slight smile creased his lips. ‘Your tutors taught me well, lord. We did not seek battle with the Armenians but rather endeavoured to break their resistance without fighting. So we ambushed their patrols and supply columns, and when they were strong and sent many soldiers against us we avoided them and melted back into the forest. And when they followed we laid ambushes for them and raided them at night, but always avoiding battle.

‘We attacked their isolated outposts and massacred the garrisons. We ambushed their reinforcements coming from Armenia through the mountain passes that we controlled, and we never gave them any rest. We were like the wolves outside these walls — invisible but always present. The villagers became our friends and eyes and ears and told us of the enemy’s movements so we could attack the Armenians when they did not expect it, and avoid them when they were prepared.

‘Their losses mounted and they became demoralised when no reinforcements or supplies could get through. And then we heard of a great column of horses, men and wagons leaving Vanadzor and heading north back to Armenia, and then…’

He stretched out his arms and fell silent.

‘And then what?’ asked my father.

Surena regarded him for a moment with his brown eyes, this famous king whose haughty bodyguard wore more silver than he had seen in all his life.

‘And then, lord king, we were like a pack of hungry wolves. We surrounded them on all sides and harried them constantly, day and night, picking off the stragglers, the injured and the lost. Many thousands left Vanadzor but only a few hundred made it back to Armenia. You can follow their trail if you have a mind to; it is marked with the bones of their dead and the debris of their army.’

‘What of you own losses?’ I asked.

Surena smiled again. ‘Less than three hundred, lord.’

‘That few?’ Atrax was amazed.

Surena looked very serious. ‘Of course, for I was taught to regard my soldiers as my children, for then they will follow you into the deepest valleys. To look on them as my own beloved sons, and they will stand by me even unto death.’

My father looked more bemused. ‘Who taught you that? Are they the words of the slave general my son fought under?’

‘No, lord,’ replied Surena. ‘They are the words of a Chinese warlord named Sun Tzu who lived some four hundred years ago.’

Viper placed her hand on Surena’s arm.

‘You are to be governor of Gordyene, Surena,’ I told him. He and his wife grinned at each other.

‘Until such time as the affairs of the kingdom are settled,’ my father reminded us.

‘Since we control the mountain passes into the kingdom,’ continued Surena, ‘we can also use them to attack our enemies.’

He smiled savagely at my father. ‘Even as we sit here groups of horsemen are travelling to Armenia to repay the atrocities that have been visited upon Gordyene.’

My father shook his head in exasperation. ‘You have no authority to make war against a foreign kingdom.’

Surena leaned back in his chair. ‘Lord king, the Armenians will not forget the defeat they have suffered here. We are already at war with them. This being so, it is more preferable to fight it on their territory as opposed to my own.’

‘Your territory?’ glared my father.

Surena smiled. ‘A slip of the tongue, lord king.’

He looked at me. ‘There is another matter, lord.’ He beckoned over Silaces who handed Surena a rolled parchment. Surena handed it to me.

‘Word also reached Mithridates that Gordyene was Parthian once more. He has demanded that I surrender it to him.’

I read the demand and then passed it to my father, who shook his head.

‘This requires careful consideration. King of Kings Mithridates has a right to assume control over Gordyene, especially as Balas left no heirs to inherit the kingdom.’

‘You have no need to worry, lord king,’ said Surena. ‘I have already replied to Ctesiphon stating that Gordyene belongs to the King of Dura and that he has no authority over it. I finished by saying that if he wants this land then he had better come and take it.’

There was a stunned silence. My father’s mouth opened in shock. He could not believe what he had just heard. For his part Atrax looked most uncomfortable while Viper nodded approvingly. The only sounds in the hall came from the logs burning on the fire.

‘How many men do you have, Surena?’ I said.

‘Seven and half thousand of those I brought with me under Silaces and another eight thousand men that I have raised in Gordyene. I will have more by the end of the year.’

‘If you last that long,’ remarked my father.

‘We should have fought the Armenians when we had the opportunity,’ I said, thinking aloud.

‘Do you wish to add Armenia to your kingdom as well as Gordyene?’ asked my father.

I did not answer him. I knew that what Surena had done with regard to the Armenians was correct. Better that their own lands are laid waste than Parthian towns and villages. Still, he had exceeded his authority with regard to Mithridates though I could not find it in my heart to reprimand him for doing so. In any case I cared nothing for the Armenians or for Mithridates. The world would be a better place with both of them no longer in it.

My father and his men left the next morning, which was overcast and drizzly and entirely appropriate for the mood the King of Hatra was in. I stood in the palace courtyard with Surena and Atrax and watched him go, his bodyguard wrapped in their white cloaks as the drizzle turned to light rain and then got heavier before turning into a downpour. He raised his hand to us and then rode through the palace gates and into the city.

‘Your father is angry with me, lord,’ said Surena, the water coursing off his nose as we stood getting soaked.

‘He will be less so when he realises that Hatra is safer with a friendly Gordyene on its border.’

‘The King of Media already thinks that,’ said Atrax, slapping Surena on the arm. ‘Now let us get out of this rain before we all catch our deaths.’

Atrax returned to Media the following morning in high spirits. Not only had it stopped raining and the sun was shining, his kingdom, severely ravaged during last year’s war, had a secure border with Gordyene. Atrax also cared little for legal niceties when it came to Mithridates, who had been responsible for a full-blown invasion of his kingdom. Before he left for Irbil he told Surena that he had made the right decision with regard to the demands of Mithridates and told him that he would always have an ally in Media. I also informed Surena that he had done well as we watched Silaces and some of his officers put some new recruits through their paces on the target ranges outside the city.

‘They are mostly boys or youths who have just become men,’ remarked Surena as a group of six horsemen rode by and released their arrows at targets of packed straw fixed to poles and mounted six feet off the ground.

‘Most of the men folk were either dead or had been taken as slaves,’ he continued. ‘Though a few took to the hills and lived as brigands. It was hard to persuade them to join us.’

‘But they did.’

‘Eventually, I sent them to the northern border to fight the Armenians. They are used to living in the mountains and after so long in the wild they are like half-savages themselves.’

He pointed at another six riders shooting at the targets. ‘These boys are the future of Gordyene.’

I had to admit that I was immensely proud of Surena and what he had done in Gordyene. He was more than capable of holding the kingdom.

‘Do not over-extend yourself when dealing with the Armenians,’ I told him. ‘Just keep them occupied so they cannot raid Hatran territory. That at least will improve my father’s humour.’

‘They will try to take Gordyene back, lord.’

‘I know, but you have given us time to deal with Mithridates before we settle things with the Armenians.’ I tapped him on the chest.

‘I will need you in the south when we march against Ctesiphon, Surena, and this time we will not be marching alone.’

‘And who will replace Mithridates, lord?’

The same question arose time and time again when the toppling of Mithridates was broached: who would replace him? With my father pledged to march against Mithridates the ruler of Hatra might be persuaded to take the high crown, but I doubted it.

‘I do not know, Surena, but I know that as long as Mithridates is on the throne the empire will have no peace.’

Peace. What is peace but the interval between wars? If, when, we defeated Mithridates and his lord high general then we would have to fight the Armenians to secure peace in the north, and perhaps the Romans to secure peace in the west. And after that? Perhaps there would be no after that, perhaps we would all be dead and our kingdoms ground into dust. But perhaps it would take only one battle to rid the world of Mithridates and Narses and everything else might fall into place. Just one battle and the empire would be united against its external enemies. And perhaps then the Armenians and Romans would be deterred from launching any further invasions. Just one more battle.

I looked into the sky heaped with grey clouds and heard the low rumble of thunder coming from the mountains and smiled. How many other kings through the ages had believed that just one more victory would be the answer to all their problems? The rain began to fall and the thunder got louder as the gods laughed.