Parthian Vengeance

Chapter 16

I had little time to dwell on what the Romans would or would not do as the next day a message arrived from my father informing me that he had received word that Khosrou and Musa were rendezvousing with their armies near the city of Dara, approximately a hundred and fifty miles southwest of Khosrou’s capital of Merv. He had also received word from Orodes that Babylonian forces had mustered at Babylon and were now marching north, and that Dura’s army should commence its journey southeast to the rendezvous point at the Euphrates, fifty miles west of Seleucia.

Vast amounts of mutton and beef had been salted for the campaign, the salt ponds that had been established south of Dura along the Euphrates producing the means to cure the meat before it was dried. Marcus had had his hands full for weeks organising the supplies for the campaign. Each individual legionary carried around sixty pounds in weight on his furca — a wooden pole and crossbar — which included his pack, cloak, food bowl, water bottle, entrenching tool and several days’ rations, but most of the legions’ supplies were carried in wagons or on the backs of mules. The soldiers of each legion consumed around eight tonnes of food a day and the legionary animals a further eighteen tons daily.

The daily requirements of the cavalry were even greater and required intricate planning and preparation. Fortunately for Dura, in Strabo I had a man equal to the task notwithstanding his insolence and foul language. Marcus took care of the needs of the legions but it was Strabo who had nurtured the army’s mounted arm — organising the growing of crops for the supply of fodder for the horses, mules and camels, maintaining the corps of veterinaries and farriers and the breeding of horses, camels, mules and oxen. Despite his shabby appearance and irreverent manner he was extremely knowledgeable about the dietary requirements of our livestock. It had been Strabo who had organised the growing of so-called Greek hay on the royal estates and the ancient horse fodder of the Medians, medicago sativa, known to the Romans as alfalfa, one of the best horse foods available. Under his guidance the estates also grew oats, barley and wheat, though not all went to the animals, and clover which was used exclusively for horse fodder.

Every horse in the army consumed around thirty pounds of fodder a day, the camels being able to subsist on a reduced quantity of ten pounds a day (their diet also included dates and fish meat). When the army marched it did so with over six thousand horses and three thousand camels in addition the legions’ mules. The horses alone required eighty tons of fodder a day and the camels thirteen tons a day and Strabo was the individual responsible for making sure they received these amounts. He did and so everyone forgave him his idiosyncrasies, galling though they were at times.

The water consumption of the army was vast but as long as it stayed near a river or other major water source it was not a problem. That is why the Euphrates and Tigris were of such strategic importance and that is why most marches were nearly always conducted along their length. It was so this time as the army commenced its journey south to the rendezvous point. As usual Byrd, Malik and their scouts rode far ahead to ensure our journey was uneventful. I had worried that now Malik was married he would not wish to leave his new wife but he told me that he would not have missed this campaign for anything. Like many he sensed that it was the final showdown between myself and Mithridates and Narses. He also had a personal grudge against Narses, who had promised to rid the earth of the Agraci people. Gallia thought the same and that is why she was riding beside me with the Amazons behind us — she did not want to miss out on the downfall of Mithridates.

‘It might be our downfall,’ I said, thinking about how I had previously failed to defeat them.

She shook her head. ‘No, this is the final war between you and them. Dobbai told me.’

‘What else did she tell you?’

‘Nothing. She has been unusually withdrawn of late as if something has alarmed her.’

I dismissed the notion. ‘She is probably feeling her age. How old is she, has she ever told you?’

‘Never. But we are all getting old, Pacorus.’

I looked across at her. Her face was still flawless and her eyes were as blue as the clearest skies. ‘Not you, my sweet.’

But she was in a wistful mood. ‘The world turns, Pacorus, even though we do not discern it. Have you noticed that over the years how many of our friends have left us.’

‘Left us?’

She sighed and looked away into the desert on our left. ‘When I first came to Parthia it was in the company of Gafarn, Diana, Nergal and Praxima. Now they are all gone.’

‘Nergal has become a king and Praxima is a queen. Gafarn and Diana are at Hatra. We should be happy for them.’

But she did not hear my words. ‘Godarz as well. All gone.’

‘What is the matter?’

She smiled wanly. ‘I suppose I want the way things were, for us all to be together again.’

‘We will be, at the next gathering of the Companions,’ I said.

‘It is not the same.’

We rode on in silence, babblers and warblers flying high above us as we headed south at a steady pace of twenty miles a day.

On the fifth day out from Dura a courier arrived from the city carrying a message from Aaron that he had received word that Alexander Maccabeus had launched his rebellion against the Romans in Judea. When I told Gallia her spirits rose because it meant that the likelihood of a Roman attack against Dura was now a remote possibility. I took it as a sign that the gods were smiling on Dura and its army. Malik was also delighted because if Judea threw off its chains then the Romans would not pose a threat to Agraci lands. When I told Domitus, however, he was unimpressed.

‘I give the Jews two months before half of them are dead and the other half are wriggling on crosses.’

The next day the army of Hatra linked up with us after marching directly south from my father’s capital. Gallia’s melancholy lifted as we greeted my father and Gafarn and rode alongside them. My father was cheerful and confident, the world-weariness that had possessed him these past few years having been banished by a desire to see affairs in the empire settled once and for all. He had thrown himself into the current venture with all his energy, organising the formation of the alliance of kings in the aftermath of Vata’s wedding, formulating the plan of campaign and now in effect, notwithstanding the election of Orodes as king of kings, becoming the commander-in-chief of all the armies. I was glad that he was for it meant that the King of Hatra, one of the most respected rulers in the empire, had grown tired of the treachery of Mithridates and was now his declared enemy. His old allies, the kingdoms of Babylon, Media and Atropaiene, having also endured the aggression of Mithridates, had joined him and in the north Khosrou and Musa had taken up arms against the false high king. I was pleased above all because the distance and unease that had existed between my father and me had disappeared. We were united in a common cause and stood shoulder to shoulder as father and son once more.

It took ten days to reach the rendezvous point and when we arrived the army of Babylon was already camped inland from the Euphrates. There were surprisingly few tents in the camp, Orodes explaining that he had brought only seven hundred and fifty horsemen: his own bodyguard of two and fifty cataphracts plus five hundred of Babylon’s royal guard. The rest of his army — ten thousand men — were foot soldiers armed with spears and carrying wicker shields. That was all an impoverished Babylon could spare. The horsemen and their squires had tents but the foot soldiers slept out in the open. Domitus established Dura’s camp five miles inland of the river, as usual a great rectangle surrounded by a ditch and earth rampart surmounted by stakes. I invited my father to camp his own army with mine inside our ramparts but he declined, instead establishing Hatra’s army five miles north of the Babylonians. Vistaspa sent his own patrols east towards the Tigris as Byrd and Malik also scouted the area around Seleucia while we waited for the forces of Atrax and Surena to join us.

Their horsemen arrived two days later, those of Surena following a huge banner sporting a silver lion on a red background. Atrax flew the dragon standard of his now dead father. That night my father gave a great open-air feast in honour of the kings, the meat of four slaughtered bulls being served to us by the squires of Hatra’s royal bodyguard. A nice touch I thought. I had also noticed that there was no great pavilion to house the ruler of Babylon, Orodes being content to sleep in a modest-sized campaign tent. Unfortunately there were also no half-naked Babylonian slave girls to dazzle us with their smiles and entice us with their oiled bodies.

‘I left them with my wife and Mardonius at Babylon,’ said Orodes, his fingers dripping with beef fat.

‘I am surprised he did not accompany you, highness,’ I said.

He licked his fingers. ‘Very amusing. The truth is that he can hardly walk without the aid of a stick and so I ordered him to stay in the city and guard Axsen.’

‘Soon your wife will have a new throne to sit on.’ I grinned at him. ‘Highness.’

He frowned. ‘I wish you would stop calling me that.’

‘Why? You will have to get used to it soon enough when you have all those courtiers at Ctesiphon grovelling at your feet and whispering honeyed words in your ears.’

A squire offered us more meat from a silver tray.

‘I intend to get rid of most of them,’ he declared, ‘and have men of integrity and honesty around me.’

‘Good luck with that.’

He looked at me. ‘I do not suppose you would consider becoming lord high general again?’

I nearly choked on my wine. ‘You are right; I would not consider it. What about Nergal? He’s brave and loyal.’

‘But not a great general such as you.’

I laughed. ‘If I was a great general, my friend, we would not be sitting at a wooden bench in the open eating and drinking. We would be at home in the company of our wives as I would have already sent Mithridates and Narses to the underworld.’

‘It was a serious offer.’

I laid a hand on his shoulder. ‘I know that, my friend, but after this campaign is over I want to return to Dura and live out the rest of my days in peace with my family.’

‘You think that is possible?’

I emptied my cup and held it aloft to be refilled. ‘Anything is possible if you desire it enough.’

The next day we marched east towards Seleucia in three great columns. The northern formation comprised the fourteen thousand soldiers and squires of Dura’s army. In the centre rode my father and Hatra’s fifteen hundred cataphracts and ten thousand horse archers, plus Orodes and his seven hundred and fifty horsemen and ten thousand Babylonian foot. The southern column was made up of Atrax and his seven hundred cataphracts and five thousand horse archers and Surena’s eight thousand horse archers. It took two days for the fifty thousand soldiers of this army to cross the strip of desert between the Euphrates and Tigris to reach the walls of Seleucia.

As we approached the city the enemy had made no moves save to shut the gates of Seleucia and line its walls with the garrison. We stayed well out of arrow range as the central column established its camp directly in front of the western gates and Atrax and Surena pitched their forces south of the city along the banks of the Tigris. Dura’s army made camp five miles north of the city adjacent to the river, being careful not to despoil the villages and the surrounding fields, as they were part of the Kingdom of Babylon. Orodes had sent his own horsemen ahead of the army to reassure the villagers that they would suffer no harm at our hands. This was irrelevant to those villages located close to Seleucia itself as they had been attacked and looted during Mithridates’ two campaigns in Babylon, those of their inhabitants who had not been able to flee having been either killed or taken as slaves. The empty, charred remains of these villages stood as mute testimony to the tyranny of Mithridates’ reign.

Seleucia — gateway to the east. The city had been founded nearly two hundred and fifty years ago by Selucus I called Nicator, ‘The Victor’, one of the successors of Alexander of Macedon who had conquered the world. Selucus had gone on to establish the Seleucid Empire and the city named after him had walls that resembled the shape of an eagle with outstretched wings. Towers stood at regular intervals along their length but I knew from my short period as lord high general of the empire that those walls had not been properly maintained. In many places they were crumbling and some of the towers were also in a state of disrepair. The main road through the city ran from the main gatehouse in the western wall directly east to the stone bridge that spanned the Tigris, which was about four hundred yards wide at this point.

Crumbling they may have been, but the walls of Seleucia were tall enough to stop an army from entering the city unhindered and seizing the bridge across the river. The size of the city’s population was around eighty thousand, though many had probably fled east over the Tigris upon hearing of our approach. From what I could remember from my days as lord high general the garrison was around a thousand men, though this number could be augmented in an emergency to five thousand or more, and reinforcements could also be sent from the east bank of the river if need be. In theory Seleucia was very strong and its ability to receive an unending stream of supplies and men across the bridge made it a tough nut to crack. But Seleucia had one major weakness — the walls ended at the river. Because the Tigris is wide and deep at this point Selucus’ engineers had thought it unnecessary to build walls on all four sides of the city. There were thus no city walls running parallel to the Tigris, though the palace that was located in the northern part of the city, near to the harbour, was fully encompassed by its own walls. But then no army could assault Seleucia from the riverside, until tonight.

In the weeks preceding the campaign Orodes had given orders that fifty rafts were to be stockpiled well to the north of the city on the western bank of the river, guarded by soldiers that he had sent from Babylon. Now these rafts were each loaded with fifty legionaries and ten dismounted archers as two a half thousand men from the Duran Legion and five hundred bowmen prepared to float downstream and assault the city from the river.

I stood on the leading raft beside Domitus as the oarsman at the rear indicated to the Babylonians to push the raft into the river. Despite being loaded down with fifty fully equipped legionaries and ten archers it moved effortlessly into midstream and then began to move downriver. The water was calm and the current mild as we floated towards our destination, the other rafts following in a long line behind. The men carried no javelins, only their swords, daggers and shields, the archers each carrying three full quivers.

Domitus looked up at a full moon in the cloudless sky.

‘Unless every sentry is asleep they will spot us before we reach the city,’ he complained.

‘Have faith, my friend,’ I replied in a hushed tone. ‘They will not be looking for the unexpected.’

‘Let’s hope that they don’t have the harbour area lined with archers by the time we get there.’

‘I’m sure your god Mars approves of our plan and will aid us in our endeavour. Time for the signal, I think.’

Domitus turned to one of his men holding a small box of tinder and took it from him. Kneeling on the planks of the raft, he took a palm-sized piece of flint from the legionary and held it in his left hand with the sharp edge angled upwards and then hit it fast with a steel striker to produce hot sparks, striking the flint again and again until the tinder in the box was aflame. The legionary then held the wick of an oil lamp to the flames until it was alight. Domitus stood up and took the lamp, faced the western riverbank and moved it from side to side. The six Agraci scouts saw the prearranged signal and galloped off inland. So far, so good.

Domitus extinguished the flames, paced to the edge of the raft and glanced upstream. He came back to my side.

‘Everything in order?’ I asked.

‘Seems so,’ he replied, his hand gripping the hilt of his gladius.

We were around two miles from the city, though I could not make out its shape in the moonlight. Despite the fact that there were three thousand men moving downstream it was eerily quiet, as though the world was holding its breath before the storm. The rafts were travelling at a speed of around three miles an hour, which meant that we would reach the city in around forty minutes. The time passed agonisingly slowly and it seemed as though we had been on the water for hours before the city gradually loomed into view. Ahead I could now make out the arches of the bridge across the river that linked Seleucia with Ctesiphon. Thus far our presence had been undetected. The raft inched its way slowly towards the city’s northern wall. I strained to see any activity either on the battlements or on the round tower that stood in the water and marked the spot where the walls ended, but could see nothing.

Suddenly, in the distance, we heard thuds and crumps and saw the occasional red glow. I smiled. The scouts had reached their destination and now Marcus’ siege engines were commencing their attack on the city. The larger ballistae were shooting huge lighted clay pots filled with sulphur, pitch, charcoal, tow and naphtha that ignited upon impact. They were being shot against the city gates and were intended to cause a lot of noise and fire. Then we heard the cheers of thousands of men — the remainder of the Durans plus the Exiles who were arrayed either side of the engines. They had been instructed to begin shouting, blowing their trumpets and whistles and cheering when the shooting commenced as a diversion. The noise rose in volume as we drifted past the tower towards the city’s harbour.

The archers nocked arrows as our raft glided past the tower and then along the walls of the palace and still we had not been spotted. I was beginning to think that my plan was flawless when an alarm bell suddenly sounded in the tower and then we heard shouts of alarm from within the palace.

‘Look lively,’ shouted Domitus as the oarsman steered the raft past the palace towards the harbour, which comprised a long wharf in front of which were berths where shallow-draft riverboats were moored. Set back from the wharf were sheds and warehouses and immediately south was the bridge. As our raft neared the first berth Domitus leapt onto it and ran towards the quay. I followed him as the others also jumped from the raft and ran to form up beside Domitus on the quay. The other rafts were gliding into the harbour as arrows shot from the palace walls splashed into the water. Around ten rafts had made it into the harbour area unscathed but the rest would have to run the gauntlet of arrows that was now being directed at them. The centurion on each raft shouted his commands and the men instantly formed a testudo on each vessel, locking shields on all sides and above, ensuring that the archers and oarsman were also under the scutums.

On the quay centurions bellowed orders at their men to assemble in their ranks as the archers ran past them to form a defensive screen at the northern end of the quay while the centuries formed up. I stood in the centre of the line of archers as the first enemy soldiers rushed us. These men were no doubt from the palace as most of the garrison would be lining the walls in response to the attack by Marcus’ siege engines. They carried large wicker shields and wore leather cuirasses with linen caps on their heads. They levelled their long spears as they charged us in a disorganised mob and we shot half of them down before they got within fifty paces. The rest stopped and then withdrew as we loosed another volley of arrows and then another and another, this time killing less of them as they formed a shield wall and continued to fall back. More of their comrades appeared behind them and then the shouts of their angry officers made them halt and reform their ranks.

Fortunately there appeared to be no archers with them as they shuffled forward warily and into our arrow storm as we emptied one quiver and then fell back ourselves. The leather-faced wicker shields could stop arrows easily enough but our volleys had allowed the rest of the rafts to disgorge their men without interruption, and now a thousand legionaries were rushing to the bridge as the other fifteen hundred marched forward to engage the upwards of four hundred enemy spearmen who faced them at the northern end of the quay.

The quay was wide enough to allow three centuries to stand in line — a front rank of thirty men — as the centurions blew their whistles and their men charged the enemy. There was a loud bang as the Durans slammed into their opponents and went to work with their short swords. The long spears of the enemy were brushed aside by the front ranks and then the shafts were grasped by those behind, preventing their owners thrusting them into the guts of the legionaries, as the front rank of the Durans stabbed the point of their swords at enemy flesh and herded the spearmen back.

While this was going on Thumelicus was leading the other centuries to the bridge where the sentries were quickly killed and both sides of the aged span were secured.

Arrows then hit several men at the rear of the column fighting the spearmen as the palace archers finally arrived on the scene. The cry of ‘shields, shields’ rang out as the Durans hoisted their shields above their heads for protection as the front ranks continued to grind their way forward.

My archers were grouped around me and I ordered them to shoot at the enemy archers, who were at least three hundred paces away. Thus began a desultory archery contest in the moonlight as men tried to identify targets. Domitus came running over to me.

‘Thumelicus has taken the bridge,’ he said. ‘We are herding the others back despite the archers. It won’t be long now.’

An archer near to us collapsed to the ground with an arrow in his shoulder.

‘Keep shooting,’ I shouted at the others. ‘Keep their heads down.’

The column of Durans was steadily pushing the spearmen back, hacking their ranks to pieces as they did so. Then enemy arrows stopped falling nearby as the opposition archers directed their volleys at the Duran front ranks to allow the surviving spearmen to disengage and fall back towards the palace.

The wounded were helped to the bridge where they could be cared for while Domitus reorganised his men. He allocated three centuries to shadow the retreating spearmen and left two others on the quay as a reserve for Thumelicus holding the bridge. The rest followed the archers and me as we moved into the city.

Seleucia’s inhabitants were hiding indoors as we moved from the harbour along the main street west towards the city’s main gates that were being assaulted by Marcus. We did not see a soul as a thousand legionaries and five hundred archers moved quietly through a seemingly deserted city. Ahead the cheers and shouts of my men outside the city walls continued, accompanied by the thud of missiles hitting the gates. And as we approached the latter the night sky was illuminated by a red glow — the gates were on fire.

As Domitus sent parties ahead to reconnoitre the city we halted on the main road that bisected the city and ran east across the Tigris. North of this thoroughfare stood the palace, temples and official buildings, south of it the area where the citizens’ tiny homes were crammed.

‘Most of the garrison will be lining the walls watching Marcus’ engines knocking holes in the gatehouse,’ I said to Domitus. ‘The rest are now cooped up in the palace. But we must assault the men lining the walls so our men outside the city can get in without loss.’

‘Best thing, then, is to split the boys into their centuries and allocate archers to each one. We don’t have enough men to clear all the walls.

I shook my head. ‘There is no need. We just need to clear the walls either side of the main gates.’

It took a matter of minutes to organise the twelve centuries and assign each one forty archers for the assault on the walls. The scouting parties returned to inform us that there were no signs of any enemy soldiers between our position and the gatehouse and so we began to move forward once more, three centuries abreast. There were no whistles or commands just the dull crump of hobnailed sandals on the stone-paved street. I could see the main gatehouse now, which was wreathed in flames, both the gates and the large square towers either side of them alight. The flames were illuminating the surrounding area and I could see that the walls either side of the gatehouse were lined with archers, who were standing well away from the heat and flames. There was also a large body of spearmen formed up in a phalanx around a hundred paces back from the burning gatehouse, ready to repel any assault once the flames had died down.

Domitus beside me cursed. ‘That’s the plan wrecked. We will have to deal with those spearmen first.’

I nodded. ‘Hit them hard. The archers will still try to clear the walls. Good luck.’

I held my bow aloft and then ran to the right as enemy horn blasts signalled that we had been spotted. On our left flank the homes of the city’s citizens went right up to the walls, but on our right flank the ground behind the walls was more open as this was the temple district. I squatted with the officers of the archers around me as ahead the commanders of the spearmen were frantically reorganising their men to assault the legionaries that had suddenly appeared behind them.

‘Two companies will clear the walls south of the gatehouse,’ I ordered. ‘The rest will sweep the walls to the north.’

They nodded and stood up just as Domitus’ men hit the spearmen. They did not have their javelins and a few were felled by the archers on the walls as they charged to reached the spearmen, but their initial impact was still devastating and buckled the enemy’s formation. There was no space to manoeuvre on the left flank that was crowded with houses, but the open space to the north allowed the rear centuries to sweep around the right flank of those in front and then wheel left to hit the spearmen’s right flank. Within minutes high-pitched screams were drowning out the roaring of the flames as the legionaries scythed into the enemy.

The archers on the walls tried to shoot legionaries in the rear of their centuries as those in the front ranks were too close to their own spearmen in the mêlée. They stood on the walkway on top of the walls with the battlements behind them. But from the city side they were totally exposed as they stood shooting their bows. There must have been at least a hundred archers either side of the gatehouse loosing arrows.

I released my bowstring and saw the arrow strike my target in his stomach as he went to retrieve an arrow from his quiver. He dropped his bow and then fell from the walkway onto the ground below as my men swept the walls with arrows. It took less than two minutes to clear the walls either side of the gatehouse, most of the enemy being felled by arrows. Just a handful escaped into the two towers that flanked the gatehouse, while below the spearmen’s ranks dissolved.

Assaulted in the front and on the flank and with an inferno behind them, the rear ranks tried to flee as their comrades in front were cut down. Having no helmets or armour they were easy targets for gladius points and their thin wicker shields were next to useless in the close-quarters fight. As their ranks disintegrated I walked back to the main street to find Domitus. The flames from the gatehouse were gradually dying down as he left two of his centurions and ambled over to me.

‘That was easy enough,’ he reported with satisfaction.

Suddenly there was loud crash and a large piece of masonry was dislodged from the top of the wall to our right, showering debris over dead archers on the walkway.

‘Looks like Marcus is having fun with his engines,’ remarked Domitus as a missile shattered another chunk of wall.

‘Get the men back before the gatehouse collapses,’ I ordered.

But the gatehouse did not collapse and as dawn approached the fires died down and the walls of the charred gatehouse still stood. Domitus sent out patrols to ensure we were not surprised but they reported no signs of any enemy. And all the while Marcus’ great ballista threw stone and iron at the walls and towers. Legionaries were sent back to Thumelicus at the bridge to keep him abreast of developments as the majority of the men fell back to a safe distance from the walls and sat down by the side of the street to rest. It had been a long night and as muscles began to ease, arms, legs and shoulders started to ache. I received a report from those men guarding the palace that the garrison was hiding behind the shut gates. Those men still manning the walls further along the perimeter would have no idea what was happening at the gatehouse, but it would be only a matter of time before their officers tried to make contact with either them or the garrison commander, so I ordered Domitus to send a party forward to signal to the army that the city was ours, and then after the ballistae had ceased shooting to clear the smouldering debris at the gatehouse to allow our forces to enter.

Another chunk of masonry was splintered from the walls by a ballista missile.

‘At least Marcus is keeping the citizens cowering in their homes,’ remarked Domitus as a hundred of his men trotted forward to clear the city entrance.

‘I had forgotten about them,’ I admitted.

‘Better rouse them to let them know they have a new governor.’

‘Tell your men to keep their swords in their scabbards. Use a minimum of force.’

He smiled grimly. ‘You know my boys; gentle as lambs.’

I decided to leave the priests in their temple compounds alone while Domitus despatched half our number to bang on doors to assemble the citizenry on the great square located just south of the main street. Very soon the early morning was filled with the shrieks and wails of frightened women and children as the inhabitants were herded into the square, and then I heard a more familiar sound — a blast of trumpets. I turned to the gatehouse to see the figure of Kronos marching at the head of the Exiles as they entered the city to the cheers of the Durans who stood up to welcome their comrades. He stopped when he reached where Domitus and I were standing and clasped our forearms, his men continuing their march towards the bridge.

‘Good to see you Kronos,’ I said to him.

‘Best get your boys to the bridge and secure it,’ added Domitus. ‘When the rest of the Durans enter I can use them to secure the city.’

‘Is the garrison destroyed?’ asked Kronos, looking back at the corpses in front of the gatehouse.

‘No,’ I replied. ‘Half of it has shut itself in the palace and the rest is still manning the walls or in the towers. They will surrender once they realise the city has fallen.’

A part of a tower on the wall behind us suddenly collapsed in a great cloud of dust as a result of it being battered by the ballistae.

‘Not anyone in that tower,’ commented Kronos.

The Exiles pushed on to secure the bridge and relieve Thumelicus’ men, who fell back to our location, while the rest of the Durans filed into the city to assist in the roundup of the citizens and reinforce the men guarding the palace. I was sitting on the stone pavement propped up against the wall of a bakery, whose owner had been ‘persuaded’ to make us some fresh bread, when the kings rode into the city. Domitus sat himself down beside me and rested his helmet on the ground. I handed him a chunk of freshly baked bread. The baker, a short fat man with oversized arms and his family, his wife who had scars on her arms from years working near the brick ovens and a teenage girl and younger boy, worked frantically to provide a constant supply of loaves. The father snapped at his wife and children to toil harder, no doubt fearing that he and his family would be killed if they invoked our displeasure.

As we lounged by the entrance to the bakery a company of the Babylonian royal guard trotted past us, their dragon-skin armour glistening in the early morning sunlight. Then came another company and another, and then Orodes appeared on his brown mare in the company of my father, Gafarn, Gallia who had Remus in tow, Atrax, Surena and Viper. Behind them were grouped Vistaspa and my father’s bodyguard, and behind them the purple ranks of Babylon’s spearmen.

I raised my chunk of bread. ‘Greetings ladies, my lords, welcome to Seleucia.’

‘Congratulations on the success of your plan, Pacorus,’ said Orodes.

‘A masterstroke,’ added Surena.

‘You have saved us much time, Pacorus,’ commented Atrax.

‘The first of the enemy’s cities to fall,’ I said.

‘Seleucia will be Babylonian from now on,’ remarked Orodes.

‘Good idea, Orodes,’ I agreed. ‘Won’t you all have some bread, it is most excellent?’

My father shook his head. ‘We have other things to do besides eat, Pacorus. To secure Ctesiphon for one.’

I got to my feet and helped Domitus to his.

‘I would not worry about that, father. I think you will find that Mithridates has fled back to Susa or further east by now.’

I knew that Ctesiphon’s walls were in no state to withstand an assault and that its garrison was small — no more than two thousand men. It would take a man with an iron will and great ability to hold its dilapidated defences and Mithridates possessed neither.

I called into the building. ‘Baker, come here!’

The flustered man appeared by my side rubbing his hands and squinting up as the empire’s finest were arrayed on their horses in front of his premises.

‘What is your name?’ I asked him.

‘Agapios, sir.’

I pointed at Orodes. ‘Well, Agapios, this is King of Kings Orodes.’

Agapios bowed to Orodes and then looked at me in confusion.

‘Is King Mithridates dead, highness?’

I laughed and my father frowned.

‘No, Agapios, he is not dead. Yet.’

‘Come,’ said my father irritably, ‘we have no time for this.’

‘One moment, father,’ I said. ‘Do you have any gold?’

‘Gold?’

‘To pay Agapios for his bread. We are after all soldiers and not looters.’

My father rolled his eyes. ‘I have no gold, you try my patience, Pacorus.’

I looked at the others. ‘Do any of you have gold?’

They did not, which was most upsetting for Orodes who instructed Agapios to present himself at the palace the next day where he would be fully recompensed for his goods. I mounted Remus and then kissed my wife as Agapios stood staring incredulously at the kings as we made our way to the city’s palace to demand its surrender.

Once we had secured the city I ordered Domitus to allow the people assembled in the square — who numbered not even half of eighty thousand — to return to their homes. Furthermore those of the garrison who were still on the walls or had taken refuge within the towers were to be surrounded but not attacked. Once the palace had fallen the governor, if he had not taken his own life, could order them to surrender.

By now the army’s horsemen were moving through the city: rank upon rank of cataphracts, horse archers and squires leading camels. With the Durans having secured the city and the Exiles across the Tigris and investing Ctesiphon I had to admit that I felt immensely smug, the more so when a courier met our royal party with a message that the city governor would meet with me at the palace.

‘Your fame precedes you, lord,’ remarked Surena.

‘Or his infamy,’ remarked my father dryly.

‘Perhaps Mithridates is in the palace,’ said Gafarn, ‘and wishes to give himself up personally to Pacorus.’

‘In that case,’ I replied, ‘you had better find a headsman for an execution that will be taking place this afternoon.’

Sadly it was not Mithridates who awaited me at the palace gates but an individual in an ill-fitting scale armour cuirass and a bronze helmet on his head, his unkempt hair showing underneath it.

‘Udall,’ I uttered in disbelief as I slid off Remus’ back and walked towards the great twin gates that he was standing in front of. I looked up at the walls and at the closed wooden shutters on the gatehouse.

Udall pointed up at the walls. ‘No archers or sentries, majesty, just as I promised.’

I halted a few paces in front of him and he took off his helmet and bowed his head.

‘How is it that you stand before me?’ I asked. ‘Is the governor dead?’

‘I am the governor,’ he announced proudly.

I had to suppress a laugh. This day was getting better and better. The enemy must be scraping the bottom of the barrel if all he could throw at us were men of Udall’s calibre.

‘The last time I saw you was when you were leading what was left of your men into the desert. How is it that in the time in between you were made governor of this fine city?’

A dumb smile crept across his face. ‘Because out of those Narses sent to fight you when he retreated back over the Tigris last year, I was the only one to survive. And bring my men back with me.’

‘Having first surrendered all your weapons to me,’ I reminded him.

‘But it bought him time, you see, majesty. And weapons can be easily replaced.’

‘That hardly qualifies you to be made a governor.’

He shrugged indifferently. ‘It does when I told him that in agreement for my surrendering my weapons you had promised not to cross the Tigris.’

‘I agreed to no such thing.’

He smiled to reveal rotting teeth. ‘He didn’t know that.’

‘You are the governor no longer,’ I snapped. ‘You will surrender the palace immediately and then order those soldiers still holding parts of the wall to give themselves up.’

His cocksure attitude began to crumble. ‘What about me, majesty?’

I smiled maliciously. ‘I should have your head, but as you have saved me the trouble of storming the palace and therefore the lives of my men I will allow you to leave.’

He looked at me sheepishly. ‘Perhaps I could be of service to you.’

‘I think not.’

The last I saw of him was his bedraggled figure mounted on a half-starved horse pulling a mangy donkey behind him heading out of the gates of the palace. No doubt the donkey was loaded with stolen money that he had plundered from the palace to ease the discomfort of him having lost his position. Before he departed he made a tour of the city walls with a Duran escort to order those men of his garrison still under arms to surrender. They did so and made their way to the palace where they dumped their weapons and armour in the courtyard in front of the palace, after which they were escorted to the city square until their fate was decided.

We spent three days at Seleucia, during which time Orodes had a proclamation read to its citizens announcing that he was the rightful king of kings. I suspect this meant little to ordinary people whose lives were a daily quest for survival but it satisfied his strict code of protocol.

The seizure of Ctesiphon was a major disappointment. The king of kings, his court and the contents of its substantial treasury had been spirited away to the city of Susa, a hundred and fifty miles to the southeast. Byrd’s scouts reported being told by merchants on the road that a great armada of wagons and camels had left Ctesiphon a week before we had captured Seleucia.

In the vast banqueting hall at Ctesiphon slaves who had been brought from Seleucia served us roasted chicken and mutton, rice and bread. Mithridates had even evacuated his slaves to Susa so they would not fall into our hands. Mardonius had joined us from Babylon and Orodes had made him the governor of Seleucia to ensure it remained a secure base in our rear when we marched east. Seleucia had been an easy triumph but I felt cheated of victory and picked at my food as my father spoke.

‘We will be marching to Susa in two days’ time.’

‘And after that Persepolis, no doubt,’ I grumbled.

‘There are not an unlimited number of places Mithridates and Narses can flee to, Pacorus,’ replied my father. ‘Sooner or later they will have to stand and fight if they are not to lose all their lands and credibility.’

I held my gold rhyton in the shape of a ram’s head — not all the palace finery had been evacuated: someone had forgotten to look in the kitchens.

‘Let us hope that it is sooner, father.’

‘It makes sense that my stepbrother has fled to Susa,’ said Orodes. ‘It is where he grew up and is the capital city of Susiana, his homeland. Having lost possession of Seleucia and Ctesiphon he will gather his forces at Susa and await us there.’

‘Where he will be joined by Narses, no doubt,’ added Atrax.

‘We have beaten them before,’ I said, ‘and can do so again. Only this time they will not escape.’

Surena had thus far remained silent, being content to pick at his food and listen to the other kings. However, by the grim look on his face he was clearly unhappy.

‘You disagree, Surena?’ I asked him.

He stopped picking at his food. ‘Forgive me, lord, but we are marching into the heart of the enemy’s territory.’

My father finished chewing on a chicken wing. ‘So?’

‘Well, lord,’ answered Surena, glancing at Orodes. ‘We will be fighting the enemy on a ground of his own choosing and at a time that also suits him. By marching to Susa do we not walk into the enemy’s trap?’

My father eased back in his chair and regarded the new King of Gordyene for a moment. He probably thought that he was a young upstart, with his Ma’adan heritage and his wife who was formerly a member of my wife’s bodyguard. He would normally treat such an individual with contempt, but Surena had freed Gordyene from the Armenians and for that reason alone his words deserved some consideration.

My father picked up his rhyton. ‘You are right in what you say, young king, but having drawn my sword I cannot replace it in its scabbard until this campaign has been concluded, which can happen only when Mithridates has been removed from power and Narses has been defeated. And if that means marching on Susa, so be it.’

My father tilted his head at Orodes. ‘Besides, our new king of kings is also from Susiana and his prestige would suffer if his homeland was in the possession of the enemy.’

‘We have not talked about what will happen after we have defeated Mithridates and Narses, father,’ I remarked.

He took a sip from his drinking vessel. ‘That is for the king of kings to decide.’

Orodes frowned and looked at me. ‘I know that Pacorus desires their deaths, believing that the empire will not be at peace while they still live.’

I toasted him with my rhyton and smiled.

‘However,’ he continued, ‘I am not desirous of seeing the deaths of yet more of the empire’s kings. I have given the matter a great deal of thought and have decided that banishment will be an appropriate punishment. I am sorry, Pacorus.’

My father was nodding approvingly and Atrax seemed to accept Orodes’ decision, saying nothing, while Surena appeared more concerned with dipping a wafer into a bowl of yoghurt. I shrugged.

‘That is your decision, Orodes, and we must abide by it.’

There was little point in arguing with my friend and in any case I knew that Narses would never agree to banishment, preferring death to exile, a wish that I was determined to grant him.

The surrendered garrison of Seleucia was sent west as slaves to help rebuild the Kingdom of Babylon. Those Babylonians who had been taken as slaves by Mithridates and Narses and who had been resident in Seleucia were freed and given safe passage back to their homes. Ctesiphon also received a new garrison but Axsen expressed no desire to take up residence in the high king’s palace, declaring that she would leave Babylon only when the campaign was concluded and when Orodes was free to sit beside her. Thus the great palace complex remained largely empty as the army began its march into Susiana. The pace was leisurely, averaging fifteen miles a day, which meant we would reach Susa in two weeks. We were forced to hug the eastern bank of the Tigris for the first week as the terrain between the great river and the Zagros Mountains that lay fifty miles to the east was largely barren desert devoid of water. Then we left the river and advanced directly east towards the foothills of the mountains, all the while Byrd and his scouts riding far ahead to gather reports of the enemy’s movements and horse archers forming a screen on all four sides of our army. But every day Byrd and Malik returned to camp with news that the terrain was empty of travellers and of the enemy there was no sign.

After four days of marching across the baked earth we came to the green foothills of the Zagros Mountains. We were now around seventy miles northwest of Susa itself and our unimpeded march had led many to believe that the city would be undefended and that Orodes would be able to march into the capital of his homeland unopposed. If that was the case then we would be able to rest in Susa before marching another three hundred miles southeast to reach Persepolis.

As usual Dura’s camp was surrounded by a ditch, earth rampart and wooden palisade. The armies of Hatra, Media and Babylon, however, preferred the traditional Parthian method of pitching their tents around their king in ever-widening circles, though the majority of Babylon’s foot soldiers had to sleep under the stars with only a threadbare blanket. Fortunately the nights were warm and so their discomfort was minimal. Surena, however, having been tutored in the ways of the Sons of the Citadel, had his horse archers make camp after the Roman fashion. In addition to the spare arrows that the two thousand beasts of his camel train carried, they also hauled tents, stakes, food, fodder and entrenching tools to dig a ditch and rampart at the end of every day. Atrax thought it hilarious but Orodes approved and regretted that his Babylonians could not do likewise. My father believed it to be a complete waste of time but at least admired the professionalism that Surena and his soldiers displayed.

The foothills of the Zagros Mountains are covered with forests of oak interspersed with hawthorn, almond and pear trees. I saw golden eagles fly high above us and at times it was easy to forget that we were at war as we joined the ancient road that runs parallel to the mountains, and which led directly to Susa. Orodes had told us that he expected the enemy to try to halt our passage at the stone bridge across the River Karkheh some sixty miles to the east, but when we neared the bridge Byrd brought back reports that it was undefended. I rode to the river in the company of Orodes and a thousand of my horse archers and discovered a scene of peace and serenity. The simple stone arch bridge spanned the river that was around four hundred feet wide at this point, though Orodes informed me that it widened considerably a few miles further south to around a thousand feet. We rode over the bridge to the other side and I sent companies east, north and south to scout for the enemy.

‘You waste your time,’ remarked Byrd as we sat sweating on our horses in the afternoon heat. ‘They no here. I told you that earlier.’

‘I know that, Byrd,’ I said, ‘but better to be safe than sorry.’

Orodes was extremely happy. ‘This is the Susa Valley, Pacorus, where I hunted as a boy. I remember it as if it was yesterday.’

I smiled at him. It had been years since he had seen his homeland following his banishment by Mithridates and now here he was, only a few miles from his capital and the place of his birth.

‘You will be sleeping in the palace in Susa in a matter of days, my friend,’ I told him.

Later I marched Dura’s army over the bridge and made camp in the valley, which was actually flatland between two rivers, though as there was not enough time to bring over the rest of our troops the forces of Media, Hatra and Gordyene slept on the western bank that night. The next day the rest of the army crossed, a great press of camels, men on foot and horses that took until dusk to move over the river. We had taken possession of the northern end of the Susa Valley without a fight.

That night I invited the kings, Gafarn and Viper to dine in my command tent in the company of Domitus, Kronos and Vagises. The mood of those present was high except for Surena, who appeared to have the weight of the world on his shoulders. No one else seemed to notice, though, and so the evening passed without incident. Orodes was in an ebullient mood and kept telling Gallia and Viper how he was going to show them around Susa’s palace after we had marched into the city, which lay a mere fifteen miles south of our position.

I asked Surena to stay after the others had left around midnight. The night was fresh as I said farewell to Atrax, the last to leave. He rode down the camp’s central avenue with his bodyguard grouped around him. A myriad of campfires extended from the bridge east towards the eastern boundary of the Susa Valley — the River Dez — ten miles distant.

Inside the tent Gallia was talking with Surena and Viper at the table, the King of Gordyene looking decidedly nervous. I poured more wine into his cup.

He spoke first. ‘You are displeased with me, lord?’

‘Not at all,’ I answered, ‘and even if I were you are a king now and so my feelings should be irrelevant to you.’

‘It is late, Pacorus,’ said Gallia, ‘and I am sure that Surena and Viper want to get some sleep rather than listen to one of your lectures.’

I refilled Viper’s cup and then my own but Gallia placed her hand over hers.

‘I would know what troubles you, Surena.’

He looked at Viper who nodded at him.

‘We are walking into a trap, lord,’ he replied.

‘How can you be so certain?’

He swallowed a mouthful of wine. ‘The enemy made no attempt to prevent us crossing the bridge because they are inviting us into this valley. And tomorrow we advance on Susa, marching further south with two very wide rivers on either flank.’

‘Byrd and Malik have seen no enemy anywhere,’ I said.

Surena was unconvinced. ‘The forests that cover the slopes of these mountains can hide an army, lord. I did it in Gordyene.’

‘What you say is true, Surena, but we go to assault Susa. If Narses and Mithridates are in the city, and we are not certain that they are, then they will have to give battle. They have already lost Ctesiphon, if they also retreat from Susa they will appear weak and their allies may desert them. They need a victory as much as we do.’

‘I would still prefer to fight on ground of our own choosing, lord’ he replied.

‘Once,’ I said, ‘before we met, I fought Narses and Mithridates at a place called Surkh, on ground that had been selected by the enemy. And you know what happened?’

He smiled. ‘All those who have been tutored at Dura know what happened at Surkh, lord.’

‘Well, then, do not worry about the enemy. Let them worry about us. Man for man, even counting the Babylonians, we are far better than they are.’

‘And woman for woman, lord,’ added Viper.

‘Quite right,’ said Gallia.

Surena seemed at least reassured as I bid him goodnight and Gallia embraced Viper. As they rode back to their camp with a score of horse archers behind them Domitus sauntered up gripping his vine cane.

‘Been beating some poor sentry?’ I enquired.

‘Just doing my rounds,’ he replied, then pointed his cane at Surena’s party trotting towards the main entrance.

‘He has come a long way since you first brought him to Dura as a half-starved urchin.’

‘I never thought he would be made a king, though.’

Domitus shrugged. ‘Why not? You were.’

He scraped the sole of his sandal on the ground then looked up into the sky.

‘I saw a vulture today.’

‘Yes, they are quite common in these parts.’

He scraped the ground once more. ‘He just swooped down and landed a few feet from me, hopping behind me, staring at me with his big black eyes. When I stopped he stopped, and when I continued walking he followed.’

‘Perhaps he thought you were a piece of carrion,’ I joked.

‘It is an omen, Pacorus. A portent of great slaughter.’