Sarmatian

by Peter Darman

  ‘You are not the only one who has used the analogy of Helen of Troy and Prince Paris to our present situation, Mascius.’

  ‘Who are they?’ asked Chrestus, eyeing Mascius with mild contempt.

  ‘The central characters in Homer’s Iliad,’ smiled Kewab. ‘You should read it sometime, Chrestus.’

  ‘It is a splendid work,’ agreed Mascius, ‘though if I am honest, master, I prefer The Odyssey.’

  Kewab looked thoughtful. ‘As an examination of loyalty, kingship and the trial of the human spirit, I would agree. Mascius. However,…’

  ‘However, we have a war to win,’ interrupted Chrestus, rudely.

  ‘Wars are not only won on the battlefield, general,’ said Kewab. ‘As The Iliad illustrates.’

  ‘This one will be,’ growled Chrestus.

  I ignored him. ‘How many Greeks besieged Troy, Mascius.’

  ‘Around fifty thousand, highborn,’ answered the slave. ‘But the Trojans were safe behind the walls of their city. At least until the Greeks thought up a clever ruse to deceive the Trojans.’

  I smiled. ‘Just as we are behind the Tigris. We will wait until Hatra’s army arrives and then move across the river to give battle to the Sarmatians.’

  ‘How long will that be?’ asked Chrestus.

  ‘I have no idea,’ I told him, ‘but we are not moving across the river without the Hatrans.’

  ‘What of Media, Pacorus?’ asked Gallia.

  ‘Media is, alas, the sacrificial lamb on which the Sarmatians are feasting,’ I said. ‘But thanks to Dura, Irbil now has stout walls and will easily withstand a siege, if indeed the Sarmatians have bothered to besiege it. But Media’s suffering buys us time, and at the moment that commodity is more precious than gold.’

  I provided a summary of how the Sarmatians had seemingly brushed aside an army of sixty thousand Parthians near Lake Urmia.

  ‘I have no idea how many survived the battle, though I do know a wounded King Ali made it back to his capital, as did King Scylax and Prince Khosrou.’

  ‘King Ali is a very competent commander,’ said Kewab. ‘That would suggest the Sarmatians caught him by surprise.’

  ‘We will not be falling for the same trick,’ I told him. ‘Not until we know more about this Tasius and his army.’

  ‘And Gordyene?’ enquired Chrestus.

  ‘One enemy at a time, general,’ smiled Gallia.

  While Talib and his scouts rode across the river to collect information on the Sarmatians, and Sporaces sent patrols of horse archers north and south along the western riverbank of the Tigris, we waited for Hatra’s horsemen to arrive. I received regular reports from Governor Aspad concerning what was happening around Nisibus. Herneus and Orobaz had mustered their horsemen and were waiting to surprise Spadines and his horsemen. Spadines and his rabble of riders had appeared north of Nisibus. Herneus and Orobaz had scattered the Sarmatians with ease. Spadines had fled back to Gordyene. The lords of Hatra were chafing at the bit to invade Gordyene. Orobaz had reined them in. Herneus was riding back south after his ‘great victory’. The missives from Aspad were a welcome relief from the tedium of waiting in the dreary, sun-bleached town of Assur.

  The nephew of General Herneus bowed his head and placed a folded sheet of papyrus on my desk, or rather his desk as I had requisitioned his office during my stay in his town. It was secured by a wax seal bearing the imprint of a horse’s head – the sigil of Hatra.

  ‘Another letter from the Governor of Hatra, I assume?’ I said.

  ‘It came from the south, majesty, not the north.’

  I broke the seal with interest. I read the words and handed him the letter.

  ‘Prince Pacorus, soon to be King Pacorus, will be here in the morning.’

  It had been some time since I had seen the dashing and brilliant heir to Hatra’s throne, the natural-born son of Gafarn and Diana who was the epitome of a Parthian prince. Handsome, brave, undefeated in battle and for several years the guardian of the widow Queen Cia of Elymais and her infant son Prince Silaces. Everything he touched turned to gold: he had married a beautiful Hatran noblewoman from a powerful family, who had born him two healthy sons to ensure his line would continue. More importantly, he himself was born in Hatra, an event that instantly washed away the ‘sins’ of his parents, who had both been slaves in their younger years.

  I was shocked when he rode into the mansion’s courtyard. We all aged but he looked at least ten years older than his thirty-six years. With him were two hundred horse archers from Elymais, each rider wearing a blue tunic, baggy white leggings and a red headband. Pacorus himself wore a magnificent dragon-skin armour cuirass whose silver scales dazzled in the sunlight, as did his burnished open-faced helmet decorated with white plumes. Everything about his appearance was designed to impress, from his glittering armour to his expensive sword with a silver pommel in the shape of a horse’s head, and its red scabbard decorated with white ivory horse heads.

  He gave Gallia a tired smile and they embraced lovingly, Hatra’s new king noting the presence of Chrestus, Sporaces, Azad and Kewab behind me. I too embraced him.

  ‘I grieve with you, Pacorus,’ I said.

  He sighed. ‘I knew this day would come, but I thought it would be many years in the future.’

  ‘None of us know the day or hour we will leave this world,’ I said. ‘Perhaps that is best.’

  ‘The gods take advantage of our grief, uncle, for why else would they send a plague of Sarmatians to torture us in our hour of desperation? Before I forget.’

  He turned and beckoned the commander of his escort forward, the man snapping to attention and handing him a papyrus scroll. Pacorus handed it to me.

  ‘A summons to Ctesiphon, uncle. My congratulations.’

  I took the scroll with trepidation. ‘For what?’

  ‘You are the new lord high general of the empire in King Ali’s absence due to injury. And the high king summons you to Ctesiphon.’

  I groaned, broke the seal and began reading the words. I saw the first line – To my dear friend, King Pacorus of Dura – and my heart sank. I read the rest and handed the document to Gallia. She laughed.

  ‘There’s life in the old dog, yet.’

  ‘Very droll,’ I muttered.

  The loss of his parents weighed heavily on Pacorus, that and a sense of guilt from being away from them for long periods during his tenure as lord protector of Elymais. The feast given in his honour that night by Rodak was a subdued affair, the shadow of the deaths of Gafarn and Diana, and the Sarmatian threat, hanging over us all. Chrestus and Kewab had both known Gafarn and Diana for many years, as had Sporaces and Azad. Gafarn had never been an aloof king or one for protocol, which endeared him to the senior officers of Dura’s army. And both he and Diana had been Companions, which ensured there was a close bond between them and Dura.

  ‘Alas there is no such bond between myself and my nephew,’ lamented Pacorus later that evening as he perused the small pile of letters written by Governor Aspad, which provided an account of the defeat of Spadines and his Sarmatians at Nisibus. He looked at Prince Haytham, who had joined us in the governor’s office at my invitation.

  ‘You are certain your brother ordered Spadines to attack northern Hatra?’

  ‘Yes, lord.’

  ‘And that Castus invited this Tasius into the empire?’

  ‘Certain, lord.’

  Pacorus closed his eyes and held his head in his hands. The silence in the governor’s office was oppressive. Haytham looked distinctly uncomfortable. Pacorus opened his eyes.

  ‘Castus has sealed his own fate. Even if I were to forgive his transgression, Atropaiene, Hyrcania and Margiana will want revenge.’

  ‘Scylax and Prince Khosrou are unhurt?’ I asked.

  ‘They are both licking their wounds at Hecatompylos, uncle.’

  He smiled. ‘Waiting for orders from the new lord high general.’

  ‘Where is Arezu?’ I asked, changing the subject.


  ‘She and my sons remained in Elymais. There is no point putting them in danger, not with a hundred thousand Sarmatians at large in the centre of the empire.’

  He looked at Haytham. ‘Hatra is in your debt, prince, and will support your claim to Gordyene’s throne.’

  ‘I have no claim, lord,’ said Haytham.

  Pacorus gave him an evil leer. ‘You do when Castus is deposed as king, along with his wife. Gordyene has declared war on Hatra, and Hatra will answer with fire and sword.’

  ‘As the new lord high general,’ I said, ‘I would advise we concentrate on the immediate threat, for if we do not rid the empire of the Sarmatians, then who sits on Gordyene’s throne will be irrelevant.’

  Before I left for Ctesiphon the next morning, I was accosted by Kewab who had been pondering on how we might deal with the Sarmatians, suggesting a novel plan that I would present to Phraates. My namesake declared his intention to remain at Assur to await Herneus and his troops. I begged him not to take them across the river but to wait until I had returned. He begrudgingly agreed, though the thought of Media becoming the Sarmatians’ plaything weighed heavily on his mind.

  ‘In the name of Shamash,’ I said to Gallia, ‘do not let him engage the Sarmatians alone, and do not be tempted to join him if his sense of honour gets the better of him. We are Parthia’s best hope of rectifying this situation. At the moment, its only hope.’

  ‘What if the Sarmatians come to us?’ she said, an evil glint in her eye.

  I hoisted myself into Horns’ saddle. ‘Then burn the bridge. We don’t want them rampaging through Hatra, and then Dura. I will return as quickly as possible.’

  ‘Give my love to Claudia.’

  I nodded and nudged Horns towards Pacorus standing with Rodak.

  ‘Kewab has come up with an interesting idea,’ I told him. ‘But to succeed it depends on this Tasius abandoning his common sense. You should speak with him.’

  He nodded. ‘I will, uncle. Safe journey.’

  My escort comprised a company of horse archers commanded by Navid, whom I was delighted to discover was in one piece and looked none the worse after his adventure at Klietas’ village and subsequent flight to Dura.

  ‘It is good to see you again, Navid.’

  ‘And you, majesty. I was disgusted to hear of your treatment in Gordyene.’

  ‘Well, at least we are both still here to tell our tales. And we are embarking on a new adventure.’

  He flashed a smile. ‘To invade Gordyene, majesty?’

  ‘No, to rid the empire of tens of thousands of Sarmatians.’

  ‘I hope I have enough arrows,’ he grinned.

  Chapter 13

  ‘Are you mad?’

  Phraates sat open-mouthed behind his huge mahogany desk, staring at me in disbelief. I sat opposite him, along with Claudia and Adapa, the commander of his bodyguard. Two of that bodyguard – two burly Scythian axe men – stood behind the high king. They wore blank expressions, unlike their master who had bristled at the idea he should enter into negotiations with the Sarmatian leader Tasius.

  Phraates began fiddling with the golden arrow he liked to carry around with him. He stopped and pointed it at me.

  ‘Just to clarify, King Pacorus. You are suggesting I ask this brigand Tasius to come to Ctesiphon, the same man who has invaded my empire at the head of one hundred thousand horsemen?’

  ‘Yes, highness.’

  His lips pursed. ‘Did you fall from your horse on your way here?’

  I was taken aback, somewhat.

  ‘Highness?’

  He began playing with the arrow once more, swapping it from hand to hand.

  ‘I merely ask because you seem to be spouting gibberish, one of the symptoms indicative of having fallen from a horse.’

  ‘I can assure you I have not fallen from my horse, highness.’

  The arrow was pointed at me a second time.

  ‘Then please explain why the lord high general of the empire is advocating I grovel at the feet of this barbarian invader?’

  ‘To lure him south, highness,’ I replied. ‘To encourage him to do so, I would advise offering to pay him a large amount of gold as a sweetener to begin negotiations.’

  This time he dropped the arrow on the desk, staring at me with incredulity. He then turned on Claudia.

  ‘I hope I will not regret being convinced by you to create your father lord high general, despite his age.’

  Claudia remained calm and collected, long used to her master’s outbursts and mood swings.

  ‘My father would not suggest such a thing without very good reasons, highness. Is that not correct, father?’

  I stood and walked over to the finely crafted map of the Parthian Empire painted on wooden boards attached to the wall. I pointed at Ctesiphon.

  ‘We lure the Sarmatians south, away from Media where their horses and camels can graze to their heart’s content, to the barren landscape of Susiana.’

  Phraates was unimpressed. ‘That is your strategy? To deprive their animals of fodder while I pay them gold? To invite them south is pure folly, King Pacorus. There is nothing to stop them invading Susiana and Babylon if they are invited here. No, I will not do it.’

  I understood his reluctance to endanger Susiana and Babylon, two kingdoms he had close ties to, being the realms of his father and mother respectively, even if he murdered Orodes. I put the idea out of my mind. There was no proof, only the wicked tongue of Claudia suggesting it was so.

  I pointed at Assur. ‘My army is here, highness.’

  ‘It is not marching to Ctesiphon?’ said Phraates with alarm.

  ‘No, highness. It waits at Assur for Hatra’s army.’

  ‘Then it will march south,’ said Phraates.

  I shook my head. ‘No, highness. The idea, or rather Kewab’s idea, is to dazzle the Sarmatians with the prospect of gold, which will allow us to strike across the Tigris to attack them in the rear.’

  ‘While leaving Ctesiphon defenceless,’ remarked Phraates, coolly.

  I looked at the handsome, strapping Adapa.

  What is the garrison of Ctesiphon?’

  ‘A thousand soldiers, majesty,’ he answered.

  ‘The walls of Ctesiphon are strong. They can easily withstand a short siege until our plan is put into operation.’

  Phraates’ jaw dropped.

  ‘I have spent a great deal of time and gold restoring Ctesiphon to become the glittering heart of the Parthian Empire, King Pacorus. It is a place of beauty, wealth, religion and power, not some dreary stronghold held by a garrison of ruffians.’

  ‘It is a credit to you, highness,’ I said.

  ‘But you want to use it as bait,’ smirked Claudia.

  ‘Yes,’ I answered honestly.

  Phraates was appalled. ‘No, no, no, no, no. I will not have foreign barbarians desecrating the beating heart of Parthia.’

  I tried to keep my temper, but it was becoming difficult.

  ‘Highness,’ I began, ‘this is the quickest way to rid the empire of the Sarmatians, and believe me I wish to see them gone as much as you, more so truth be told. But I must crave your indulgence if we are to rid the empire of the Sarmatian plague.’

  I tapped the map. ‘Ctesiphon, Susiana and Babylon all have garrisons and well-maintained walls. The Sarmatians cannot take them.’

  ‘And nor will they, King Pacorus,’ announced Phraates. ‘As we speak, Satrap Otanes is gathering an army at Susa to the west. King Silani of Persis is marching north to join him, and I have requested that Queen Cia send horsemen to Susa as a gesture of support.’

  He suddenly looked at me with a kindly expression.

  ‘My condolences regarding King Gafarn and Queen Diana, by the way. I know you and Queen Gallia were close to them. The empire has lost two fine servants and we share your grief.’

  I bowed my head to him. ‘Thank you, highness.’

  He began tapping a finger on the table.

  ‘Claudia has informed me of you
r humiliation in Gordyene, and the other base actions committed by King Castus.’

  I looked at my daughter. ‘Has she?’

  ‘Mother keeps me fully abreast of developments,’ she said.

  ‘I have a mind to make Kewab the new King of Gordyene,’ said Phraates, ‘once the present predicament has been dealt with.’

  ‘Castus has a younger brother, highness,’ I reminded Phraates.

  He waved a hand at me. ‘He can be killed. Gordyene is becoming a liability. Its kings provoke needless wars with Armenia, which drives the Armenians into the arms of the Romans. King Castus has shown nothing but ingratitude since we sent Kewab to assist him defeat the coalition raised against him last year. He humiliates the King of Dura and now invites a Sarmatian host to plunder the empire. Such behaviour cannot be tolerated.’

  I was glad I had left Haytham at Assur. Phraates pointed his wretched arrow at me again.

  ‘You do wish for Kewab to remain in Parthia, do you not?’

  ‘I do, highness, but…’

  ‘But nothing, King Pacorus. It is decided. Kewab will be made the ruler of Gordyene. At least that will keep him happy and deprive the Romans of his services.’

  ‘And the Sarmatians, highness?’ I probed. ‘Can I ask your indulgence in enticing them south?’

  For some reason, we both looked at Claudia, my daughter as usual wreathed in black robes, making her look out of place in a palace filled with gold, silver, ivory, stucco and white marble. But she was not the only one seemingly out of place. The Scythian axe men who guarded Phraates in the palace were hewn from very different base materials than the attractive, well-dressed courtiers, officials and priests that graced Ctesiphon’s palace and temples. There was probably more gold hanging from the ears and draped around the necks and limbs of the noblewomen of Phraates’ court than in Dura’s vaults. Claudia pointed at the two axe men standing like statutes behind Phraates.

  ‘According to legend, the Sarmatians are the offspring of Scythian men and Amazon women. This means they should not be underestimated. King Ali and his allies made that mistake at Lake Urmia. I believe we have but one chance to rid the empire of them. We must be cautious and spring our trap at the right time. As Kewab appears to be a military genius, I would advise supporting his scheme.’