by Peter Darman
‘Of course not,’ remarked my father, ‘he hoped to make this his home. Why then would he destroy it?’
And so, without raising a sword against him, we had forced Narses to retreat.
Chapter 10
That afternoon I rode with my father, Vardan and Chosroes to the palace. The heavy wooden gates opened to let us enter as soldiers observed us from the walls. Parthian armies have no knowledge of siege warfare and as far as I knew none of the empire’s kings had engines with which to batter down fortifications, so unless walls are particularly weak or ill-maintained there is little likelihood of a city falling to an assault. Usually starvation forces surrender, and as I rode through the gates at Ctesiphon the latter seemed most likely had we delayed but a few days more. The wide expanse of open ground between the walls and the palace was filled with tents, horses and camels — troops from Susiana who had remained loyal to Phraates together with the shattered remnants of Elymais’ army. Feeding such a multitude would have quickly emptied the palace storerooms. Inside the walled palace complex itself we were greeted by Prince Orodes, who, despite the fact that he had been besieged, still retained his cheerful disposition. He bowed to my father, Vardan and Chosroes and then embraced me.
‘It is good to see you, majesty.’
‘You don’t have to call me that, Orodes. Pacorus will suffice. We are, after all, friends are we not?’
‘My father and I certainly need all the friends we can get. Is Gallia with you?’
‘I sent her back to Dura. She’s pregnant.’
He shook my hand and beamed with delight. ‘This is indeed a happy day, Pacorus. Tonight we will celebrate and toast your wife, but first my father wishes to convey his gratitude.’
Our horses were taken from us and we walked up the palace steps and into the cool interior of Phraates’ palace. The high ceilings, yellow and blue painted walls and marble columns conveyed power and opulence whilst the immaculately dressed guards gave a sense of protocol and discipline. The ensuing ordered calm was in stark contrast to the disorder that currently raged outside the confines of the royal residence. Clerks and eunuchs scuttled around as Orodes escorted us into one of the throne rooms.
The large white doors inlaid with gold opened and we entered the seat of power, the same throne room where Sinatruces had made me King of Dura over two years before. How long ago it seemed now. That was a happy time, but the atmosphere in the room this time was far from joyous as we walked across the marble-tiled floor and bowed in front of the dais where Phraates sat next to his wife, Queen Aruna. I was shocked by how old Phraates looked. He was in his fifties and his hair had always been flecked with grey, but now there were large streaks of it in his mane, but what was more noticeable was how gaunt he looked. Sunken cheeks, bags under his eyes, his hands constantly fidgeting with the arms of his throne were indicative of the toll the rebellion had taken on him; that and the great weight upon his shoulders of being King of Kings. He did at least seem pleased to see us and raised his right hand in recognition.
‘Greetings King Varaz, King Chosroes and King Vardan. You are all most welcome. And greetings to you, King Pacorus, who have added more lustre to your reputation by your recent victory.’
I bowed my head once more. ‘Thank you, highness.’
Standing to the side of the dais, dressed in full war gear, was King Gotarzes of Elymais, whose army Narses had defeated and whose forces now sheltered inside the walls of the palace complex. He winked at me and I smiled back.
‘Do you intend to march after the rebels, highness?’ asked my father.
Phraates shifted uneasily on his throne. ‘Well, I was hoping to reach an accommodation with them. The empire needs peace.’
‘Peace, I absolutely agree,’ added Chosroes.
‘There can be peace after we have defeated Narses and his army,’ I said.
All eyes were upon me and I soon realised that I had made a mistake to speak thus. Phraates frowned and looked at his feet, while the queen fixed me with an icy stare. It was the first time that I had met Queen Aruna. She was younger than Phraates by about five years, I surmised. Some would call her beautiful, with thick black curly hair that flowed down to her shoulders, a square, olive-skinned face with a perfect complexion and big brown eyes. But it was a harsh beauty, for she had a haughty manner and a condescending attitude, born no doubt of her upbringing in the court at Puta, for she was the sister of King Phriapatus of Carmania, an eastern kingdom that had sided with Narses. And from the first day that I met her she was my enemy.
‘I do not wish to see the death of King Mithridates, my son, who currently accompanies King Narses,’ she said. ‘It is unbecoming for kings to kill each other. This is Parthia, not the barbarian wastelands of the steppes.’
So Mithridates was with Narses. It did not surprise me, the treacherous little snake.
‘The current difficult situation will be settled now that you all have arrived,’ said Phraates, ignoring his wife’s utterance. ‘Narses will see sense and return to Persis.’
‘Narses should be ordered here to explain his insolence,’ added Aruna, ‘and for luring away my innocent son from our side. Narses has obviously been bewitched, probably by that vile old hag who corrupted the divine Sinatruces.’
She shot me a hateful look. She was obviously alluding to Dobbai, and must have known that she now resided at Dura.
I caught the look of disbelief on Orodes’ face. I had no doubt that whatever the reason for Mithridates being with Narses, it had nothing to do with him being deceived, more likely naked ambition.
‘You wish to negotiate with your enemies, highness?’ asked my father.
Aruna looked daggers at my father, her eyebrows squeezed together, then at her husband.
Phraates cleared his throat. ‘They are not our enemies. They are our subjects, and as such I do not wish to make war upon them.’
The queen regarded us with a smug expression. I felt like we were small boys being chastised. Phraates rose from his throne and held out his hand to his queen, who took it and also stood up.
‘You must be tired after your journey.’ He gestured to one of his stewards standing by the dais. ‘You will be shown to your rooms. Tonight we will have a feast to celebrate your arrival, and tomorrow we will decide what action is to be taken.’
We bowed our heads as the king and queen left the room, after which Orodes and Gotarzes accompanied us to our quarters in the palace.
‘You arrived just in time, Varaz,’ said Gotarzes, ‘another week and we would have been starved out.’
The so-called ‘feast’ that evening was a dire event, the whole room drenched in an atmosphere of polite iciness. The queen pointedly ignored me, father and Vardan, though she did respond to the obsequiousness of Chosroes, whose mood had brightened markedly now that Phraates had stated his intention to avoid further bloodshed. I spoke to Orodes briefly before he took his place beside his parents at the top table. Then I took my seat on one of the long tables that had been arranged at right angles to the top table and which seated a host of courtiers dressed in bright yellows, greens, blues and reds. I sat next to Gotarzes, who I think was glad of my company.
‘Are your family safe, lord?’ I asked him.
He was taking large gulps from his silver cup. ‘Yes, thank you. I sent them north to Khosrou, they’ll be safe at Merv. So what do you think of our queen of queens.’
‘You mean Queen Aruna?’
He drained his cup and held it out to a servant for it to be refilled. ‘Yes, that’s the bitch.’
‘You dislike her?’
‘Intensely. I did not realise that when we made Phraates King of Kings, we were in fact making her the ruler of the Parthian Empire.’
‘Really?’ I was unsure whether it was the drink talking.
He looked at me wryly. ‘I’ve been cooped up here in this zoo long enough to know where the real power lies. She’s like a hawk and makes sure that she has a say in everything Phraates decides. Bitch!
’
He said the last word loudly enough to turn the heads of the high king and his queen, the latter looking hatefully at Gotarzes.
He took another gulp of wine and continued. ‘It’s easy to see how she could spawn such an evil little bastard like Mithridates.’
‘But Orodes is also her son,’ I said.
‘Her adopted son. Orodes’ mother was a concubine of Sinatruces whom Phraates fell in love with. Sinatruces forgave her infidelity, for a son born to a king, even a bastard one, is worth having. The result of his passion sits at the top table, and a fine young man he is, but Aruna’s poisonous blood does not flow in his veins, thank God. Aruna never forgave her husband’s infidelity, rumour has it, and he’s full of remorse, the stupid idiot.’
‘What happened to the concubine?’
A wicked smile crept over Gotarzes’ face. ‘Died of a fever, some say, though others maintain that she was poisoned by queen bitch over there. I am inclined to believe the latter. Bitch!’
He was now quite drunk and full of resentment. Queen Aruna had heard his last word.
‘You have something to say, King Gotarzes?’
Gotarzes rose to his feet unsteadily and what little chatter there was died instantly. ‘I do.’
The disdainful look on the face of Gotarzes made me realise that he was about to tell the queen exactly what he thought of her. The look of alarm on Orodes’ face confirmed this. I therefore stood up and spoke first.
‘King Gotarzes and I would like to thank your majesties for a most magnificent feast.’
My father lent back in his chair and regarded me with curiosity, while Vardan looked confused, for even an imbecile would know that this evening was an excruciating affair.
The queen frowned. ‘I see. And are those his words or yours?’
‘I do not need you to speak for me, Pacorus.’
‘Indeed not,’ snapped the queen. Her attention now turned to me.
‘I have heard, King Pacorus, that you insulted my son at Esfahan.’
I could see where Mithridates got his talent for bearing grudges from. Phraates still said nothing but merely watched with a worried look.
I saw no reason to lie. ‘You heard correctly, majesty.’
For a brief moment she was lost for words, but then her disdainful look retuned, her jaw jutting forward.
‘You think it wise to insult the son of the King of Kings?’
I was rapidly losing patience. ‘I would not have to if he had learnt some manners. But if it makes you feel better, I will apologise to him now. Where is he? Oh, I forgot, he’s fighting with the rebels.’
Gotarzes clapped his hands, guffawed and sat back down.
The queen turned to her husband. ‘Are you going to let such insolence in your court go unpunished?’
My father stood up to defend me. But before he or Phraates could say anything I walked over the top table and bowed my head to the queen.
‘I apologise unreservedly for any offence I may have given. Too much wine, I fear.’
Phraates looked mightily relieved and the queen scowled at me.
‘Well, too much wine can certainly provoke a rash tongue,’ said Phraates. ‘We accept your apology.’
My father looked most displeased as I retook my seat, while Gotarzes gave me a heavy slap on the back.
‘I wouldn’t have apologised to the bitch.’
‘I know, that’s what I was worried about.’
The evening deteriorated further when a message was brought to Phraates by one of his stewards, prompting him to shake his head, stand and walk briskly from the banqueting hall, his viper of a wife scurrying after him. We all stood as they did so, and afterwards the kings gathered round my father.
‘I wonder what that was about?’ said Vardan.
‘No doubt we will know soon enough,’ replied my father.
‘No doubt. Well, Varaz,’ Gotarzes was now very drunk, ‘the error of our ways in not making you chief over us all is now plain to see. Perhaps we should march out and join Narses. I’m sure his feasts are not such dire occasions, at least.’
My father acknowledged his words with a faint nod, then he turned to me.
‘You did not help, Pacorus. You really do need to learn the art of diplomacy.’
‘Diplomacy? Perhaps, but being treated like a slave has no appeal, father. I tried it once in Italy and found it most disagreeable.’
Gotarzes laughed and Vardan smiled. A sheepish Orodes joined us.
‘I apologise for my step-mother, Pacorus, she can be a little hot-headed.’
Gotarzes put an arm round his shoulder. ‘Not your fault, young prince, your father should have taken his belt to that bitch years ago.’
Orodes looked even more awkward, and several of the courtiers who were still standing at their tables looked at the drunken king with contempt on their faces.
‘I think,’ said my father, ‘that it would be sensible to retire to our quarters and put this evening behind us.’
‘Better lock your door, Pacorus,’ slurred Gotarzes, ‘else the queen might creep into your room and stick a knife between your ribs.’
The queen did not try to kill me that evening, I am pleased to say, and the next morning we were all summoned to Phraates’ throne room once more. The king looked even paler and more haunted than ever, while the queen, dressed in a stunning close-fitting pure white gown accentuating her voluptuous figure, her arms adorned with gold bracelets, armlets and a necklace of gold at her throat, eyed us warily. I noticed that Phraates held a letter in his right hand. We stood in a line before him — my father, myself, Vardan, Gotarzes, now sober thankfully, and Chosroes — and bowed our heads.
‘As if I don’t have enough troubles.’ Phraates was staring at the floor in front of us as he spoke. ‘The Romans have sent this letter demanding a meeting with me to clarify the borders between our two empires. To add insult to injury, they want the meeting to take place in Gordyene.’
‘An outrage,’ said my father.
‘Indeed it is,’ replied Phraates, ‘but a calculated one. They have obviously heard of our recent troubles and hope to take advantage of them.’
‘You should refuse to meet them until they withdraw from Gordyene, highness,’ said Chosroes.
‘A show of strength is what’s needed,’ added Vardan.
‘That would be my first thought, but unfortunately,’ said my father, ‘the whole of Hatra’s army cannot be sent to face them in Gordyene, not while half of it is sitting here in Ctesiphon.’
I noticed that while this interchange was going on Phraates and Aruna were looking at me, which made me feel uncomfortable. Eventually, the king spoke to me.
‘Pacorus, you among us have had close dealings with these Romans. What is your opinion on this matter?’
‘They will not respond to threats, not unless they can be backed up with overpowering force. And if they cannot then they will regard you as weak. The Romans only respect strength. They are testing you, highness.’ I cleared my throat, aware that my father and the other kings were also listening closely to my words. ‘They undoubtedly know about the civil war in Parthia, perhaps they fomented it.’
Aruna was going to object but Phraates raised his hand to still her. He was clearly interested in what I had to say.
‘And what would you suggest that I do?’
‘Meet them, highness,’ I said. ‘At the very least it will buy time for Farhad of Media to muster his army and add it to your own forces should it come to war.’
‘We need Farhad here,’ growled my father.
‘Believe me, father, his men are needed where the Romans are. We can beat Narses easily enough, if the efforts of Porus are anything to go by. The Romans are a different prospect.’
‘The Romans are barbarians,’ sneered the queen.
‘Barbarians?’ I looked her directly in the eye. ‘That may be, but Narses’ army contains numerous contingents, not used to working together. The Romans are better equipped and more
organised, and Parthia does not want a Roman army rampaging on its western frontier.’
‘While Narses rampages in the east,’ said Gotarzes.
‘Believe me, lord,’ I continued, ‘the Romans are the bigger threat. I know how they fight. They pose the greatest immediate danger.’
Phraates held up his hand again and sighed. He leaned forward and looked at me.
‘I will meet these Romans, and you, Pacorus, will come with me. The rest of you will stay here and prepare to face Narses, should it come to that. Though for now I have sent couriers to him requesting a halt to hostilities and a meeting to discuss how we might resolve our differences peacefully. I will leave for Gordyene tomorrow.’
He waved us away and we departed. I decided to leave the palace and return to my command tent, finding the company there far more agreeable. The camp had been established immediately south of the palace, the neat rows of the tents and the palisade on the earth rampart reassuring me of the strength of Dura’s army. Legionaries practised their drills outside the large, rectangular camp and Nergal put my cataphracts, attired in full war gear, through their paces. In the afternoon I called him, Domitus and the lords to my tent and told them of my impending journey to Gordyene. They all wanted to accompany me, but I informed them that I would take only my cataphracts. We would ride directly north to Irbil and then on to Gordyene. It would take about six days. I dismissed the lords and told Nergal and Domitus to remain. I informed them of what had happened in the palace.
‘Phraates has no stomach for a fight,’ I said. ‘He seeks peace when he should be striking at the heart of Narses.’
‘The Romans will smell his fear when they meet him,’ said Domitus.
