by Peter Darman
‘That is what I am worried about.’
‘Then you have to convince them that there is steel in Parthia.’
‘We should march with you, Pacorus,’ said Nergal.
I shook my head. ‘No, Nergal, your cavalry and the legion are needed here. If Narses attacks my father will need all the men he can get hold of to beat him.
‘There is another thing. I do not trust the mother of Mithridates. She may be in communications with him for all I know. Take orders only from my father, no one else, and certainly not from any commanders in the pay of Phraates.’
I told this to my father that evening in the company of Vardan, Chosroes, Gotarzes and Vistaspa, all of whom I had invited to dine with me.
‘We are supposed to be loyal subjects of Phraates,’ said my father.
‘And so I am, father, but I owe no loyalty to his wife.’
‘Agreed,’ said Gotarzes, who tonight was drinking water, not wine. ‘We should strike at Narses and kill him and Mithridates, for there will be no peace until both of them are food for vultures.’
‘I have to concur with your son, Varaz,’ added Vardan. ‘Phraates wastes his time sending envoys of peace to Narses. The only reason Narses retreated is because we arrived. He may attack when he learns that Phraates has been called away from his palace.’
‘How will he learn that?’ asked my father.
‘Queen bitch will tell him,’ spat Gotarzes.
My father held up his hands. ‘Friends, idle speculation will get us nowhere. We should concentrate on the here and now.’
Gotarzes looked at my father. ‘Have you forgotten, Varaz, that Narses sacked my kingdom and reduced me to the status of a beggar at the court of Phraates?’
My father looked serious. ‘Of course not, my old friend.’
‘We will restore you to your kingdom, lord,’ I said, ‘after we have dealt with the Romans.’
‘And how will you deal with them?’ asked Chosroes, staring at Domitus sitting beside me.
‘By trying to convince them that any further incursions into Parthian territory will cost them a high price in blood.’
‘And if you don’t convince them?’ asked Vardan.
‘Then we shall have to fight them, lord,’ I replied.
The evening thus ended on a sombre note, though I was confident that we could at least buy some time with regard to the Romans. I rose before dawn and assembled my cataphracts, both men and horses wearing full armour. I wore my black cuirass and Roman helmet with a white goose feather crest, my spatha at my hip and my bow in its case secured to my saddle. As the morning sun began its ascent in the eastern sky my father appeared at the entrance to the camp, Vistaspa beside him. An easterly breeze had picked up, which caused my griffin banner to flutter as Vagharsh held it in front of the two hundred horsemen that stood to attention, the steel masks covering their faces presenting a fearsome appearance. Behind them the mounted squires held the reins of camels loaded with spare armour, clothing, horseshoes, lances, bows, arrows, and food for both horses and men. Each squire led two camels — such was the amount of equipment needed to maintain a formation of cataphracts.
Nergal held the reins of Remus as my father dismounted and we embraced.
‘Take care, Pacorus.’
‘You too, father.’
He placed an arm around my shoulder and led me away from my men. ‘You must be careful, Pacorus.’
‘Of Phraates?’
‘No, of getting the empire involved in a war with the Romans. Phraates, unfortunately, is letting events dictate his actions instead of the other way round. He needs to be firm with the Romans, but not provoke them into launching a war. It will require great diplomatic skill, which I am not sure that he has. In his enthusiasm for preventing conflict he may give the impression that he is weak.’
‘The Romans will be looking for signs of weakness,’ I agreed.
‘Exactly, so you must convey strength without issuing threats, to sow the seeds of doubt in their minds.’
‘It will not be easy, father.’
He smiled at me. ‘I have every faith in you.’
‘Just don’t give battle to Narses before I get back.’
‘Who said anything about fighting Narses?’
‘You think he is going to quietly disband his army and retire to Persis?’
My father said nothing, but the expression on his face told me that he did not think so. We embraced once more and then I rode out of camp at the head of my column of riders, six hundred camels in tow. We rode to the palace gates and waited for the king, who appeared at the head of five hundred cataphracts commanded by Lord Enius, the man who had escorted Gallia and me to the court of Sinatruces over two years before. A thickset man in his forties, his men wore open-faced helmets with blue plumes. Their scale armour covered their torsos, arms and thighs and they each wore yellow cloaks that billowed in the breeze. Their mounts were also covered in scale armour, though some of the scales were made of silver, off which the sun glinted. Together with the blue pennants fluttering beneath the points of their kontus, they presented a magnificent sight. Behind Phraates, who wore a gold crown around the top of his helmet, flew the banner of the King of Susiana — an eagle clutching a snake in its talons. It was an apt standard for Mithridates was indeed a snake, though I wondered if his father would ever have him in his talons?
‘A fine morning, Pacorus,’ said Phraates, who appeared refreshed and in good spirits.
‘Indeed, highness,’ I replied.
‘Well, then, let us begin our adventure.’
It took us six days of hard riding to reach Irbil, Farhad’s capital. As soon as we had left the vicinity of Ctesiphon we took off our armour and stowed it on the camels to speed our journey. We stayed for one day only in the city, enough time to see my sister and her new husband. They both seemed happy enough and I found Aliyeh in a carefree mood, the first time in my life that I had seen my serious sister thus.
‘Marriage suits you,’ I told her.
‘I am happy here, Pacorus. And you look ever the warrior.’
I shrugged. ‘I do not look for war, but it always seems to find me.’
‘And are you here to fight a war?’ My serious sister suddenly returned.
‘Hopefully not, at least I will try to avoid it if I can.’
‘I don’t want to be a widow before I have yet to get used to being a bride.’
I laid my hand on her arm. ‘I won’t let anything happen to Atrax, fear not.’
‘Good, because he wants to be just like you.’
I burst out laughing. ‘To be like me?’
She raised an eyebrow at me. ‘Of course, for do you not know that you are famous? You return from the dead with a foreign princess, you are made a king with the help of a sorceress, you make an alliance with the heathen Agraci and become rich by creating a trade route with Egypt, and you win a great victory against impossible odds in a matter of minutes.’
I have to confess that I was pleased with such acclaim, though I pretended otherwise. ‘Surely people have better things to gossip about?’
She shook her head. ‘You are wrong, for the news of Pacorus of Dura travels like wildfire to the far corners of the empire. The people here were worried about the Romans massing to the north, but when we heard that you were coming their fears vanished like spring snow.’
‘I come to advise Phraates, nothing more.’
She curled her lip. ‘Phraates? A man whose own son rebels against him. He is a broken reed.’
I pointed a finger at her. ‘He is the King of Kings. I voted for him and will stay loyal to him, whatever happens.’
She smiled a beautiful smile and embraced me. ‘Pacorus the strong, Pacorus the unyielding. I think Phraates thanks Shamash every night that he has such warriors as you by his side.’
‘Shut up,’ I chided her, ‘you are being ridiculous.’
Atrax himself then appeared dressed in his leather tunic reinforced with small steel scales.
He had the angular face and lithe body of his father. His light-brown hair was shoulder length and his beard and moustache were neatly trimmed. He embraced me warmly.
‘We ride out tomorrow to face the Romans?’
I saw Aliyeh looking at me. ‘We go to discuss matters with the Romans,’ I corrected him.
‘You have beaten them many times, I have heard.’
‘A few times, yes.’
‘Then I’m sure they will run back to Rome when they know that you are with us,’ he beamed.
‘Perhaps, Atrax, perhaps.’
Farhad had made great efforts to assemble his army at short notice, calling in his lords from far and wide. And so, on the morrow, as we descended from his fortress at Irbil, ten thousand soldiers cheered his dragon banner. He had five hundred cataphracts of his own, to which were added a thousand horse archers of his royal guard. The lords of his kingdom brought their own retinues — horse archers, mounted spearmen with great round shields that protected the whole of their sides from their neck to their thighs, spearmen on foot with long shafts that were tipped with wicked points and had ferocious butt spikes, and foot archers who carried only their bows and quivers. Trumpets and horns blasted as Farhad and his son took their place at the head of their army, while behind them horsemen banged on kettledrums to encourage the troops. These instruments were a pair of hemispherical wooden drums with animal hide stretched over them, positioned either side of the front of the saddle, the rider striking the membranes with wooded sticks to produce a thumping sound that reverberated across the plain. And in front of the host marching north to meet the Roman invaders of our empire flew the banners of Dura, Susiana and Media.
It was fifty miles north to our meeting point at the border between Media and Gordyene, at the Shahar Chay River in the Urmia Plain. The Shahar Chay was one of the rivers that flowed into Lake Urmia, the vast saltwater lake that marked the northern boundary between the Parthian kingdoms of Gordyene and Atropaiene.
The Umbria Valley is wide and fertile, and even though the spring had yet to erupt the area was still covered in green. This was rich country, and despite the fact that Media did not benefit from the Silk Road the kingdom was blessed with rich agricultural lands that produced grapes, honey and apples in abundance. In addition, the lush pastures meant good breeding grounds for horses that were sold throughout the empire; indeed, my father often purchased mounts for his own army to supplement the stud farms of Hatra.
We arrived at the river to find the Romans already formed up on the northern side, row upon row of legionaries dressed in mailed shirts, helmets and carrying pila and shields. I counted two eagles, which equated to two legions, though there was also an abundance of auxiliary troops — slingers, archers and lightly armed spearmen carrying large round shields — deployed on the wings of the legions. Horsemen were stationed on the extreme flanks of each wing, though they were sparse in number, perhaps six hundred in total. I estimated the length of the Roman line to be two miles. In front of the legionaries, on beautifully groomed and equipped horses, were the senior Roman officers, half a dozen in number.
The river meandered lazily towards the great lake, for as yet the spring melt waters from the mountains had yet to flow and swell its torrent. The day was crisp, windless and calm, and were it not for the thousands of soldiers present it would also be peaceful. I smiled to myself when I saw the raft anchored in the water. The Romans, efficient as ever, had secured it in the mid-point of the river. The water itself was shallow at this spot, though the high banks on either side showed how it rose when the melt waters were raging.
The Romans sent over a mounted courier asking if we needed a boat to transport Phraates and his representatives to the raft, but Phraates declined. He did not trust the Romans, I think, though in truth he was in no danger of being assassinated. The Romans liked to defeat their enemies on the battlefield with the world watching, not murder them like thieves in the night. We would ride our horses into the water — I joined Phraates, Farhad and Enius, together with two other men who would take our mounts back to the southern riverbank until our discussions were completed. We relayed this to the courier, who took the message back to his masters. The Romans sent the same number of representatives as us, though they did use a small boat that was rowed across to the raft. Phraates, Enius and Farhad looked magnificent that day in their scale armour of burnished silver plates, shining steel helmets sporting plumes and richly adorned shirts. I too had made an effort to impress, in my black cuirass, Roman helmet with its white crest and white tunic. We all wore our cloaks, for the air was cool on the water.
The Romans, by comparison, presented a more weatherworn appearance, especially their commander, a man in his early forties who was almost bald aside from some hair above his ears. He had a narrow, lean face that looked like a strip of parched rawhide with a slim nose running down the centre. He stood at least six inches shorter than us and had a compact frame. No doubt Phraates took his smaller stature as a sign of inferiority, but I could see that this Roman had a professional bearing whose narrow eyes missed nothing. The officers with him were dressed as he was— helmets with red crests, muscled cuirasses and red cloaks and tunics. Each carried a gladius at his hip. One of them stepped forward and saluted.
‘Greetings, my name is Titus Amenius, tribune of Rome. I would like to present to you my general, the consul Lucius Licinius Lucullus, Governor of Asia and Cilicia.’
I heard Phraates take a sharp intake of breath, for to use such a title implied sovereignty over the lands that did not belong to Rome, for ‘Asia’ was an all-encompassing word.
Lord Enius stepped forward and bowed his head to the Romans.
‘Greetings. I am General Enius, commander of the army of Phraates, King of Kings of the Parthian Empire and ruler of all the lands from the Euphrates to the Indus.’
Lucullus raised an eyebrow at this, for his presence here today was a sign that Phraates did not at this time rule all of the area that Enius had just described. Enius then presented Farhad and myself, stating that we were the kings of Media and Dura respectively. Lucullus said nothing, though he kept looking at me as we all sat down in the high-backed chairs made more comfortable by cushions that had been arranged beforehand. A pagoda made from canvas and poles had been erected on the raft, though the sky was clear and I doubted that we would see any rain this day. There were no refreshments on the raft, for protocol dictated that no bread or wine could be shared with potential enemies. Phraates spoke first, looking directly at Lucullus.
‘Why do the Romans make war upon Parthia?’
Lucullus leaned back in his chair and regarded this foreign king sitting opposite him. Domitus had once told me that the Romans equated long hair with effeminacy and weakness, and as most Parthians wore their hair long, no doubt Lucullus thought us all inferior. In addition, the other kings sported beards and moustaches, though ever since my time in Italy I had maintained a clean-shaven appearance.
Eventually Lucullus spoke, his voice deep and commanding. ‘I am empowered by the Senate and People of Rome to make war upon Rome’s enemies. For many years our great republic has been at war with King Mithridates of Pontus and King Tigranes of Armenia. This war is now coming to an end with the defeat of those two enemies. Balas, late king of Gordyene, gave aid to Tigranes and was similarly defeated. As a result, Gordyene has become a client kingdom of Rome.’
‘The land you occupy is Parthian,’ said Phraates purposely.
‘The land we won in battle belonged to an enemy of Rome,’ replied Lucullus.
Phraates looked hesitant and cast a glance at me. A strong-willed man like his father would have thrown the Roman’s words back in his face, but Phraates was not such a man. An awkward pause followed. I decided to end it.
‘How many wars can Rome afford to fight?’ I asked.
‘King Pacorus,’ said Phraates, ‘is a man who has knowledge of your people.’
‘Thank you, highness,’ I said. ‘So tell me, Consul Lucullus,
are you empowered to wage war on the Parthian Empire, a war that will make your conflicts with Pontus and Armenia seem like mere child’s play by comparison?’
Lucullus now studied me more closely. He must have recognised my Roman cuirass and helmet, but I was obviously not a Roman. His officers also focused their attention on me, nodding and whispering to each other.
‘I am empowered to make war on all of Rome’s enemies,’ replied Lucullus.
‘But Parthia and Rome are not at war,’ I said.
‘Not yet,’ uttered one of Lucullus’ men, which earned him a rebuke from his commander.
‘Be careful, Roman,’ my blood was now up, ‘for I have fought and defeated Roman legions in the past. You think we are weak because we grow our hair long and sport beards, but the soldiers you see arrayed against you today are only a fraction of what the empire can muster. You tangle with Parthia at your peril.’
‘Thank you, King Pacorus,’ Phraates was clearly worried that I was provoking the Romans, ‘but we do not desire enmity, but rather wish there to be peace between our two great empires.’
But Lucullus was not listening to Phraates. ‘Where have you fought Romans?’ he asked me.
‘Did I not say? How rude of me,’ I replied. ‘I spent three years in Italy campaigning with General Spartacus. I have to confess that I forget how many eagles we took.’
I noted surprise in his eyes, quickly followed by a cold contempt, while behind him his officers became agitated. I decided to add to their discomfort.
‘And I remember in particular, consul, entertaining your troops on a beach north of Brundisium once. We killed many that day.’
Lucullus’ expression of contempt did not change, but his eyes narrowed as he said to me. ‘You’re “the Parthian”, aren’t you?’
My spine tingled with excitement at the mention of that name. ‘That is what I was called by my enemies in Italy, and it was a title I bore with pride.’ In that moment I felt elated.
‘Yes, consul, I am he.’
‘I had heard that you were dead.’
‘As you can see, consul, reports of my demise were greatly exaggerated.’
