Parthian Dawn

by Peter Darman

  To his credit Lucullus did not let his emotions take control of him, though he must have been seething inside. The war that Spartacus waged in Italy was a great insult to the Romans, not least because his army was made up of slaves, who in Roman eyes were like animals that existed only to serve their masters.

  ‘You were once a slave and now you are a king.’ He tilted his head to one side. ‘My congratulations.’

  ‘I was a prince,’ I corrected him, ‘before being made a slave by Rome.’

  ‘Do you seek recompense from Rome, King Pacorus, is that why you are here?’

  ‘No, consul. I am here because my high king did me the great honour of requesting my presence at his side. In truth I am just one Parthian king among many. But consider this. If but one Parthian with a handful of horsemen can wreak such damage in your homeland, think what tens of thousands could do to your army, an army that is so far from home.’

  ‘Rome does not respond to threats, Parthian.’

  I smiled at him. ‘I make no threat, consul, merely an observation. For are we not here to try to avoid conflict? Why look for war unnecessarily?’

  ‘Why, indeed?’ added Phraates.

  Lucullus regarded us all, weighing up in his mind the options available to him at that moment. And behind us, lined up along the riverbank were our horsemen and foot soldiers, staring across the water at the centuries and cohorts of the Romans. Whatever his thoughts he decided that he would not be drawing his sword this day, for he abruptly stood and raised his right arm in salute to Phraates.

  ‘Great king, I thank you for your courtesy today. Know that I desire no conflict with the Parthian Empire, and that I will be communicating with the Senate in Rome for the resolution of the issue of Gordyene forthwith.’

  Phraates bowed his head in gratitude. ‘Thank you, consul, I have no doubt that we can maintain a beneficial peace between our two great empires. I look forward to receiving a satisfactory conclusion to the matter of Gordyene.’

  Lucullus said nothing further to me, though he did take a last look in my direction before he and his officers departed for the far bank, while Enius signalled for our horses to be brought to the raft. Thus ended the diplomacy on the Shahar Chay River.

  Phraates was in jovial spirits on the journey back to Irbil, thinking that he had achieved a bloodless victory.

  ‘You obviously frightened him, Pacorus,’ he said, though I doubted that.

  ‘If that is all the men he has,’ said Farhad, ‘then we have nothing to fear from that particular Roman.’

  How they underestimated the Romans. Media alone could put more men into the field than Lucullus, of that I had no doubt, but Roman strength was built on discipline and organisation, something that most Parthian armies lacked. Lightly armed foot soldiers who worked the land for a living and horse archers who fought as a war band for their lord were no match for highly trained legionaries. Every kingdom had palace guards and formations of professional horsemen, but only Hatra had a standing army plus my own kingdom of Dura. If it had come to a fight this day, Lucullus’ soldiers would have made short work of Media’s army. I kept these thoughts to myself as the host made its way back to Farhad’s capital. Atrax was feeling very pleased with himself. He relaxed on a couch in his father’s palace eating grapes with one hand while his other arm was around Aliyeh’s shoulders.

  ‘The Romans backed down in the face of our strength, darling.’ He kissed Aliyeh on the cheek. ‘They will scurry back to Italy now.’

  A servant brought me a cup of freshly squeezed apple juice. ‘I doubt that, Atrax. You must keep a keen eye on your northern frontier. Above all, try to convince your father not to launch any raids into Gordyene, at least until we have had time to deal with Narses.

  He waved his hand at me. ‘This Lucullus has only a small army, feeble compared to the numbers we can put in the field. He would not dare to provoke a fight with Media.’

  I smiled. He had only just turned twenty and wanted to impress his new bride more than anything else. He had never seen the face of battle, and the fact that there had been no fight at the river made him thirst for military glory even more. He had been in the midst of thousands of soldiers, smelt the leather armour, harnesses, sweat and scent of the horses, seen the brightly coloured banners and whetted spear points, and been so close to the enemy. He must have been chaffing at the bit, ready to charge across the river and slay the Romans as a farmer scythes wheat.

  ‘You do not think so, do you Pacorus?’ My sister may have been in love, but it had not dulled her sharp mind.

  ‘No.’

  She pressed me further. ‘Why not?’

  I drank from my cup; the liquid was cool and refreshing. ‘Because the Romans are a proud and arrogant people, and those two traits will not allow them to yield.’

  Atrax was delighted by my answer. ‘Then we will fight them.’

  ‘As I said, let us settle the business with Narses before anything else,’ I said. ‘One war at a time, Atrax. Remember that.’

  I doubted he was listening. A new bride, an enemy lying so close to his father’s frontier and the promise of fame and glory were too intoxicating to listen to reason. I prayed that the peace would last long enough for us to return and reinforce Media’s army.

  ‘Two months, Pacorus, that is how long I will give the Romans.’

  After saying our farewells to Farhad, Atrax and my sister, I rode back to Ctesiphon with Phraates and Enius.

  It had suited Phraates to be away from the poisonous confines of Ctesiphon. The journey north and the favourable outcome of the meeting with Lucullus had restored colour to his cheeks and made him much more positive. Today, on our way back to Ctesiphon, he was in a bullish mood.

  ‘Two months, that is all, then I shall demand their withdrawal from Gordyene and march at the head of an army to retake it if they refuse.’

  ‘There is the matter of Narses still to be addressed, highness,’ said Enius.

  ‘Narses has withdrawn,’ replied Phraates. ‘He will be seeking an audience with me to beg for my forgiveness, of that I am sure. We have you to thank for that, Pacorus.’

  I was surprised. ‘Me, highness?’

  ‘Of course, for your defeat of Porus sent a clear message to those who rebel against our royal power. That if they do so they will face certain destruction. I should have had you at court much earlier.’

  That thought filled me with dread. In any case Phraates deluded himself, and when we were on the road to Ctesiphon he soon had a stark reminder of harsh reality. Nergal, accompanied by Byrd, Malik and a dozen horse archers, met us fifty miles from the royal palace. Nergal looked resplendent in his white tunic, mail shirt and helmet, while Malik was dressed in his black robes. Byrd looked as dishevelled as ever, made worse by several days’ worth of hair on his face.

  Nergal bowed his head to Phraates as our column halted on the road. ‘Hail, highness.’

  ‘This is Nergal, highness,’ I said, ‘my second-in-command.’

  ‘Why do you interrupt our journey?’ said Phraates.

  ‘I bring news of King Narses, highness.’

  Phraates turned to me and smiled. ‘You see, Pacorus, what did I tell you. He is eager to atone for his errant ways.’

  The look on Nergal’s face suggested otherwise. I avoided the king’s gaze as Nergal relayed his news.

  ‘King Narses approaches Ctesiphon with a great army, highness. Your presence at Ctesiphon is urgently requested.’

  Phraates visibly wilted before my eyes, as if some magic spell had suddenly been cast upon him. He said nothing, then nudged his horse forward past all of us. We followed him, Nergal falling in beside me as Enius rode forward to ride beside his king.

  ‘So,’ I said, ‘I assume that Narses is moving his army towards Ctesiphon to give battle and not surrender it.’

  ‘Yes, lord,’ replied Nergal. ‘Byrd and Malik rode east to find out more about his movements. They returned yesterday.’

  ‘Enemy army very big,�
� said Byrd. ‘Many more men than your army.’ He nodded towards the stooped figure of Phraates riding ahead of us. ‘Might be wise for him to seek peace.’

  ‘Numbers are not everything,’ I said. ‘Remember when we fought in Italy. We were often outnumbered.’

  Byrd looked unconcerned. The affairs of kings probably did not interest him in the slightest, then he nodded again towards Phraates. ‘He no Spartacus.’

  ‘We rode towards Susa, Pacorus,’ said Malik. ‘Narses’ army has marched west to the Tigris and then north into the desert. He now turns west again to strike at Ctesiphon.’

  ‘He will be at Ctesiphon in four days,’ added Byrd.

  When we reached Ctesiphon Phraates resembled the old man whom we had accompanied north to Media. After a short interlude to allow us to wash and refresh ourselves, he convened a war council in his study in the palace’s expansive private apartments. The study was large but surprisingly sparse for the King of Kings. It consisted of a large desk, pigeonholes on one wall that held parchments and scrolls, a couch and several well-appointed chairs that had been arranged in a semi-circle in front of his desk. And behind his desk, fixed to the wall, was wood panelling, upon which had been painted a beautifully detailed map of the Parthian Empire, a domain now threatened with being torn asunder. Phraates was sitting behind the desk with his chin in his hands, his elbows resting on the table. His eyes followed each of us as we entered, bowed and sat in a chair. Servants offered us fruit juice or water from silver trays, while others presented sweet meats and pastries. I sat down next to my father, while on my other side Orodes, Gotarzes, Vardan and Chosroes found their places. Enius stood next to Phraates, who at last spoke.

  ‘Gentlemen, you will all know by now that Narses and his army are approaching Ctesiphon. The question is — how will we deal with this predicament?’

  Chosroes, much to my surprise, spoke first. ‘It is better to seek a peaceful outcome, I think, highness.’

  Phraates sat back in his chair and nodded. ‘I agree, we will try to come to terms with Narses.’

  ‘I have heard that his numbers have been swelled since he was previously before your palace, highness,’ said Vardan.

  ‘Apparently so,’ replied the king.

  ‘And you think this predisposes Narses to peace, highness?’ My father’s words made Phraates shift uneasily in his chair.

  ‘I would hope that he remembers that we are all Parthian at the end of the day.’

  ‘And what of my kingdom?’ Gotarzes said.

  Phraates looked at him. ‘You can be assured, King Gotarzes, that the restitution of your lands will be at the top of the agenda when we sit down and talk with Narses.’

  Gotarzes mumbled something in reply which I did not hear, after which there was an awkward silence. I stared at the king’s desk, for I believed all talk about discussions to be a waste of time. I was glad that conflict had been avoided with the Romans in Media, but Narses and his band of rebels posed a greater immediate threat to Phraates, for their existence weakened his authority, and a ruler without authority is like a eagle without talons.

  ‘You have no opinion on this matter, King Pacorus?’

  I had, but decided to keep my council.

  ‘I concur with your decision, highness.’

  Phraates looked puzzled. ‘But I have made no decision as yet. Come, speak freely.’

  And so I did. ‘I believe, highness, that talking to the rebels is a waste of time. We should march out to meet Narses and defeat him, for every day that he and his army exists is a gross insult to you and to the ancient laws of Parthia.’

  I was aware at once that my father was fuming at my reply, though he said nothing.

  ‘Well,’ said Gotarzes, ‘he may be half our age but Pacorus has twice the wisdom. I agree with him. We should put an end to this rebellion here and now.’

  Chosroes had gone very pale while Vardan looked contemplative. ‘But can we defeat such a host?’

  ‘We can beat him,’ I replied, ‘if we have the will.’

  ‘And do you agree with your son, Varaz?’ asked Phraates.

  ‘The army of Hatra stands ready to obey your orders, highness,’ replied my father evasively.

  ‘We cannot remain at Ctesiphon, highness,’ I continued. ‘There are too many men and beasts to feed and water. Narses knows this. That is why he is marching here. He is forcing your hand.’

  ‘You should not talk to your lord, thus,’ said my father. ‘It is not your place.’

  ‘It is my duty to speak the truth, father.’

  My father rounded on me. ‘Is it? Or do you seek a battle for your own ends, to achieve more glory for yourself?’

  Enius looked alarmed, Phraates was speechless.

  ‘We should not argue thus,’ said Vardan. ‘It is for the high king to decide our course of action.’

  ‘We look to you, highness,’ added my father.

  I purposely ignored my father and looked at Phraates, then Enius. He at least knew what I was saying was true. There were thousands of men, mules, camels and horses camped in and around Ctesiphon. Food and forage were in short supply as it was. We could not withdraw for we could not abandon Ctesiphon, the capital of all Parthia, to Narses. At a stroke that would make us all appear feeble. We had only achieved half of what we had set out to accomplish. We had relieved Ctesiphon, but it would all be for nothing unless we beat Narses. And Narses knew this. Phraates must also have known this. He was no fool, but now he had to show his mettle. He smiled to himself.

  ‘Very well. We will assemble our forces and march east to intercept Narses. This matter must be brought to an end once and for all.’

  My father said nothing to me after the meeting ended. He was infuriated with me, but Gotarzes had only praise.

  ‘You did well, Pacorus. We need to give that bastard Narses a good beating, otherwise he’ll pick us off one by one.’

  ‘My father doesn’t see it as you do.’

  ‘Yes he does. He’s angry with himself, not you. He knows that Phraates is lacking as a King of Kings, but what can he do? What can any of us do?’

  ‘Stay true to our oaths of loyalty,’ I said.

  The area around the palace and the along the east bank of the Tigris resounded with the noise of forges making new arrowheads, sharpening blades and mending armour. Farriers shod horses and veterinaries attended to their health. That afternoon I rode with Byrd and Malik to the east. We travelled twenty miles into the desert and then halted. All around was a barren expanse of flat, parched red earth, upon which nothing grew aside from a few shrubs. The terrain was featureless — perfect for cavalry. In the far distance stood the Zagros Mountains, the direction from where Narses was marching. But here there were no mountains, no hills, not even a hillock.

  ‘Narses is clever,’ I said. ‘He intends to make his superiority in numbers count, and this is the perfect spot.’

  ‘In what way?’ asked Malik.

  ‘If Narses had continued to march north along the Tigris, then we could have anchored one flank of our army on the river, as we did when we fought Porus. But here, in the desert, there is nothing to anchor a flank on, no river, wadi, forest or high ground. That means that we will have to match the extent of his line lest we be outflanked. And that will make our line very thin.’

  ‘You think there will be a battle?’

  ‘Oh yes, Malik, there will be a battle. Narses has not come this far to talk. He did that at the Council of Kings.’

  ‘He expects to win,’ said Byrd.

  ‘Of course,’ I said. ‘And if he does, and manages to kill all the kings who are arrayed against him, then the empire falls into his lap like ripe fruit. What is this place called?’

  ‘Nomads we spoke to call it Surkh,’ replied Byrd, ‘not know what it means.’

  I knelt down and scooped up some of the dry earth. ‘It means redness.’ I let it fall from my hand. The name was very apt, for this patch of ground would soon be running red with blood.

 
‘Odds not good, Pacorus.’ Byrd always did have a knack of summing things up succinctly. We stood in silence for a while. And to the east Narses and his army advanced towards Ctesiphon.

  I rode straight to my father’s camp when we returned, a vast sprawling collection of tents along the Tigris. He had made sure that he was upstream from the armies of the other kings, especially that of Chosroes. His tent was a great round affair, its roof supported by four giant poles. I left my horse with a servant and was escorted inside by two sentries. I found my father in a conference with Vistaspa and half a dozen of his officers all standing in front of my father’s desk. As soon as they saw me the officers bowed their heads, prompting my father to dismiss them. As they bowed once more and filed out, my father indicated to Vistaspa that he should sit in one of the wicker chairs that were placed by one of the tent poles. My father’s second-in-command nodded his head slightly at me but said nothing.

  ‘So, the wanderer returns,’ said my father, noticing my dust-covered apparel, my shirt tainted red. He gestured to a water jug on a small table to one side. ‘You must be thirsty.’

  I walked over to the table and drank a cup of lukewarm water.

  ‘Are you well?’ asked my father.

  ‘Yes, father.’

  ‘And is this a social visit?’

  I slumped down in one of the chairs. ‘I need your cataphracts, father.’

  He looked at Vistaspa and they both laughed.

  ‘Did I hear you right, Pacorus? You want me to give you my cataphracts, the finest heavy cavalry in the known world?’

  ‘Yes, father.’

  ‘And you wish Lord Vistaspa to command them?’

  ‘Of course.’

  My father placed his hands behind his head and stared at the roof of the tent.

  ‘So, not only do you want my cataphracts, you also want the commander of my troops, the man who has forged Hatra’s army into the sword of the Parthian Empire?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘And am I allowed to know the reason why you make such heavy demands upon me?’

  ‘To defeat Narses.’

  He slowly rose from his chair and started pacing up and down.