by Peter Darman
‘Take off your armour and sword and leave them outside.’
I did as she instructed and we entered. It was a small-sized room with a single bed against one wall with a small table next to it. A silver jug, cup and bowl were lying on the table; while on the bed lay the sleeping Atrax. Because the shutters were closed the only illumination came from an oil lamp that hung from the wall. A tall, lean man with a neatly cropped beard and hair, a silver band around his head, was gently dabbing Atrax’s forehead with a cloth. He stopped when he saw Aliyeh.
‘How is he?’ she whispered.
The man smiled. ‘Much better, highness. Almost no fever. I have changed the dressing on his leg and the infection is slowly receding. I have reduced the dose of jimson weed and he should start to regain full consciousness very soon.’
Jimson weed was the substance used by physicians to deaden pain in patients, so that even the deepest wound could be cleaned out and sewn up without the patient screaming in agony, though it required great skill to administer the juice of the weed. Too much could induce coma and death. Clearly this man was a skilled practitioner in the healing arts. Aliyeh laid a hand on his arm.
‘Thank you, doctor, I am in your debt.’
He bowed his head then looked at me. ‘Prince Atrax is too weak to receive visitors, highness.’
My sister allowed herself a wry smile. ‘Do not worry, he isn’t staying.’ She then ushered me from the room and led me away.
‘I suppose we had better find some food for you. We cannot have the hero of all Parthia going hungry.’
‘I am sorry for Atrax. Alas, sister, being wounded is one of the hazards of being a soldier.’
Once again she spun round to face me. ‘You may like playing heroes but I would rather have Atrax as a husband, not some dead warrior in a bard’s poem. Thanks to you he will have a limp for the rest of his life. A daily reminder not to follow fools.’
There was no reasoning with her, and once we had reached the kitchens she left me to share a meal with my men. I got talking with one of the cooks, a short, chubby man with stubby fingers and a cheerful disposition, notwithstanding the dire predicament his city was in. He told me that after the battle Aschek and his men had fled for their homeland, leaving Media to the mercy of the Romans. The homes that lay outside Irbil’s high walls had been abandoned and the people had taken refuge inside the citadel, though how much longer they could remain was uncertain given the paucity of supplies. Farhad had sent word to his kingdom’s lords to attend him at Irbil with what men they could muster, but the injury to Prince Atrax had demoralised them and was seen as an evil omen. The prince was popular among his countrymen, the more so since he had married the tall and stern Princess Aliyeh of Hatra, the sister of King Pacorus the Slayer.
‘Slayer?’ I said, dipping a piece of bread in a thick vegetable broth that tasted exquisite.
‘Yes, sir, that is what they call you in these parts. The king who slays all those who dare to cross him. So we’ve no need to worry now your here.’
I thought of Narses and Mithridates still striding the earth and smiled.
He was skinning a rabbit, his stubby hands wielding a razor-sharp knife with ease to separate the meat from the skin. ‘Anyhow, until Prince Atrax is back on his feet Media’s soldiers won’t be sticking their arrows in anyone. Some say that the prince is dead.’
‘He isn’t,’ I corrected him.
‘I know that, sir, and you know that. But not many others do.’
I realised how much of a talisman Atrax had become the next day at Farhad’s war council. His six generals, all of them middle aged and experienced leaders, I had met when we had marched together to parley with Lucullus months ago. Then Media could raise at least twenty thousand horsemen.
‘I doubt if we could put five thousand in the field now,’ said Farhad without emotion.
‘You lost fifteen thousand men at the battle?’ I was staggered.
‘No, sire,’ said one of Farhad’s commanders, ‘but many men have returned to their homes and may not answer the call to arms if summoned again.’
The situation was worse than I had thought. Panic and fear were obviously sweeping through Media like a plague.
‘If only Prince Atrax could ride through the kingdom, majesty, it would give heart to the people and their leaders,’ said another commander, to the murmurs of agreement from the others.
‘Prince Atrax will not be riding anywhere until his wounds are healed.’ My sister’s words left her mouth like arrows.
‘Aliyeh, daughter,’ said Farhad, ‘your husband is greatly loved in Media. He is needed to rally our people.’
Aliyeh moved slowly and purposely to take her seat.
‘He was close to death. He is far too weak to go on a goodwill tour.’ Her eyes narrowed and she looked at each of the commanders, daring them to challenge her. None did.
‘That being the case,’ I said, ‘it is best to prepare this city for a siege, for Lucullus will be here soon enough.’
Farhad looked up. ‘You are wrong, Pacorus. Lucullus has departed the Roman army, so my scouts tell me, leaving his subordinate, whose name escapes me, in charge.’
‘Aelius Gabinus, majesty,’ said one of the commanders.
‘Gone where?’ I asked.
Farhad shrugged. ‘Back to Rome, hopefully.’
I doubted that. Any Roman worth his salt would not let the opportunity pass to follow up his victory. Something more important must have caused Lucullus to leave his army, though I knew not what.
‘Shamash has been kind,’ I said, ‘for now we have an opportunity to retrieve the situation.’
‘We do?’ Farhad was surprised and Aliyeh suspicious.
‘Yes, lord. You must evacuate your stronghold of all those who cannot fight. Send them to your outlying towns and villages. If the courage of your lords has faltered then at least they can care for Media’s most vulnerable. The fact that the Romans have not moved south on Irbil means that their attention has been diverted elsewhere. We must use this opportunity. Keep only foot soldiers in Irbil and send your horsemen to your southern border. I will ride to Ctesiphon and gather what forces I can to come to your aid.’
Farhad was nodding and his commanders were looking at each other and doing likewise. At least now they had something to focus on rather than waiting for the Romans to storm Irbil and put them all to the sword.
Those who were too old, too young or too infirm to shoot a bow were evacuated south, a long line of bedraggled humanity whose abodes and livelihoods they were leaving behind. Their homes still stood, but they lay outside the walls of the citadel and any invading army would use them to house their own troops, either that or burn them. I had suggested to Farhad that he pull them down to deprive their use to the enemy, but he was horrified by the idea and so hundreds of buildings stood intact and empty, hopefully only temporarily. I told Farhad that I would ride south to Phraates with the intention of convincing him to send an army to Media. Before I left I went to see Atrax.
The shutters of his room were still closed though he was sitting up in his bed, propped up by large pillows. Even in the half-light he looked pale but at least he was conscious. I sat on a stool beside the bed as Aliyeh finished feeding her husband a bowlful of soup. She made sure that he finished his meal before she allowed me to speak to him. A servant took away the empty bowl and she sat holding his hand, her eyes like those of a hawk watching me all the time.
‘You must stay here until you have regained your strength.’
‘I will, lord. Your sister is an excellent nurse.’ He smiled at Aliyeh.
‘I will send an army to assist your father, of that I promise.’
He seemed cheered by this. ‘And then we will crush the Romans and throw them out of Gordyene. Avenge the death of Balas.’
Aliyeh’s eyes narrowed to slits. The last thing she wanted was to see Atrax ride off to war once more.
‘The Romans have won a battle, Atrax, but they will lose the w
ar. But in war we must be patient to await the right opportunity.’
‘And now Pacorus has to leave us,’ said Aliyeh forcefully. ‘He has a long ride ahead of him.’
I leaned forward and laid a hand on Atrax’s arm. His flesh was clammy to the touch.
‘Regain your strength, valiant prince. Until we meet again.’
He smiled and raised his hand in salute. Aliyeh kissed his forehead and ushered me out of the room.
Seven days later I stood before Phraates in one of his throne rooms at Ctesiphon. The atmosphere in the palace was drenched in mistrust and sullen resentment. No wonder, because the King of Kings was sitting on his throne flanked by his wife on one side and his son, the reptile-like Mithridates, on the other. I had ignored the latter when I had entered the hall, bowing to Phraates and then his wife but not to his son. The insult was intentional and was noticed by the court officials and courtiers who stood in clusters around the walls like vultures gathered round a rotting carcass. Guards armed with spears and wicker shields stood at regular intervals along the walls and either side of the dais on which Phraates and his family were seated. I was dressed in my full war gear when I presented myself, my Roman cuirass having been cleaned meticulously the night before and my helmet burnished until it shone. I had my boots cleaned and wore my white tunic under my cuirass, my brown leggings and spatha in its scabbard completing my appearance. I stood before Phraates, my helmet under my right arm; its crown filled with new white goose feathers.
‘Welcome, King Pacorus, we are glad to see you.’
‘And I you, highness,’ I replied. I kept my gaze upon Phraates but was aware of the disdainful stares directed at me by Queen Aruna and Mithridates.
‘I wish I was here under more agreeable circumstances, highness.’
Phraates nodded thoughtfully. ‘Alas, we have heard of the discomfort that has fallen upon Farhad and Aschek. Grim tidings indeed.’
‘Yes, highness,’ I said, ‘that is why I must request that the army of Susiana be sent north to reinforce Media before the Romans lay siege to Farhad’s capital.’
‘Impossible!’ said Mithridates.
‘You have something to say, my son?’ asked Phraates.
‘Great king, it is not for me to offer you advice on matters of state.’
‘Indeed,’ I remarked.
Mithridates’ nostrils flared as he glared at me. ‘But if we pander to hysterical demands and send our army north, then who will defend Ctesiphon?’
‘Highness,’ I said firmly, ‘you can call upon the armies of Babylon and Mesene, whose kingdoms lie nearby, their rulers at least are loyal and trustworthy. Though perhaps not Persis.’
There were gasps around the hall as I reminded Mithridates of his recent treachery. Mithridates momentarily appeared as if he was going to take the bait, his face a mask of hatred. But with great difficulty he managed to restrain himself.
‘And,’ I continued, ‘there are also the kingdoms in the east of the empire who will lend assistance to Ctesiphon. Gotarzes of Elymais is a man whom any general would want fighting by his side.’
Now it was the turn of the queen to intercede. ‘The armies of those kingdoms have been recently weakened and will be in no condition to lend us aid. Indeed, Sakastan has no king who can lead that kingdom’s army.’
This was a sly reference to my having killed Porus during the recent civil war.
‘Traitors often suffer a bad end, majesty,’ I remarked casually.
‘Enough,’ said Phraates, ‘we will not argue among ourselves, for the laughter of our enemies shall be our only reward. I fear that I cannot send my army north, King Pacorus. To do so would leave the heart of the empire vulnerable.’
I was confused, but then saw the leer on the face of Mithridates.
‘Of course, you will not have heard. The Romans have invaded Hatra.’
I felt sick in the pit of my stomach and it was some time before I could utter a response.
‘Hatra?’
Mithridates leaned forward, an evil grin on his face. ‘That is correct. After he had finished with those imbeciles Farhad and Aschek, Lucullus invaded your father’s kingdom with a new army. Even now his soldiers lay siege to Nisibus. So you see, if Hatra falls then a Roman army will be marching from the northwest towards Ctesiphon.’
‘It is as my son says,’ added Phraates.
I was speechless. The Romans had seized the opportunity offered by Media’s aggression to defeat Farhad and use his actions as a pretext for attacking my father’s kingdom. Domitus had been right. The Romans aimed for nothing less than the conquest of all the land between the Tigris and Euphrates rivers.
‘Susiana has no troops to offer Farhad or Aschek,’ said Mithridates.
I became angry at that moment. I pointed at Mithridates. ‘Does this man, who formerly fought in the army of the rebels, speak on your behalf, highness?’
Phraates looked alarmed. ‘Mithridates has my confidence, King Pacorus,’ he said meekly.
‘Last year he was prepared to slit his father’s throat.’
The queen stood up. ‘How dare you insult my son.’
‘How dare he sit there lecturing me.’
Mithridates smirked once more. ‘Is this behaviour becoming of the lord high general of the empire?’
‘I quite agree,’ added his mother, ‘such vulgarity in the presence of the high king is unforgiveable.’
In the heat of the moment I then made my mistake. ‘If you no longer have confidence in my abilities, highness,’ I said, ‘I will gladly relinquish my command.’
Phraates looked most uncomfortable and began to babble an incoherent reply, which was cut short by his wife.
‘We accept your resignation.’
‘We do indeed,’ said Mithridates.
Phraates began to say something once more, stopped and then looked down at his feet. The queen and her son regarded me with haughty disregard. And so I lost my position as chief general of the empire. When I bowed and then marched from the hall many of the courtiers turned their backs on me, so disgusted were they with my behaviour. My escort was livid when I later informed them of what had happened, but what could be done? Phraates was completely under the control of his wife and son, and where those two ruled, truth, justice and honour withered. I had little time to brood, though, because a crisis was unfolding in the west that made the affairs of Media seem almost irrelevant. I had to get back to Dura and then see what assistance I could offer to my father. But before all of this, I still had to honour the promise I had made to Farhad. And so I stayed at Ctesiphon to be treated like an outcast once more.
The next day I had another audience with Phraates to see if he would change his mind about sending reinforcements to Media. But it was the same story — the queen and his son made sure my request fell on deaf ears. But then, amazingly, Mithridates revealed a surprising development.
‘We have received an offer of assistance from Chosroes of Mesene, who wishes to help his brother Farhad. To this end he is willing to send a large number of horsemen to Media. It seems appropriate that you should lead this force, King Pacorus.’ His face still displayed disdain and his words were uttered without emotion, but reinforcements were reinforcements, no matter where they came from.
‘We are not unmindful of the predicament Hatra and your own kingdom find themselves in, Pacorus,’ said Phraates, ‘but you must understand that if Ctesiphon falls the empire would receive a mortal blow.’
I doubted that. Ctesiphon was the capital of the empire, that was true, and it had a full treasury that was also true, but it did not pay for the other kingdoms in the empire. Indeed, it received tribute from them. It had no army that was the backbone of the empire and certainly no great king that could lead it. If it fell the empire would continue, but if Hatra fell then the empire truly would be weakened.
Even though the army of Mesene was not one I would wish to command, any reinforcements would be enough to stiffen the resolve of Media, and it certainly n
eeded stiffening.
‘Perhaps Babylon might also be convinced to lend assistance to Media,’ I said.
‘I doubt that,’ replied Mithridates. ‘I would have thought Babylon will be looking to the northwest and Hatra, for if your father’s kingdom falls then Babylon will be next.’
I disliked Mithridates intensely but he was right in what he said. A Roman army that occupied the kingdom of Hatra would be able to strike at Babylon with ease, to say nothing of Dura, where another Roman army was heading.
Phraates gestured to one of his stewards, a tall, severe man dressed in yellow robes who had a neatly cropped brown beard. Phraates handed him a scroll that had a red wax seal. The steward took the scroll, bowed and then handed it to me.
‘That is a personal guarantee from me,’ said Phraates, ‘that if Chosroes provides you with all the soldiers you need to send to Media, then he will be handsomely recompensed for his loyalty.’
It was as much as I could hope for. The King of Kings ruled because the other kings elected him, but the recent civil war had revealed that his power could often be challenged. If he was a mighty warlord or commanded great respect then the other kings would obey him without question. Unfortunately Phraates was neither. Still, Chosroes had voted for Phraates and had brought his army to fight for him when asked to do so. I saw no reason why the King of Mesene would refuse his request, especially as he would receive gold in exchange for sending his soldiers north. It seemed that even loyalty now had a price.
I bowed to Phraates and his wife, the silent, sullen Aruna. ‘Thank you, highness.’
I would never bow to Mithridates, who bridled at my insolence. And he had one last mouthful of venom to spit.
‘King Pacorus. We have sent heralds to each of the kings of the empire announcing that you are no longer lord high general. It is better that there exists no uncertainty on the matter in these troubled times.’
‘But we will always seek your advice on military matters,’ added Phraates, who glanced at his wife. ‘We are grateful for your efforts in our service.’
He was truly a broken reed.
I was relieved to depart Ctesiphon, and especially glad to leave behind Mithridates and his mother. I was surprised to see that there were no heightened levels of activity among the garrison as I rode through the gates in the perimeter wall south towards Mesene. In fact there was hardly any activity at all. If the Romans did reach this place they would batter down its crumbling and aged walls with ease. I shuddered at the thought. But the defences of Ctesiphon were no longer my responsibility.
