by Peter Darman
He saluted us and returned to his men, then gave the order that they were to return to camp. Around us the kings likewise instructed that their horsemen were to withdraw to the river and make camp for the night, all except my father. He pointed at the seething black mass of Agraci warriors gathered to the south.
‘What are you going to do about them?’
‘Invite them to eat with us, of course.’
The next few hours were an exercise in logistics as around eighty thousand men, the same numbers of horses, thousands of camels and hundreds of mules made camp for the night along the Euphrates. Vardan insisted that all the kings, princes and Gallia dine with him in his royal pavilion that took dozens of slaves a few hours to erect. Babylon may not have been the mighty power it was in the time of the Persians, but its king still knew how to impress. The pavilion was at least two hundred paces in length and fifty wide, its enormous canvas roof supported by rows of poles and secured by dozens of ropes secured to long iron stakes that were driven into the earth. It made my own tent look paltry to say the least.
‘Big tents don’t make a good army,’ growled Domitus when I told him of Babylon’s encampment.
‘Do you feel robbed, Domitus?’
He shrugged. ‘There’s always someone else to fight, so we’ll keep our blades sharp.’
I poured myself a cup of water and sat down opposite him. Outside the legionaries were going about their business of checking their equipment, sentry duty and sharpening their swords.
‘Do you think we could have beaten Pompey, Domitus?’
‘Do you mean before or after your father and his friends turned up?’
‘Before, of course.’
He tilted his head to one side. ‘We’ll never know now, but I like to think that we would have given a good account of ourselves.’
I rode from my camp with Malik and Byrd to the black tents of Haytham that extended far into the desert. The Agraci warriors were a mixture of camel riders armed with spears and bows and horsemen who carried spears, swords and small round shields. They all wore flowing robes and turbans that they used to cover their faces and shield their eyes. As far as I could tell none wore armour either on their heads or around their bodies. Malik escorted me to his father’s tent located in the centre of the camp, where we found Haytham with his tribal chiefs. They were like him, big men with unyielding expressions and skin like tanned leather. All carried great swords at their hips and daggers tucked into their belts. The chiefs looked at me suspiciously when I entered, but then relaxed when they saw that I was with Malik, a few even greeted Byrd.
I halted in front of Haytham and bowed my head. ‘Great king, I came to thank you for bringing your mighty army to this place.’
He walked over and embraced me. ‘Don’t be so formal, Pacorus, we are all friends here.’
He looked round at his chiefs, daring one of them to contradict him. None did.
‘So,’ continued Haytham, ‘we were all wondering why you didn’t launch an attack when they turned tail and ran?’
‘I had made an agreement with their commander, lord, which made bloodshed unnecessary.’
He released me and smiled. ‘No bloodshed is unnecessary, Pacorus. Still, it is what it is. How’s that wife of yours?’ He looked at his chiefs. ‘You should see Queen Gallia, long blond hair, blue eyes and the body of a goddess. But even I would not want to get on the wrong side of her.’
‘You will all see here tonight,’ I announced, ‘for I would like the king of the Agraci and all his chiefs to come to the feast being held in honour of our uniting against the Romans.’
The chiefs looked at each other and then at me.
‘Will Parthians sit down to eat with Agraci?’ said one condescendingly, a great brute with a thick beard and black eyes.
‘You forget yourself, Yasser,’ growled Haytham.
‘My apologies, lord,’ Yasser placed his right palm on his chest and bowed to his king, ‘but I have had experience of Parthian hospitality.’
There were mumbles of agreement. I held up my hand.
‘I am Parthian, you all know this, but I esteem Prince Malik, son of your king, as one of my closest friends. I also count your king as a friend, and I say to you that you will all be welcome to the feast tonight, when Parthian and Agraci will sit side by side in peace and friendship.’
I thought it a fine speech that would not be out of place among the great speakers of ancient Athens, though a line of blank faces told me that I would have to sharpen my skills greatly if I wanted to be an orator.
‘Well said, Pacorus,’ barked Haytham. ‘We shall be glad to attend.’
‘We shall?’ said an incredulous Yasser.
‘We shall,’ replied Haytham with such force that there was no further discussion on the matter.
As the sun began its descent in the west, Malik, his father and a dozen of the Agraci chiefs arrived at our camp, all attired in black and riding black horses. I entertained them in my tent while we waited for Gallia. She had brought no fine clothes with her on this journey, but when she finally appeared she made a great impression as usual. Her hair hung loose around her shoulders and tumbled over her white satin shirt edged with blue. She wore gold at her neck, long gold earrings and around her waist she wore her sword. Her slim legs were encased in tight black leggings and on her feet she wore red leather boots. I smiled when I noticed that she had her dagger tucked in the top of her right boot. Haytham smiled, took both of her hands and kissed them, while Gallia kissed Malik on the cheek. I introduced Orodes to Haytham and then we set off for Vardan’s great tent. I told Gallia of Yasser’s hostility to the Parthians, so she insisted that she rode beside him on our short journey to the Babylonian camp. She explained to him of the journey that had led her to Dura, and within no time his wall of hostility had crumbled as they talked and laughed together. I think that he was delighted that she had seemingly picked him at random to be her escort.
Babylon’s pavilion was ringed with guards when we arrived and our horses were taken from us. A captain and a detachment of purple-clad spearmen escorted us inside, where a wall of noise greeted us. The floor was covered in red and yellow carpets and oil lamps hung from every pole. Guards stood around the sides and a small army of slaves served food and drink from silver platters. The kings and their senior officers were gathered in a great circle in the centre, where they were lounging on couches piled high with red and gold cushions. I saw my father, Vistaspa, Vardan, Atrax, Aschek and Gotarzes, who by the look of his rosy cheeks had already had too much to drink. Musicians played in one corner, half-naked girls danced in another and fire-eaters and jugglers went about their craft largely ignored.
We stood at the entrance and the noise suddenly began to fade as Parthians cast their eyes on a party of Agraci in their midst, and not just any Agraci. This was Haytham, the scourge of Parthia’s western frontier, the devil of children’s nightmares, the man whose name inspired both loathing and terror throughout the western half of the empire. All eyes were suddenly upon our group. Some of the officers put down their food and wine and stood up, while I saw the guards posted around the tent look at each other nervously. Vardan slowly rose from his couch. The King of Babylon was dressed in a rich purple robe edged with gold, a jewel-encrusted crown on his head and gold rings on his fingers. He spread his arms wide.
‘Welcome Haytham, King of the Agraci, and his brave lieutenants, new allies of Parthia. Take freely of my hospitality. Be seated, please. Let us forget our animosities and begin a new era in the relations between our two peoples.’
Haytham bowed his head ever so slightly at Vardan and then walked over to Babylon’s king, ignoring the hateful stares that were being directed at him. The silence was deafening. Haytham halted before Babylon’s king. The Agraci king was big and stocky, Vardan also solid. Haytham held out his hand, Vardan smiled and they clasped each other’s arms, then Vardan gestured for Haytham to sit beside him on the royal couch. He did so and the noise slowly ret
urned to the royal tent. We were shown to our couches and suddenly the pavilion was once again alive with sound and activity.
I embraced my father, who then hugged Gallia. He also shook Malik’s hand.
‘Good to see you, again, Malik.’
‘You too, lord,’ smiled Haytham’s son.
‘Another victory, Pacorus,’ said my father, ‘bringing Agraci and Parthian together. I think that you will make a worthy king of Hatra.’
‘Not for many years I hope, father, not for many years.’
It was a most excellent evening and for once I allowed myself to drink a fair quantity of wine, though nothing compared to Gotarzes, who was striking up an unlikely friendship with Yasser, also revealing himself to be a hearty drinker. At the end of the evening they were both singing at the tops of their voices with their arms around each other, before collapsing into a deep stupor. They were both carried from the pavilion to sleep off their indulgence.
Vardan excused himself in the early hours and returned to his private quarters in the royal compound behind the pavilion, and then the other kings, save Gotarzes, did the same. I bid my father and Vistaspa farewell and rode with Haytham and his chiefs back to my camp, the sleeping Yasser strapped to the back of his horse. At the entrance we said goodbye to the Agraci king and his entourage.
‘An interesting evening, Pacorus,’ said Haytham.
‘Hopefully it will be the start of a new chapter in the story of our two peoples, lord.’
He reached over and slapped me on the arm. ‘Perhaps. Take care of yourself.’ He bowed his head to Gallia. ‘Lady.’
Then they were gone and I was alone with my wife. Guards snapped to attention as we rode up the camp’s central avenue to my tent. I felt immensely smug. I had secured Dura’s frontiers without having to fight, several kings of the empire had made a show of force in my favour and the king of the Agraci had even brought his army to fight by my side. As I collapsed onto the floor of the tent after Gallia had assisted me inside, my last thoughts before sinking into a deep sleep was how it had been a most satisfactory day.
I was awoken sharply by a boot being kicked into my side.
‘Get up,’ I had difficulty in focusing but was aware of Gallia’s voice.
There was another sharp pain in my side. I opened my eyes to see my wife standing over me. I smiled at her.
‘Get up, Pacorus.’
I still felt groggy. ‘What?’
I jumped up with a start when a bucket of cold water was thrown over me. I saw Domitus holding the bucket.
‘Is this some sort of joke?’ I snapped.
Gallia pulled me to my feet. ‘Dura is under siege.’
Chapter 19
Gallia’s Amazons were already armed and mounted when I stumbled out into the early morning sun, shielding my eyes as the light stung them and intensified my headache. Domitus offered me a cup of water, which I drank in one gulp. Gallia vaulted into her saddle and beckoned Praxima forward.
‘Where is that heathen from the north, what was his name, Kuban?’
‘He and his men are camped a mile away.’
‘Go and fetch them, and tell him that we are riding south immediately.’
Praxima saluted and galloped off.
‘Wait,’ I shouted, ‘you cannot just ride off without any plan.’
‘He’s right, lady,’ said Domitus.
Gallia snapped her fingers and held out her right arm. Viper rode forward and handed Gallia her helmet.
‘You stay here and sleep off your hangover, Pacorus. I will ride south to save our daughter and your city.’
She put on her helmet and then tugged on Epona’s reins to turn the mare around, digging her knees into the beast and galloping away down the camp’s central avenue, followed by her Amazons.
I threw the cup on the ground. ‘In the name of all that’s holy Gallia, wait,’ I shouted at the top of my voice. It was useless; my wife was disappearing in a cloud of dust. My head felt as though a herd of horses was stampeding through it.
Nergal and Orodes ran up, followed by Surena. ‘Get my horse,’ I said to Surena.
‘What’s happening?’ he asked.
I could have run him through at that moment. ‘Just get my horse, idiot!’
He momentarily froze, saluted and then ran off to the stables.
‘Easy, Pacorus,’ muttered Domitus, ‘remember you are on display. It’s not a good idea for the king to show he has lost control of things.’
I looked at him, and then took a deep breath. ‘Very well. Sound assembly, you will take all the foot back to Dura as quickly as you can.’ He raised his arm in salute and then began barking orders at his officers who had gathered behind him. Orodes and Nergal looked at each other in confusion.
‘Dura is under siege,’ I said to them.
‘Under siege?’ they looked even more confused.
I threw up my hands. ‘You know as much as I do.’
Then Byrd and Malik arrived on their horses. I pointed at Byrd.
‘What is going on?’
‘We received news from a courier sent from one of your forts earlier. Dura under siege.’
‘Who is besieging the city?’ asked Orodes.
‘The Romans?’ I said.
Byrd shook his head. ‘Chosroes.’
‘Chosroes?’ I did not believe it.
‘That was the message,’ said Byrd flatly.
Surena arrived on his horse with Remus in tow. I went inside the tent and began donning my equipment. I felt sick, tired and confused. I strapped on my sword, leather cuirass and picked up my helmet. Nergal and Orodes stood waiting for orders.
‘Orodes, assemble the cataphracts and bring them south. I will ride ahead with the horse archers. Nergal, how many of your men are already mounted?’
‘No more than two hundred.’
‘It will have to do,’ I said, ‘I ride at once. Nergal, you will follow with the rest, and bring the lords as well.’
They nodded and left.
‘Orodes,’ I called after them.
‘Pacorus?’
‘Before you leave, be so kind as to inform my father and the other kings of what has happened.’
He nodded and then followed Nergal.
‘Byrd and I will be riding with you,’ said Malik.
Half an hour later we were heading south along the Euphrates, two hundred horse archers plus me, Byrd and Malik. I thanked Shamash that we had built the forts along the river; otherwise we might not have received the terrible news until it was too late. Perhaps it was already too late. Do not think that! Chosroes, the miserable rat. He had obviously been watching events carefully, no doubt encouraged by the nest of cockroaches at Ctesiphon. He must have believed that the Romans would defeat me, perhaps even kill me, leaving Dura defenceless. But still, even if that had been the case, he would have had to deal with a victorious Roman army. His ragtag forces were no match for the Romans and he must have known that. Unless, of course, he had allies. I suddenly saw the hands of Narses and Mithridates pulling the strings of their puppet.
Gallia set a cruel pace. We had thrown some food and fodder in sacks and tied them to our saddles and then followed her. She had collected Kuban and his men, whose camp stood empty and deserted. A horse can comfortably cover around thirty miles a day, but that first day we travelled over thirty and still did not catch up with my queen. We halted for the night at one of the mud-brick forts where the commander, a fresh-faced centurion on crutches, told us that she had visited them earlier.
‘They took all the fodder but left most of our food, sir.’
I pointed at his crutches. ‘What happened?’
‘Got crushed under a testudo during training, sir. Occupational hazard.’
‘Indeed,’ I said. ‘How was the queen when you saw her?’
‘Like a snake that has just been stepped on, sir.’
The garrison of each fort had been greatly reduced when the army had marched north, but a small number of men had been
left behind, including any that were infirm or generally unfit for duty. In this way the fort’s stores would be secure and communications maintained between the city and the army. We slept under the sky outside the fort that night and, after what seemed only five minutes of sleep, saddled the horses before dawn and were riding south again as the first red shards of light were seen in the eastern sky. Unwashed and unshaven, we picked up a quick pace once more and thundered ahead. There was no conversation as we headed for Dura, but throughout the day I began to worry what we would find when we got there. If the city had fallen… Do not think, keep moving, stay focused.
The second night our bodies ached and our horses were lathered in sweat. So we halted, unsaddled them and led them into the cool waters of the Euphrates. Once more we grabbed a pitiful amount of sleep and rode south again in the pre-dawn light. After three hours of hard riding we finally caught up with Gallia. Her horses were tied together in the shade of a large group of date palms a hundred paces from the Euphrates. Most of Kuban’s fierce warriors were similarly in the shade, many lying asleep on the ground beside their leather armour. But Gallia had also ensured that she would not be surprised and had thrown out parties of guards to keep watch, and a dozen of Kuban’s men had ridden up to our column before we arrived at the main body, escorting us down the road to where Dura’s queen was standing with a group of the Amazons. I dismounted, handed Remus’ reins to Surena and walked over to them. They parted when they saw me, bowing their heads as I walked up to my wife.
‘You took your time,’ was all she said, looking at a semi-naked man spread-eagled on the ground in front of her. His wrists and ankles had been lashed tightly to wooden stakes that had been hammered into the ground. The figure of Kuban was kneeling beside him, a bloody knife in his hand.
‘This wretch has told us that the army of Mesene is besieging Dura,’ she snapped her fingers and one of her Amazons handed her a round shield. She then passed it to me. ‘But this carries the bird-god symbol of Persis.’
‘Narses is at Dura?’ I said.
Gallia smiled and then nodded to Kuban, who ran the blade of his knife across the victim’s chest, drawing blood as he did so. The man’s body contorted with pain and Kuban stopped cutting. The man turned his head and spat at him. Kuban wiped his face and then cut off the man’s left ear, causing him to scream and thrash wildly at his bonds.
