by Peter Darman
‘The Romans want Parthia, that much is certain. I would prefer to have destroyed the Armenians before we have to face them. Orodes thinks that a united Parthia behind him will make the Romans think twice before they invade, but the Romans do not think the way he does. He desires to keep Parthia free and strong whereas the Romans wish to conquer the whole world.’
‘When war comes, do you think we can win it?’
‘I honestly do not know, Lord Vistaspa,’ was the best answer I could summon, but in my heart of hearts I feared that we had let a golden opportunity slip through our hands and might pay a high price for doing so.
The next day Domitus took the army back to Dura. He too was most unhappy that we were not going to march north against the Armenians but I told him that Orodes’ decision on the matter was final. The high king himself left Hatra with his men at the same time, with Nergal and Praxima accompanying him. I had to admit that it was a disappointing end to a campaign that had started so well.
I myself, as requested, rode to see Surena who had been asked to travel to Assur. I took with me Vagises and his three thousand horse archers plus Peroz and his five thousand Carmanians. I asked Gallia if she wanted to accompany me but she declined, saying that although she would love to see Viper again she had no interest in meeting Surena. Her view of him as a cocky, arrogant individual with too much to say for himself had never altered and she was glad that he was out of her sight in Gordyene.
Byrd and Malik and their scouts accompanied me, since the army would not need their services as it made its way west across Hatran territory back to Dura. We were not going to make war so I also left the camel train with Domitus though we did take five hundred mules loaded with food and fodder.
We struck east to Assur and found that Surena had already arrived and was lodged in the governor’s mansion, along with Atrax whom I had also invited. Media bordered both Hatra and Gordyene and its fate was inextricably linked to those two kingdoms. Surena had brought with him a hundred horsemen but had left his now pregnant wife, Viper, and Silaces, his second-in-command, in Gordyene in case the Armenians launched an attack. Surena had matured into a serious, thoughtful king who had a thorough understanding of the principles of warfare and thought the same as I regarding the treaty with the Armenians.
We sat in the private quarters of the governor’s palace with Lord Herneus and Peroz.
I brought Peroz along because it would have been bad manners to exclude him. After all he was a Parthian prince and he had brought five thousand horsemen with him. Besides I found his company agreeable enough, as I did Scarab’s who stood behind me as I relaxed in the spacious and airy white-walled room that was Herneus’ study. The governor looked the same as the last time we had met, dressed as he was in a simple beige linen shirt, brown leggings and sandals. His inexpensive clothes and bald head contrasted sharply with the long black hair of Atrax, Surena and Peroz in their expensive silk shirts, leggings and leather boots. But Herneus did not need fancy attire to impress anyone: his record of holding the east of the Kingdom of Hatra against all threats for nearly thirty years had established his formidable reputation long ago.
Slaves served us fruit, pastries, sweet meats and fruit juice as Peroz sat nervously in the company of kings whom he had never met and who had previously been the enemies of his father.
‘This is Prince Peroz,’ I told the others. ‘He has come all the way from Carmania to fight by our side.’
Atrax smiled at him. ‘We welcome you, lord prince, and your men.’
‘Welcome indeed,’ added Surena. ‘We will need all the troops we can muster next year when we are once again at war.’
‘Orodes has bought us time,’ I said, ‘but that is all. When Crassus arrives the Armenians will undoubtedly break the peace treaty and join with their Roman allies.’
‘Orodes believes that if we beat Crassus then the Armenians will not start a war with Parthia,’ said Atrax.
‘It would be better,’ interrupted Surena, ‘if we gave the Armenians a bloody nose now so that they will think twice before starting another war when their friends arrive.’
I looked at him. ‘On behalf of Orodes I must ask you not to launch any attacks against the Armenians, Surena. We must bide our time.’
‘Orodes is mistaken, lord,’ he replied, causing Atrax and Herneus to raise their eyebrows. ‘However, as he is now high king and I have no wish to undermine his authority I will do as you ask.’
‘I too would have preferred to settle affairs with the Armenians before Crassus arrives,’ I added, ‘but Orodes has decided otherwise and so we must abide by his decision.’
‘Who is Crassus?’ asked Peroz, blushing slightly at his intervention.
‘A very rich and powerful Roman,’ I answered, ‘who wishes to make himself even richer by conquering Parthia.’
‘He is a tyrant,’ spat Peroz disapprovingly.
‘Actually,’ I said, ‘he is a pleasant enough individual but suffers from the affliction that possesses many Romans.’
‘Affliction?’ asked Herneus.
I sipped at my freshly squeezed apple juice. ‘An unshakeable belief that it is Rome’s destiny to rule the world.’
‘Forgive me, lord,’ said Peroz, ‘but you have met this Crassus?’
‘Indeed, I was a guest in his house in Rome once, a long time ago.’
‘Perhaps he desires to be a guest in your house, Pacorus,’ offered Atrax mischievously.
‘He would be made welcome if he came in peace,’ I replied. ‘He is congenial enough.’
Peroz looked confused. ‘You would have him under your roof, majesty?’
‘Of course,’ I replied, ‘as long as he does not bring his army with him.’
‘Crassus is your enemy, lord,’ said Surena darkly.
‘Even enemies can be civil to each other,’ I replied.
I could tell that Surena was straining at the leash, eager to attack the Armenians in retaliation for their assault on Gordyene, though he had once again proved to be their superior when it came to strategy and tactics.
‘Artavasdes once more struck for Vanadzor, so I let him advance to nearly the gates of the city before launching a series of attacks against his strung-out army. After three weeks of being attacked night and day he withdrew.’ Surena shrugged. ‘Simple enough.’
‘You did well, Surena,’ I told him.
He smiled. ‘I had a good tutor.’
‘What do you know of this Apollonius that holds the towns in northwest Hatra?’ I asked Herneus.
He rubbed a hand over his bald crown. ‘Capable enough, though overly ambitious and I think he has too few troops to hold the towns under his control.’
With the Armenians in control of Nisibus and much of northern Hatra the towns in the west of my brother’s kingdom were exposed to attack from the Armenians to the north and the Romans just across the Euphrates.
‘Militarily it would make sense to evacuate them,’ suggested Surena.
‘My brother would never agree to such a thing,’ I said, ‘because to do so would quite rightly be interpreted by the Romans as sign of weakness. And both he and I know that the Romans respect only strength, if they respect anything, and despise weakness. For that reason alone those towns must remain Parthian.’
We left for Dura the next day as Atrax headed for Irbil and Surena rode back to Gordyene. After six days of hard riding we crossed over the pontoon bridges below the Citadel and entered my kingdom. Vagises took the Duran and Carmanian horse archers to the legionary camp while Peroz and I trotted through the Palmyrene Gate. I drew my sword and saluted the stone griffin as I passed under it and then headed up the main street towards the palace. It was good to be back home and my wife and children were waiting to greet me as I rode into the Citadel’s courtyard and jumped off Remus’ back. I ran up the stone steps and threw my arms round my daughters and then embraced Gallia. Domitus nodded at me and Rsan and Aaron bowed their heads as stable hands came to take Remus and Peroz’s hor
se to the stables.
Gallia looked at the young man standing at the foot of the steps.
‘Prince Peroz,’ she called to him, ‘come and meet my daughters.’
He bowed his head and ascended the steps where he was introduced to Claudia, Isabella and Eszter, who reached for his hand and pulled him towards the palace.
‘You had better go with her,’ I said to him. ‘She probably wants you to see a new toy.’
‘And there is someone who wants to see you,’ Gallia said to me.
‘Oh, who?’
‘A man from the east who arrived two days ago and who brings a great gift.’
I was intrigued. ‘What gift?’
‘I have no idea. He is on the palace terrace with Dobbai who sent for him.’
Domitus and the others trailed after Gallia and me as Peroz was being tormented by my two youngest daughters, who were tugging at his hands and waving their fingers at him as they pulled him towards the terrace. He smiled, teased them and listened intently as they told him about their horses and which of the palace servants were their favourites.
‘This guest turned up with a hundred warriors and a hundred camels,’ remarked Domitus. ‘We housed them in Orodes’ old quarters in the city. Apart from their commander they have not moved from there. Very strange.’
We walked through the porch and into the reception hall and then into the throne room, the squeals of my daughters resonating in the empty chamber. Gallia told them to keep their voices down as they led Peroz towards the door at the far end that led to our private wing giving access to the terrace.
‘Dobbai organised their quartering and instructed Rsan to furnish them with whatever they wanted,’ continued Domitus. ‘You can imagine what he thought of that.’
I looked behind and nodded at my stern-faced governor who was walking beside Aaron. He tilted his head curtly in reply.
We reached the terrace to find Dobbai ensconced in her chair next to a figure in a yellow turban. He rose when he saw us arrive, helping Dobbai out of her chair after he had done so. He stood before me as Dobbai clapped her hands and scowled at Eszter and Isabella who were still tormenting Peroz. They let go of the prince and became statues beside him, not daring to look into Dobbai’s eyes.
‘So you have returned, son of Hatra,’ she said, examining Peroz, ‘and you bring help with you. Former enemies have become allies. Good.’
She held out a bony hand to the individual who stood beside her, a man of medium height, thin, with very dark skin and small brown eyes.
‘This is Patanjali Simuka, a lord of the Satavahana Empire, a great power to the east of the River Indus.’
Patanjali bowed deeply, ‘Hail, King Pacorus, Lord High General of the Parthian Empire.’
He certainly looked like a lord, dressed as he was in a red silk shirt, white cotton leggings embroidered with gold and leather boots. Around his waist was a wide leather belt from which hung a curved sword, and in the front of his turban was a large red ruby that must have been worth a small province.
‘I am glad to make your acquaintance, Lord Simuka,’ I replied.
‘He brings a great treasure for you, son of Hatra,’ said Dobbai.
He was obviously a man of some wealth and importance but a hundred warriors hardly constituted a great gift. Still, if he was offering his services I would not turn him away.
‘You and your men are welcome to join us in our fight,’ I told Lord Simuka, who looked perplexedly at Dobbai.
‘He and his men are not the treasure,’ said Dobbai irritably. ‘Please show him, Lord Simuka.’
The dark-skinned lord from the east smiled and stepped away from her, then drew his sword.
‘Guards!’ screamed Domitus who drew his gladius and stood in front of me. Seconds later the six legionaries who had been in the throne room rushed on to the terrace, swords in their hands. An alarmed Lord Simuka slid his sword back into its scabbard and held up his hands.
‘Idiots!’ hissed Dobbai. ‘Put away your sword, Roman, and tell your men to return to their posts. Lord Simuka has travelled a great distance from his homeland to be here and his reward is to be threatened with death?’
I laid a hand on Domitus’ shoulder. ‘We appear to have a misunderstanding.’
Domitus stood like a rock in front of me. ‘It is death to draw a sword in the presence of the king, that is crystal clear.’
‘I merely wished to show the king my sword,’ protested Lord Simuka.
I ordered the guards to return to their posts and told Domitus to sheath his sword.
‘Please give me your sword, Lord Simuka,’ said Dobbai.
He did as he was asked and she handed me his weapon. It was a fine curved sword and had a most curious blade, having what appeared to be swirling patterns along its entire length.
‘A fine sword,’ I said.
‘It is more than that, majesty,’ he smiled. ‘With your permission I would like to arrange a demonstration to show you its qualities.’
I really did not see where this was leading but to accommodate the wishes of our guest and placate a clearly irate Dobbai, who was glowering at Domitus, I suggested we all retire to the throne room while female servants took away our two youngest daughters. I allowed Claudia to stay as she was ten years old now and understood what was expected of a young princess. Compared to her sisters she had a serious nature and smiled little, a consequence of spending too much time in Dobbai’s company no doubt.
Gallia and I sat down on our thrones as Dobbai stood next to her and Domitus beside me, a hand on the hilt of his gladius, while Lord Simuka stood near the dais and slashed the air with his sword. I gave the order to summon one of the officers of the company of cataphracts that was on garrison duty in the Citadel. Rsan and Aaron were clearly bored by it all, which resulted in my governor’s face wearing an even darker expression, while Peroz seemed fascinated.
‘You should let me fight him,’ growled Domitus.
‘He is not here to fight,’ I corrected him.
In any case though Domitus handled a gladius with aplomb it would be unfair to match him against the longer blade wielded by Lord Simuka. Minutes later an officer from my heavy cavalry appeared in his white shirt, his spatha dangling from his sword belt. He was a broad-shouldered man in his thirties who stood at least six inches taller than our visitor from the east.
‘This shouldn’t take long,’ muttered Domitus, grinning evilly.
I told the officer that he was to fight Lord Simuka but that it was a demonstration only and no blood was to be shed. They both bowed their heads and withdrew to the centre of the hall. All my horsemen practised swordsmanship on a daily basis, especially the cataphracts. The hours and hours spent training was evident as the officer directed a number of slashing strokes against Lord Simuka. As it was a demonstration only neither man attempted any thrusts to stab his opponent.
Every horseman in Dura’s army carried a spatha based on the one that Spartacus had given me in Italy. Weighing around twelve pounds, their double-sided blade was over two feet in length with a walnut hilt whose grip had an eight-sided cross section with finger grooves to give the holder a firm purchase. The even distribution of the sword’s weight made it easy to wield as was now apparent as the officer made a striking movement towards Lord Simuka’s shoulders. Our guest whipped up his sword to meet the blow, the two blades crashed against each other in a blur, and the spatha was cut clean in half.
The steel clattered onto the tiles as I stood and looked at it in disbelief, as did the officer who now held a broken sword. Lord Simuka took two steps back, bowed at his opponent and sheathed his sword. The officer sheepishly stooped and retrieved the top half of his sword from the floor and stood to face me.
‘Fetch another sword,’ I told him.
He bowed and left the chamber hurriedly to equip himself with a fresh sword from the Citadel’s armoury.
‘Do you think your eyes have deceived you, son of Hatra?’ asked a smug Dobbai.
&n
bsp; I did not reply. Dura’s armouries were famous throughout the empire for producing high-quality weapons and armour. Vast amounts of gold had been lavished on them over the years to procure the best armourers who worked with the finest materials to produce armaments that were the envy of other kings. One broken sword proved nothing.
The crestfallen officer returned with another spatha and again Lord Simuka bowed to his opponent and drew his curved sword, and then the two of them once more engaged in swordplay. The first attacks and parries were half-hearted until Domitus called to them ‘to make a fist of it’, after which my man pressed his attacks with more vigour. He was stronger that his opponent but Lord Simuka was more agile and managed to evade most of his blows. The officer delivered a lightning-fast succession of strikes, slashing left and right as he forced Lord Simuka back towards the wall, before raising his spatha above his head and then slashing it down against his opponent. Lord Simuka’s blade slammed into the officer’s sword and again went straight through it, severing the blade a few inches above the hilt. Once again metal clattered on the stone tiles as we all looked on in stunned silence. How can this be?
Lord Simuka bowed to his shocked opponent, sheathed his sword and then calmly bent over and retrieved the broken blade.
Dobbai stepped from the dais and walked over to Lord Simuka and took the blade from him.
‘Many years ago, when King Sinatruces ruled the empire, he received a number of gifts from a ruler named Satakarni from beyond the Indus in gratitude for him stopping raiders crossing the river and laying waste his lands. Among these gifts was a sword such as Lord Simuka now carries, a weapon with a black blade covered with strange swirling patterns. This sword could cut through the blades of other swords with ease and was among the high king’s most treasured possessions.’
‘What happened to it?’ asked Gallia.
‘No one knows,’ replied Dobbai. ‘He lost it or gave it away in his dotage, no doubt, or perhaps swapped it for a young slave girl. But I remembered and sent a message to the court of the Satavahana Empire that Dura wished to purchase this wondrous material to fashion its own weapons. My gift to you, son of Hatra.’
