‘Of course not, I merely meant…’
Her voice rose in anger. ‘I have saved your life on more than one occasion, when your short-sightedness nearly got you and the men you led killed. And now you mock me in front of our friends.’
‘Gallia, I would never…’
Her tone got sharper. ‘Shut up! I grow weary of your voice.’
We walked on in silence for another few minutes, the only sound being the jangling of the horses’ bits and the tramp of our boots on the ground. At length Gallia spoke once more, her voice calmer and more measured.
‘As I have told you, Pacorus, before we left Dura Dobbai told me to send Surena across the Tigris. She said that if I did do so he would reap a rich harvest.’
I mumbled an acknowledgement of her words but said no more. I was still annoyed that she had sent a third of my horse archers to God knows where. That said, the visions and advice of Dobbai were not to be dismissed lightly so I let the matter rest. I still believed Surena to be dead, though.
That night the armies of the kings camped inland from the Euphrates. The logistics of watering over forty thousand horses and ten thousand camels were huge, and so bad-tempered quartermasters scurried around like demented wildcats as they allocated companies to the dozens of small reservoirs that dotted the landscape. Fed by canals that extended inland from the Euphrates, these reservoirs in turn fed a myriad of irrigation channels that delivered water to the fields. In this way crops were irrigated, the bellies of the villagers were filled when they were harvested and the surpluses were sent to Babylon as taxes. The canals, dams and irrigation ditches were so crucial to the life of the kingdom that each village was charged with the responsibility for the upkeep of the irrigation system surrounding it. Each village’s headman was paid by the treasury in Babylon to ensure that the system functioned smoothly, on pain of death. This appeared harsh, but the lives of the villagers depended on the fields being irrigated. If the crops failed, they starved.
The weather had not broken and so the early evening was still humid as the squires put up our tents. The horses were quartered in stables made from wooden poles and linen sheets and the camels were confined to corrals. I had sent Byrd and his scouts south the day before. He returned two hours before sundown with his black-clad companions. His horse and those of his men stood sweating with their heads bowed as he slid off his mount in front of my tent. Gallia was standing beside me.
‘You men take your horses to the stables to be watered and fed,’ I ordered, ‘then get some food inside you.’
I pointed at a waiting squire who walked over and took the reins of Byrd’s horse from him. I grabbed Byrd’s elbow.
‘Come inside and take the weight off your feet.’
Inside he slumped into a chair and stretched out his legs. Orodes handed him a cup of water then sat beside him. Gallia and I likewise seated ourselves.
Byrd drained his cup and unwrapped the turban from his head. His swarthy features matched the black shadows under his eyes.
‘Babylon still under siege,’ he said at last.
‘You rode all the way to the city?’ asked Orodes. No wonder his horse and those of his scouts looked done-in.
Byrd shook his head. ‘No need. Many enemy tents pitched all round city. No smoke or fire coming from Babylon, so it holds out.’
‘We had better get word to Vardan,’ said Orodes, ‘to let him know that his daughter is safe, at least for the present.’
He stood up and shook Byrd’s hand, much to the amusement of my chief scout.
‘I will ride to Vardan’s camp myself.’ Orodes bowed his head to Gallia, then me and left.
Gallia smiled. ‘You would think that after all these years Orodes would be less formal in our company.’
‘Manners and protocol are important to him,’ I said. ‘Perhaps more so now he no longer has a kingdom to go back to.’
‘If ever there was a man who would make a just and great king, it is Orodes,’ she mused.
‘He will be a king one day,’ I said. ‘That I promise.’
‘We see many people fleeing north on road,’ said Byrd. ‘Men, women, children, some driving goats and cattle before them. They flee from enemy. Tell of much killing.’ He glanced at Gallia. ‘And raping.’
‘And if ever there was a king that deserved to be deposed,’ said Gallia dryly, ‘it is Mithridates.’
I stood and slapped Byrd on the shoulder.
‘Well done, my friend. Get some food inside you.’
Later, after we had groomed our horses, Gallia and I led Remus and Epona out of camp to one of the reservoirs allocated to Dura’s army by the Babylonian commissariat. We walked them out of camp and across the arid ground that led to the large high-banked, stone-lined irrigator that was full to the brim with water. Sluiceways extended out from the reservoir across the fields, but men were leading their horses up the banks to allow the animals to drink directly from the reservoir itself. On the western side of the reservoir was a wide canal that brought water directly from the Euphrates, some two miles distant. As we neared the reservoir, the Amazons leading their horses behind us, I caught sight of a figure standing on the top of the bank gesticulating with his arms. As we neared the eastern side of the reservoir I heard his voice.
‘You’re at the wrong waterhole, you sons of whores. Second company of cataphracts is allocated to the reservoir in the next village. So bugger off and take your horses with you. What’s the point of having a system if you ignore it.’
He was a large man with a round face and long dark hair, his leggings and shirt dirty and torn. He could have been mistaken for a local beggar but he happened to be one of my best quartermasters.
‘Strabo,’ I called out. ‘That’s no way to address the best horsemen in the empire.’
He squinted in my direction with his piggy eyes and then they bulged wide.
He turned to the men who were causing him much anxiety.
‘Here’s the king and queen, so you’d better clear off quick otherwise they’ll have your balls on the end of a spear.’
Gallia frowned and I laughed as the men of the second company bowed their heads to me and my queen, led their horses down the bank and then rode to where they should have been watering their horses.
Gallia and I led our horses up the bank and let them drink from the cool water, the Amazons doing the same. Next to Strabo was a tall, wiry man in his fifties with thinning hair and sinewy arms. He wore a simple linen tunic, frayed knee-length leggings and sandals on his feet. He bowed deeply to me.
Strabo wiped his nose on his sleeve and belched. ‘This is Teres, majesty. Headman of the village whose little lake this is.’
‘Welcome, highness,’ said Teres, who was staring in amazement at Gallia’s long blonde hair. Parthian women have olive complexions and dark hair; he had probably never seen a light-skinned, blue-eyed woman in his life. And he stood transfixed as the mail-clad women warriors beyond us stood and watched as their horses drank the water.
‘Well, Strabo,’ I said, ‘is everything going according to plan?’
He shrugged. ‘Mostly, although your cataphracts think they are God’s gift and do as they like. They need their arses tanning if you ask me.’
‘I didn’t, but I’m sure you have everything in hand.’
Strabo grinned at Gallia. ‘I trust the queen is well.’
Gallia observed him as an eagle would a field mouse, curling up her lip at him. Strabo jabbed a finger into Teres’ ribs.
‘My queen is from a land far away from here, from a place called Gaul. Never heard of that, have you?’
Teres, still transfixed by Gallia’s looks, shook his head.
‘Well,’ continued Strabo, his eyes walking all over my wife’s body, ‘it’s a place that breeds fierce women warriors.’
He nodded at the Amazons standing beside their horses taking water from the reservoir.
‘Pretty to look at, aren’t they? And about as friendly as a nest of cobras. They
’ll slice off your balls as soon as look at you.’
But Teres was not looking at the Amazons but Remus, nodding his head slightly while Strabo continued to admire the contours of my wife’s body.
‘You know it is death to touch the queen’s person, Strabo,’ I remarked casually.
Strabo flushed and clasped his hands in front of him, a look of innocence on his face.
‘I didn’t, wouldn’t, touch her majesty, majesty. Of course not.’
‘Even impure thoughts could be construed as a form of molestation,’ I said sternly.
Strabo became nonplussed. ‘I, er, well. I must be getting along, majesty, many things to do before I turn in.’
He bowed awkwardly and then turned on his heels, scurrying down the bank and leaping into his saddle.
‘I don’t know why I tolerate you, Strabo,’ I called after him.
‘Because I keep your horses shod, fed, saddled and ready for your wars, majesty,’ he replied, then whooped for joy, dug his knees into his horse and galloped off.
‘You should have him flogged for his insolence,’ sneered Gallia, who had noted Strabo’s lecherousness.
‘He’s my best quartermaster,’ I replied. ‘If I flog him he’ll only be more bad tempered and offensive, and probably less efficient. Besides, having been flogged myself once, I will not visit the same punishment upon someone unless they truly deserve it.’
‘His eyes were all over me,’ said Gallia.
I dropped Remus’ reins and went to her side.
‘Can’t blame him for that,’ I whispered in her ear.
She dug a finger in my ribs.
‘You are impossible.’
Teres had picked up my horse’s reins as Remus drank from the water, the headman stroking his neck. Remus didn’t flinch as a stranger petted him.
‘He likes you,’ I said to Teres, who blushed and bowed to me.
‘Forgive me, highness, I meant no offence.’
I laid my hand on his arm. ‘Of course not. Be at ease. We are grateful for your help.’
‘You have enough water to grow your crops?’ asked Gallia.
‘Yes, highborn,’ replied Teres, ‘Tishtrya has been kind to us.’
‘Tishtrya?’
Teres then explained that he and his villagers worshipped Tishtrya, the god of rain who had created the world’s lakes and rivers and who now gave water to the earth so that his followers could grow the crops that fed them. As well as providing rains that feed the rivers and lakes, Tishtrya also patrolled the heavens and kept evil away from his followers.
‘When danger threatens,’ he continued, admiring Remus, ‘he takes the form of a great white stallion to defeat it.’
Gallia was most interested in his words. ‘A white stallion?’
‘Yes, highness. The legend has been handed down to us through many generations of our people. Before there were any cities on the earth, when Tishtrya was spreading rains over the land, the dread demon of drought, Apaosha, suddenly appeared to suck the land dry and kill thousands of men and animals. So Tishtrya took the form of a mighty white stallion that reflected the purity of his purpose and the strength of his will. Apaosha, reflecting his dark nature, transformed himself into a terrible black stallion and the two did battle in the middle of a vast plain. After three days and three nights of battle neither could overcome the other and men began to lose faith in Tishtrya and stopped praying for him and offering their libations. And so Tishtrya grew weaker and weaker until it appeared that he would be defeated. But then Ahura Mazda, the supreme god, the creator of heaven and earth, offered his own prayers in support of Tishtrya, who was strengthened and thus able to overcome Apaosha, who was finally banished from the earth.’
I thought of Narses mounted on his black stallion and took Teres’ words as a good omen.
Gallia smiled at him. ‘That is a beautiful story. I pray that Tishtrya continues to smile on you and your people.’
The next day, as we continued our march south to Babylon, the clouds at last burst and the land was drenched by a great thunderstorm. Any depressions quickly filled with water and the ground was transformed into a sea of mud that slowed our advance as horses and camels struggled to find their footing in the deluge. Flaps on quivers and bow cases were fastened shut to keep bows and arrows dry, and scale armour carried on the camels was wrapped in waxed covers to keep the rain off it. Mail armour can rust after a good dousing with water and so the Amazons also stashed their mail shirts on the camel train. Gallia rode on Epona with her arms outstretched, laughing as she held her face up to the heavens and drank from the raindrops. Her drenched shirt clung to her lithe body, highlighting the contours of her breasts and arms, her silk vest maintaining her modesty. She was deliriously happy.
‘You see, Pacorus, how Tishtrya smiles on us. Are you not joyous that he gives us his blessing’
I looked at Orodes sitting in his saddle beside me, his hair matted to his skull, his clothes sodden, and felt water coursing off my nose, ears and running down my back.
‘Delighted, my sweet.’
Vagharsh sitting behind us, holding my banner in its waxed sleeve, laughed aloud.
Eventually the rain ceased and the temperature dropped rapidly with the onset of the evening. We warmed ourselves round great fires that appeared as numerous as the stars in the night sky. Darkness fell and the armies camped on a stretch of land that extended for over ten miles. We were now less than half a day’s march from Babylon. Tomorrow we would be locked in battle with the enemy.
After we had changed our clothes and eaten I sent Byrd and his scouts south to reconnoitre the enemy’s position, instructing him to retreat immediately if he encountered enemy patrols. I did not want him or any of his men falling into the merciless hands of Narses or Mithridates. I watched them ride out of camp. At the same time a rider came from the camp of Vardan requesting my presence at the king’s pavilion. I took Orodes and Gallia along with me, the Amazons acting as our escort.
We arrived at the pavilion and were shown into the throne room where, once again, Mardonius stood before a table with his pointing stick, the Babylonian high command standing to one side. Also at the table were my father, Gafarn, Vistaspa, Vardan, Nergal and Praxima.
We bowed our heads to Vardan and I acknowledged my father but said no words to him. Servants brought us warm wine to drink and we once more gathered for another lecture. The new map spread out before us showed the city of Babylon and the surrounding area. I had never visited the city and was in truth fascinated by its layout and history. I knew that there had been a settlement on its site three thousand years ago, and that seventeen hundred years ago one of its kings, Hammurabi, had established the first codes of laws in human history. Thereafter Babylon had increased in size and influence, King Nebuchadnezzar building great inner and out walls around the city to make it an impregnable fortress. That was over five hundred years ago, though, and since then Babylon’s power and influence had been in decline. It had been captured by the great Alexander, the warrior king of Macedon, two hundred and seventy years ago, and thirty years afterwards the city’s outer walls had been demolished, the bricks being transported north to construct the city of Seleucia, which stood opposite the palace complex of Ctesiphon.
Vardan’s words brought me back to the present.
‘Tomorrow we will advance to the walls of Babylon and relieve my city. The latest intelligence that I have received indicates that the enemy have not left their siege positions.’
I felt a tingle go down my spine. This meant that we would get the chance to fight the enemy. Good. I smiled to myself and then felt my father’s eyes upon me across the table. He said nothing and made no gesture, but he knew what was going through my mind.
Vardan continued. ‘This being so, our joint forces will march directly south to enter the city via the Ishtar Gate.’
Mardonius used his pointer to indicate the aforementioned entrance that stood on the city’s northern wall.
‘The cit
y’s strongest bastion,’ continued Vardan, ‘the Northern Fortress, stands adjacent to the Ishtar Gate, and the archers on its high walls will be able to provide cover to our soldiers as they enter the city.’
Looking at the map I could see that the Euphrates ran right through Babylon, effectively cutting it in half, though the largest part – the old city I assumed – stood on the eastern bank of the river. The map also showed that the river was used to fill the great moat that surrounded all four sides of the city. It was undoubtedly still a formidable fortress. In addition to the Ishtar Gate there were nine other entrances into the city.
‘It is most important that we get our soldiers inside the city,’ said Vardan. ‘The enemy has already tried to infiltrate Babylon north and south via the Euphrates, using rafts carrying troops, and they were beaten off with some difficulty.’
Vardan’s plan made no sense. What was the point of trying to get horsemen into a city under siege when they could be used to destroy the besiegers outside the walls?
‘Your pardon, lord king,’ I said.
Vardan looked up at me. ‘Yes, Pacorus?’
‘Surely, lord, it would be better to destroy the enemy in battle and afterwards take our forces into your city.’
Vardan nodded knowingly at me. ‘I have discussed this with your father and we are in agreement that the enemy will retreat before our forces arrive at Babylon.’
So, they had agreed on the plan for tomorrow without consulting Nergal or me. I saw the look of triumph on my father’s face.
‘Can you be certain that the enemy will retreat, lord king?’ I said to Vardan.
‘They will fall back,’ said my father. ‘They tried to take Babylon in Vardan’s absence. Now he has returned at the head of over forty thousand men they won’t let themselves be trapped between us and the city’s garrison.’
My father made a good point but I resented not being consulted on matters of strategy.
‘As it is Dura who fields the largest portion of the army, over half by my reckoning, it would have been good manners, father, to have sought my advice on the plan for tomorrow.’
My father folded his arms across his chest.
Parthian Vengeance (The Parthian Chronicles) Page 22
