It was a blisteringly hot morning when we set off for Dura. Initially we had determined to depart a day earlier but word came from Uruk that Nergal and Praxima had also been invited to Vata’s wedding. I had no idea why this should be so as Nergal had never known Vata but Gallia was delighted and insisted that we wait for them to reach Dura so we could all make the trip together. Dobbai and the children travelled in a large four-wheeled wagon on which Marcus had erected a metal frame so it could be covered with canvas to make a shaded interior. It was pulled by six mules and led two camels that carried our own tent and Dobbai’s. She also insisted that there should be three hammocks inside the wagon: one for her, one for Claudia and one for Isabella, in addition to Eszter’s cot. I had never seen Marcus so flustered as she ordered him around in the days preceding our departure. I think he was glad to see the back of us.
Gallia took the Amazons as her personal bodyguard. I told her this was unnecessary, as I had already organised a hundred cataphracts to escort us to Hatra. But now that Praxima was also with us it was an opportunity for her and Gallia and the rest of the female Companions to be united once more. Nergal brought a hundred of his horse archers with him, which meant our party numbered two hundred horse archers, two hundred squires and a hundred cataphracts. This number increased when we left Dura and passed over the pontoon bridge to the eastern side of the Euphrates where we had agreed to link up with the party of Orodes and Axsen who were also travelling to Hatra. The rulers of Babylon were escorted by one hundred royal guards attired in dragon skin armour. Axsen had inherited her father’s penchant for taking large numbers of servants on campaign, and so in addition to her royal guards there were cooks, the queen’s female attendants, grooms, slaves and farriers. I think Orodes was embarrassed by the massive entourage but seemed very happy with his new wife.
We all rode in one group as our small combined army made its way north, the Amazons riding directly behind us and a long line of horses and camels following. There must have been a thousand camels in our great expeditionary force.
Axsen found it most strange but was also intrigued. It was the first time she had ridden with Gallia and Praxima, both of them dressed in their mail shirts and fully armed, though because of the heat they were wearing their floppy hats and not their helmets. Axsen was most excited that Dobbai was travelling with us.
‘Perhaps your sorceress would dine with us tonight, Gallia,’ said Axsen as sweat poured down my neck and soaked my shirt. I would have to have words with Vata about getting married in the middle of a Mesopotamian summer.
‘I can ask her,’ replied Gallia.
‘I doubt she will agree,’ I said. ‘She hates the heat and she hates travelling, which means she is as ill-tempered as a angry viper at the moment.’
‘Is she really a sorceress?’ asked Axsen.
‘She is beloved of the gods,’ replied Gallia.
‘She predicted that you and Orodes would be married,’ I added.
‘And she saw Pacorus in danger when Narses and Mithridates had him surrounded and sent Gallia to rescue him,’ offered Praxima.
I grinned at Nergal’s wife. ‘Thank you for reminding me of that.’
‘I must meet her,’ implored Axsen.
‘Why don’t you visit us when we have made camp tonight,’ said Gallia. ‘I fear she will ignore any invites to a feast.’
Axsen was delighted. ‘We will come. How exciting.’
I was exhausted by the time we had travelled a grand distance of fifteen miles in the stupefying heat, and by the end of the day my clothes were drenched in sweat and I felt both tired and irritable. The Durans made camp well away from the large pavilion that housed Babylon’s royal couple, though Nergal and Praxima pitched their tent close to ours. The squires erected our tent first, which was similar to Domitus’ command tent to accommodate the children; then Dobbai’s, a black camel hair affair that was like the Agraci tents; and then put up the tents of the cataphracts. As usual the latter were laid out in a neat row with the squires’ own tents pitched in another row immediately behind.
Despite dozing in their hammocks the children were exhausted by the journey and fell asleep almost immediately after we had eaten a meal of salted mutton, water and biscuits. The night was very warm though mercifully not intolerably hot and a slight easterly breeze was most welcome. After the children had been settled Dobbai relaxed with Gallia and me in front of her tent. We sat on stools while she reclined in her favourite wicker chair that she had ordered Marcus to pack on the wagon. For the journey Dobbai had half a dozen stable hands from the Citadel to attend her, drive her wagon, ensure none of my children fell off it during the day and water and feed the mules. The boys walked beside the wagon during the day, taking it in turns to drive it. They were beside themselves with joy when Dobbai gave each of them a piece of red coral, an ancient talisman to protect the wearer from evil spirits.
Orodes and Axsen appeared out of the darkness an hour later with a score of guards, half of them carrying torches. Axsen was dressed in a simple purple shirt and tan leggings, Orodes in his silver scale armour cuirass and sword at his hip. Dobbai’s eyes were closed as we embraced them and their guards retreated from our presence. Axsen grinned girlishly at Gallia and then looked at the seemingly sleeping Dobbai.
The oil lamps flickered faintly in the slight breeze as we all regarded the apparently dozing Dobbai, who suddenly spoke without opening her eyes.
‘Cannot an old woman get any peace in this world?’
Axsen moved two steps towards her, Orodes remaining a few paces behind.
‘Forgive us, lady, we did not mean to interrupt your evening.’
Dobbai opened her eyes and looked at Axsen.
‘Of course you did. Why else would you bring a host of soldiers with you to make a noise like a herd of bulls if not to disturb me?’
Axsen was taken aback, not least because she was unused to being spoken to thus by anyone, least of all an old crone. Axsen ignored Dobbai’s impertinence and smiled.
‘Your name is known throughout the empire, lady, and I would like to make your acquaintance.’
Dobbai grunted. ‘You want something from me, Queen of Babylon. What is it?’
Axsen glanced nervously at Orodes who shrugged, and then looked back at Dobbai.
‘They say that the gods reveal the future to you.’
Dobbai leaned forward in her chair. ‘They reveal things that will come to pass and other things that may come to pass. What of it?’
Axsen smiled at Orodes. ‘I heard that you predicted my marriage to Orodes.’
Dobbai pointed at Orodes. ‘Step forward, King of Babylon, so that I may see you both together.’
Orodes moved to Axsen’s side and held his wife’s hand. Then Dobbai looked at me and nodded.
‘They have a regal appearance, I grant you that. There are worse choices you could make.’
‘I do not understand,’ I said.
Dobbai cackled. ‘Of course not, but it does not matter.’
She looked at Axsen and Orodes again. ‘You have a crown, Queen of Babylon?’
Axsen looked quizzically at her. ‘Of course, I am a queen.’
‘You will be leaving Babylon and will require it no longer.’
The colour drained from Axsen’s face and Orodes looked most concerned.
‘Is Babylon in danger?’ he asked.
Dobbai frowned. ‘Did I say that? All I said was that your wife will not need Babylon’s crown much longer. She will have a new one to wear.’
Now Axsen was intrigued. ‘What crown?’
Dobbai waved her hand at her. ‘All will be revealed. Did you know that the King of Dura has no crown? Is that not correct, son of Hatra?’
‘It is true,’ I replied. ‘I have never seen the need.’
Dobbai began to rise from her chair, whereupon Orodes walked forward and assisted her to her feet.
‘Thank you, Orodes. I always knew you would make a good king and now you stand on the
brink of becoming one.’
Orodes smiled at her. ‘You are mistaken.’
‘He is already a king,’ said Axsen.
‘Not until the son of Hatra makes him so,’ replied Dobbai. ‘And now I am tired and bid you goodnight.’
She turned and shuffled into her tent. She stopped and pointed at Axsen.
‘And you will make a good queen.’ And then she disappeared into the tent and closed the camel hair flap.
Axsen was confused and slightly disappointed while Orodes whispered to me that he believed that Dobbai’s senses were failing her.
‘She did not realise that I was the King of Babylon,’ he said. ‘How sad it is when old age addles us so. Alas for Dobbai.’
It took us twelve days to reach Hatra and on the last day of our journey Vistaspa, accompanied by two hundred of my father’s bodyguard, met us ten miles from the city. He informed me that we were the last of the wedding guests to arrive and would we mind riding through the southern gates of the city to the palace quarter that was located in the north. My father wanted to impress the inhabitants with a show of strength, and also the many merchants and foreign traders in the city, including a few Romans. In this way news would spread far and wide of the assembly of kings at Hatra.
No doubt my father also intended to send a message to Ctesiphon, Syria and Armenia of the gathering strength at Hatra, and was using Vata’s wedding as a statement of intent. However, it was still intolerably hot and the cataphracts sweated in their full-face helmets and scale armour on the morning we rode towards the city’s southern entrance. Pennants sporting the red griffin flew from every kontus and every Amazon wore her helmet with its cheekguards tied shut. Because I was the heir to Hatra’s throne my cataphracts rode in the vanguard. Next came the royal party of Gallia, myself, Axsen, Orodes, Nergal and Praxima, the latter wearing her Amazon uniform. Behind us were our banners and next trundled the wagon carrying Dobbai and my children and behind that the Babylonian guard. Nergal’s horse archers brought up the rear. The squires and camels remained in camp but would be relocated later that day to outside the city’s northern gates, nearer to the palace quarter.
On the wooden bridge spanning the great moat that surrounded Hatra stood soldiers of the garrison, with more lining the route from the gatehouse through the streets to the royal quarter – men wearing bronze helmets with white crests, round shields faced with bronze, leather cuirasses fitted with iron scales and leather greaves. The soldiers had difficulty holding back the cheering crowds as our column made its way to the palace, Claudia and Isabella peering from the back of the wagon and waving at the multitude.
We finally arrived at the royal square that stood between the limestone palace and the Great Temple, also called the Sun Temple, dedicated to Shamash. We left the heaving crowds at the gates to the palace quarter, which like the Citadel at Dura was surrounded by its own walls. The difference was that at Dura the Citadel was squat and compact whereas the royal quarter at Hatra was grand and expansive. As well as housing the palace it also contained the mansions of the kingdom’s nobility – I knew that Lord Herneus had a great house here – the royal armouries, stables, barracks and granaries. It was no exaggeration to say that ten of Dura’s Citadels could easily be accommodated within the walls of Hatra’s royal quarter.
Today the square was filled with the nobles and their families as the king’s son and his friends came to a halt before the steps of the palace. Servants came forward to hold the reins of our horses as we dismounted. The stable hands assisted my children from the wagon and Dobbai passed a crying Eszter to Gallia and then stepped down from the rear of the wagon. The square echoed with polite applause as I walked beside Gallia to the foot of the steps, flanked by Orodes and Axsen on my right and Nergal and Praxima on our left. However, there were also murmurs as Dobbai, Claudia and a bashful Isabella clutching her hand, followed us immediately behind. I too was surprised, though not by Dobbai, as standing on the steps were several individuals I had not expected to see at Hatra. My father and mother stood in the centre of the group, Gafarn and Diana and the young Spartacus beside them. Then came Vata and Adeleh and Atrax and Aliyeh. Aschek and his wife Ona stood next to the rulers of Media and beyond them were Surena and Viper. If I was surprised to see the new governor of Gordyene I was astounded to see King Khosrou and his queen, Tara, standing on the other end of the line of royalty, alongside King Musa of Hyrcania and his wife Queen Sholeh. At the foot of the steps, to my right, stood Assur, high priest of the temple, with a dozen of his white-robed subordinates. Now in his mid-seventies, he was still tall though very thin and his beard, formerly bushy, was noticeably thinner. He glared at Dobbai as she bared her teeth at him and his priests as she walked up the stone steps.
After I had greeted my father and mother we walked with them inside the palace as our horses were taken to the stables. The voluminous palace with its marble floors and great stone columns was pleasantly cool as we made our way to our apartments, my mother continually glancing behind at Dobbai.
‘You have brought the sorceress, Pacorus?’
‘She insisted on coming.’
‘Why?’
‘I have no idea,’ I replied. ‘More to the point, what are Khosrou and Musa doing here?’
‘All will be revealed,’ answered my father.
I had nodded to Khosrou and Musa when I alighted the palace steps but I had no opportunity that day to speak to them. After our journey we were exhausted and spent the afternoon relaxing while nursemaids attended to our children. Dobbai demanded to be shown to her quarters, after which she locked the doors of her room and was not seen until the following morning.
The three days before the wedding were filled with inspections of the garrison, tours of the walls, archery competitions, banquets and visits to the mansions of influential nobles. All very tedious and which diverted me from my aim of speaking at length to Khosrou and Musa concerning their presence at Hatra. I did succeed in speaking to Surena, though, when I ordered him to my quarters on the first morning after our arrival in the city. He told me that he had received an invitation from my father to attend Vata’s wedding and that not to be present would be an insult to the man who had done so much to support his war effort in Gordyene.
‘The wording of the letter was most insistent, lord,’ he said.
‘I can imagine.’
‘It is wise to keep the King of Hatra happy, lord, I think.’
I smiled at him. ‘I think you are right, Surena.’
‘Does Hatra wish to rule Gordyene, lord? Is that why I have been brought here.’
‘You know, Surena, at this moment in time I am as ignorant as you are regarding this matter. How are the Armenians?’
He smiled. ‘Still licking their wounds. I have heard that their king….’
‘Tigranes?’
‘Yes, lord. I have heard that he is sick.’
‘He will recover,’ I told him, ‘and when he does he will be looking to retake Gordyene.’
‘We are ready, lord.’
I did manage to avoid any appointments the morning before the wedding and took myself down to the poor quarter of the city where once Byrd had briefly lived, making a living by selling pots before I had persuaded him to accompany me to Dura. I stood before the one-roomed shop he had rented that fronted the grubby square. A wooden bench still stood before the room, though instead of Byrd’s pots it was piled high with sandals. There were around fifty people in the square inspecting and haggling over the products on display around its sides. I walked over to the sandal seller, a man in his early twenties with lank hair and sores on his hands who was arranging his goods. Behind him was a woman who looked twice her early years holding a naked infant with a dirty face. I picked up a pair of sandals as the man watched me, obviously confused why someone who wore expensive leather boots would be looking at poorer quality footwear. His wife looked at me with sorrowful eyes.
‘How much?’ I asked.
‘Three obols, sir,’ h
e replied.
Half a drachma – the daily wage of an unskilled worker.
‘I’ll take them.’ I took the leather pouch hanging from my belt and emptied a hundred drachmas on the table.
‘A fair price,’ I said.
He looked in disbelief at the pile of money on the table.
‘It is too much, sir.’
I looked at his miserable hovel and impoverished family and thought of the rich food and wine that would be consumed tomorrow at Vata’s wedding and of the great wealth that existed in this city, just a short distance away.
‘I knew the man who worked here once. I am forever in his debt. This is a way of repaying but a small part of it. But for an accident of birth our positions might have been reversed. How strange is fate do you not think?’
‘Sir?’
‘It does not matter. Keep the money.’
The wedding of Vata and Adeleh took place in the temple, the great building packed with kings, queens, nobles and their wives, and afterwards there was a huge feast in the palace. It was good to see Vata’s big round face wearing a smile again and I was genuinely happy for him and my sister. So now all my parents’ children were married. I had thought that Adeleh, being in her thirties, would remain single but now she went with her new husband back to Nisibus to begin her new life as the wife of Hatra’s northern governor, who had been created Prince of Nisibus in honour of his entering the royal family. I watched my mother wipe tears from her eyes as she bid her daughter farewell the day after the wedding.
With the marriage out of the way I was determined to finally speak to Khosrou at length about his campaign against the northern nomads, but I was again thwarted when Gallia and I received a summons from my father to attend him in his throne room that afternoon. My curiosity was aroused when Nergal and Praxima informed me that they had also been requested to attend my father. When we arrived I discovered that in addition to the dais upon which my father and mother sat as the rulers of Hatra, seven other temporary platforms had been erected in the great chamber in two lines extending from the permanent dais. Behind each one hung great banners carrying the symbols of the kings who would sit on each one: the red griffin of Dura, the double-headed lion sceptre crossed with a sword of Mesene, the horned bull of Babylon, the sun symbol of Margiana, the Caspian tiger of Hyrcania, the Shahbaz, the mythical bird of Atropaiene, and the white dragon of Media.
Parthian Vengeance (The Parthian Chronicles) Page 54
