For once Surena was lost for words as he hesitantly stood up and then left the dais to stand beside Orodes, who was quickly slipping into his new role.
‘Does anyone here object to Surena becoming the king of Gordyene?’
Khosrou and Musa had little interest in the affairs of a kingdom that lay four hundred miles west of Hyrcania and a thousand miles from Merv, Khosrou’s capital, so they both shrugged with indifference, Musa draining his cup, belching and then holding it out to be refilled. Nergal was nodding and grinning at Surena while Praxima was smiling at Viper. It was certainly a triumph for the Amazons. Aschek looked at my father who now rose.
‘King Orodes, I think you will agree that the elevation of this young man to the office of king is unusual to say the least. That said, we live in unusual times and having just elected you to the high crown I will not contradict your first decision as king of kings.’
‘Nor I,’ agreed Aschek.
‘I have fought beside Surena,’ declared Atrax, ‘and know that he will make a worthy king.’ He had obviously changed his opinion regarding a mere squire attaining high command, though his wife was regarding Surena with open disdain.
‘That just leaves your opinion, Pacorus,’ said my father.
I turned to look at Viper who had regained her seat. I smiled at her and then stood.
‘Dura supports the election of Surena, one of its most valiant sons, to the throne of Gordyene, safe in the knowledge that he will be a great Parthian ruler.’
And so it was that Surena, formerly a stripling of the Ma’adan, became a Parthian king.
The following day Assur proclaimed Orodes king of kings in the Great Temple at Hatra and I began to think about the campaign to topple Mithridates. Soon he would know that his stepbrother had been proclaimed high king and would be forced to take action, and once again Narses would bring his armies west across the Tigris.
‘Except that he will not,’ declared my father as I sat with the other kings in the large study beside his throne room two days after Orodes was declared high king. Despite the heat outside the room was cool and well ventilated courtesy of the wind catchers on the roof of the palace. These towers ‘caught’ the desert wind in vents and then directed it down into the palace to keep the air flowing and thus the building cool. In the blistering heat of the summer light bamboo screens were placed over the vents and doused with water to cool the air passing into the rooms below. All the buildings in the royal quarter were equipped with these wind catchers, even the royal stables, to make living conditions more bearable.
The mood was relaxed as my father explained to all of us present the outline of his plan. As he spoke I realised that he had been thinking of this campaign for many months after it had become clear that Mithridates and Narses had declared war on him. Like the other kings my father was a man who above all believed in stability and continuity. I knew that my hatred for Mithridates and the strife that this had engendered had upset him deeply and had created a gulf between us that only now had been spanned. The kings of Hatra had always been fiercely loyal to the empire and the king of kings but now that loyalty had been thrown back into my father’s face. Unlike me he had not reacted instantly and marched his army against Ctesiphon. Rather, he had bided his time, gathered allies and prepared a carefully worked-out project. This plan he now laid before us. It was ambitious in scope and aim.
The main thrust would comprise the combined might of Dura, Hatra, Babylon, Media and Gordyene striking across the Tigris after having first taken Seleucia.
‘We will need your siege engines for that task, Pacorus.’
‘The walls of Seleucia will fall easily enough, father, have no fear.’
‘Then we will seize Ctesiphon,’ continued my father, ‘before marching southeast to capture Susa and then Persepolis. Before then I expect to engage Mithridates and Narses in battle and defeat them.
‘At the same time Musa and Khosrou will threaten to advance from the north with their combined armies against the kingdoms of Yueh-Chih, Aria, Anauon and Drangiana. The rulers of those kingdoms have for years provided Mithridates with support and soldiers for their ventures against us.’
I was confused. ‘Threaten to advance, father?’
He smiled and nodded at Khosrou.
‘They have supported Mithridates and Narses, as your father has said,’ agreed Khosrou, ‘but my spies have told me that they have no stomach for another great war. Musa and I may achieve by diplomacy what you will have to accomplish with arms.’
Aschek was far from convinced. ‘You really think they will stand aside and do nothing when Narses sends his summons to them.’
‘If they don’t then we will lay waste their lands,’ said Musa.
‘It is as my brother says,’ added Khosrou gravely.
My father turned to Nergal. ‘If he is agreeable I would like the King of Mesene to stand on the defensive during the first part of the campaign until we have taken Susa. With his army protecting the crossing of the Tigris near Umma, the enemy will not be able to send raiding parties across the river to strike at Mesene and southern Babylonia. Thereafter we would welcome the addition of his troops to our army.’
Nergal nodded. My father turned to Aschek.
‘My old friend, your kingdom has suffered the most during the deprivations of the enemy last year, and so to you I would like to entrust the safety of Hatra, Media and Gordyene. Vata will stay at Nisibus to secure my northern frontier and,’ he looked at Surena, ‘I assume troops will be left in Gordyene to secure that kingdom.’
Surena nodded solemnly.
‘But,’ continued my father, ‘I would feel more comfortable knowing that the army of Atropaiene also guards the north.’
This was a clever strategy. Unlike Atrax, Aschek was not a great warrior and had little appetite for campaigning beyond his realm. In addition, Atropaiene had been devastated the previous year and so it made sense to leave what was left of its army as a reserve upon which Aliyeh and Vata could call upon.
‘Who will you leave in Gordyene?’ I asked Surena.
‘Silaces, lord.’
I smiled at him. ‘You do not have to call me lord, Surena. You too are a king now.’
My father looked at Orodes. ‘It only remains for you, highness, to give your assent to this endeavour.’
‘I know that you do not undertake this venture likely, King Varaz,’ replied Orodes slowly and forcefully, ‘but I think it is a most excellent scheme and I fully endorse it.’
‘Soon you will be sitting in Ctesiphon, my friend,’ I said, ‘and after that you will be able to take Axsen on an inspection of Susa and the Kingdom of Susiana.’
I left Hatra in high spirits as we made our way back to Dura. At long last the final showdown with Narses and Mithridates would take place and I was very confident that it would have a favourable outcome. Not only had a strong alliance been forged but the empire also had a proper king of kings and not an upstart murderer. Our trip to Hatra had been leisurely and had been accompanied by Nergal and Orodes, but now they hastened back south to their respective kingdoms to prepare for the forthcoming campaign. Just one more battle and then we would have peace in the empire.
The journey back to Dura was uneventful though Dobbai was unusually quiet. On the third day after we had left Hatra I was riding behind her wagon as Claudia and Isabella threw pieces of biscuit at Remus in an attempt to make him throw me off his back.
‘He has had far worse things launched at him than a few pieces of biscuit,’ I told them.
‘Does Remus like being your horse?’ asked Claudia.
‘Of course,’ I answered, ‘because he travels far and wide and sees many new things.’
Isabella threw another piece of biscuit at his head and laughed.
‘When will he be going away again?’
‘Soon,’ I answered. ‘He will be travelling far into the east.’
Isabella smiled at me. ‘Why?’
‘Because I have important busine
ss there, but after it has finished I will return and Remus and I will be staying at Dura for a long time.’
Dobbai raised an eyebrow at me. ‘You are pleased with the way events have turned out, son of Hatra?’
‘Of course,’ I answered. ‘The final battle approaches, one that I intend to win.’
‘Are you disappointed that you are not king of kings?’
I shook my head. ‘No. I have never coveted that position. In any case Orodes is far more suitable than I could ever be.’
‘You must take care,’ she said. ‘There is death beyond the Tigris, I have seen it. It would be more advisable to let Mithridates and Narses come to you.’
I dismissed the idea. ‘No. For too long we have reacted to events and it has achieved nothing. Now we have a chance to take the war to the enemy and finish what should have been finished years ago.’
‘Then let us hope that you return.’
‘I always return,’ I boasted.
The period following our return to Dura was largely uneventful save for numerous proclamations from Ctesiphon denouncing all those who had gathered at Hatra to acclaim Orodes. Mithridates banished us all and sentenced each king, his queen and children and any who supported them to death. This made me even happier as it meant there was no stepping back from the brink: Mithridates had declared war on eight kings of the empire, including the newly created ruler of Gordyene.
Dura’s army was ready to march at a moment’s notice but the forces of the other kings, save Hatra, required more time to prepare for the coming campaign. I was not unduly worried about this because I knew that the enemy would be in a similar position.
Therefore, as the army was going to have to wait before it set off, Domitus ordered that the legionaries put on extra weight. This was an old Roman tactic to prepare for a campaign, the reasoning being that a long offensive could be wearing on even the most physically fit body and so every man should take the opportunity to bulk up before it commenced. In addition, the most secure way to transport supplies on campaign is as fat around the waist and so the legionaries were ordered to feast like hungry wolves. Marcus organised extra food to be distributed while Domitus reduced the amount of training and drill each legionary undertook. As the garrisons of the forts in the kingdom were reduced to allow the legions to muster, vast amounts of bread, beer, wine, meat and fruit were shipped into the main camp at Dura so the men could pack on extra pounds. The horsemen complained bitterly that the legionaries were receiving special privileges but it was pointed out to them that they were carried on their horses’ backs most of the time and did not require additional weight, which in any case would tax their mounts. Horse archers were required to be lithe and thin to be able to shoot their bows from the saddle in all directions, whereas cataphracts were big men on powerful horses who crushed the enemy with a charge or in the mêlée.
As usual I mustered the lords and again informed them that they would not be accompanying the army, though this time I required them to provide garrisons for the kingdom’s forts that otherwise would be empty. Rsan would be in charge of the kingdom in my and Gallia’s temporary absence, though Spandarat was appointed military commander and ordered to muster five thousand men to garrison the forts; Dura would be guarded by the replacement cohort. It was eight hundred miles from the city to Persepolis, and if we had to march all the way to Narses’ capital to fight him then the army would be away for at least six months. Such a length of time might tempt the Romans to try their luck and seize Dura for themselves. If, however, they knew that the forts at the borders and those further inland, plus the city itself, were garrisoned they would be deterred. And every lord had his own stronghold that was also garrisoned. I called Spandarat to the palace to impress upon him the importance of his role.
‘The forts must be garrisoned at all times, and you should move into the palace while I am away.’
‘Can I wear your crown?’ he grinned.
‘I don’t have one.’
He rubbed his scruffy beard. ‘You know that we held this land before you arrived. Held it against the Agraci and then helped you turn back the Romans. You worry too much.’
I smiled and placed a hand on his shoulder. ‘I know that, my friend. That is why I have every faith in you. But faith does not fill bellies so I have instructed Aaron that you and your men will be paid the equivalent wages of my horse archers for the time that I am away.’
He rubbed his hands together and smiled. ‘Lovely!’
‘Just keep an eye on Syria. I don’t trust the Romans, but that does not give you licence to launch any cross-border raids against them.’
He looked hurt. ‘Me? It never crossed my mind.’
Before I came to Dura its lords and the Agraci had raided each other’s lands with abandon. Peace had brought stability but old habits die hard and I feared that Spandarat and the other lords might use my prolonged absence as an excuse to pillage Roman Syria.
‘Just don’t stir up a hornets’ nest,’ I ordered him.
But it was not my wild lords who provoked the Romans on the eve of the war with Mithridates and Narses. One morning a pigeon arrived from the northern frontier carrying a message that a Roman official wished to travel to Dura for an audience with me, which I thought highly unusual. Ever since my stand-off with Pompey the Romans had conspicuously ignored both my kingdom and me. I therefore had a message sent back requesting the name and rank of this Roman who was so eager to meet me, at the same time sending another pigeon to Palmyra to ask Byrd and Malik to bring themselves and their scouts to Dura.
I visited Domitus in the now heaving camp after I received a reply back that the Roman in question was a tribune named Marcus Roscius.
‘What does a tribune want with you?’ he asked after he had dismissed two of his own officers of an equivalent rank from his tent.
I sat down in one of the chairs. ‘I have no idea but I think it would be a good idea for you to be present when he arrives.’
Half a dozen of Aaron’s clerks were sitting at his table sifting through parchments.
‘I need your signature, general,’ said one, holding up what appeared to be a long list of items. Domitus sighed heavily as he walked to the table and signed the document.
‘I have been reduced to a clerk,’ he complained.
‘Organisation is a necessary evil,’ I told him.
He shook his head. ‘Or just evil, perhaps.’
‘So, you will be at the palace when the Roman arrives?’
He scratched his head. ‘If I must. When does he arrive?’
‘I have ordered him to wait at the frontier until I have more information about him. I will inform you when he is due at the Citadel.’
I kept the tribune waiting at the border for five more days until Byrd and Malik had arrived at Dura. I then allowed Marcus Roscius and his dozen horsemen to ride south to the city. They were escorted by a score of horse archers who had yet to be replaced by the lords’ men, it being more convenient to billet the cavalry far and wide before mustering them in one spot just prior to the army marching. It also meant that there were less men and horses concentrated in and around Dura and therefore less dust hanging over the city.
Unfortunately Byrd knew nothing of our Roman visitor save that he had most likely been sent by the Roman governor of Syria, a man named Aulus Gabinius. Byrd said that the governor was a friend of Pompey who liked expensive living and saw Syria as a way of making himself rich. This alarmed me somewhat as Crassus had once coveted Dura because of the Silk Road that ran through it. Perhaps this Aulus Gabinius desired it as well to enrich himself further.
Before our guests arrived I gave strict instructions that they were to be guarded at all times and kept away from the legionary camp. Any hint that Dura’s army was going to be away from the kingdom would only embolden the Romans. In addition, I told Domitus to increase the guards at the Citadel and at the Palmyrene Gate to convey to our visitors the city’s strength. However, they were to be confined to one of t
he barracks in the Citadel after they had arrived. I did not want them wandering around picking up any idle gossip about a forthcoming campaign in the east.
The Romans and their escort arrived at noon on a sunny autumn day and were shown to their quarters in the Citadel. From the shadows of the palace’s colonnaded porch I watched them trot into the courtyard. I smiled when I saw their commander, a tall, imposing individual who wore a polished metal helmet with an enormous red crest. He took the helmet off and handed it to one of his men who were all dressed in mail shirts, helmets and carried flat, oval shields and spathas. Their weathered appearance contrasted sharply to the peacock that was their commander. He had short-cropped fair hair and, unsurprisingly, a haughty expression. His bronze muscled cuirass inlaid with silver was magnificent, though, as were his ornate boots decorated with flaps in the form of lions’ heads. His large red cloak pinned to the right shoulder and his white tunic with a narrow purple stripe completed his opulent appearance. I went into the palace as our guests were shown to their accommodation.
An hour later the tribune was escorted into the throne room where Gallia and I awaited him. I had dressed in my Roman leather cuirass, leggings and boots, Gallia in her mail shirt with white tunic. Guards lined the walls of the entrance hall, the throne room, and stood either side of the dais upon which were our thrones. Najya, my falcon that had been a gift from Haytham, rested on my gloved left hand as I fed her slivers of uncooked duck. The steward who was her keeper stood near the entrance to the adjacent guardroom while Domitus stood next to the dais on my right side.
Marcus Roscius, helmet in the crook of his arm, strode purposefully towards us flanked by four guards.
‘Tribune Marcus Roscius,’ announced one.
Roscius bowed to me, then to Gallia and looked in confusion at Domitus dressed in his Roman attire and then at my cuirass that resembled his in design if not in cost.
Parthian Vengeance (The Parthian Chronicles) Page 56
