Amazon

by Peter Darman

I don’t know how long we stood there but the flames were dying down when a rider pulled up his sweating horse and jumped from the saddle. All eyes turned to him as he scanned the mourners before hurrying over to me, bowing his head and pulling a sealed note from the leather bag slung over his shoulder.

  ‘From King Gafarn, majesty.’

  I broke the horse head wax seal, read the words and looked at Gallia.

  ‘Phraates has returned.’

  Chapter 17

  After I had arranged an escort of my own horse archers for Parisa and her children, placing Quintus Varsas in command, I rode back south to Ctesiphon. The former Queen of Media was in a daze, engulfed in a fog of confusion and grief. Distraught over the death of her husband, she was driven to despair concerning the perilous nature of her son’s condition. He was attended by the court physician and a priest from the Temple of Shamash, but he had taken a spear thrust to the belly and I feared he would eventually succumb to the wound.

  ‘That would solve a major problem,’ said Gallia as we rode south. ‘Prince Atrax is the legal heir to the throne of Media, a fact not lost on Spartacus.’

  ‘Even if he recovers, I do not think Phraates will tolerate a son of Darius and Aliyeh wearing Media’s crown. He will want someone he can trust ruling the kingdom directly north of Ctesiphon.’

  ‘Exactly,’ she smiled.

  ‘What does that mean?’

  ‘Nothing. Spartacus will want to rule Media through Hovik, but that will not happen.’

  She seemed to know a lot about Parthia’s politics all of a sudden, but Media was a problem that needed to be solved. It was too important, too fertile and too populous for it to be ruled by someone who was unreliable or disloyal. Then again, if Phraates could find someone with an abundance of loyalty and reliability he had the makings of a great high king.

  The day was warm and pleasant, the sky largely devoid of clouds and the sun warming the earth and our faces, our helmets dangling from the horns of our saddles. Behind us the Amazons rode in two files, the camels carrying our tents and supplies behind them and the rearguard and flanks protected by horse archers.

  ‘Of course,’ I mused, ‘Prince Pacorus would make an excellent King of Media, and if the gods grant Gafarn and Diana long life he will be grey and old before he wears Hatra’s crown.’

  She was unimpressed. ‘Pacorus is the heir to Hatra’s throne. He will not wear Media’s crown.’

  I glanced behind. ‘Zenobia, you have seen Prince Pacorus at close quarters on numerous occasions. Do you think he will make a good king?’

  ‘It is not for me to say, majesty,’ she said.

  ‘Nonsense, I would hear your opinion. Speak freely.’

  ‘Prince Pacorus should inherit his father’s throne, majesty,’ she told me, ‘he will make a fine King of Hatra. He is beloved by the nobility and population of that kingdom, which will ensure his reign is fruitful.’

  ‘There you have it,’ smiled Gallia.

  ‘It does not solve the problem of Media, though,’ I said.

  ‘Perhaps Phraates has the answer,’ she smiled, ‘after all, he has had a lot of time to think about it.’

  He had been gone for months and in truth until I saw him with my own eyes I would not accept he still lived. But when we neared Ctesiphon I was reassured that things were returning to a degree of normalcy. Around five miles from the palace complex we were met by Silani and a detachment of his Babylonian Guards, all magnificent in shining dragon-skin armour and burnished helmets adorned with purple plumes. Large purple cloaks were fastened around their shoulders and their shining horses were wearing purple saddlecloths edged with silver. His lancers looked superb and the newly restored commander of Phraates’ bodyguard looked in rude health. He was happy and I was happy that his spirits had been restored.

  ‘Greetings, majesties,’ he said, pulling up his horse and bowing his head. ‘The high king is eager to meet with you both after you have rested and refreshed yourselves.’

  ‘And we are eager to welcome him back, Silani,’ I smiled, ‘it is good things are returning to normal.’

  He brought his horse parallel to mine and we continued our journey, the Babylonian lancers forming two files either side of the Amazons.

  ‘Allow me to bring you up to date,’ he said. ‘During their pursuit operations, the horsemen of the late, greatly missed King Silaces ran down and killed King Monaeses and King Cinius, together with hundreds of their soldiers. The power of Yueh-Chih and Anauon is broken.’

  ‘And Tiridates?’ asked Gallia.

  ‘He has vanished, majesty, seemingly into thin air.’

  ‘And the infant?’ I said.

  Silani’s face wore a pained expression.

  ‘Alas, the infant has also disappeared, murdered most likely.’

  ‘It is the way of tyrants,’ said Gallia.

  ‘So Tiridates and Antiochus are still at large,’ I stated. ‘If they return to the east they might still be able to raise the banner of rebellion once more. I fear the war is not yet done, Silani.’

  ‘It is done,’ he remarked flatly, ‘the eastern kingdoms will have no stomach for further war when they realise the scale of their losses in trying to topple Phraates. And don’t forget Kujula.’

  I had forgotten about him but now wondered how he was faring. I wished him well and a not-too-speedy recovery from his injuries, and prayed he kept his armies east of the River Indus. If he still lived; if not, the intoxicating and venomous Queen Rana now led the Kushans. Thank the gods for Kewab was my final thought on the situation in the east.

  ‘Where is King Spartacus and Queen Rasha?’ asked Silani.

  ‘Following,’ I replied.

  ‘Sulking,’ smiled Gallia.

  I had told her about my threat to the King of Gordyene, which was not an idle one. But she dismissed my fears and said Rasha would make sure Parisa and her children, and my horse archers and Quintus, remained unmolested during their journey to Hatra.

  ‘All will be settled,’ were her final words on the subject.

  When we reached Ctesiphon’s mighty gatehouse I halted Horns and looked up at the three banners flying proudly from its battlements: the horned bull of Babylon, the eagle with a snake in its talons denoting Susiana, and the bird god of Persis. Scythian axe men, great unsmiling brutes with two-handed battle axes, paced the ramparts and stood guard at the entrance to the palace complex. I never thought I would be so happy to see their ugly, snarling faces but I was ecstatic as I nudged Horns through the gates, beaming like an idiot.

  There were more Scythians at the entrance to the palace, along with a detachment of Silani’s lancers, a row of trumpeters and a rank of kettledrummers, who banged their wretched drums to cause Horns to backtrack in alarm. Like me he had developed a healthy dislike of kettledrummers. But I steadied him and he walked forward to the foot of the palace steps where slaves took the reins of our horses. The trumpets sounded a fanfare and from the palace came Phraates himself. The crown of Babylon on his head, his body clothed in purple robes with a golden belt and white leather shoes on his feet, he was flanked by Claudia and trailed by a coterie of priests, Scythian axe men and slaves.

  Phraates had always been a pale young man and slim erring to gauntness. This conveyed an impression of a shrewish, scheming individual, which was not entirely wrong. He knew he was not a great example of manliness and I think that sense of inferiority contributed towards encouraging the dark side of his nature. But how he had changed, at least in appearance. His face was rounder with more colour in his cheeks. His frame had also filled out, not around the belly but in the shoulders and chest. He actually looked like a king.

  ‘What magic has Claudia weaved?’ whispered Gallia as we bowed to the returned king of kings.

  ‘Welcome, welcome,’ Phraates placed a hand on my arm and another on Gallia’s in a gesture of familiarity I had never seen before.

  Free from the poisonous advice of Ashleen and Timo, Phraates seemed a man reborn, both physically
and mentally. It cheered me to think that perhaps, just perhaps, he might become the king of kings his father had hoped for, and the empire craved.

  ‘You must be tired after your journey,’ he smiled, ‘we will speak after you have refreshed yourselves. But you are both most welcome.’

  He gestured to an aged slave in rich apparel, who walked forward and bowed his head to us.

  ‘If you will follow me, highnesses.’

  Then Phraates was gone, disappearing back into the palace with Silani hurrying to catch up. Claudia came forward and embraced Gallia, afterwards kissing me on the cheek.

  ‘Well done, father, you are high in Phraates’ favour.’

  ‘Well done to you, more like,’ I said, ‘you have transformed him.’

  She gave a sly smile. ‘Fresh air and simple food will do wonders for a constitution.’

  ‘Where did you go?’ asked Gallia.

  ‘Somewhere out of the way of prying eyes,’ Claudia answered evasively. ‘When do our guests arrive?’

  ‘Soon,’ said Gallia equally evasively.

  Like Phraates she looked well and full of vigour.

  ‘Your mother and I could do with whatever you and the high king have been taking,’ I jested.

  She examined us both more closely.

  ‘Yes, you both look tired and worn out, like yogurt spread too thinly on a wafer. I will see that your needs are attended to.’

  It was testimony to the influence she now wielded at Ctesiphon that the chief steward of the palace no less was placed at our disposal. He arranged for us to be bathed, massaged and sung to, a graceful young man with a beautiful voice who lulled us into a stupor with his song, a long lament about a man who lost his love. Or at least I think that was the subject because I drifted off into a blissful sleep with his melodious voice in my ears.

  We both slept for twelve hours, awaking the next morning refreshed and looking like the king and queen of Dura once again instead of two haggard old nomads. Gafarn and Diana paid us a visit as we were enjoying breakfast on the terrace of our bedroom, the air heavy with the scent of cypress trees in the royal gardens beyond. Peacocks strutted on the lawns and white doves flew overhead.

  No expense had been spared to create a green paradise on earth, with small waterfalls creating a pleasing, calming sound along with fountains. As was tradition, the front space of the gardens contained a large pool to reflect the image of the palace and the sky, thus cementing the realm of the earthly to the heavenly to tie the rulers of Ctesiphon to the gods and earn their favour. The most abundant tree was the cypress, intermingled with sycamores, which represented immortality, the flowering almond that symbolised the regeneration of the earth in the springtime, and the date palm that provides all-year sustenance.

  ‘One thing I will say for Phraates,’ said Gafarn, easing himself into a wicker chair stuffed with cushions, ‘he knows how to build a palace.’

  ‘Let us hope the last few months have taught him how to build and maintain an empire,’ I said, honey smeared on the wafer I was eating dripping on my hand.

  One of the slaves assigned to us came on to the terrace and whispered into Gallia’s ear.

  ‘Show them in.’

  Moments later Spartacus and Rasha appeared, the latter embracing us all, the former embracing his father and giving me a forced smile.

  ‘This is an unexpected pleasure,’ I said, ‘please sit and take breakfast with us. How are you both?’

  ‘We arrived yesterday,’ Spartacus informed me, ‘but stayed in Seleucia rather than Ctesiphon.’

  ‘Phraates will want his city back, son,’ said Gafarn, ‘though I dare say he will reward you for your efforts in restoring him to his throne. Well, this is very pleasant.’

  Gallia looked at Diana and Rasha, who nodded.

  ‘I asked you all here today so you may be made fully aware of the facts behind the recent campaign,’ said Gallia.

  I licked the honey off my hand. ‘Facts?’

  She reached over to hold my hand.

  ‘You are a good man, Pacorus, an honourable and brave man. But sometimes honour and bravery are not enough.’

  ‘Do you remember when Gallia and I met Nergal for the first time, Pacorus?’ asked Diana.

  I wracked my brains. ‘Erm, well, Italy, obviously.’

  ‘It was in a hot, airless tent on the slopes of Mount Vesuvius, when you were raising horsemen for Spartacus.’

  ‘Ah, yes, I remember.’

  ‘Our first meeting was not a friendly one,’ continued Gallia, ‘Nergal stormed out the tent after declaring that women cannot fight.’

  ‘He said that?’ Spartacus was surprised.

  ‘It was a long time ago,’ I said.

  ‘But that day marked the birth of the Amazons,’ said Gallia with pride, ‘when I and Diana formed the unit that has served Dura, and Parthia, so well over the years.’

  ‘The third member of our illustrious founding band was Praxima,’ said Diana, ‘our sister.’

  She spat the last two words at me, which was somewhat surprising for Diana was always conciliatory. Not today, it seemed.

  ‘Did you think we would forget the deaths of Nergal and Praxima, Pacorus?’ said Gallia.

  Diana’s brown eyes narrowed. ‘We did not.’

  ‘When you threw down the challenge to Tiridates,’ continued Gallia,’ I was hopeful he would take the bait. But he was clever and knew you would not instigate a war.’

  ‘So, we did,’ said Diana.

  Gafarn gave her a quizzical look and then glanced at me. I shook my head.

  ‘Hiring mercenaries was easy enough,’ smiled Gallia, ‘though dressing them in the uniforms of the soldiers of Hatra and Gordyene was more difficult than expected.’

  ‘Difficult but not impossible,’ said Rasha. ‘They came mostly from Pontus and Cilicia, disguised as merchants and the members of trade caravans.’

  Spartacus’ jaw dropped and Gafarn looked alarmed.

  ‘We knew it would be easy to goad Darius into war, and so it proved,’ said Diana.

  ‘The hiring of the Roman legion was more involved and tortuous,’ reported Gallia, ‘though once a fee had been agreed and certain other conditions met, Octavian was a willing participant in our little enterprise. I think the fact that Quintus Dellius would command the legion swung it in our favour. He was eager to test the legate’s loyalty, a man whom you will remember had once been a close ally of Mark Antony.’

  I had heard enough. ‘Wait. Are you telling me you three are responsible for the war we have just fought?’

  ‘I would have thought that was obvious, Pacorus,’ replied Gallia.

  ‘We had been in correspondence with Karys for some time,’ said Diana, ‘and assured him we would not desert him.’

  She looked scornfully at the three men present. ‘Even if others were content to see him cast to the wolves.’

  ‘How did you pay for all this?’ asked Spartacus. ‘Nothing leaves the treasury in Vanadzor without my knowledge.’

  ‘Nor Dura’s,’ I added.

  ‘Finance was not a problem,’ said Gallia, ‘though Malik did take some persuading when it came to allowing a Roman legion to march through his territory.’

  ‘But my brother relented when he was informed who was financing it,’ smiled Rasha.

  ‘And who did finance it?’ demanded Gafarn.

  ‘All will be revealed,’ Diana told him.

  Spartacus, astounded at what he had just heard, stared at his wife.

  ‘I understand why my aunt and mother should desire revenge on Tiridates, but what incentive did you have for supporting this scheme?’

  ‘That too will be revealed in due course,’ said Gallia.

  I picked another wafer and dipped it into the jar of honey.

  ‘So, you instigated the war against Tiridates purely for revenge.’

  ‘Yes,’ answered Gallia bluntly.

  Gafarn was appalled. ‘A war that cost the lives of tens of thousands of men.’
/>   ‘And the life of my sister,’ I seethed.

  Gallia turned on me. ‘Your sister? Who duped us into protecting her from Spartacus and then colluded with Tiridates, which led to the murder of Nergal and Praxima? We should have let Spartacus burn Irbil to the ground. Our friends paid for that mistake with their lives, Pacorus, so do not lecture me about your sister.’

  ‘Aliyeh betrayed us, Pacorus,’ said Diana, ‘she deserved her fate.’

  I could not believe I was hearing the words coming out of Diana’s mouth but Spartacus was delighted.

  ‘You speak wisely, mother.’

  But then she rounded on him. ‘Wisdom seems to have deserted you of late, Spartacus. You have not learned, have you? You lost one son and nearly a second had it not been for the intercession of Claudia. When are you going to grow up?’

  ‘You mother is right,’ agreed Gafarn. ‘You cannot behave as though you own the whole world.’

  He jumped from his chair and spread his arms.

  ‘And yet my wife, mother and aunt can act with impunity, it seems. Does Phraates know his crown was won by three queens bent on vengeance?’

  ‘Sit down, Spartacus,’ Diana told him, ‘and thank the gods our plan worked. For I guarantee if Tiridates had remained as ruler in this palace, eventually he would have unleashed his armies against Gordyene, led by the King of Media.’

  ‘You should have told me,’ I said to Gallia.

  ‘You all should have told us,’ added Gafarn.

  ‘There was no time for debate,’ said Gallia curtly.

  ‘What’s done is done, Pacorus,’ Diana told me.

  There was indeed no time for debate when the chief steward arrived with a summons from Phraates for us to assemble in the throne room. I dressed in my leather armour cuirass, freshly waxed boots and carried my helmet with new goose feathers in the crest. I did not say anything to Gallia as I prepared myself, though she could not restrain from goading me.

  ‘Are you sulking, Pacorus, because I thought of a way to avenge our friends and you did not?’

  Her words were cruel and cutting.

  ‘They were my friends as well,’ I reminded her. ‘You think I did not love them just because I did not instigate a war in which thousands died.’