Carrhae (36 page)

Orodes nodded thoughtfully. ‘The gods had other plans for you. They decided that you should be a great Parthian warlord.’

‘The next few months may make you re-evaluate that assessment,’ I replied.

The next day we rode back to Dura.

With Byrd’s network of informers in Syria and Cilicia I would know the moment Crassus arrived at Antioch, which would give me time to gather together the armies of Dura, Hatra, Babylon, Media, Atropaiene and Mesene. Garrisons would be left at Hatra and Assur, reinforced by sizeable numbers of horse archers to attack the Armenians should they advance south from Nisibus. Artavasdes would attack Hatra, of course, and I hoped he would because I knew that he would be unable to breach the city’s walls and would be compelled to besiege it. But there were no water supplies near the city and so he would be forced to send detachments to the Tigris sixty miles to the west. There Silaces and his horse archers riding from Assur would assault them. While the Armenians rotted in front of Hatra I would fight an outnumbered Crassus and at least stop him in his tracks. And afterwards I would march east and engage the Armenians before the walls of Hatra and destroy them – a fitting tribute to the memory of my father.

As we rode across the pontoon bridge over the Euphrates towards Dura’s Palmyrene Gate I began to whistle to myself. With luck and the help of the gods we would be able to resist the Roman invasion and throw the Armenians out of my brother’s kingdom. But as I trotted up the city’s main road to the Citadel I was unaware that the death of a young woman would throw my carefully prepared plans into chaos.

The first intimation of the event that was to plunge the empire into turmoil was when I rode through the Citadel’s gates into the courtyard and saw Gallia surrounded by the Amazons at the foot of the palace steps. Many were in tears and others were comforting each other and I felt my stomach tighten. I dismounted, gave Remus’ reins to a stable hand and walked to my wife’s side. She looked pale and shaken and I saw she was clutching a letter in her hand. A disconcerting silence filled the courtyard and I saw that Gallia’s eyes were misting with tears.

‘What is it?’ I asked.

She did not answer but held out the letter to me. She had been holding it so tightly that the words were difficult to read but I straightened it out as the eyes of the Amazons bore down on me. It was from Silaces at Assur, who had been informed by Surena that Viper had died giving birth to his son, who had been delivered stillborn. I closed my eyes and prayed to Shamash that He would welcome them both into heaven. I opened them to find the eyes of my wife’s bodyguard still looking at me. What could I say to assuage their grief? Nothing. I remembered the woman who had looked like a girl, my young squire who had fallen in love with her and who had made her his queen and felt immensely sad.

‘I am sorry,’ was all I could say.

I was also sorry for Surena for now he was alone in his cold, grey palace with nothing to do but brood over his loss. I decided that I would write to Atrax to ask him to visit Surena. They were close friends and the King of Media’s cheerful disposition would hopefully stop Surena sinking into the pit of despair.

‘How little you know him, son of Hatra,’ remarked Dobbai as I sat alone with her that evening on the palace terrace after our daughters had been taken to their bedrooms. Gallia and the Amazons had locked themselves in the banqueting hall where they were holding a farewell meal for Viper and her child. It was a strictly all-female affair and so I was left to reflect on her death alone.

‘I have known him as a boy from the great southern marshes, as a squire, as an officer in my army and as a king,’ I snapped at her. ‘I think I know him very well.’

‘You know part of him. He was a wild creature that you took out of its environment and you sought to tame him like a horse. But a beast that has been taught to perform and dressed in fine clothes is still wild underneath.’

I held my head in my hands in despair. ‘Surena is not a beast; he is a man who has just lost his wife and child.’

She waved a hand at me dismissively. ‘Have it your own way. But I tell you that he will lash out like an enraged demon because of this, disregarding the consequences. You should prepare.’

‘Prepare for what?’

‘The unexpected.’

Knowing that Dobbai’s warnings were not to be dismissed lightly during the next few days there was a permanent knot in my stomach as I expected bad news to arrive at Dura. Perhaps Crassus had speeded up his journey, or maybe Artavasdes had decided to start the war without waiting for the Romans to arrive. But after a week nothing had happened and so I began to relax. The army was up to full strength and ready to march. The cataphracts had received their new swords and production of the new arrows for the horse archers was almost completed. All was quiet along the border with Roman Syria and Haytham’s kingdom was not being troubled.

I visited the Agraci king a week after my return to Dura and took Spartacus and Scarab along with me. As usual the road to Palmyra was thronged with traffic going east and west and the desert oasis itself was filled with caravans. Haytham gave a great feast the night we arrived and I kept a close eye on my nephew and Rasha, but though they exchanged pleasantries and spent some time in each other’s company there was no show of affection between the two, for which I heaved a sigh of relief. Her father had almost certainly earmarked a potential husband for his daughter and it would not be a Parthian, even if he was a prince.

Between the courses of roasted lamb stuffed with rice, nuts and raisins, and dates; platters heaped high with succulent mutton; and great quantities of unleavened bread, Byrd informed me that thus far there was no sign of Crassus but his arrival was eagerly awaited in Antioch.

‘He has boasted that he will conquer all Parthia and reduce its kings to servants of Rome.’

‘Servants?’ I said, scooping up a slice of lamb covered with cooked onion. ‘I think “slaves” is more appropriate. What do you hear of Alexander Maccabeus in Judea?’

Byrd screwed up his face. ‘He still fight but is more the hunted than the hunter. Romani tighten their grip on Judea and Egypt.’

I thought of the thousands of weapons that I had supplied to the Jewish rebels and the high hopes of their leader. ‘Still, at least he is still resisting. Are the Armenians still recruiting mercenaries?’

He nodded. ‘Artavasdes has sworn to make Hatra an Armenian city just like Nisibus. Rumour tell of a great map he has commissioned that shows Kingdoms of Hatra, Gordyene, Media and Atropaiene as provinces of Armenian Empire.’

I nearly choked on my piece of lamb. ‘What?’

‘He thinks he is the new Tigranes,’ said Byrd.

I took a gulp of water. ‘We will have to disabuse him of that notion.’

The next day I spoke with Haytham and told him that everything was in place with regards to dealing with Crassus and the Armenians.

‘What part would you like me to play in this plan?’ he asked me.

‘You may do as you like, lord king.’

We sat alone cross-legged on carpets and among cushions in his great tent. Outside the bustle and noise of Palmyra filled the air. They were the sounds of much activity and indicative of great prosperity, but Haytham seemed concerned.

‘I must wash the swords of my warriors in the blood of my enemies, Pacorus, to avenge the death of Vehrka, else I will appear weak to my people.’

‘When the Romans arrive, lord,’ I said, ‘there will be more than enough enemy blood to go round.’

‘The Romans will again try to take Palmyra. Though we are a nomadic people and can relinquish this place easily enough, I must defend it. To abandon it would be shameful.’

‘The Romans will invade Parthia first, lord,’ I told him.

He looked surprised. ‘It would make more sense to march from Emesa east to Palmyra and then Dura.’

‘The Romans will wish to join with their Armenian allies to the north, lord. They will cross the Euphrates at Zeugma to gain access to the land between that river and the Tigris.’

‘Your squire, the tall one with broad shoulders and black hair,’ he said suddenly. ‘He pays too much attention to Rasha. I saw them exchanging glances last night. Tell him that she is not for his eyes.’

The threatening tone in his voice told me that it had been a mistake to bring Spartacus to Palmyra. I assured Haytham that in future I would leave my squires at Dura.

‘The Nubian you can still bring. He at least knows his place.’

Despite his incurring the animosity of Haytham, which would normally have resulted in his swift execution, Spartacus was in high spirits as we made our way back to Dura. As usual the road was heaving with traffic – mules and camels loaded with goods, carts being pulled by mangy donkeys, travellers on foot, mystics, guards on horseback escorting their masters’ caravans – the air was filled with dust and the aroma of animals and their dung. These sights and smells gladdened my heart for they were a sign of commerce and Dura’s prosperity.

‘These people and their animals stink,’ complained Spartacus behind me.

We were riding by the side of the road, the smell and dust of hundreds of animals and men filling the hot, still air.

‘What you are seeing is the lifeblood of the empire,’ I told him. ‘Without the Silk Road and the caravans that travel along it Parthia would be impoverished. Hatra would be nothing but an outpost in the desert without the Silk Road.’

‘They still stink,’ he mumbled.

‘What do you think of the princess, Scarab?’ I heard him say to my Nubian squire.

‘A jewel of the desert,’ replied Scarab.

‘I like her,’ proclaimed Spartacus.

‘You cannot have her,’ I said to him. ‘Haytham was most displeased by your behaviour at the feast.’

‘I did not touch her,’ he protested.

‘Haytham is no fool. He sees and hears everything. Do you think he did not notice a great strapping oaf leering at his daughter, or catching her eye and eliciting a smile from her? You delude yourself and you would be wise not to get on the wrong side of him.’

‘He does not frighten me,’ he remarked casually.

I halted Remus and wheeled him around. The fifty horse archers of my escort behind also halted.

I jabbed a finger at my cocky nephew. ‘You should fear him. He would slit your throat without a thought if he thought you had dishonoured his daughter.’

He was outraged. ‘I would never dishonour Rasha.’

I let my hand drop. ‘I know that. But you must understand that she is Agraci and will marry an Agraci lord.’

‘I am a prince and higher than a lord,’ he declared proudly.

Scarab grinned at me from under his floppy hat.

‘He does not care if you are a prince. You are Parthian and Rasha is Agraci and the two do not mix.’

‘You are his friend, uncle. In Hatra people say that the Agraci and Parthians are mortal enemies, and yet you and he visit each other and regard yourselves as brothers.’

I shook my head. ‘It is not the same. I am not lusting after his daughter, which by the way is conduct unbecoming of a Parthian prince.’

‘I am only half Parthian,’ he said. ‘I was raised a Parthian but I was born a Thracian.’

I smiled. Gafarn and Diana had promised that he would know of his blood parents and they had kept their word.

‘What is a Thracian?’ asked Scarab as we resumed our journey back to Dura.

‘A native of Thrace,’ I said.

‘And where is Thrace, majesty?’ he enquired further.

‘A land far to the west of here,’ I replied.

‘You were born in this land?’ he asked Spartacus.

‘I did not say that. I said I was born a Thracian,’ he snapped.

Scarab, clearly intrigued, continued to press my nephew for answers. ‘Then where were you born?’

‘Italy if you must know. I was born in Italy and my father and mother were both slaves. Are you satisfied?’

Spartacus’ smile and cheerfulness disappeared as he sat sullenly in his saddle.

Scarab broke the silence. ‘I too was born to slaves. We have no say over the circumstances of our birth, only the life we live afterwards.’

‘Well said,’ I told him. ‘What Spartacus forgot to tell you, Scarab, was that when they died his parents were both free. More than that, his father was also a great warlord, one of the greatest the world has ever known.’

I looked back at them both and saw Scarab slap my nephew on the arm. ‘I had no idea. I thought you were just a rich, pampered prince.’

‘He is that too,’ I said.

Chapter 9

Two days after we had returned to Dura another letter arrived from Silaces, this time addressed to me. It was delivered during the weekly council meeting in the headquarters building where a sweating Arsam, fresh from his workshop, was informing everyone that the last deliveries of the new arrows had been issued to Vagises’ horse archers: the final batch of half a million steel-tipped missiles that could go through our own shields with ease and could also pierce mail armour. The expenditure, as Aaron informed us after Arsam had been dismissed, had been extremely high, not only in steel but also in additional labour costs.

‘The armouries are already filled with bronze arrowheads,’ he stated, reading from the detailed itinerary handed to him by one of his clerks, ‘and now they are to be packed with additional arrows. I have to tell you, majesty, that the army is draining your treasury.’

‘You sound just like Rsan when he was treasurer,’ said Domitus, causing my governor to frown.

‘We must be prepared for when hostilities break out, Aaron,’ I said.

‘My men are eager to test their new arrows on the Romans,’ said Vagises.

‘I remain to be convinced,’ sniffed Domitus. ‘No Roman army has ever been defeated by arrows alone. It will take more than a few archers to stop Crassus.’

‘We will have more than just a few archers,’ I told him.

‘Perhaps Prince Peroz might like to issue his men with the new arrows,’ suggested Aaron, ‘then we could charge his father and thus alleviate the burden on Dura’s treasury.’

Domitus shook his head and smiled while Rsan nodded in agreement and Dobbai snoozed in a chair by the window. She opened her eyes and tugged on Gallia’s sleeve as she gazed into the courtyard at a courier pacing towards the headquarters building.