Carrhae (48 page)

‘The legionary eagle is a sacred object and will be defended as such by each legion’s soldiers. That is why it is almost impossible to take one in battle, unless of course you slaughter every single legionary beforehand.’

‘Then that is what I shall have to do,’ boasted Spartacus.

Susa was built on high ground between the Karkheh and Dez rivers in the fertile Valley of Susa, at the foot of the Zagros Mountains. The city had once been at one end of the Persian Royal Road that went all the way to the Aegean Sea in the west, and was now part of the Silk Road that went south to Persepolis and then east to the Indus and beyond. Susa itself was a formidable fortress, being surrounded by a high, thick mud-brick wall and a dry moat that was eighty feet wide. People had inhabited the site of the city for over four thousand years, gradually improving and expanding it over the centuries.

Like Dura Susa had a citadel, located in the north and surrounded by its own wall. We entered the city via the eastern gate where a huge three-story gatehouse sat above two pairs of great oak gates. Above the gatehouse flew the banners of Susiana and Babylon to indicate that both Orodes and Axsen were in residence. The paved road from the gatehouse wound its way through the crowded city and was lined on either side by one- and two-storey mud-brick houses. The commander at the gatehouse had been given orders to facilitate our movement on the congested road and so a company of his spearmen moved aside pedestrians, two- and four-wheeled carts and ill-tempered mules overloaded with goods. As usual the air was thick with the pungent aroma of thousands of unwashed bodies, animals and their dung and refuse.

It was only half a mile from the east gate to the royal quarter but it took us nearly thirty minutes to traverse the route, Domitus swatting away a plague of beggars with his vine cane and Scarab frightening them off with his black face and the frequent growls he directed at them. Ahead of us the black-uniformed Susianan spearmen grew angrier and began barging aside all and sundry with their shields in an effort to speed our journey. Looking at them I wondered how many had fought against me at the Battle of Susa, or who had been part of the garrison that had defied Orodes after the battle.

Eventually we reached the calm and majesty of the royal quarter, which if nothing else smelt fresher than the rest of the city. A guard of honour snapped to attention on the paved square as I halted Remus in front of the grandiose palace. A teenage stable hand in white leggings and shirt took his reins as I dismounted and a portly, middle-aged man with a neatly trimmed light brown beard and thinning hair approached and bowed to me.

‘Greetings, majesty,’ he said in a slightly tremulous voice, his eyes cast down. ‘I am Timius, chief steward. King of Kings Orodes and his queen, Axsen of Babylon, await you in the audience hall if you would care to follow me.’

‘My men require food and stabling for their horses,’ I said.

He turned and looked at a younger, slimmer man with small hands who waved forward a host of waiting stable hands.

‘They will stable your men’s horses, majesty,’ squeaked Timius, ‘after which they will be shown to the barracks.’

Domitus came to my side and Spartacus and Scarab fell in behind as Timius led us into the palace, a building that had originally been built by the Persians over five hundred years ago. It had been constructed around three courtyards, titled “courts”, around which were offices, temples, guardrooms, kitchens, quarters for slaves and the private apartments of the king and queen. The audience hall, the
Apadana
, formed the northern annex of the residence and was like a palace in its own right. It had been erected on a raised stone terrace and was reached by a columned portico.

The audience hall itself contained thirty-six white-painted stone columns that supported wooden ceiling beams. The edges of the roof were covered with gold leaf so that travellers would see its magnificence from afar when the sun’s rays caught them. The walls were decorated with friezes of enamelled bricks that portrayed lions, archers and hunts. It was certainly a palace fit for a high king.

Timius left us when we reached Orodes and Axsen, who rose from their golden thrones and embraced Domitus and me. They were both attired in long purple robes with gold crowns on their heads, and Axsen wore gold jewellery around her neck, wrists and fingers.

‘We are glad to see you,’ she giggled as Spartacus and Scarab went down on their knees before them.

Orodes ordered them to get up. ‘Welcome Spartacus, Prince of Hatra, and Scarab, squire to King Pacorus.’

My nephew, used to grandeur and opulence, nodded and smiled while Scarab stood open-mouthed at the high king of the empire who retook his seat alongside his wife.

‘I have had my officers send word to the hill men that we are looking for recruits to fight in a land far away from here,’ said Orodes.

Domitus nodded at me. ‘I told him that we had killed most of them at Susa but he would not have it.’

Orodes stroked his chin. ‘Unfortunately, Domitus, the gods have sent the people of the Zagros to inflict misery upon the empire and so they are numberless.’

‘They have been giving you trouble?’ I asked.

‘No more than usual, but it grieves me that I have to commit soldiers to defend against their raids who could be better employed fighting the Armenians and Romans.’

‘How many of these barbarians do you wish to recruit?’ asked Axsen.

‘Two thousand should suffice,’ I answered.

‘They will fight in your army?’ she enquired.

‘They will not be fighting anywhere near Dura’s army,’ Domitus answered for me.

Axsen was most perplexed. ‘Then what?’

‘Judea,’ I answered. ‘They will be sent to Judea to fight the Romans.’

We stayed at Susa for two weeks, during which time a message arrived at the palace from one of the chiefs of the Zagros clans that he would meet with me concerning supplying mercenaries. He sent one of his men to the city to act as a guide, a swarthy individual named Gourlay with a thick black beard and wild hair who rode a scrawny horse with only a blanket on its bowed back for a saddle. He stood barefoot before Orodes in the audience hall in his dirty, torn leggings and threadbare shirt with his arms folded. His long knife had been taken from him as a precaution before he entered but still the garrison commander had doubled the number of guards around the king and queen.

‘Why does your leader refuse to come to the city?’ demanded Orodes.

The man shrugged. ‘He does not wish to see his head stuck on your walls,’ he answered insolently. He spoke a bastardised version of our language which, combined with his strong accent, made his words difficult to understand.

‘My chief’s village is two days’ ride from here,’ he continued, ‘you come to him.’

‘Out of the question,’ replied Orodes impatiently.

‘I will go,’ I said.

The messenger looked at me. ‘You bring no soldiers. I will be your guide.’

‘I will bring three others with me,’ I told him, ‘that is all.’

He agreed to meet me at the city’s eastern gate the next morning and after he had been dismissed Orodes urged me not to go, fearing that it would be a trap and that I might be killed.

‘What purpose would killing me serve?’

‘No purpose at all,’ he said, ‘but that does not mean they will not do it. The hill men do not live by our rules. The hill men do not live by any rules.’

I shrugged. ‘Mithridates managed to recruit a good number so they are not averse to offers of gold.’

‘That is the point, Pacorus. My stepbrother reneged on his agreement with the hill men and paid them nothing for their services. He duped them and they lost thousands in the battle against us for nothing. That is one of the reasons they have been so troublesome of late: they seek revenge for his treachery.’

I laughed. Even though he was dead, Mithridates was still causing us problems.

‘If I don’t meet with this man, Orodes, then I will have come all this way for nothing. I would ask a favour of you, though.’

‘Name it.’

‘Get your treasury to release some gold coins for me so I may take them to this chief, as a sign of good faith.’

He looked horrified. ‘That will be the quickest way to get your throat cut.’

‘I will have to take that risk. There is little point in turning up with only words. If I can convince this man that there is more gold to be had he may agree to supply me with men.’

‘Is it worth it, Pacorus?’

I thought for a moment. ‘I do not wish to send any Parthians into Judea to certain death. If I try to recruit mercenaries from lands near to Armenia the Romans will get to know of it. Enlisting a few hill men seems the cheapest and easiest thing to do.’

He placed a hand on my shoulder. ‘This world will be an emptier place without your friendship to fill it.’

‘I will return, I always do.’

We left the next day, Gourlay leading the way on his mangy horse. Domitus was most unimpressed by this venture and spent the whole of the first morning complaining, much to the amusement of Scarab who was amazed that someone could address a king so.

‘King? I knew him when he was a slave, boy, just like you.’

Scarab looked embarrassed by his words.

‘It is true,’ I told him. ‘It is no secret that I was captured by the Romans and forced into bondage. I have never sought to hide my past. But what my general did not tell you was that I was the one who rescued him.’

Domitus smiled sarcastically. ‘I thought it was Spartacus who led the raid on the silver mine.’

‘It was my archers that tipped the scales in that battle,’ I said. ‘Without them you would still be hacking at rock deep under the earth.’

‘Majesty,’ interrupted Scarab, ‘I have heard about this man called Spartacus. Men talk of him in hushed tones and with reverence as if he was a god.’

I was riding next to Domitus with my two squires behind me and now I turned and looked at Scarab and at Spartacus, who was staring ahead in silence though no doubt listening to every word.

‘He was not a god,’ I replied, ‘though the Romans liked to think of him as a devil sent from the underworld, but he was a great general and a fine man I was proud to call friend.’

Scarab turned to my nephew. ‘You must be proud to bear his name.’

Spartacus did not respond for a few seconds but finally he spoke. ‘For many years I did not think so. But since my time at Dura I have begun to change my mind. My parents were wise to send me to you, uncle.’

‘You are the one who has learned wisdom,’ I said.

‘Not when it comes to women,’ said Domitus.

Spartacus bristled with anger. ‘Rasha is beautiful.’

Domitus laughed. ‘I have known her since she was a young girl and she has turned into a fine young woman, but I know enough about Parthians to understand that she could never be a queen of Hatra, even if you do manage to capture an eagle, which you won’t.’

‘I do not wish to be King of Hatra. My brother, Pacorus, who was born in the city, will be king, not I,’ he insisted. ‘They do not like me in Hatra and I do not like them.’

‘Who?’ I asked.

‘The nobles,’ he spat. ‘They sneer at me and plot behind my parents’ back.’

Domitus looked at me but said nothing and we rode on in silence for a while. In front Gourlay led us through ravines and across steppe filled with long grass and wildflowers, before coming into a valley whose steep sides were covered in oak. The air was pure and cool as the valley narrowed and we threaded our way through the trees, not only oak but also pistachio, hawthorn, almond, nettle and pear. This was a rich country for the Zagros was a haven for bears, eagles, wolves, wild goats, foxes, jackals, deer, mongoose and marten.

‘We make camp here,’ Gourlay announced suddenly while we were riding through thick woods following the course of a fast-flowing stream. It was late afternoon and these were the first words he had spoken for several hours.

Spartacus caught sight of a group of Persian fallow deer around four hundred paces away, their tawny coats and white spots blending into the sun-dappled surroundings and making them difficult to spot. We halted and slid off our horses and stretched our limbs as he pulled his bow from its case and strung an arrow.

‘You think you can hit one from here?’ I asked. The deer stood around three foot at the shoulder with flattened antlers like those of a miniature moose and presented a small target.

He drew back his bowstring and then released it, the arrow lancing through the air before striking the neck of one of the deer, which collapsed to the ground as the others bolted.

‘No problem,’ he beamed triumphantly.

‘Then you can go and collect it.’

As we unsaddled the horses Gourlay threw his mount’s saddlecloth on the ground and tethered the beast to a nearby tree. Scarab prepared a fire and Domitus skinned and gutted the deer that Spartacus had killed and roasted its flesh over the fire. We sat in a circle around the flames and feasted on the warm meat, our guide saying little before he wrapped himself in his saddlecloth and fell asleep.

Later I took the first watch as Scarab and Spartacus slept and Domitus sat sharpening his sword. I crouched by him.

‘What did you make of my nephew’s remarks about Hatra’s lords plotting behind Gafarn’s back?’ I whispered.

He continued to run the stone along his sword’s edge. ‘A boy who feels he is an outsider will imagine people are against him when they are not.’

‘Perhaps,’ I replied.

The next day, after we had washed in the stream, attended to the horses and eaten a sparse meal of cured meat, we continued on with our journey, travelling east into the Zagros. I made several attempts to engage our guide in conversation but his surly one-word answers to my questions indicated that he had no interest in what any of us had to say and so we rode on in silence. The light was fading when Gourlay held up an arm to signal us to halt and then called out into the gloom of the forest. We looked at each other in confusion but then several figures emerged from the undergrowth – men dressed in poor quality tunics and leggings carrying axes and spears.