Carrhae (63 page)

He stood, rock-like, before me.

‘That was an order,’ I told him, ‘not a request.’

‘She deserves to die.’

‘That is probably what she is saying right at this moment to whatever Roman officer she has decided will replace Marcus Roscius. My first duty is to get back to Parthia to meet the Armenian and Roman threat, or do you think that the life of one squire outweighs that of every citizen of the empire?’

He appeared confused. ‘You will not seek to avenge Scarab’s death?’

‘Grow up, Spartacus. This is not some childhood game. We were lucky to escape with our lives today and still have to get out of Syria alive. My first duty is to the empire. So put the saddle back on the wall and get some food and rest.’

He slammed his saddle back on the peg and walked away without saying anything. I followed him as the embers of Scarab’s funeral pyre crackled in the warm night air.

The next morning we gathered in Andromachus’ office once more to ascertain how we would escape Syria. Vagises suggested journeying south towards Emesa and then striking for Palmyra. I rejected the idea.

‘There is no point in going to Palmyra,’ I said, ‘because by the time we get there Dura’s army will hopefully be on its way to Hatra, which is where we must reach as quickly as possible. Therefore I need to get across the border at the same spot where we entered Syria.’

‘That will be heavily guarded, lord, I would advise against it,’ said Andromachus. ‘You will also have to be disguised.’

Unfortunately we spent the rest of that day in enforced idleness while Andromachus sent his servants on a trawl of the area surrounding the villa to collect walnut husks. When they returned the husks were chopped into small pieces and tipped into a large metal cauldron containing water that was heated over a fire until it boiled. It was left to simmer for an hour. The resultant dark brown liquid was allowed to cool and then Andromachus asked me to bring Remus from the stables.

I was confused. ‘Why?’

‘Because, lord, it is known throughout the world that King Pacorus of Dura rides a white horse, and even the most unintelligent Roman soldier will know to be on the lookout for anyone riding a white horse. Since we cannot hide your horse we must disguise him.’

Remus stood mortified as his gleaming white coat was turned a dark brown by the dye.

‘Don’t forget the tail,’ Andromachus shouted at the two women who were applying the liquid.

‘Don’t worry, lord,’ he said to me, ‘it won’t harm him and will brush out.’

‘When?’ I asked.

He rubbed his chin. ‘Not sure, but no longer than a month.’

Afterwards a bay coloured Remus was returned to the stables to let the dye dry and we prepared to make our escape from Syria the next morning.

Chapter 15

The quickest way to Hatra was to ride directly east towards the border of my own Kingdom of Dura and then cross the Euphrates before striking northeast across the desert to Gafarn’s city, but Andromachus suggested a different route. He advised travelling northeast to the city of Zeugma, crossing the river there and then riding east along the Euphrates before striking for Hatra.

‘Zeugma will be crawling with Romans,’ said an unimpressed Vagises.

‘And so will the Syrian border,’ replied Andromachus. ‘The difference being that the Romans in Syria are looking for you whereas those at Zeugma are not.’

I was convinced, and so the next morning we loaded food and fodder on two spare horses that Andromachus gave us, on which we also hid our helmets, armour, bows and quivers so as not to draw attention to ourselves. We wore black Agraci robes over our tunics and leggings and donned black headdresses to hides our faces.

‘Be sure to cover your face, lord,’ he told me, ‘it is well known that the face of the King of Dura carries a battle scar.’

We wore our swords under our robes, as it was unwise for even the most poor-looking traveller not to have a weapon to hand – despite the best efforts of Romans, Parthians and Agraci there were still bandits in the hills and among the woods of Syria, Arabia and Parthia. I thanked Andromachus warmly for his help and hospitality but was concerned about his safety.

Servants brought our horses into the courtyard of his villa and we vaulted into our saddles. ‘If the Romans find out that you have assisted me they will crucify you,’ I said to him.

He looked up at me and smiled. ‘They probably won’t find out, but if they do I shall say that you took me hostage and forced me to assist you. I have too many of Antioch’s senators in my pay to believe that I will receive anything more serious than a rebuke.’

I looked at the large villa in its luxuriant surroundings. ‘Do the authorities know that Byrd is my chief scout?’

He looked surprised. ‘Of course. They also know that he is your friend and the friend of King Haytham and High King Orodes and that makes them want to be his friend. Better that than him being a powerful enemy. And every rich merchant in Cilicia, Cappadocia, Syria and Judea knows that his goods are safe when they are transported on one of Byrd’s caravans.’

‘One day I think he will rule over all of us,’ I said, offering my hand to him. ‘Farewell Andromachus, Shamash keep you safe.’

‘Farewell, lord. Safe journey.’ He pulled something from his robe. ‘And take this.’

‘What is it?’

‘A pouch full of drachmas. You may need it on your journey, especially as you are impersonating poor travellers.’

He was right. Journeying via Zeugma meant that our route covered four hundred and fifty miles and at the end of every day, during which we covered at least forty miles, we stopped at one of the many halting places that had been established on the numerous lanes and tracks that made up the Silk Road. Called
caravanserai
, they were usually roadside inns that had a rectangular walled enclosure abutting them that gave protection from attack as well as from the elements. Accessed by a single gate that was wide and high enough to allow fully laden camels to enter, inside there were washing facilities, cooked food and fodder for animals. Most caravans, especially the larger ones, had their own guards as well as fearsome caravan dogs that were used to drive off predatory wildlife and also warn of approaching bandits. But both Parthia and the Romans realised that trade was the lifeblood of their empires and so they devoted significant resources to protecting the Silk Road. In Parthia small mud-brick forts, such as existed in my own kingdom, were built along major roads to maintain security, while the Romans also built strongpoints from where road patrols were launched to keep road traffic safe.

The
caravanserai
were always vibrant places, filled with many different races carrying goods from the east and west. And as well as merchants and their guards and servants, caravans would also attract religious teachers, entertainers moving between cities, mystics and even escaped slaves. There was safety in numbers and the larger the caravan the more chance it would have of reaching its destination unmolested. That was the theory at least. And of course large caravans meant substantial customs duties for the kingdoms they passed through. I often wondered how the merchants made a profit from their commerce, what with being charged tolls when they entered every kingdom, but then I remembered that they were carrying silk from China, a material that was literally worth its weight in gold.

On the night we stopped at a
caravanserai
on the outskirts of Zeugma, Spartacus wandered off after we had eaten a meal of roasted mutton kebabs, rice and raisins. We had seen many Romans on the road in addition to civilian travellers: men on horseback and columns of legionaries making their way to the camps they had established around the city. This was where Crassus would be crossing the Euphrates to commence his campaign in Parthia and thus his forces were mustering here.

I leaned against my saddle and saw a horse taking a piss in its stall. Our horses were in the adjacent stalls and I had elected to camp on the ground in front of them. There were small rooms that we could have hired but I wanted to give the impression that we had little money and were therefore of no consequence.

‘How long before Crassus crosses the river?’ asked Vagises, picking a piece of meat from between his teeth.

‘Two weeks, perhaps longer. Andromachus confirmed that Artavasdes was visiting Antioch so he will be preoccupied with him for a few days at least.’

‘No doubt they will discuss dividing the spoils of their forthcoming campaign.’

‘No doubt,’ I said. ‘If what Marcus Roscius said was true, that the Armenians are already on the march, then Crassus must have promised Artavasdes the Kingdom of Hatra. If the Armenians take the city then Crassus will be free to march south along the Euphrates and strike at Babylon, Seleucia and Uruk.’

‘And Dura,’ added Vagises glumly.

‘If the Armenians manage to capture the city of Hatra then the empire is finished,’ I said to compound Vagises’ melancholy.

He was horrified. ‘It is that serious?’

I saw no reason to disguise the truth. ‘If Hatra falls then the Armenians will be free to strike west at Assur and then across the Tigris into Media and Atropaiene, while Crassus and his legions will easily crush any resistance in Babylon and Mesene. Then he will be able to cross the Tigris at Seleucia and invade the eastern half of the empire. And there will no army to stop him, not with Phriapatius already on his way north to aid Musa and Khosrou. It all hinges on us stopping the Armenians and Romans at Hatra.’

‘You have forgotten something,’ he said.

‘Oh?’

‘Surena and his army.’

I looked up at the myriad of stars in the clear night sky. ‘Surena goes his own way now, that much is certain from the meeting at Assur.’

‘Surely he will assist us?’

I spread my hands. ‘I have no idea. It appears that by unleashing Surena into Gordyene I created a monster that is uncontrollable.’

‘Surena may abandon the empire but he will not abandon you,’ Vagises stated with conviction.

Our conversation was interrupted by the return of Spartacus who was carrying something in his arms. As he got closer I saw a pair of small black eyes peering at me.

‘What is that?’ asked Vagises.

Spartacus carefully sat on the ground next to his saddle and showed us a puppy as black as night.

‘One of the merchants’ bitches had a litter a few weeks back and this was one of her puppies,’ he held out the dog, a bundle of black fluff. ‘I saw him and thought it an auspicious omen.’

I rolled my eyes. ‘How so?’

‘The other puppies were brown or white and brown but this one was pure black. I immediately thought of Scarab and knew I had to have him. The price was very reasonable.’

‘What are you going to call it?’ asked Vagises.

‘He will be called “Scarab” in honour of my dead friend,’ replied Spartacus who began petting the animal.

The next day the three of us plus the mongrel rode into Zeugma, crossed the Euphrates and headed east. Normally the river marked the western frontier of the Kingdom of Hatra but Crassus’ invasion of the previous year had resulted in the loss of Gafarn’s western towns and their occupation by Roman soldiers. On the road we saw more legionaries going to and from the towns of Nicephorium, Ichnae, Carrhae and Zenodotium. The latter place was where Gafarn’s governor of the west, Apollonius, had enticed a Roman delegation into the town and murdered them, resulting in Crassus storming the place and selling its citizens into slavery as a punishment for their treachery. Alas for Apollonius, he had no doubt been either killed in the assault or crucified in front of the city afterwards.

After twelve days of hard riding we at last came to Hatra and rode through the western gates of the city. Kogan’s guards stood sentry on the bridge over the moat, above the gates and in the towers that flanked them. The road was filled with traffic, the streets were heaving with citizens going about their daily business and everything appeared surreally normal. We entered the city and made our way to the walled royal quarter located in the north of Hatra where the palace and the houses of the kingdom’s richest lords were sited.

Our Agraci robes were filthy and stank, our faces were unshaven, black rings surrounded our eyes and we must have looked like a trio of bandits as our tired horses approached the imposing gates in the southern wall of the royal compound. Beyond them was the quiet, ordered wealth and power of Hatra’s rulers, a world usually forbidden to the city’s ordinary citizens. The gates were open to allow access to the paved road that went through the marbled mansions to end at the Great Square, to the north of which stood the palace.

Without thinking I let Remus continue walking up to the gates when he was brought to a halt by two guards armed with spears and carrying bronze-faced shields, an officer standing behind them.

‘Halt!’ barked their commander, a brawny, bearded man whose face was hidden by his bronze helmet. He wore greaves, had a white plume in his helmet and his hand rested on the hilt of his sword.

‘And where do you think you are going?’ he barked aggressively.

‘To see the king,’ I snapped, ‘now out of my way.’

One of his subordinates grabbed Remus’ reins and the other pointed his spear at my belly as Vagises and Spartacus drew level with me.

‘The king is busy today so piss off before I arrest you.’

‘I am King Pacorus, his brother, now for the last time get out of my way.’

With hindsight, considering my dishevelled appearance, it was the wrong thing to say as the guard commander burst into laughter.

‘Of course you are. I should have realised from your kingly attire.’ He bowed mockingly. ‘Would your majesty like me to bring you some refreshments?’

His two men grinned at each other but I was failing to see the funny side of the situation.

‘I will tell you one last time. Get out of the way.’

‘He is the king and you are only making trouble for yourself,’ announced Spartacus, whose dog peeked from his robes and began yapping at the gate commander.