Carrhae (8 page)

‘Yes,’ I bellowed. ‘His name, what is it?’

‘Slave, er, Scarab,’ he gibbered.

‘Scarab,’ I shouted, ‘come here.’

The slave looked behind him at the dead soldier whose blood was still spurting from his neck, then at the king.

‘Now!’ I shouted.

He walked briskly over to me and bowed his head. I held out my right hand.

‘Take my arm.’

His grip was strong as I pulled him up onto Remus’ back behind me.

‘Take your army back to Emesa, lord king,’ I said to Sampsiceramus, ‘otherwise you and it will be destroyed in this barren place.’

Gallia replaced her helmet on her head as we rode back to Haytham with his daughter, Vagises and his horse archers forming a rear guard to ensure the Emesians did not attack us.

‘Scarab is an unusual name,’ I said to the slave behind me.

‘All Egyptian slaves are named so, highness,’ he said. ‘It means “dung beetle”, the lowest of creatures. That is what the Emesians think of Egyptian slaves.’

‘You are a slave no longer,’ I told him.

Rasha hugged her father when we reached Agraci lines where we also found Spandarat. I ordered Vagises to find our new friend a horse, not knowing if he could ride or not. Haytham ordered that Rasha was to return to Palmyra at once and to ensure she did assigned a score of warriors as her escort, telling their commander that upon arrival she was to be confined to his tent under armed guard. When she began to protest he erupted like an angry volcano and threatened to have her banished if she said another word. So she went back to Palmyra and we waited for the Emesians to make their move.

They did so an hour later when scouts informed Haytham that a long line of foot and horse was exiting the enemy camp from the western entrance back towards the city of Emesa. Roman horsemen led by a commander with a red-crested helmet were providing a rear guard for their allies. Haytham may have felt cheated of a victory but I was relieved. Palmyra was saved, albeit temporarily, and I could now concentrate on affairs to the north, specifically the Armenians.

We stayed for two days at Palmyra, long enough for Scarab to get his back cleaned and bandaged and for me to convince Haytham that it would be wise not to raid Emesa. I sent Spandarat and the nobles back to Dura while Haytham ordered his lords and their men back to their territories but sent Malik west to keep watch on the enemy. I knew that he was thirsting for vengeance, not only to avenge the death of Vehrka but also to appear strong to his people. I believed that forcing the Romans to retreat was a victory but the king of the Agraci did not agree.

‘They will be back,’ he complained as we sat cross-legged in a circle on the floor of his tent.

‘And when they do we will once more stand together,’ I reassured him.

He was not convinced. ‘We should have destroyed them when we had the chance. Vehrka must be avenged.’

He looked at Gallia.

‘You should have killed that fat king when you had the chance.’

‘Sampsiceramus may prove useful to you yet, lord,’ I said.

Haytham picked up a piece of flatbread and dipped it in yoghurt.

‘How so?’

I shoved a date in my mouth. ‘A weakling client king will think twice before invading Agraci territory again in a hurry. The Romans promised him an easy victory, no doubt. But he will be reluctant to venture east again, notwithstanding their promises.’

He was still sceptical. ‘What will you do now?’

‘Return to Dura and await Orodes’ instructions.’

Haytham smiled. ‘The prince is now the high king of the Parthian Empire?’

‘He is, lord,’ answered Gallia.

‘He will make a good king of kings,’ I said.

Haytham studied me for a few seconds. ‘I heard that the crown was first offered to you, Pacorus.’

‘It was, lord, and I turned it down.’

‘Or rather Dobbai turned it down for you,’ Gallia corrected me.

Haytham’s eyes opened wide in surprise. ‘What business was it of your sorceress?’

I shrugged. ‘She said it was not my destiny to be high king. Besides, in truth I had no appetite to try to keep the kings of the empire happy, to listen to their interminable squabbles and grievances and try to appease them. Orodes has a thoughtful nature and the tongue of a diplomat.’

‘He will make a great king,’ said Rasha.

Gallia laughed and placed an arm round her shoulders.

Haytham looked at them both. ‘Yes, he will. Perhaps I should send you to him, Rasha, so you can learn to be a good princess.’

Rasha clapped her hands with excitement. ‘That would be a great honour, father.’

He pointed a finger at her. ‘You are still in disgrace for disobeying my orders and will remain here until I can find a husband for you.’

A veil of sadness descended over Rasha’s face and she said no more. Poor Rasha, she so wanted to see the world and all the mysteries in it, but her father desired her to be married as quickly as possible to tame her wild spirit.

On the trip back to Dura I got to know more about Scarab, the latest addition to my royal household. Now swathed in black Agraci robes, his black face made him look like a demon from the underworld, though I was pleased to discover that he had an amiable and thoughtful nature. He told us that he was the son and grandson of slaves and had been purchased from his Egyptian lord for a great sum when the latter had been visiting Emesa on business. It transpired that Sampsiceramus wished to surround himself with Egyptian slaves after having been told that they were more intelligent and hard working than Jewish or Syrian slaves. Scarab’s ancestors were originally from a place called Nubia, which is on Egypt’s southern border, though he himself had been born in Egypt. He had a certain amount of education, being able to speak Egyptian and Greek and had picked up some Latin from the frequent visits of the Romans to the palace in Emesa.

He rode behind Gallia and me and next to Vagises as our long column made its way back east, the road almost devoid of other traffic as a consequence of the recent fighting. Any whiff of trouble had the effect of making the caravans that usually plied this route disappear. Nothing interrupts trade so much as war. Hopefully the restoration of peace, albeit fragile, would restore commercial activity.

‘What will you do now, Scarab?’ I asked after we had dismounted to walk alongside our animals to conserve their strength.

Throughout the journey his eyes had always been cast down to avoid our gazes, and it was so now as we walked along the dusty track.

‘I am your slave, divinity,’ he replied, ‘it is for you to decide.’

‘You are a free man, Scarab,’ said Gallia, ‘you may go where you will.’

Scarab looked at her in confusion, then cast his eyes down when she smiled at him.

‘I do not understand, divinity.’

‘It is as my queen says,’ I replied. ‘You are no longer a slave and are free to decide your own destiny.’

‘There no slaves in our palace,’ said Gallia.

Scarab was even more confused. ‘No slaves?’

‘It is true,’ I assured him.

‘But who prepares your food and serves it to you, divinity?’

Gallia smiled. ‘We have servants, it is true, but they are free and are paid for their work.’

‘They are paid?’ he said incredulously.

‘Of course,’ I replied. ‘Why else would they work for me? Perhaps you would like to work for me?’

‘I would consider it a great honour, divinity,’ he replied.

‘You could do with a squire,’ suggested Gallia.

I had not had a squire since I had found Surena among the marsh people, the Ma’adan, all those years ago and he had gone on to become a king himself. I doubted Scarab would follow the same path but he was young, strong and rode a horse well enough. He would do.

Our leisurely ride back to Dura was interrupted a day out from the city when we were met on the road by Domitus leading a party of cataphracts. Even before I spoke to him I knew that something was wrong and my stomach tightened. Gallia and Vagises sensed it too as the commander of the army brought his horse to a halt in front of me and raised his hand in salute.

‘You had better hurry back to Dura,’ he said. ‘There has been a great battle in the north of the Kingdom of Hatra.’

The knot in my stomach tightened some more and my heart began racing. ‘Battle?’

‘Vata engaged Tigranes and a great host of Armenians near Nisibus. We heard the news yesterday and I thought I should convey it to you myself.’

I sighed. ‘What happened?’

‘Vata was killed and his army scattered. Nisibus has fallen to the Armenians who now hold the whole of northern Hatra.’

‘What of Adeleh?’ asked a shaken Gallia.

Adeleh was my youngest sister and the wife of Vata. Domitus shook his head.

‘I do not know.’

We rode the rest of the day and through the night to arrive back in Dura as the new dawn was breaking. Tired, unwashed, our clothes covered in dust, I immediately convened a meeting of the council to decide our next course of action. After a wash and a change of clothes I went to the barracks in the Citadel and sought out the officer in charge. This long building located in front of the southern wall housed a century of legionaries, a company of horse archers and another company of cataphracts. Companies and centuries were continually rotated through the Citadel and city to undertake guard duty, which usually meant nothing more than standing sentry in the palace and treasury and manning the walls and gates of the Citadel and Dura, the horsemen providing escorts for myself and Gallia when we left the palace.

The commander, who fortunately spoke Greek, was ordered to allocate our Nubian recruit a bed and find him leggings, tunic and a pair of boots and then get a meal inside him.

Two hours after riding into the city I was seated in the headquarters building staring at the hide map of the empire hanging on the wall of the room we used for these meetings. It made depressing viewing as Domitus stood by the side of it with letters that had been arriving at the city.

‘We know that three Armenian armies have invaded Parthia,’ he said, ‘one under Tigranes that defeated Vata and captured Nisibus, another led by his son Artavasdes that moved into Gordyene. We have no details as to the size of these armies. We have also received news from Aschek that another Armenian force has attacked his kingdom from the north.’

‘Three armies?’ I was astounded. ‘I did not realise the Armenians had so many soldiers.’

‘Tigranes has prepared well,’ muttered Dobbai. ‘He is not called “Great” for no reason. He has watched the empire tear itself apart these last few years and now he makes his move.’

‘Supported by the Romans, who pull his strings,’ said Aaron bitterly.

‘Speaking of whom,’ I said. ‘Do we know the whereabouts of the second Roman legion in Syria?’

‘Byrd sent word that his spies in Antioch have informed him that it remains in the city.’

I frowned. ‘That is most odd. I expected it to be with the fat king of Emesa, but it just sits in Antioch.’

‘Will the Armenians march on the city of Hatra?’ asked Gallia with concern.

I shook my head. ‘Hatra has strong walls and, more importantly, is positioned in the middle of a desert. There is no water outside the walls to support a besieging army.’

‘Unless your brother decides to march outside the city walls and fight Tigranes, just as that fool Vata did,’ remarked Dobbai.

‘He would not do that,’ I snapped, ‘and Vata was not a fool. He was my friend.’

‘He lost the whole of the north of your brother’s kingdom,’ retorted Dobbai, ‘that makes him careless at the very least.’

‘The greater danger lies to the east,’ continued Domitus, looking at the map. ‘If the Armenians conquer Gordyene they will push on into Media, which lies on Hatra’s eastern border. If Atrax’s kingdom falls then the Armenians will be able to pour into Hatra from the east.’

‘The Roman speaks with wisdom,’ said Dobbai. ‘We live in strange times indeed.’

‘Gordyene is held by Surena,’ I stated, ‘it will not fall. Have we had any news from him?’

Rsan shook his head. ‘None, majesty.’

‘Let us hope that he has not been killed by the Armenians also,’ added Kronos glumly.

‘Any news from Orodes?’ I asked.

‘None’ replied Domitus, ‘though he will have received news of Vata’s death at the same time we did.’

‘Very well, prepare the cataphracts and horse archers to march to Hatra,’ I ordered. ‘There is little point in waiting here for the Armenians to conquer the northern half of the empire.’

‘What about the legions?’ queried Domitus.

‘With two legions still in Syria they must remain here to counter the Romans. I will also leave the lords here.’

‘That means only four thousand horsemen will be riding to Hatra with you, Pacorus,’ said Domitus.

Fortunately the army had had nearly six months in which to recuperate its strength following our victory at Susa, and in that time the legions and horse archers had been brought back up to strength. The loss of a hundred cataphracts had been most grievous, but with the promotion of the most promising squires their numbers had been restored to a thousand. Dura was fortunate to lie on the Silk Road for the caravans always brought with them adventurous young men who fancied a life of soldiering rather than trade. Then there were the runaway slaves who came from Syria, Armenia and other kingdoms in the empire. But as long as they passed the induction process all were welcomed into the army’s ranks, specifically the legions. Recruits for the horse archers and cataphracts were drawn largely from the families of Dura’s lords and their farmers. Despite the years of civil strife within the empire Dura’s lands had been spared devastation and had prospered, which meant farmers not only produced abundant crops but also large families, from which Domitus enlisted many young recruits.

That evening I relaxed on the palace terrace in the company of Gallia and my daughters. Claudia was now nine and resembled her mother in appearance with her high cheekbones and thick hair, which was light brown instead of blonde. Isabella was six and had a more olive complexion than her older sister, whereas Eszter, now five, looked like one of the Agraci with her mop of unruly hair, dark brown eyes and brown complexion. As usual Dobbai joined us; sitting huddled in her cushion-stuffed chair. Claudia fussed round her bringing sweet meats, fruit juice and pastries from a table piled high with food and drink, though Dobbai ate little. Ever since she had assisted in bringing Claudia into the world Dobbai had had a special bond with my eldest daughter, who now knew more about the gods, spells and magic herbs than many of the empire’s most learned holy men. Isabella, named after the wife of King Balas of Gordyene who had made such an impression on Gallia when we had been married, was a thoughtful and kind-hearted child, whereas Eszter was a wild thing, fearless like her mother and with a similar temper. A sand storm had been battering Dura when she had been born and Dobbai had told me that it was a sign my daughter would be fierce and uncontrollable like the wind that had brought her into the world.