Companions (The Parthian Chronicles) (3 page)

Chapter 1

Phraates was dead.

My father had arrived at Dura with this sad news just before the army had arrived back from its campaign in Mesene that had seen King Chosroes deposed and Nergal and Praxima installed in his place. Chosroes had joined the faction of Narses and Mithridates and had attempted to capture Dura itself, but not before he had endeavoured to have me executed. His plans had come to nothing, however, and his army had been defeated before the walls of my city. He had scurried back to his capital at Uruk and I had followed him. The army’s machines had breached Uruk’s ancient walls and we had stormed the city. Chosroes had taken his own life rather than be captured and so a new era had begun in Mesene.

I had been in high spirits on the march back to Dura but the news of Phraates’ death had saddened me greatly. In truth he had not been a great high king; indeed, some might say that he had been a weak and vacillating one who had been responsible for the outbreak of civil war in the empire. But he had always been generous to Dura and its king, making me lord high general of the empire after the great victory over Narses at Surkh and giving me a large amount of gold as a reward after the battle. The treasure had allowed me to speed up the strengthening of Dura’s army, which had been fortuitous as I was able to use it to destroy a Roman army that had invaded my kingdom. I was thus indebted to Phraates and even though he had, as a result of the machinations of his poisonous son Mithridates and his scheming wife Aruna, subsequently stripped me of the rank of lord high general, I would always regard Phraates with affection and respect.

‘Really? Even though he made you look like a fool at Ctesiphon, sent you off on a fool’s errand into Mesene that nearly resulted in your death, and sat idly by while Chosroes and the soldiers of Persis tried to reduce your city to rubble?’

Dobbai was rubbing her hands with relish as she recounted the slights that Phraates had dealt me, or so she believed. I was standing at the foot of the palace steps and was about to hand a note I had written the day before to a courier who waited beside his horse.

‘This is not the time nor place to discuss matters of high strategy,’ I told her.

She cackled as she descended the steps and pointed a bony finger at the leather tube that held the note.

‘What’s that?’

‘Nothing.’

‘For the king himself to be busying himself with handing a document to a courier would suggest that it is far from nothing.’

I cast her a sideways glance. ‘It is a letter to the one who masquerades as the king of kings, if you must know.’

She raised an eyebrow. ‘An invitation to a feast, perhaps?’

I chuckled. ‘Hardly.’

‘May I see it?’

I was tempted to hand the message to the courier so he could be on his way. However, I had to admit that I was rather pleased with myself concerning what I had written, believing it most erudite. I shrugged and passed it instead to Dobbai. She opened the case and extracted the letter, her hawk-like eyes darting over the text:

To
King
Mithridates

Word
has
recently
reached
me
that
your
father
,
King
Phraates
,
has
died
of
a
broken
heart
.
It
indeed
breaks
my
heart
to
think
that
such
a
good
man
has
departed
this
world
,
and
sickens
me
greatly
that
the
one
who
was
the
cause
of
his
death
has
stolen
his
crown
and
now
dares
to
call
himself
the
King
of
Kings
.

I
have
also
heard
that
you
hold
me
responsible
for
your
father’s
death
,
and
have
used
this
lie
to
deceive
numerous
other
kings
of
the
empire
into
electing
you
to
your
present
high
office
.
And
now
you
seek
to
make
yourself
master
of
all
the
Parthian
Empire
,
but
I
have
to
tell
you
that
while
I
still
live
you
will
never
know
peace
.
For
you
are
a
poison
at
the
very
heart
of
the
empire
,
and
every
day
that
you
sit
upon
the
throne
Parthia
dies
a
little
.

The
only
cure
for
the
empire
is
to
remove
this
ulcer
,
this
rottenness
,
and
that
includes
your
lackey
Narses
,
another
traitor
who
fouls
the
empire
by
his
mere
existence
.
I
will
not
rest
until
you
and
he
have
suffered
the
same
fate
as
those
other
traitors
Porus
and
Chosroes
.
This
I
swear
by
all
that
is
sacred
.

I
remain
,
your
implacable
enemy
.

Pacorus
,
King
of
Dura
.

Dobbai said nothing as she rolled up the letter, carefully inserted it into the tubular case and handed it to the courier.

‘It is to get to Ctesiphon as speedily as possible,’ I told him.

He placed the case in a leather pouch slung over his shoulder. ‘Yes, majesty.’

He vaulted into the saddle, turned his horse and trotted from the courtyard, the iron shoes on his horse’s hooves clattering on the flagstones.
I watched him exit the gates and smiled to myself. He would ride over the pontoon bridge across the Euphrates and head southeast towards the great sprawling palace complex at Ctesiphon, the political heart of the empire, located on the eastern bank of the River Tigris. The courier would probably reach the court of Mithridates in around five or six days, making use of the post stations that could be found throughout the empire. Simple mud-brick buildings surrounded by a wall with stables attached, they held fresh horses where couriers could pick up a new mount before proceeding to the next station. Established along all the main roads in the empire, usually thirty miles or so apart, they greatly facilitated communications within Parthia.

‘And now we wait,’ I said.

‘Wait for what?’ asked Dobbai.

I walked back up the steps towards the palace, Dobbai trailing after me.

‘For Mithridates and Narses to march against me, of course. They will not be able to ignore such a challenge.’

Dobbai cackled as we walked through the colonnaded porch into the palace’s reception hall, guards snapping to attention as we passed and court officials bowing their heads.

‘You think that they will risk their lives fighting you, son of Hatra?’

We walked into the empty throne room, my griffin banner hanging on the wall behind the two thrones on the dais.

‘I have issued a challenge and they will not be able to ignore me.’

Our footsteps echoed on the stone tiles as we walked to the door at the far end that led to the palace’s private quarters. I opened it and went through into the corridor that led to the bedrooms where we slept. There was a small guardroom at the corridor’s entrance and another door opposite that led to the palace terrace. Servants on their knees were scrubbing the floor and two guards stood sentry outside the guardroom. They brought their spears to their chests in salute as I passed and the servants stood up and bowed their heads as I walked on to the balcony.

‘You are wrong, son of Hatra,’ said Dobbai as she walked over to her wicker chair and sat in it.

It was going to be another blisteringly hot day, the sun already roasting the Citadel from a clear blue sky. More servants arranged a sunshade over Dobbai and offered her cool fruit juice as I too took a seat and stretched out my legs. The terrace faced east so the Citadel could welcome the rising of the sun each morning and the journey of Shamash, Lord of the Sun who blessed the earth with warmth and life each day.

A nursemaid brought Claudia, my young daughter, from the nursery, holding her hand as the infant gingerly placed one foot in front of the other. Her eyes lit up when she saw me and I swept her up in my arms, kissing her on the cheek.

‘You are the one who is wrong,’ I told her as Claudia saw Dobbai and held out her arms imploringly to the old woman. Even at this tender age there was a strong bond between the two. I took Claudia over to the old witch and placed her in her lap. She may have had a haggard, fearsome visage but Dobbai was remarkably tender and affectionate with Claudia, who soon began to close her eyes. I dismissed the nursemaid.

‘Narses and Mithridates will not be able to resist raising an army and marching against me,’ I announced. ‘And just like I did with Chosroes I will defeat them both before the walls of this city and send their heads back to Ctesiphon as a present for Queen Aruna.’

Dobbai took a sip of her juice.

‘You have it all worked out, don’t you? You will kill Narses and Mithridates just like you did Porus and Chosroes, peace will return to the empire and you will be instrumental in choosing a new king of kings, one more to your liking.’

I emptied a cup of juice. ‘Why not? We all want peace in the empire and there can be none while Mithridates and his pet dog rule at Ctesiphon.’

Gallia appeared on the terrace after her early morning training session with the Amazons. Every morning it was the same. She would rise early and ride from the city with her guards to the training grounds south of the city to practise shooting from the saddle at different sized targets. The training also involved riding fast at melons placed on top of posts and slicing them open with sword strikes. Despite having changed into baggy leggings and a new white tunic her cheeks were still flushed and she was wiping her neck with a towel. Her blonde hair was arranged in a single plait down her back to make wearing a helmet more comfortable. She gladly accepted a cup of juice from a servant before kissing Claudia and flopping down in a chair.

‘I swear it gets hotter each day,’ she complained.

She looked at me. ‘I did not see you at the training fields earlier.’

As well as the Amazons the training fields were also used by Dura’s horse archers and cataphracts, and the early morning hours were very busy as officers endeavoured to put their men through their paces before the fierce midday heat arrived.

‘I had no time today. Affairs of state.’

Dobbai chortled. ‘What he means is that he is endeavouring to provoke Mithridates.’

Gallia emptied her cup and looked at me. ‘Provoke Mithridates?’

‘Your husband has written a letter to the high king informing him that he is a malignant poison that should be removed from the empire,’ stated Dobbai before I could reply. ‘By doing so he hopes that Mithridates, filled with wrath, will raise a multitude and march against Dura, thereby granting the King of Dura another opportunity to employ his fearsome army on the battlefield. Have I summed up your intentions succinctly, son of Hatra?’