Companions (The Parthian Chronicles) (4 page)

‘We all know that Mithridates and Narses are thieves and murderers,’ I said. ‘The world would be a better place without them.’

Gallia appeared underwhelmed. ‘Why should they dance to your tune?’

Dobbai chuckled. ‘The crux of the matter.’

I looked at my wife. ‘Why? Because I have insulted the office of high king, that is why. Once Mithridates has received my insult the eyes of the empire will be upon Ctesiphon, watching to see what actions he takes.’

‘Or he could ignore you,’ said Gallia.

‘A more preferable option for our devious high king, I think,’ added Dobbai.

I tapped my nose with a finger. ‘He cannot do that. The office of high king will mean he has to answer my provocation if the holder wishes to maintain credibility in the eyes of the empire.’

Dobbai looked at Gallia and rolled her eyes.

‘What a ridiculously romantic fool you are, son of Hatra. I doubt that Mithridates has even considered what the office of high king entails, aside from the prospect of great wealth and power. You think your insult will provoke a response? It will, though not the one you expect. But if you think that Mithridates will march against you then you will be disappointed.’

‘He is a coward,’ I sneered.

‘And worse,’ agreed Dobbai. ‘But consider this. The other kings of the empire may despise and ridicule Mithridates but he has achieved something that they all crave.’

I looked at Gallia whose face wore a confused expression. Dobbai stroked the forehead of the sleeping Claudia.

‘He has brought peace to the empire, admittedly of a sorts. But from the Indus to the Euphrates there is now a general peace.’

‘Peace?’ I scoffed. ‘What sort of peace is it where the Romans occupy the Kingdom of Gordyene, once the domain of King Balas? Where the traitor Narses helps himself to the Kingdom of Sakastan and the high king tries to barter away my own kingdom to Rome?’

‘The one where there is no war,’ replied Dobbai casually. ‘Your experiences with the kings of the empire must have made you realise that only you among them have a relish for war. Phraates, poor fool that he was, recognised it straight away. That is why he made you lord high general.’

‘I do not relish war,’ I insisted.

‘But war relishes you, son of Hatra. Have you ever wondered why it has been relatively easy for you to turn the backwater of Dura into one of the most feared kingdoms of the Parthian Empire?’

I had to admit that I had given the subject no thought. I shrugged indifferently.

‘It is because you are beloved of the gods, son of Hatra. Your path was determined long before took your first steps. The immortals have made things easier for you.’

‘Everything I have achieved I have done so by my own efforts,’ I snapped.

Dobbai continued to stroke my daughter’s head. ‘Let us for the moment leave to one side the fact that you were born into the Hatran royal family, rulers of one of the empire’s richest cities that has one of Parthia’s most formidable armies.’

Gallia laughed but I saw nothing amusing in Dobbai’s comments.

‘Many men who are born into wealth and power end up as fat, licentious tyrants,’ I said.

‘Then consider this,’ continued Dobbai. ‘Do you not think it strange that in your first battle you managed to capture a Roman eagle, which the commander of your army informs me is a wondrous thing? And then you get yourself captured by the Romans and shipped to their homeland. But instead of ending your days as one of their slaves you are rescued and become a great warlord in an army of slaves. Now Lucius Domitus has also informed me that when the slave army was crushed the survivors were nailed to crosses as an example of what happens when slaves rebel. But you miraculously manage to escape the
Romans and return to Parthia. Do you think all these things are mere coincidences or just an endless stream of luck?’

‘If the gods truly love me as you say,’ I replied, ‘then they would have given Spartacus victory over the Romans.’

‘Don’t be petulant, son of Hatra. It is not proper that slaves should be running around slitting their masters’ throats. It is against the natural order of things. Would you wish to see the slaves in your own parents’ palace rise up and slaughter Hatra’s royalty?’

I said nothing.

‘I thought not,’ said Dobbai smugly.

‘Mithridates will not march against you, Pacorus,’ said Gallia. ‘You defeated him and Narses at Surkh, you destroyed the army of Porus before that and your army still has blood on its swords after defeating the Romans and Chosroes. Only a fool would lead an army against you.’

‘You are wise, child,’ said Dobbai. She gave me a sly glance.

‘Of course you could always take your army to Ctesiphon if you are at a loose end.’

I was appalled by the idea. ‘I will not instigate hostilities. Besides, to do so would entail marching through Hatran and Babylonian territory and I will not violate the territorial integrity of those two kingdoms.’

‘Well, then,’ said Dobbai. ‘You had better find something else to amuse yourself with for I tell you now that the sun will fall from the heavens before Mithridates marches against you.’

The city council was underwhelmed by my announcement that I had written to the high king, challenging his rule in the hope that he would take the field against me. As usual we met in the headquarters building that was opposite the palace in the Citadel. It was the official office of Lucius Domitus, the commander of the army, who liked to reside in the command tent in the legionary camp immediately west of the Palmyrene Gate. But the headquarters building was never empty, being the location of the army’s records where clerks worked administering its business. Now he was sitting in a chair in the spacious room looking out onto the courtyard that we used for the meetings of the city council, as usual toying with his dagger, occasionally staring out of one of the open windows when a detail of soldiers marched or rode by.

Lucius Domitus looked as though he had been carved out of a block of granite, there being not an ounce of fat on his stocky frame. He was as fighting fit as the army he led and I could tell that he would rather be leading a twenty-mile route march than be sitting in this room.

‘And so I expect our new high king to march against Dura as soon as he receives my letter.’

I was expecting a reaction but there was silence. Domitus was trying to balance the point of his dagger on the end of a finger and Rsan, the city treasurer, had clasped his hands together and was staring at the smooth surface on the table we were sitting round. The lean, cropped-haired city governor, Godarz,
wore a confused expression while Orodes, Prince of Susiana and step-brother of Mithridates, who had been banished by the new high king, stared blankly out of the window.

Eventually the prince looked at me and shook his head.

‘He will not come, Pacorus. He will regard your insults and provocations as small prices to pay if it means Dura’s army stays on the western bank of the Euphrates and leaves him and Narses free to rule the empire.’

Domitus frowned as the dagger fell and clattered on the floor.

‘I hope I have your attention, Domitus,’ I said.

He picked up the blade and slipped it back into its sheath.

‘You want to kill Mithridates? Then let us take the army across the Euphrates to Ctesiphon and storm the place. Simple.’

Orodes’ mouth opened in horror. ‘Whatever we think of Mithridates, he has been elected high king by a majority of the kings in the empire. To march against him would plunge the empire into civil strife once more.’

‘I will not be marching against Ctesiphon,’ I reassured him. ‘I have no wish to incite another civil war.’

Domitus grunted. ‘Orodes’ brother is a coward. You will have a long wait.’

‘My
step
-
brother
,’ Orodes reminded the army’s commander. He was always keen to emphasise that though they shared the same father they had two different mothers.

I pointed at Rsan. ‘We will be withholding the annual tribute to Ctesiphon until further notice. Let us see how the king of kings likes that.’

The tribute was a yearly payment of gold that every Parthian kingdom sent to the treasury at Ctesiphon, based on the number of horse archers every king could raise.

Rsan appeared alarmed. ‘Is that wise, majesty?’

‘Very wise,’ I replied. ‘I would rather use the gold to raise and maintain my own soldiers than see Dura’s money being spent by Mithridates.’

Domitus laughed. ‘First sensible thing you have said all day. But it still won’t provoke Mithridates or Narses. What is the King of Persis doing, anyway?’

Godarz ran a hand over his crown. ‘The reports garnered from the trade caravans is that he has returned to Persepolis, prior to marching east to consolidate his new kingdom.’

I had won a great victory over Porus of Sakastan and his elephants prior to the even greater victory at Surkh. But it continually irked me that so complete had been my victory over Porus that his kingdom, Sakastan, had a vacant throne, his sons also being killed in the battle near the Euphrates. Sakastan was located immediately east of Persis and following Narses’ intrigues he had been given the crown of Sakastan by Mithridates. Thus did Narses become the king of both kingdoms thanks to my actions.

Dobbai opened her eyes. ‘Narses plays the great king and will amuse himself in his new domain for a while. He is no fool and knows that to offer battle to you, son of Hatra, will result in his defeat and possible death. As such the prospect offers little attraction. However, that does not mean he will not try to strike at you.’

‘Or those closest to you,’ said Gallia.

Everyone looked at her.

‘You fear an attempt on your life?’ said Godarz with concern.

Gallia shook her head. ‘Not me, or indeed anyone here, but there are others who are vulnerable.’

I wracked my brains. ‘Who?’

‘Nergal and Praxima,’ she replied.

Before I had stormed Uruk I had made plans to install an ally on Mesene’s throne, and in the aftermath of my victory had asked Nergal, the former commander of my horsemen, to become King of Mesene. I had promised that Dura would always support him until he was able to rebuild his kingdom’s army. Gallia had vehemently opposed the idea, believing that Nergal and Praxima would be too isolated and vulnerable at Uruk.

I pointed at the hide map of the empire on the wall behind me.

‘You are right, my love, that Mithridates could strike at Mesene from Susiana, but if he did then we would receive intelligence from Babylon and Elymais, which would give us time to reinforce Nergal.’

Gallia stood and walked over to the map, pulling her dagger from her right boot. She rested the point at Susa and then pointed it at Uruk.

‘Mithridates is closer to Uruk than we are and could reach our friends’ city before we can.’

‘You are right, Gallia,’ agreed Domitus, ‘but such an eventuality would be welcomed by Pacorus.’

He looked at me. ‘Am I right?’

Gallia spun round to look at me as I felt my cheeks flush. She then eyed Domitus.

‘What do you mean?’

The chiselled features of Domitus’ face broke into a broad grin.

‘Let’s say, for the sake of argument, that Mithridates and Narses send an army to attack Nergal. We’ve all seen Uruk’s high walls. Which means that an army will have to lay siege to the city to capture it. Only one kingdom in Parthia has siege engines to batter down defences and that is Dura. So an army lays siege to Uruk to starve it into surrender.’

Domitus rose and laid a hand on my shoulder. ‘And that gives Pacorus time to march his army south, cross the Euphrates and destroy the besieging army before the walls of Uruk.’

‘Is this true, Pacorus?’ asked Gallia.

‘If Mithridates or Narses attack Uruk then I will march to its aid,’ I answered.

‘That is not an answer, son of Hatra,’ smirked Dobbai. ‘What your wife wishes to know is are you using Mesene as a bait to entice your enemies to walk into your trap?’

‘There is no trap,’ I protested. ‘Dura is Mesene’s ally and will stand by Nergal. Mithridates knows this and so does Narses.’

Gallia returned to her chair. ‘You should write to Nergal warning him that his kingdom faces an attack.’

‘He already knows that, my sweet,’ I said. ‘Besides he is no fool. He has the city garrison, eight hundred Margianans to stiffen his forces, plus whatever Surena can raise among the Ma’adan.’

Domitus chuckled. ‘The marsh dwellers? About as useful as a paper sword.’

I wagged a finger at him. ‘You underestimate them, Domitus. They will prove useful allies to Nergal.’

For years Chosroes had waged a war of annihilation against the Ma’adan, the people who inhabited the great marshes through which the Tigris and Euphrates meandered before they emptied their waters into the Persian Gulf. Surena, my former squire and now an officer in Dura’s cataphracts, was one of those people and was currently helping Nergal enlist recruits from among the Ma’adan.

‘You should recall the marsh boy,’ Dobbai said suddenly. ‘His destiny does not lie among the swamps and reeds of his people.’