Parthian Vengeance (17 page)

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Authors: Peter Darman

Tags: #Literature & Fiction, #Genre Fiction, #Historical, #Military, #War, #Historical Fiction

BOOK: Parthian Vengeance
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‘It’s very quiet,’ he said.

‘Yes, peace at last.’

Outside the camp was coming alive as men formed up for morning assembly and to relieve the sentries posted around the perimeter. The main entrance to the camp was on the western side, the exit from which Orodes would lead the cavalry, but there were other minor exits at the other three points of the compass. They were all blocked by sharpened stakes driven into the ground and pointing towards the enemy at an angle of forty-five degrees, while immediately behind them was a line of wagons.

A sentry walked in and saluted.

‘The enemy have sent a courier under a flag of truce to the southern gate, majesty.’

‘Courier?’

‘Yes, majesty. King Mithridates requests a meeting with you.’

‘Perhaps he wants to surrender,’ said Domitus.

I laughed. ‘Perhaps he does.’ I rose from the chair and stretched out my arms. I felt tired, stiff and dirty.

‘Send a message back that I will meet with the king in one hour.’

The guard saluted and left. I filled a cup with water and drank it. The liquid was tepid and unappetising.

‘I wonder what he wants?’ mused Domitus, who was now sharpening his
gladius
with a stone, running it along each of its edges and then admiring his handiwork.

‘To gloat I would imagine. Still, an hour will give Orodes more time to prepare his men.’

I informed Orodes that his stepbrother had requested a meeting and asked whether he wanted to accompany me. He declined, stating that he might be tempted to break the rules of parley and kill Mithridates, and such a breach of the code of honour would be intolerable for him to endure. Same old Orodes. So I took Surena along, who borrowed Orodes’ shimmering cuirass of silver scales and a helmet from a horse archer, with cheek guards but no face covering. He had also cadged a pristine long-sleeved white shirt off someone as his own was filthy from yesterday’s battle. Red leggings and brown boots completed his appearance. I had to admit that Surena looked every inch a senior officer as we rode from the camp to meet my nemesis. We both carried our bows in cases dangling from our saddles and like me Surena was also armed with a
spatha
. Like my own it had been taken off a dead Roman; mine from a fallen foe in Italy, his from a slain cavalryman in Parthia.

I wore my usual attire of Roman helmet with its white goose feather crest, Roman cuirass, white shirt, brown leggings and leather boots. I took an escort of a dozen horse archers. Orodes said I should take more but I saw little point. Mithridates was a murderer and liar it was true, but he would be confident that he had me where he wanted me. He would be interested in torturing me with his words and nothing more, at least for the moment. So we rode from the southern entrance under a mournful grey sky with the army of the king of kings arrayed before us. Mithridates and Narses were obviously keen to taunt me as they already waited on their immaculately groomed black horses, surrounded by at least a hundred cataphracts. Members of Narses’ foot guards stood in two blocks either side of the heavy horsemen and behind the two kings their standards hung limply from their poles, not a sniff of wind to disturb them. Servants held the reins of the kings’ horses, young boys no older than sixteen years dressed in red silk shirts and baggy yellow trousers, gold earrings dangling from their ears.

We walked our horses to the meeting point halfway between our ditch and the enemy camp, or at least the southern part of it. Surena was eager to gallop across the barren ground, no doubt to clap eyes on the king of kings and his lord high general. He rode on my right and fidgeted in his saddle.

‘Calm yourself, Surena, it is unbecoming to act like an excited child during a meeting of kings.’

He had heard much about Mithridates and Narses over the past few years and had even visited the palace at Ctesiphon following my abortive campaign in Gordyene. But he had never actually laid eyes upon either of them. I could tell that he was most curious to see them up close.

‘And keep your tongue in check,’ I reminded him. ‘They may be our enemies but we must retain our dignity and manners even in the face of provocation.’

‘Yes, lord.’

‘And don’t provoke them,’ I added. ‘I know your propensity for acting rashly. Just remember they are kings and you are not. Listen and learn, Surena.’

‘Not much chance of that,’ said Vagharsh from behind us, as ever carrying my griffin banner.

When we were around fifty paces from Mithridates and Narses they both waved away the boys holding their mounts and nudged their horses forward. I signalled to Vagharsh and the horse archers to halt as Surena and I continued to walk our horses forward. We halted around ten paces from Mithridates and Narses and I brought my hands forward in front of my body and rested each one on the two front horns of the saddle. Thus could my enemies see that my hands held no weapons. I scowled at Surena when I saw that his left hand was resting on the hilt of his sword, and nodded down at my own hands, then his for him to do the same. Mithridates and Narses looked on in contempt as he finally worked out what to do and removed his hand from the hilt of his sword.

There were no greetings or smiles as I looked at Mithridates and then Narses, the latter a more imposing and authoritative figure than the high king; indeed, Mithridates could have been mistaken for one of Narses’ junior officers. As usual he was dressed in a black long-sleeved tunic, over which he wore a cuirass of silver scale armour, black leggings, black boots and at his left hip a sword held in a black scabbard decorated with silver leaf. He wore a richly adorned helmet on his head that fully encompassed his narrow, reptilian face. He hadn’t changed in all the years since I had first encountered him at Esfahan where the kings of the empire had elected his father to the high crown. His beard was still neatly trimmed and his eyes were still black and devoid of feeling. I also had no doubt that he was positively gloating over my predicament.

The King of Persis and Sakastan had also changed little since the last time I had the misfortune of meeting him. His pale face showed no signs of ageing and his shoulders were as broad as ever. Like Mithridates, Narses had a well-groomed beard and his brown eyes were as calculating and condescending as ever. His powerful frame contrasted sharply to the slim build of the high king, as did his big round face with its broad forehead compared to the narrow face and long, pointed jaw line of Mithridates.

Mithridates curled his lip at Surena. ‘Who’s this, another one of your slave soldiers?’

I did not rise to the bait. ‘This is Surena, a trusted and loyal subordinate.’

Mithridates smiled maliciously. ‘Where is my brother, has he seen sense and deserted you?’

‘Your stepbrother is in camp. He ate something last night that disagreed with him and feared that seeing you might make him feel worse.’

Surena laughed and Mithridates glowered at him. His eyes narrowed as he regarded Surena, no doubt making sure he remembered him.

‘What do you want, Mithridates?’ I asked, already growing tired of his company.

‘I called this meeting,’ he replied grandly, ‘to save further bloodshed.’

Now it was my time to laugh. ‘I would have thought the spilling of Duran blood would fill you with relish, especially mine.’

‘Parthians do not engage in killing each other,’ he replied haughtily, ‘or at least they should not.’

He was obviously alluding to my having been responsible for the deaths of King Porus of Sakastan and King Chosroes of Mesene. The former had died fighting me in battle and the latter had taken his own life when I had stormed his city of Uruk.

‘I fight only those who declare themselves to be my enemies,’ I said, ‘and seek to settle our differences on the battlefield. I never send assassins to do my work.’

I detected a fleeting look of alarm in Mithridates’ eyes, to be instantly replaced with icy disdain. He turned to Narses.

‘I told you this would be a mistake.’

Narses sighed loudly. ‘He is testing, I agree. But he should hear the terms.’

Mithridates nodded and looked away from me.

‘King Pacorus,’ said Narses without emotion. ‘You are surrounded and far from home. You must know that your position is hopeless. No one is coming to your aid. Hatra is preoccupied to the north and King Gotarzes is besieged in his city.’

‘I am fully appraised of the current situation,’ I said.

Narses continued. ‘If you lay down your arms now we will allow you to go back to your home unmolested.’

‘Back to Dura?’ I enquired.

‘Back to Hatra,’ snapped Mithridates. ‘Dura will be taken back into the empire, to be ruled directly from Ctesiphon. A loyal satrap will sit on its throne.’

I glanced at Surena, who was looking at Mithridates with venom in his eyes. ‘And what of my army?’

‘They will becomes slaves in the service of King of Kings Mithridates,’ replied Narses. ‘You, and your wife, though, will be allowed to return to your father’s kingdom.’

‘All except the Roman,’ said Mithridates.

‘The Roman?’ I enquired. I knew he was talking about Domitus, but I thought I would let him talk some more. Anything to waste time.

‘Yes,’ leered Mithridates, ‘the one who insulted me at Esfahan and who has been responsible for the deaths of so many innocent Parthians.’

Whether Mithridates had been responsible for more deaths was a moot point, but his words confirmed that he had an unending capacity for bearing grudges and hatred. He was referring to Domitus having placed his blade against the throat of one of Mithridates’ companions after I had had the misfortune of meeting him in the mausoleum to Arsaces, the first Parthian king, at Esfahan many years before.

‘He is the general of my army.’

‘He will not be allowed to live,’ said Mithridates, ‘but will be put to death in the Roman fashion. You see how merciful I am, to allow him to die according to his own customs.’

‘You really think I will agree to this?’ I answered with incredulity.

‘You might,’ remarked Narses casually, ‘if you knew that it would ensure that Gotarzes lives.’

What trickery was this? ‘I do not understand.’

Mithridates was relishing my uncertainty. ‘It is quite simple. Agree to the terms and Narses will withdraw the army from before the walls of Elymais and I will forgive Gotarzes his treachery.’

How many soldiers did they have? I had destroyed one army, only to see another spring from the desert. And now there was a third still besieging Gotarzes.

‘You may yet still save your ally,’ said Narses.

There followed a deafening silence as I weighed up what they offered. They knew that I would never agree to my army being disbanded and seeing its members go into slavery, much less sentence my friend and general to death. Or perhaps they thought that I was like them: calculating, ruthless and devoid of any notion of right and wrong.

‘I need time to think about your offer,’ was all I could say.

‘You have one hour,’ snapped Mithridates.

The parley was over and we returned to camp.

‘Well, Surena,’ I said as we walked the horses back to the entrance, the sky still showing no signs of clearing, ‘what do you think of the king of kings and his lord high general?’

‘They are liars, lord,’ he spat with contempt. He looked at me, concern etched on his face.

‘You are not going to surrender the army, lord?’

I smiled. ‘No, Surena, I am not.’

Back in camp Orodes was also dismissive of his stepbrother’s offer.

‘He intends to starve Gotarzes into surrender anyway. There is nothing you can do.’

‘Most likely he is dead already,’ added Domitus, now dressed in his helmet, mail shirt and greaves.

I was toying with the idea of offering battle instead of running. Perhaps we could still be victorious, march on Ctesiphon and relieve Gotarzes. I voiced my opinion to the others. Surena thought it an excellent idea, though Domitus, Marcus and even Orodes had grave misgivings.

‘Even if we beat them,’ said Domitus, ‘there is no guarantee that there isn’t another army waiting on the other side of the Tigris.’

‘You may offer battle,’ added Orodes, ‘but there is no guarantee that my stepbrother and Narses will accept. Most likely they will sacrifice their foot and fall back with their horse, but they could still harry us as we marched east.’

‘Another battle will use up most of our water supplies, sir,’ said Marcus.

By now the enemy army had moved into its positions around the camp, the foot to the west, horse archers to the north and east and the cataphracts in the south with Mithridates and Narses. There were nearly forty thousand soldiers surrounding us now. I knew that my two legions were worth three of four times the number of the enemy’s foot, but I only had four thousand horsemen against nearly five times that number of enemy cavalry. I had over a thousand cataphracts and the enemy had around five thousand, to say nothing of outnumbering us five to one in horse archers.

I looked at each of their faces. I knew that if I gave the command to deploy for battle they would obey without question, and no doubt would be dead by the end of the day. I could not have that on my conscience.

‘Very well,’ I said, ‘we stick to the plan. To your positions.’

Surena, Marcus and Domitus scurried away back to their men, though I asked Orodes to stay behind. As ever before combat he looked very serious. He was not like Surena, who regarded battle as another opportunity to acquire more glory and viewed it like a game with a few risks. Orodes drew his sword reluctantly, though in the midst of battle he was as expert at killing the enemy as the rest of us. But he always ensured that his conduct was beyond reproach at all times, even in the cauldron of combat.

‘I would ask one more favour of you, my friend.’

‘Anything,’ he replied.

‘Keep an eye on Surena. Above all do not let him do anything rash. I want him to become a good commander rather than an heroic dead one.’

‘Very well,’ he said quietly.

We embraced and then he went back to his men. Mithridates’ ‘generous’ offer of an hour to resign ourselves to our fate did at least give the horsemen the opportunity to finalise their arrangements. While Surena and I had been in his company, Orodes, Marcus and Domitus had drawn up the legions and the horsemen ready for the breakout. The plan was for the two legions to charge the enemy foot drawn up beyond the western entrance to the camp while I organised a diversion at the southern side. The latter was to deceive Narses and Mithridates into thinking that I was launching an attack upon their own persons and they would hopefully rally their forces to them. That was the theory at least.

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